11.23.09
Like tinsel on a Christmas tree
*I started writing this post last night (the 21st), but of course I fell asleep before finishing. I always like to try an honour what comes out at the moment so I’ll leave the first part as is, then update at the end . . . . .
Hello My Love,
I wanted to write more of an ‘update’ type post tonight. Share the events of the week, my gratitude for the extra time my mom helped with the girls and around the house, to Anna for taking the girls on Wed morning, and to Buz for arranging a ‘girls’ night out’ for Sian and I. I wanted to share the latest antics the girls are up to (Eibhlin’s headstands and Caia’s singing talents, etc.), and perhaps most of all the fact that it looks like I have now been accepted into the Aspire program. But, I’m just feeling my loss of you too acutely at this moment to try and write of much else.
Though I will it to stop, the pictures on the wall keep changing. No matter how beautiful the image, under each one the number 22 stares me in the face, and then the day arrives. Now we are seven. Seven months of existing without you. And that’s what it feels like. Existing.
As I said to a friend the other day, it’s hard to feel like an active participant in life. I’m here. I’m alive – I just don’t feel like I’m ‘living’. I know in time that will change, though it will be a challenge to feel that it won’t be a betrayal of you to start enjoying life again. I ‘know’ that is not the case, and I ‘know’ that is what you want for me (though I also know you have no expectations on me), but it’s still hard. SO hard. And I don’t believe it’s something that I should need to ‘try’ to do. I imagine it will just come naturally when I’m ready. But what do I know. It’s not like I’ve done this before. And as tired as I am of feeling sorrow, I’m not there yet.
And it’s not to say that I don’t find any joy in my days – it’s there. There are plenty of things to feel joyful about. To smile about. To laugh at. I can still see beauty in the little things (two little things in particular). I have the girls (of course), my parents, sister, friends, all of whom help with this daily (without even trying, which makes it even better). I’m encouraged by comments on the blog. I feel hopeful when I read blogs of other widows who have feel they’ve come through this better than before, all the while still able to mourn their loss. Finding that balance. I’m still way off kilter.
I look for you everywhere. Every flash of light. Every passing shadow. Anything that catches my eye, I look to it to see if I can find a glimpse of you somehow. I try to place you in the sounds I hear, or the feel of a draught. I try to take comfort in it – thinking you’re sending me a message. But it’s f#%*$@ windy out; of course the wind chimes are clinking and it’s draughty. I just long so much to have you a part of my life still. But I don’t want light reflections. I want you.
Your ring fell off my necklace today. It was the first time I’ve been out of physical contact with it since I took it off your finger that night. It was only for a moment, but it was so strange. It didn’t catch on anything; no one was pulling on it. I was just walking to the couch and the clasp literally popped off and the ring fell to the ground. The really strange thing is though – the clasp doesn’t appear broken at all. It came apart from the chain, but there are no cracks on either end and unless there’s a missing loop somewhere, there is no visual reason as to why it fell off. I know that having the ring there doesn’t bring me any closer to you, but I still didn’t like knowing it was off. I thought that one day I may melt our rings together – our wedding bands and my engagement ring – to make a piece of jewellery for each of the girls and a new ring for myself. I like the idea, but am not 100% sure I want to mess with them, and it would still be a while down the road as I don’t feel ready to take my rings off yet. I don’t feel single.
And as such I don’t like having to ‘classify’ myself that way. Since you died, I’ve had to fill out a number of forms, checking off ‘widow’ as my ‘status’. As much as that sucks, the other night at Spark I had to fill out a form which asks ‘who is primarily responsible for looking after your child?’ No widow option there, but in this case it would have been preferable. I didn’t want to check the box – Single parent. And I hated looking at the phone list for parents at Eibhlin’s preschool and seeing my name as the only one with out an ‘&’ beside it. I want my marriage back.
It doesn’t matter how independent a person I am – our lives were spliced. We were a part of each other. I miss feeling ‘known’. I miss having you to know. I miss our talks, and the comfort in our shared silence. I miss my partner. My friend. My Love. I miss sharing our days. Making plans. Making decisions (which neither of us were terribly good at). Bouncing ideas off each other. Arguing. Saying I’m sorry. Making you laugh, and vice versa. Emotional intimacy. I miss you being my Dumbass, and I your Freak-show (I don’t know many other couples with such loving pet names for each other . . .= ).
I hate that half of the memories we shared together are now gone. So many experiences that I am the only one left to remember. I don’t get your version of the story any longer. For once, I don’t want to always be right. I’d rather have you here to correct me. Because there is just so much to miss that, even with all the love I have around me, I end up feeling isolated. Cut-off from the life I knew and loved. Loosing you reaches so many different levels. Even though it was so busy and stressful, in those last months where I felt like we were working so hard to keep you healthy and keep our lives going; balancing work, your appointments, you, the girls, the 40+ pills/day, etc., was intense – but I felt like I was making a difference, and I miss that too.
I’m hoping to get in contact with a couple of other widows by phone as it helps incredibly to find people who really understand what it’s like. There’s no need to try and explain. And it’s just sharing, not comparing. No one can possibly know ‘exactly’ what I am going through – we are all individuals and no two experiences are the same – but there is a greater level of understanding with another widow, and that offers some comfort.
**This is where I fell asleep last night. The rest is from today (the 22nd – though I know by the time I post it will be the 23rd . . . )**
Today was not all that easy for me. I was feeling pretty down in the morning, missing you. I didn’t have a great sleep – Cali was having some sort of issues and when she wasn’t endlessly circling the 10sqft space beside my bed with her claws clicking away on the laminate floor, her stomach was making some strange noises. She kept wandering off into the girls’ room too – I was afraid she would wake them and had to keep getting her to come back. She finally settled down, I fell back asleep, and shortly thereafter Caia was getting into bed with me.
I decided I wanted to try and find a nice way to entertain the girls though – we didn’t end up doing anything at all on Saturday and I figured they would get bored and antsy with two days of nothing, so I thought we should try to make quince jelly. You and your love of the obscure. You planted that tree for the purpose of making jelly, and we had a pretty decent haul of fruit this year for the first time, so I thought it would be a nice tribute to you to give it a try (never having made jelly before) as you never got the chance. Quince fruit is ridiculously hard to cut. It looks similar to a pear, but it’s almost as dense as a squash. I was getting extremely frustrated, it took me quite a while to get a rhythm in cutting them, and by the end I was pretty tired. I boiled them all up, then realized I didn’t have nearly enough sugar. I hope to finish it tomorrow, but my attempt to do something fun with the girls and to pay respect to your plans with the tree just didn’t pan out. And took up much of the day. We did manage to make some pretty amazing rice krispie treats though (using gelatine free marshmallow ‘crème’). The recipe called for more butter than usual, browned, and a tiny bit of coarse salt. YUM. So I guess something went right today. I’ll have to let you know how the jelly worked out after tomorrow.
