02.06.10
Photographic Evidence
Hello my Love,
Well, things have improved somewhat since the dreaded ‘unicorn incident’ of the other day . . .
And, as I mentioned, at least it was those unicorns who lost their heads and not one like this . . .
I know, when it comes down to it, that type of thing would generally be considered an isolated incident and the girls (and I) are usually SO much better behaved, but I guess in the midst of this we all have our ‘days’. Here is one of the better ones (just to prove it’s not all bad . . .)
I still have a hard time accepting that I am not the same mother I once was – yet another loss that came with losing you. There are many ways I’m hanging on to you for dear life. I can’t yet bear to take off my rings (or yours that’s around my neck for that matter). Not that anyone thinks I should (or at least they don’t tell me to my face anyhow), but I wonder if it would cut down on strangers asking me about/mentioning ‘my husband’. Perhaps if the rings weren’t there I wouldn’t have to explain as much. Though, I wonder then if there would be judgment if I walked around with two little kids and no wedding ring? Even if I did take them off (or when I do, I suppose), my fingers have grown around them in the past 10yrs, and it would still be obvious of what once was, and possibly a more painful reminder for me. . . .
(this is as far ‘off’ as the wedding ring has gone)
I suppose (when ready) I could start with taking off my engagement ring. I’ve considered moving the band to my other hand. One of my plans was to blend the three rings together and make three new ones – one for each of the girls and one for myself, though I could see letting go of the bands as they are to be a very hard thing to do. I know there is no rush – but it’s been on my mind for some reason. As hard as it can be when people believe I’m married (to someone alive that is), I still find comfort in ‘fidgeting’ with them now and then. When I’m uncomfortable or nervous or something of the like, I find myself drawn to the rings. And not just in negative scenarios – but they bring me comfort. And I need all the comfort I can get.
There have been a few occasions recently when I’ve surprised myself in my ability to fight back tears – two that come to mind were both when a stranger talking to me mentioned ‘my husband’ in the context of a conversation that made me miss you so greatly (even though one was talking to me about cleaning out my old clothes and said I could ‘fight it out’ with my husband – because I would love to fight anything out with you right about now . . .). But, still there are other times where I am completely caught off guard and something brings me to tears so easily.
It is now just about one week to my birthday. It’s the start of ‘birthday season’ for our family, and I know it will be a tough go for the next bit. But, as much as I am dreading my first birthday without you, I may very well have some good company to spend it with. Though a big part of me feels awful for ditching family (including the girls) on my actual birthday, this opportunity won’t come up often. Deb is coming into town and meeting up with Jackie not far from here – they are two of the widows I’ve been in contact with, and have really helped me along the way in recent months. It means I have to leave the girls overnight for the first time though. I know it had to happen eventually, I’ll only be gone for 24hrs (almost exactly), and they will be in excellent hands, but I’m sure it will still be SO strange. They are more than excited because it means they get to have a sleepover at Buz and Sian’s. They can’t wait for me to go. I’ll be the one who has a harder time with it, I’m sure. But it will be so great to meet Jackie and Deb in person, and have each passed their birthday’s without their loved ones, so I’m also in good hands. It will be nice to spend an evening with people who really ‘get it’ – all the strange, funny, heart-wrenching details that come along with widowhood/grief/single parenting/etc. No need to explain. And, I’m sure You, Jeff, and Austin will be having a laugh together somewhere as Deb, Jackie and I share a toast in your honour.
I’ll still see the girls the morning of, and we can celebrate with my parents the night before. This birthday will be tough for a number of reasons, though. It’s not about turning another year older. I could care less about that. Of course I’m going to miss you horribly. This will be my first birthday without you. But I am really dreading this one in particular because I will be how old you are, and will be forever. Though you were only a year older, on your birthday card each year, under the ‘P.S. I Love You’, I would write ‘P.S.S. You’ll always be older than me =)’. I guess always wasn’t the case after all.