I’ll also fill you in more on the Aspire program and everything else in a day or two. But I am really looking forward to it, and it starts in only a week! I just can’t wait to get the ball rolling on the store. Anyhow – before it gets too late, I should call it a night.
But I almost forgot to include what I planned to write regarding the title of this letter . . . while seven months seems long in some ways, really it’s not. The other day when I was getting ready to go out with Sian, I took the time to blow-dry my hair for the first time since your funeral I think. It was nice to put a little extra effort into going out and feel a bit more like a girl for once – but there was a downside to it as well. Spending the extra time on my hair, only showed me how much more gray has shown up in recent months. I know genetics plays a factor (which has fortunately blessed me with a beautiful shade of gray). I know I’m not getting any younger. But I don’t believe that the amount that has cropped up in the last seven months has anything to do with either. This outburst of shimmering bits of gray hair is starting to look like tinsel on a Christmas tree.
It still seems impossible to me that this is it. That I won’t see you again. But a song hit me hard while driving the other day:
You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful, it’s true.
There must be an angel with a smile on her face, when she thought up that I should be with you.
But it’s time to face the truth, I will never be with you.
~Chelsea
P.S. I Love You
11.19.09
Oh, the infinite wisdom of Theodore Geisel
You know how popular Dr. Seuss has always been around here. Ever since Eibhlin fell in love with ‘The Grinch Who Stole Christmas’ two years ago, countless Suess stories have been read. And read. And read. And . . . . read. Fortunately, I think I actually like them even more than the girls do (I can recite so many of them off by heart after all), so I don’t mind at all.
I remember picking up ‘Fox in Socks’ from the library a while back. I think you pretty much hated reading it, but I thought it was lots of fun. Quite the tongue twister. I love The Lorax, of course, for the message it sends about the environment and consumerism, just as so many of his books carry great messages (Green Eggs and Ham = just taste your dinner, you may like it!; The Sneetches = what you wear doesn’t matter – even the Cat in the Hat ‘always picks up all his playthings’). They’re just such fun books.
The other night we picked up a few books at the library – half of them Seuss books, including ‘Oh, the Places You’ll Go’. Some time ago I had heard this was a book typically given to graduating students, but had never read it. I picked it up at breakfast the other day, and as I was reading it to the girls I realized that, though I can see where this would apply to graduating students, parts of the message are clearly applicable to many paths in life – including widowhood.
I’ve definitely gained a lot from other ‘grief’ reading I’ve done so far, don’t get me wrong. I loved reading ‘The Alchemy of Loss’ as a book detailing one widow’s experience and feeling comfort in that much of what I was going through was by no means unusual. I recently finished ‘Death is of Vital Importance’ by Elizabeth Kubler-Ross who has worked with countless terminal patients and their families, and I appreciated the completely different perspective on death than what we are typically accustomed to. But Seuss. He too, hit home for me. I had to choke back a few tears at the last page.
It’s about life – it’s ups and it’s downs, and the power of the individual to make a choice on how to handle what life brings. I’d love to write it all, but here are a few of the passages that really caught my attention. It starts out with his little character heading out on a new adventure, off to great places:
You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose.Things start out pretty exciting – ‘You’ start happening in the world, going right along being ‘footsy’ and ‘brainy’, flying high, until you suddenly hit a ‘lurch’ (because bang-ups and hang-ups can happen):
You’ll come down from the Lurch with an unpleasant bump. And the chances are, then, that you’ll be in a Slump. And when you’re in a Slump, you’re not in for much fun. Un-slumping yourself is not easily done. You will come to a place where the streets are not marked. Some windows are lighted. But mostly they’re darked.Pretty accurate if I do say so myself . . . then he writes of getting confused, trying to figure it all out, running through ‘weirdish wild space’ straight toward ‘a most useless place. The Waiting Place’, which he describes as a place where people are simply waiting for this or that to happen for their lives to get better – a string of pearls, a pair of pants, a better break, another chance, etc. No one is striving to be the one to make a change. But he encourages the reader that, NO! that’s not for you and you will escape and find great things once again. But again, as life has it’s ups and downs, another turn takes you all alone:
And when you’re alone, there’s a very good chance You’ll meet things that scare you right out of your pants. There are some, down the road between hither and yon, That can scare you so much you won’t want to go on.I can definitely relate to that. But, in true Seussian fashion, he offers some encouragement:
But on you will go though the weather be foul. On you will go though your enemies prowl. On you will go though the Hakken-Kraks howl. Onward up many a frightening creek, though your arms may get sore and your sneakers may leak. On and on you will hike. And I know you’ll hike far and face up to your problems whatever they are.He offers a little more advice about remembering that life’s a great balancing act and ends with this:
And will you succeed? Yes! You will, indeed! (98 and ¾ percent guaranteed.) KID, YOU”LL MOVE MOUNTAINS! So… Be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray Or Mordecai Ali Van Allen O’Shea, you’re off to Great Places! Today is your day! Your mountain is waiting. So….get on your way!This is not all to say that I necessarily feel at this moment that I’m ‘off to great places’ or that ‘today is my day’ – but it’s a good reminder that good things still can lie ahead. Maybe one day I’ll feel like today is my day again. And it really does feel like I have to move a mountain – though not exactly in the same sense he is referring to here. A mountain of grief is more like it.
Perhaps he so accurately relates life’s challenges to rowing up a frightening creek with sore arms and leaky sneakers because, many years before writing this book (which was the last book he published before he died), he tragically lost his wife of 40yrs. He’d been here. He got it. At this point, moving my mountain doesn’t seem possible at all. But, if Dr Seuss says so – it must be true. Maybe. It has to be. It is.
“I’m glad we had the times together just to laugh and sing a song, seems like we just got started and then before you know it, the times we had together were gone.” – Dr. Seuss
~Chelsea
P.S. I Love You
11.15.09
Argh
Hello My Love,
I had actually planned a much better letter for today. I started writing it last night, but was too sleepy to finish it off and was trying to be responsible and go to bed at a more decent hour for once. Still, I managed to wake up with an excruciating headache today. I seem to be getting them a little more often again. And no amount of water to drink, advil, or my magic bag provided much relief.
I managed to get the grocery shopping done (with a little company at the store) and after lunch the girls and I snuggled in to finish watching an IMAX HD documentary on dolphins, and watch the one on mountain gorillas (I think I’d give up the TV entirely if it wasn’t for the nature channel). I tried to rest my eyes a little and when it was over the girls were contentedly playing.
As was the case I decided to continue resting on the couch a little hoping to help the headache. They would come and talk to me every couple minutes anyway so I figured I wouldn’t actually fall asleep. Of course, however, they managed to find an ‘activity’ entertaining enough that they didn’t feel the need to come over to the couch to chat, and I guess I was just done in enough that I did doze off.
When I woke up, all seemed normal. I don’t believe it was too long that I was actually asleep for. I went to go to the washroom and was stopped in my tracks when I saw the bathroom counter and sink covered in blue ink. As was the soap. And the towel. When I walked back into the family room to ask what had been going on, it was then that I noticed their art table. Almost completely covered in a wash of blue ink (with a little red thrown in for good measure). The few spots that weren’t completely covered had nice big complete blue handprints. There also happened to be a little ink on the wall to go with it. I must have been pretty out of it as this all happened not more than 10 feet from me.
Eibhlin explained to me that they were having fun with the felts. And she added, ‘but we washed our hands after . . . ‘. Serves me right I suppose. If it was just Caia I could see it, but Eibhlin has never really been one to do that sort of thing. I was pretty surprised. But, luckily it all came off fairly easily and for the most part it was contained to just their art table, designed for ‘art’ afterall. I feel like I shouldn’t have let it get to me so much as in the end it didn’t do any harm, but it still put me in a bit of a grumpy mood, however, as I still had the headache. It made me wish I had been suckered in to buy the ice cream that was on sale . . .
Anyhow, I was able to get dinner on at a reasonable time and the girls ate a bunch and at a faster pace than the usual prolonged dining experience. As such, I was able to get them ready for bed quite early and we had some extra time for lots of reading, which was nice. Caia picked a book off the shelf that I had never even seen before. I don’t even know where we got it from. We have SO many books, and get many from the ‘Spark!’ program, but I don’t think it was one of those. It was about a little girl growing up with her Grandpa, and how they used to watch the orca whales every summer together. After many years the Grandpa dies, the day the whales finally came, and the mom tells the little girl that her Grandpa’s spirit is jumping and diving with the whales. They don’t see the whales again for some time, and of course, the next time she sees the whales in the summer, there is a baby whale there. It was a nice story, and I think Eibhlin really enjoyed it as she recalled seeing the orcas in Alaska and thinking of you having sent them to her.
Both the girls have started ‘talking to you’ at night again, which is nice. For a while Eibhlin decided she didn’t want to - she found it difficult to talk to someone not there. Understandable. I didn’t force the issue. But, for whatever reason she has started again, which started Caia doing it again too. She’s turning into quite the chatterbox now (go figure) and I can actually understand most of what she has to say to you. It’s so fun to hear what is on her little mind. Eibhlin talks about how much fun you must have had watching her doing whatever it was she was doing that day, and how much you must have been laughing. And tonight I loved that she added, ‘You’re the best Daddy in the whole wide world!’ But it’s hard not to cry hearing that. Even now, typing it.
I am working in town tomorrow and have to be on the 6:20 ferry. This will be the first day trip over that I haven’t brought the girls in a long time – since long before you died actually. We’ve usually come over and stayed over with your parents on my ‘office’ days, but it didn’t work out this time, so this will be a long day away from them. My mom is coming over to get them up and ready, then they’ll be with Sian for the rest of the day which is great. Anna’s been a big help recently too, taking the girls to the parent-tot drop in on Wednesdays for the last few weeks and has been pitching in wherever else she can which has given my mom a little extra time off here and there and has been fun for the girls too. She’s such a wonderfully sweet person. I often think of how much you would have enjoyed getting to know them all more.
We went to Barb’s for dinner last night – and we met up with her and Dave first at Cliff Gilker park for a nice walk in the forest. The water was running so fast through the creek – the fastest I’ve ever seen it, and it made for quite a few spectacular falls. It was incredibly beautiful and I know you would have loved to see it like that. I’m so grateful for where we live. Dinner was great and she sent me home with a pile of leftovers which helps ease the cooking burden for a few nights. It was nice to spend some time with her. I forgot to mention in my last letter that I ran into John from the ferries at the library the other day. It was nice for the girls to see him too, as we hadn’t seen him since the funeral. He offered to come and take Cali for a walk sometime, which is really nice – it’s just too bad she’s such a pain in the ass sometimes. It’s hard to know if it would be ok to let someone not used to her take her out . . . but it would be good for her and would help me feel a little less guilty that she doesn’t get out much anymore.
I also forgot to mention something that happened the other morning too – the girls had both climbed into bed with me at some point in the night/morning, and Caia was lying behind me. She woke up first, as always, and was playing around a bit. She took the neck of my t-shirt and pulled it down to look at my tattoo. As she looked at it she said, ‘Ahhhh’ gave a little giggle, then said, ‘Daddy’ and gave it a kiss. Then she did it all again. It was so very sweet. When I showed the girls the day after it was done, I had mentioned then that it was to help show how much I love Daddy, etc., but I’m never sure of how much Caia picks up - it’s so amazing to me just how much she really does get.
Anyhow, my other letter will wait for another day as I should start getting ready for my long day tomorrow. I don’t even want to go into the kitchen right now though . . . it’s a disaster. I seem to have run out of steam for keeping on top of things after the last few weeks of dealing with the girls illnesses. I’m trying to keep the mindset that there are more important things in life than a clean house, but the chaos can be disconcerting at times too. Ah well, it can wait for another day.
Thinking of you always, loving you more than ever,
~Chelsea
P.S. I Love You
11.12.09
The Widow Cry
Hello My Love,
I know it’s been a bit since I’ve written again, but even though I can look at it in the mirror any time, I loved coming here and looking at the photo of my hummingbird tattoo – I love what it means to me, and I just wanted to leave it there for a while. I’ve gotten wonderful feedback on it and I’m just so happy with how it turned out. It’s healing great too. Even though it’s been a rough couple of weeks with the girls being sick, I think I’ve actually felt a bit ‘lighter’ now and then after getting it done. It feels good to finally have it, and to be able to have this permanent piece of you to carry with me and show others how much you mean to me.