Though we never fussed much over birthdays, I will miss you so greatly. I don’t’ know how else to put it. I’m trying to focus on something I read on the blog, Home is With You, the other day:
“He would have told her – he would have said, it matters not if you are here or there, for I see you before me every moment. I see you in the light of the water, in the swaying of the young trees in the spring wind. I see you in the shadows of the great oaks, I hear your voice in the cry of the owl at night. You are the blood in my veins, and the beating of my heart. You are my first waking thought, and my last sigh before sleeping. You are – you are bone of my bone, and breath of my breath.” – Juliet Marillier
This is how you are to me now.
Good night, My Love.
~Chelsea
P.S. I Love You
02.03.10
Lost, without you
Hello My Love,
It’s been an interesting week of big decisions for the store (still unmade), beheaded unicorns, memories of a decade ago and what was to be our future, and feeling lost about, well, Lost.
I’ve been trying to sort out a lease space for the store this past coupe of weeks. It’s such a big decision – the most expensive, and one of the most important of them all – and you are not here to talk about it with. That’s hard. I have a couple in mind and they both have their positives and negatives (basically one is small but cheaper and the other is bigger and needs less work but is much more expensive). The other day Sian asked me what you would say. I sat and tried to ‘channel’ you and feel what you may offer, but in the end I knew that, were you here, you would discuss it with me, weigh the pros and cons and offer support. We would have come to a decision mutually. I have a few other people I can do that with – and of course the insight that Bridie can provide is invaluable since she’s done this before, but it’s just not the same. I miss my partner.
I had a rough day with it all last week. I didn’t have the best start to the day as is – the girls have taken to putting on tap shoes first thing in the morning, but even that came after Caia was dripping water from her water bottle on face while I was still half asleep. After cleaning up an accident, then having breakfast, I was getting ready to meet with the realtor to look at one of the potential lease spaces. The realtor called just as Caia had some form of drama so she screamed blue murder the whole time I was on the phone, shouting to confirm that I would meet him in 15mins.
As we were trying to get ready, the girls both had various issues. Caia refused to put on underwear. Then insisted on it. Eibhlin wanted me to put her coat on her when she is fully capable of doing it herself. Caia didn’t want to get socks, but as soon as I went to get them the screaming started again as then she wanted to do it. And so on. I finally broke and exclaimed something about the fact that I am only one person and I can’t do everything for them all the time and deal with the screaming too.
I hate getting to that point. It’s not like it’s their fault you died. They don’t understand what it’s like to try and be a single parent and deal with the grief of the loss of your soul mate. They don’t understand bills and housework and work stress – nor should they have to. They are kids. And, who am I to put that on them? But, sometimes it’s just hard. I took it down a notch and explained to them that I just needed their help a little bit too – to stay calm and patient, and that we were on our way to look at a possible space for Mama’s new store, and I really needed them to listen and co-operate while we were out. ‘Sure Mama.’
They were fine while we were viewing the space, then I quickly wanted pop into the sporting good store to talk with the owner about their experience in the mall. That’s when things just fell apart. There was just too much going on to try and write about it, but I’ll just say that NEVER have they behaved so poorly in a store. EVER. I had taken their little pony/unicorn toys in for them to play with, but they both promptly handed them back to me (shoved them in my purse). I tried to explain that the stuff in the store was to be left alone, but Eibhlin was just trying to yank herself away from me and not listen. Clearly I was getting nowhere with them, so I had to just leave. Embarrassed.
As we left the store Eibhlin asked for her unicorn. I told her not right now. As we got into the car, she tried to help herself to it from my purse. I snapped once again. I told her that she better not even think of getting it out of my purse, and to get in her car seat immediately. She of course started to cry. As we drove home I told her that I needed both of them to go and spend some time in their bedroom because I was feeling very angry at how they behaved in the store and that I needed some space. Eibhlin just kept crying about wanting her unicorn.