That said, it’s still been tough as the girls were fighting this gastrointestinal bug, I can’t even count the loads of laundry I’ve done and number of times I’ve wiped down every light switch, doorknob, faucet, etc. etc. etc. It’s been pretty tiresome.
To catch up on other events – we had a fun pizza night with Buz and Sian on Friday, and some other friends came along with their two little ones, which was nice. Their son goes to the same music class as Caia and we had met on one other occasion outside of that, but had not really had a chance to get to know each other. I wasn’t sure if they knew about our ‘situation’ or not, but it turned out they didn’t, as at one point I was asked where my husband was. A pretty natural question – I am young, two kids, still wear my ring, it was a gathering of families. Still, it catches me off guard sometimes. It was an added challenge, however, that the man who asked me was deaf, and I didn’t quite know how to sign ‘dead’ and even if I knew at least that, I wouldn’t know how to explain further and wouldn’t exactly want to leave it there. Fortunately his wife came over and I was able to explain it to her and she translated.
We had a pretty relaxing weekend, and had the Straw’s over for dinner on Sunday night. I had wanted to try and make your butternut squash & goat cheese ravioli for some time and thought it would be fun to try for them (they’re brave enough to be my guinea pigs). I looked through your recipes but couldn’t find it. I must admit, it was emotionally a bit difficult to go through them – seeing your writing, remembering some of the wonderful dishes you made (I sure miss your cooking), seeing countless other recipes I never got to try. . . . Anyhow, I found one on-line that sounded similar, though it didn’t call for caramelized onions. I decided to break from my usual ‘m.o.’ of Can’t. Change. Recipe. and decided to caramelize the onions anyway. You would have had a kick out of this – not only did I use my ‘hold n slice’ to hold the onion while I sliced it, I decided to wear Eibhlin’s swimming goggles to protect my eyes – I knew I wouldn’t have been able to see for an hour otherwise. I’m sure it looked pretty ridiculous (and you were laughing your ass off somewhere), but damn it if it didn’t work!
I also couldn’t find a recipe of yours for pasta dough (though there were a number of ‘recipes’ that were comprised of nothing but a list of ingredients, so perhaps it was there . . . ), but I thought I remembered that once you used won ton wrappers for something like that, and I read on-line that you could use them for ravioli, so that’s what I did. It wasn’t ‘too’ bad in the end. Not much of a hit with the kids, but Buz and Sian seemed to enjoy it. The flavour of the filling was actually pretty good and the sauce I used was nice, but I wasn’t thrilled about the won tons, and they got really stuck together when I was trying to keep them warm so the presentation sucked. A big glump on the plate. It was just hard because I know how amazing it would have been if you had done it. I enjoyed trying though.
On Monday night as I was putting the girls to bed, I started to crash a bit emotionally. Perhaps the ‘high’ of getting the tattoo was wearing off and reality was smacking me back to the ground – I’m not sure. But as I was talking with Eibhlin in bed, the fact that they don’t get to experience first hand just how much you love them anymore, it hit hard. They meant the world to you, and though I know that it’s ingrained in them, I feel like because they were are so young they don’t comprehend it fully, and they won’t remember and get to feel that as time goes on. It just sucks. I had to fight back tears as she was still awake. As we were lying there quietly, Eibhlin suddenly looked over to me and told me that she heard you say something to her (I tell her that she can always talk to Daddy at any time, even just in her head, and if she listens with her heart she may hear you/feel you sending your love to her). She told me, ‘He said he wishes he was still here with us’. I told her that I’m sure that must be true.
After they were finally asleep, I went out to watch a bit of tv, and of course around 10pm Caia was awake. I got on the bed with her, but she was really upset and just kept crying ‘Mama’, even though I was right there. After a bit she calmed down and was falling back to sleep, lying on my arm. It was such a nice snuggle with her, but again I was thinking of what you were missing out on. I miss that moment when we would be sitting on the couch and one of the girls would wake up. We would look at each other, smile, and silently debate on whose turn it was to go put them back to sleep. It’s not that I’m complaining of being the only one to do it as I don’t mind that much (though I won’t complain when Caia finally sleeps through the night as the 3am wake ups do get pretty tiresome), it’s more that she didn’t get the chance to call out for you.
With Eibhlin, you started to be the one to respond to her at night when I was pregnant with Caia. I think she was about the same age as Caia is now. It had pretty much always been me, and it was a change that took a few nights for her to get used to, but we hit a point when she woke up one night and called for you instead of me. I remember that feeling so well – a mix of ‘Yay! Someone else gets called for once!’ and ‘Hey, wait a minute – what do you mean I’m not your first choice?!?’. But, I remember you really liked to know that it was Daddy she called first (even though it was the middle of the night). Caia will never call for you at night. Or, at least if she does, you won’t be there to answer. It hurts to know that. I started crying, and it was the real ‘widow cry’. A cry like no other. I’ve cried a lot in my life for various reasons (even dog food commercials will make me cry), but never like this before. There are plenty of little cry spells that catch me here and there (bars of soap or quilts for example), but it that’s not what I’m referring to here. This doesn’t hit every day (fortunately) and I suppose it’s less frequent now than before, but when it does hit, it’s intense. My nose is almost immediately plugged up to the point where not even the tiniest bit of air can squeak through, for some reason it makes me cough like I have bronchitis, it feels like a big awful hand is pulling my heart into the ground, my eyes hurt – it’s impossible to describe. It’s exhausting. If nothing else, at least I fell asleep almost immediately afterwards.
The next day was Tuesday, and though I was supposed to work and Eibhlin was to have pre-school and ballet, since she had still shown signs of the ‘bug’ the day before (bowel troubles . . . I’ll leave it at that) I thought perhaps we should just stay home in ‘quarantine’. My mom has also been fighting a cold, and I thought it best if we just go it alone at home. It actually turned out to be not too bad of a day – the girls were feeling fine and were pretty harmonious, and I somehow managed to fit a great deal of work in around them. We had lots of nice snuggle time, reading books, and we even managed to throw in a little Latin dance party, complete with maracas. I grabbed that big roll of paper, had them lay down so I could trace them (though Caia seemed to think it hurt) and hung the paper so they could decorate it for an art project. I remembered that you had done that with Eibhlin once and she had enjoyed it. At one point in during the day she said she ‘heard you’ again – this time she told me you said that we should come to where you are. She had that little smile on her face where she seems to be testing me out a bit to see what my reaction may be. Dinner started out ok, but Caia seems be back on her game of keeping food in her mouth for, well, forever. That said, she swallowed it pretty fast when I brought out dessert, and she didn’t seem to have any problem swallowing that . . . .
Today was Rememberance Day. No work or classes, so we had another day just us at home. We watched some of the national service on tv – and I have to admit that, though I’m not saying it never touched me before, it certainly had a different impact on me this year. I initially had plans for the day (folding laundry, going to the park, etc), but was feeling pretty tired – though that could have come just from being in the house for more than two solid days with no adult contact (aside from the odd phone call), and so we didn’t do much. It didn’t help that I cut my finger on some metal recycling (‘almost’ swearing audibly but I managed to refrain) and the girls were bickering a great deal much of the day. I didn’t get Caia down for a nap, and by the time I was working on dinner, the girls had spread tupperwear all over the kitchen floor, had been fighting over said tupperwear, Caia bit Eibhlin on the head – I had pretty much had enough. I turned into the crummy mummy who yells. I carted Caia off and told them to stay away from each other. Eibhlin told me she didn’t like my attitude, to which I maturely responded that I didn’t like hers. I finally threw dinner in the oven and went to try to get 5 mins to myself in the bedroom. At that point I heard thunder. I felt like it was you telling me to calm down. It did actually calm me down though – I quite like thunder and lightning storms (if it wasn’t for the paranoid dog glued to my leg). I called the girls in and turned out the lights so we could watch a bit of the lightening and listen to the thunder. I apologized for yelling, but also asked if they could help me out a bit by tidying the tupperwear and being gentle with each other. Things were improving and looking to run a little more smoothly – dinner was going well until Caia decided to stop swallowing her food again.
You know I’m never one to bribe or reward with food, but I had planned cookies for dessert again anyhow – yet even the sight of them didn’t get her to swallow this time because I had previously told her I wanted her to have another bite before dessert. She started to cry with the food in her mouth, which of course caused her to almost choke, which is one of the reasons it drives me crazy that she does this (not to mention what it could be doing to her teeth that she has food in her mouth for up to an hour sometimes). I was feeling frustrated and stubborn in the more she cried for her cookie the more I wanted her to have that one last bite. It was stupid, I know, but I was just stuck in this frame of mind that for some reason it actually mattered if she had one more bite. I finally decided I would give it to her anyway, but I just wanted her to stop crying first. I got up to go to the washroom, but of course both of them were tagging after me and when I actually locked the door Caia just stood on the other side screaming ‘cookie!’ and Eibhlin knocked asking if she could come in and give me a hug and kiss. It was very sweet, but, really, I just wanted to pee. I don’t understand why there always needs to be an audience. Even the dog comes in half the time.
I waited an extra few minutes, Caia finally stopped crying, and I came out and gave her the cookie – minus a big bite I took out of it. I know, ‘Mommy of the Year’ right here. She was just happy to have the cookie and didn’t seem to notice though. Anyhow, I had called Brenda and had a good talk with her, which helped, and the girls got ready for bed without incident. Caia even fell asleep before I finished reading. I love those girls more than life itself, but it was just one of those days where grief and exhaustion took over. It’s not to say that it was all bad, we had some good times in the day too – but I just hate to loose it like that. Oh well, in the end I guess they at least get more modelling on being apologetic.
They are amazing girls though – and to leave with some of the brighter moments from the past few days – here are some fun shots of the girls, along with a final (albeit not great quality) shot of the girls sleeping tonight . . .
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- Sleeping Beauties
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- Tickles
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- Can’t finish the last bite of dinner . . .
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- Eibhlin – a little ‘crazed’ after her cookie
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- No problem with the cookies though!
Thank you,
~Chelsea
P.S. I Love You
11.05.09
The sweetest nectar is within
“Legends say that hummingbirds float free of time, carrying our hopes for love, joy and celebration. The hummingbird’s delicate grace reminds us that life is rich, beauty is everywhere, every personal connection has meaning and that laughter is life’s sweetest creation.”
(though I may beg to differ slightly on the last bit – as much as I love laughter, and we laughed a LOT together, I personally think that our two little girls are life’s sweetest creations . . . )
There are countless ways hummingbirds remind me of you. Even a fleeting glimpse of a hummingbird can brighten almost anyone’s day. They are undeniably amazing, beautiful creatures. A hummingbird’s life is ephemeral, just as yours was; but the swift nature of their existence doesn’t take away from what they bring to the world – it only adds more.
I love the symbolism of a hummingbird. Their fluttering wings form the infinity symbol. Infinity. Eternity. They can fly backwards – looking back on the past, but not dwelling there. Remember what was beautiful. Move forward, but pause – hover. Savor each moment – live for it. Sip the nectar. Appreciate the things we love.
They are tireless. Pure energy. Tenacious. They accomplish that which may seem impossible and handle the twists and turns of life with grace and dignity. They seek out the good in life and the beauty in each day.
Hummingbirds love honeysuckle flowers. We have one in our yard and I’ve seen them there. I’m sure they love the nectar, but perhaps they also appreciate the symbolism of the honeysuckle – generosity and devoted, true, undying love.
In some cultures, hummingbirds are believed to be the souls of departed loved ones, or a messenger between worlds. The hummingbird is also said to be able to heal the saddest heart and make anyone glad to be alive again, and that it can heal any grief or pain . . . .
(posted in b/w so skin irritation doesn't show - it was only done last night - and there is no actual colour in it anyway)
Regardless of the effect, I feel honoured to bear a permanent display our everlasting, unconditional love. Life’s greatest gift. A reminder of all that we learned from each other. Of all that you taught me. The writing is even yours – the word, ‘Love’, traced from a note you gave to me over a decade ago – now permanently a part of me, inside and out.
You learned to live the life of a hummingbird – and now you are mine.
~Chelsea
P.S. I Love You
11.03.09
‘Spukey’ Halloween!
Well, the vomit didn’t end after my last post. Caia threw up a bit more in the night and Eibhlin again in the morning, so we took it easy Thursday. No classes, no preschool. Before work I ran around frantically trying to clean as much as I could – wiping down lightswitches, door handles, toys – you name it. My Mom still offered to come over and look after them while I worked but they kept it pretty low key, watching a couple of movies. They seemed to be doing better in the evening, and much better by Friday morning, so we resumed our regular activities. We had pizza night with the Straws, and I noticed that Caia didn’t eat much, but she still seemed fine. I got them off to bed as usual, and was just about to go to bed myself around 10 (though I was planning on working on Eibhlin’s Halloween costume from bed), when Caia threw up again. I had to wake Eibhlin up to change the sheets and decided that Caia and I would sleep on the couch covered in towels for the rest of the night as I was pretty tired of washing sheets and comforters.
It was a pretty restless night, and I started to feel quite sick again myself. I came close to throwing up a couple of times, but was trying to ‘meditate’ it away. I also sat with my head out the window for 10 mins or so at about 3am and the fresh air seemed to help. I felt like I hardly slept at all, and by morning was feeling awful. Both the girls seemed ok, mind you. My Mom took Eibhlin for most of the day so I could take it easy with Caia and nap with her in the afternoon. Of course, now it was Halloween and I hadn’t finished Eibhlin’s costume yet. After the nap I sat and managed to get it done – not exactly how I would have wanted to perhaps, but it wasn’t too bad considering . . .
She loved it anyhow, and Caia looked pretty cute too – though she hated the face paint and wouldn’t let me do anymore that what was poorly done there. She also refused to wear the cow bell, which was too bad. We had a chance to ichat with Peter, and with your parents, so they got to see the girls in their costumes. I managed to eat a little dinner and felt well enough to walk the streets with them trick or treating. We didn’t go to the mall – I wasn’t feeling up for that, but we handed out a bit of candy before we left, my Dad came by to take some photos then switched off with my Mom so she could come trick or treating with us. She offered to stay and hand out candy, but we just left the candy at the door for anyone else who came by. It’s so nice that we live in a neighbourhood where we can do that (though I almost wish someone would have taken it all so I wouldn’t have all the leftovers…).
It was actually a beautiful night – couldn’t have been better for trick or treating. We went with Buz, Sian, the boys and a couple other little friends. Six kids under the age of 5. I think everyone enjoyed it.
It was pretty cute to say the least. Eibhlin was afraid of the decorations at some of the houses, but all in all it wasn’t too bad. There were no fireworks this year though, so that was unfortunate. She was really looking forward to it and had been talking for days about how you took her last year and she wasn’t scared. She remebers that event with you so fondly. I couldn’t help but think of just how much you would have enjoyed the evening. While we never went ‘all out’ as some people do, you always loved Halloween and would get so involved in the decorating, carving pumpkins, playing spooky music – you would always take charge and I could leave most of it up to you. And we had such a fun time trick or treating last year. I remember you carrying Ashley on your shoulders as she was scared. You couldn’t do that for Eibhlin this year. I can picture how you would have been laughing as Caia cried, trying to rip off the cow bell. I tried to keep up with some of what you would have done. I did a bit of decorating – Eibhlin was extremely excited when I put the decorations up and ran around the house chanting ‘Spooky Halloween!’. And I think it was the first time in about 13yrs that I cleaned out a pumpkin, which again was quite exciting for the girls . . .
I had Eibhlin draw what she wanted, and for Caia I drew shapes and she picked out which ones she wanted. I carved one for myself as well . . . .
There’s a heart on it too, but the photo doesn’t show it all. It’s not quite like the pumpkin you carved last year,
but I still like it. The girls had a great time, went to bed pretty quickly, and no more vomit (though Caia still had a restless night). Cali fared somewhat well. I gave her a ‘tiny’ bit of one of those pills to calm her down which helped, and we get so few trick or treaters anyhow, but she still gets so scared of all the firecrackers. Sunday I still wasn’t feeling 100% – though it’s hard to remember what that feels like exactly, as I don’t believe I’ve felt 100% for just over 6 months – but it was another beautiful day. I made the girls ‘pumpkin pancakes’ (I had planned to make them the day before, but I wasn’t up to it) and we spent much of it in the yard. I knew my shoulders would be hating me for it, but I raked the huge amount of leaves that had fallen (with a littlr help…), then managed to mow the lawn one last time before the winter (and yes, I was paying for it later). We found a few new ‘friends’ in the backyard too…
I was initially supposed to go into Vancouver to work today, and was feeling well enough to do so, but when I called Jason to let him know how the girls and I had been feeling the past few days, he thought it would be best to take a rain check on my office day. For the better anyhow, I’m sure.
As for other news, I forgot to mention before that my phone was out for 4 days last week. A repair person came on Tuesday morning and said that it was because of the renos done the wires got damaged and I was afraid I was going to have to pay for the visit, but he was very kind and said I wouldn’t have to. My Dad also came by and helped make sure I had the best configuration for my internet – I had a free trial with another provider, and though the internet speed was much better it costs more, so I think I’ll stick with what I have.
It’s funny how missing you ‘sneaks up’ on me in some ways. Last week I was sitting in the sauna (I tried to commit to going in every day for a week as it seemed to be the only thing making my tendonitis better…) and before getting out I decided I wanted to think a little about things that bring me peace about this situation. I wanted to be able to come and write a more positive letter rather than the usual heartache. I was thinking of some things that give me peace – that we truly loved one another and not even death could take that away from us was one – but then I just started to cry.
Last night, I was doing yet another load of laundry (I’ve washed almost everything in the house that could go in the machine trying to get rid of this stomach bug), and it included the quilt I usually use while I’m sitting on the couch. I looked over to the quilt on the other couch, but I have barely touched that quilt since you died (I’ve also only sat on that couch for about a minute since, and I had to move it from where it was that night). I had put it over you after you fell asleep there that night. It was the nice big one that Gloria made, that was big enough for us both to fit under and we often would sit together under it while watching tv. I was a bit cold (and I don’t usually use the fireplace as much after the girls are in bed) and tried to convince myself that it was just a quilt. As soon as I brought it over and had it on my lap, I started to cry.
Then today. I had hopped into the shower in the afternoon, after work and before the girls were due back with Sian, and was just about to turn the water off. I put my razor on that little wire shelf hanging from the shower head, when something else fell off. I looked down and saw just a little piece of soap. But it was your soap. I had no idea it was even there. My razor has been on and off that shelf countless times, but I hadn’t seen the soap before. I picked it up and it almost felt like it was burning a hole through my hand. It felt hot. I could smell it – of course the smell reminded me of you. I started to cry. Then I almost started laughing at myself for crying over a piece of soap, but that made me cry more and it was hard just to bring myself to put it back on the shelf. Just a little piece of soap, that caught me completely off guard. It’s not like I don’t come across your things every day – I sleep in one of your t-shirts for goodness sake. Your shoes are always falling off the shoe rack. I’ve started wearing your touque…
But for some reason this soap got to me. Anyhow – as much as it doesn’t sound that way, I don’t spend all day every day crying, it’s just impossible not to miss you. People who meet me (and don’t already know) have no idea anything is amiss in my life (sorry I couldn’t think of a better word). A few people have even told me that I ‘sound good’ recently. I’m not sure that I sound any different, but if people can see a difference, then perhaps it’s true. I feel pretty much the same, though I know some of the reading I’ve been doing has been helpful and perhaps that has made a subtle, miniscule, shift.
Anyhow, I need to get to sleep, but I hope you enjoyed the photos. We miss you and love you so very much. You are loved. And, almost on que, here comes Caia down the hall. Eventually they’ll sleep through the night, right?
~Chelsea
P.S. I Love You
10.28.09
Mmmmm….puke
Sorry for the brief, graphic letter tonight – but nothing says ’single parenting sucks’ like spending an afternoon/evening trying to clean up vomit from not one, but two, simultaneously puking children. Ok, well – only the last time they threw up it was at the ‘exact’ same time - Eibhlin had actually thrown up a couple of times earlier in the evening and Caia’s came a bit later – but it’s close enough.
I have more to say, but it’s been a long night already and since my stomach is not feeling that great either, I’ll save it for another day. I’m hoping that they are done now and will sleep the rest of the night, but the last time I wished that out loud it was only moments later that they were both spitting into bowls (thankfully I had the presence of mind to put two bowls on the bed). We’ll see – I can’t imagine there’s that much left in them to come out.
The other tough thing about is, I couldn’t help but think about the last time we had to deal with Eibhlin’s upset stomach……
~Chelsea
P.S. I Love You
10.25.09
Isn’t there anything we can do . . . ?
Hello My Love,
At some point during Caia’s restless sleep last night, she ended up in bed with me (not unlike every other night, mind you). Once there she slept much better and woke up initially rather cheerful. I was still half asleep, pleased that she seemed content to cheerfully chirp away beside me for a bit before getting out of bed. I wasn’t paying much attention to what she was ‘talking’ about initially – until her tone changed. Then I was awake. I think she had been playing with her locket and had been saying ‘Daddy’, among other things. Then, the happy tone changed and she began crying for you. She just kept repeating ‘Daddy, daddy, daddy’ as she cried. She wanted you. Then she asked to nurse for the first time in about a week (and right after I rebooked my tattoo appointment), but she was just upset overall and didn’t persist with the request as I tried to find other ways calm her down. What can I do? She misses you too, but it’s not like I can help her understand why you’re not here.
In some ways it’s easier that Eibhlin understands it – but sometimes I wish she didn’t. It’s unfortunate that a 4yr old has to loose some of that magical thinking they are gifted with at this age (right after you died, she believed that if she brought her magic wand, or anything else ‘really special to the viewing, it would bring you back to life). Who knows if it’s better to understand or not? But for the most part she seems to understand the permanence of the situation all too well. The other day while brushing our teeth before bed she told me she had an idea. She wanted to ‘play a secret’ on Sian (secrets seem to be a new thing for her now, and I guess she doesn’t get the concept completely just yet…). She told me that we should pretend that you didn’t die. Now there’s a slippery slope. How do you balance allowing your child to have a playful imagination, yet in a serious situation such as this, not let it get out of hand where it could be unhealthy for them? She seemed excited about the idea and I didn’t want to squash her sense of fun in it, so I asked her how she thought it would work since Sian already knew that Daddy had died. She said we could just pretend for fun, but she didn’t pursue it any further. She was feeling a bit sad tonight as we went to bed. She told me how much she misses you lying with her to put her to sleep. Then she asked me if I was sure, ‘Isn’t there anything we can do to bring Daddy back?’ What I wouldn’t do to bring you back . . . . I’m always glad when she opens up to talk to me about it, yet it’s hard when she does. I don’t want to have to tell her the true answer to that. But I do.
Thursday was a tough day (though I did get a chance to ichat with Anthony and Kayla for a bit in the morning). The six month anniversary of your death hit harder than many of the others. I’m glad it was a slower day for work because I was pretty distracted and just had to take everything a little slower myself. Buz and Sian had us over in the after I finished work and we stayed for dinner. At one point Eibhlin climbed up on Buz’s lap to test out his chair hydraulics. She looked so happy and leaned back on him at one point, with her head on his chest. They looked so sweet – and though it made me miss you, being able to see you with her like that – I felt some comfort to be reminded that she still has regular, positive, adult male influences in her life. Buz is involved in helping look after the girls all day Monday, and we spend a lot of time with them otherwise, so it’s nice to know that the girls are getting at least a bit of a balance.
Friday was a busy day; I had to work in lieu of my day off Tuesday, but first I went to the doctor to have the ‘vascular lesion’ removed from my forehead. I’ve had it since I was a kid and it never really bothered me, but it seems like since my pregnancy with Caia and all the stress of losing you perhaps, it grew slightly. The doctor said they do tend to grow with age, but it’s not even remotely related to a mole or anything cancerous so it’s nothing to worry about. When he removed it he said they always send everything to get checked anyhow, but he was 100% certain it was benign. I firmly believe, based on the information I’ve read, that this is true – but I told him, ‘No offence, but that word doesn’t mean much to my family any more’. Caia had music so my mom took the girls, and I went to the clinic on my own. I missed having you there to hold my hand and make annoying jokes to ease the tension I feel about things like that. I would have even taken a repeat of when I had my last mole removed and you insisted on watching (because you liked watching operation shows), only to make gagging sounds like you were about to puke, and have to sit down, letting go of my hand you were supposed to be holding. Still, as I was lying there wishing you were with me, I realized that this was nothing compared to what you endured over the years. You were on chemo for over 8 months and never missed a day of work. Five weeks of radiation and it was the same. You even went to work the day you had the seizure at 2am, only to have them send you home after hearing what happened. The only reason you stopped working was to give the naturopathic treatment a solid try, and that we just couldn’t do while you worked because of the travel. Oh yeah, you also had two brain surgeries. Yes. If you could do that, I could take three stitches in my forehead on my own.
It wasn’t too bad, but we had a bit of a laugh as later in the day I was sitting with Buz and Sian in their van with Caia and Dylan while we were waiting for Eibhlin and Brandon to finish acro class (it was pouring rain and the waiting room is pretty small). I was sitting in the passenger seat and turned to look behind me and managed to bash my stitches on the knob that changes the height of the seatbelt. It hurt, but I didn’t notice anything else. A moment later, however, I put my hand up to the bandaid and there was quite a bit of blood. I looked in the mirror on the visor and sure enough I had a good stream of blood running right down my face and neck. After a quick clean and patch job with a new bandaid, all was fine. It’s still a bit sore, mainly because Caia keeps knocking it somehow, but it’s not so bad.
The season is definitely changing. Fall was typically one of my favourite seasons, with the changing of the colours – and though I will always appreciate it still, it’s just another sign of how long you’ve been gone. The dull grey fog that also comes with this season seems to sum things up pretty well.
As I go, here are a few more photos from past days, including the ‘low man on the totem pole’, the lovely Cali. I feel for her too. I’m sure she misses you, and I know she doesn’t get the play and attention she used to either (unless you consider me yelling at her to stop barking attention…). I often pass her food dishes while I’m mid-task, and try to tell myself to remember to fill those up when I’m done. This will happen a few times throughout the day before I finally remember to do it. I know she’s not starving/thirsty as if it ever gets to that point she’ll just stand and lick her empty dishes incessantly until I do something about it – she’ll never let me forget – but I still feel badly for her. She drives me crazy in many ways, I’m tired of poop scooping, and I’m worried about her getting older, but I love her – she keeps me company at night and I’m glad she’s around.
~Chelsea
P.S. I Love You
10.22.09
6 months
How could it be? How could it possibly be??? I hate to sound redundant, but I absolutely cannot believe that six months has passed since you died. Six months ago I was in an ambulance on the way to the hospital with you in the back, your life slipping away. Time doesn’t seem to make sense to me at all any more. In some ways six months seems like an eternity – but in the same breath I can say that it feels like the blink of an eye. That night is so vivid in my mind as if it ‘just’ happened, yet 183 days have passed. Half a year. I suppose in the grand scheme of things it’s not that long – but without you, it is an eternity.
Especially when you consider that, since our first kiss over 13yrs ago, we had never spent more than 4 days apart. It’s difficult for me to put into words how it feels to be apart from you, but a friend shared this that speaks volumes, in the softest possible way.
But, here we are. Six months out. I miss everything about you, but not just what you brought to me. Six months since you held our beautiful little girls. Since you told them yourself that you love them. Now I tell them every day for you. I give them kisses from Daddy (and zerberts too). They have changed so much. Do you know? Can you see them?? Do you hear Caia squeal ‘Daddy!’ whenever she sees your picture? Do you hear Eibhlin say ‘I love you Daddy’ before bed every night??? I believe in my heart you do but I want so much to know that it’s true.
Though, there are some things I wouldn’t want you to see. I wouldn’t want you to see my periodic lack of patience with the girls. My lack of energy to play and be silly with them as before. My lack of knife skills. My breakdowns. How hard all of this is. Because I know how much you worried. I know how you hated that this would be my life. The girls’ life. You so often said that you felt bad because you got the ‘easy part’. I would still debate that with you, but this is so very hard. It’s exhausting. I am trying though. It’s work, every day, but I’m putting the effort in – some days more than others (some days not much at all), but it’s always there. I hope you see that too. It’s for you. It’s because of you. It’s my love for you.
As I was driving the other day I heard a song that brought on instant in tears:
Traveler of the great divides
Vagrant on a path to life
Everyday feels a little closer
To where it is that you’re headed for
Given to a hope of so much more
For every time you fall apart
There’ll be a soul to guide your journey
But if you choose to turn away
There in the mirror
You’ll see my face
You’ll see my face
Think you’re on this road alone
Looking for a truth untold
Many times you’ve been close to breaking
Giving up and letting go
Something inside says it’s not over
And when the world crowds your space
Remember days when noise was silent
No empty vows, loveless displays
Just a sense of knowing
You’d see my face
You’d see my face
I knew I’d heard it before yet couldn’t place it. I had the sense it was from a number on So You Think You Can Dance, so I got home and googled it. The song is called ‘The Face’, and sure enough, it was from a routine in the first season of the Canadian edition – Blake’s beautiful choreography, amazingly danced, depicting a woman who lost her love and she just wants to see his face again. I remember watching it with you last year and it had both of us in tears. At that point we knew it was our likely future. What I wouldn’t give to see your face again. The song lyrics are beautiful and I know that you are the soul that guides me now, but needless to say I would much rather have you here in person. And it’s not about all the extra ‘work’ that needs to be done now that I’m alone – I would gladly do it all and then some, just to still have you in my life. I didn’t know the heart could hurt this much, yet keep beating.
For all I write, there’s always still so much more I want to say – I never feel like I can get it out quite right. There’s just an insanely, constant swirl of emotions and thoughts in my head.
There are too many others who have walked this path before me, and too many more who are following behind. For all of their understanding, support, blogs, comments – for the voice of a fellow widow/widower – I am forever grateful. I have been told that this is survivable. There have been points where it doesn’t seem to be; nevertheless I am still here so they must be right. Where do I go from here?
Six months, and a day I suppose.
~Chelsea
P.S. I Love You
10.21.09
the last goodnight
why do i stay up so late?
why don’t i go to sleep at a reasonable time? it would be sensible. it would make things easier.
but i can’t choose sleep. sleep has to take me. unwillingly.
i watch mindless tv, and if i don’t fall asleep on the couch i drag myself to bed and still spend time on-line or reading. i know one/both of the girls will be up in the night. i know another day will start without you whether i sleep or not. it doesn’t make a difference.
my eyes hurt. i’m tired. i can barely stay awake but i can’t ‘go’ to sleep. it’s too hard.
i miss my last goodnight.
your hand to hold, shoulder to kiss, mumbled i love yous.
you. my last goodnight.
~Chelsea
P.S. I Love You