I have never used ‘time outs’, and it’s extremely rare that they are even are asked to go to their room, but I felt this would be better for all of us. As they went down the hall, I took the unicorns out of my purse and just felt the urge to pull their heads off. So I did. I knew they could be fixed, and I honestly had absolutely no intention of showing the girls this. I just thought it would be a funny way for me to get some of my anger out. Better the unicorns then the girls. As I write this, however, I’m acutely aware of how crazy I must sound . . . .
Anyhow, the girls came out, after only a minute and I asked them to go back. A moment later Caia came out again, asking for her unicorn. I said, ‘Fine, you want your unicorns?’ and showed them. I know. Not my best moment by any means. I felt like the worst mother in the world. I did explain to the girls that they could be fixed, however I told them it would not be that day. But, um, who am I to question behaviour? I’m the one pulling heads off of dolls. Ah well, the girls survived and so did I, even though I felt awfully mean and hypocritical, and we ended up having an enjoyable afternoon and evening despite it all.
A few other things struck me this week – it was 10 yrs ago, almost to the day that we moved in together. Our first home. A brand new, 780sqft one-bedroom condo. I looked over the photos of the day we moved in. The white walls – a clean slate for a fresh beginning because, it was also at this time that we were in the midst of planning our upcoming wedding. When I was cleaning out the office the other day I found a notepad that we had used for some of the planning. It had both our writing – guest lists jotted down, songs, costs of various items, to-do lists, meanings of flowers for my bouquet, even my jotted notes as I wrote our vows. I smiled through tears as I poured over it. 10yrs. We were just kids. And so excited for what our future would hold. Together.
I had so hoped we would be able to renew our vows this year. Have a little ceremony with our girls there. A chance at another, simple dress (since your reaction to the first one wasn’t what I was hoping for – sure, sure, you liked it and you didn’t mean anything bad by what you said . . . yada yada yada. I know = ). Even our plans to bump it up and do it for our 9yr anniversary – after finding out you may not make it to 10yrs – fell through.
It was also recently the 8yr anniversary of your first seizure. What eventually led to your diagnosis. We were still pretty much kids. Barely more than newlyweds. I remember that night so very well, along with much of the weeks to follow when we finally found out about the tumour, followed by your first surgery. And so it began.
And finally, though I am very lost without you, that’s not what I was referring to above. The last season of Lost starts tonight. I knew it was coming. I set up the PVR. But I didn’t expect it to hit me the way it did when the finale from last season was on last week. I saw a moment of it, and my initial memory was just of how hard it was for you to watch it in the last couple of weeks before you died. Your vision had been giving you problems and you had to watch it with one eye closed so you could see straight (and to make matters worse we were watching it on my computer as we were staying at your parents and were accessing it through the slingbox, so it wasn’t all that clear to begin with). I remember you joking about how Lost is hard enough to follow as is, and how it was almost impossible to follow when you have a brain tumour. Amazing that we could still joke about things at that time.
When I went to watch that episode last week though, I suddenly remembered something else and my heart started racing. Just over a month before you died we had been watching it at home. It had been a hard day as we had an MRI that day, and though we hadn’t met with the oncologist yet we saw the scan and knew it wasn’t good. We both fell asleep watching Lost, and when we woke up you became somewhat disoriented. You were asking me where we were. Where we lived. You were asking me my name.
At first I thought you were joking. Trying to be funny as usual, but you insisted you weren’t, and though I hoped that was the case, deep down I knew. You started asking me if we were on Lost. You were confused about music that was playing on the television, and how on Lost they often have similar music playing, and you had been dreaming about being on the show and were just having a tough time waking up and getting your bearings. Now, I know it’s easy to wake up and feel disoriented – I’ve had that happen myself – but the fact that you said you didn’t know my name was so hard to take. As you started to ‘come to’, you then insisted that you actually knew everything, you just needed to get confirmation from me to try and help clarify things for you. I wanted to believe you, but I wasn’t so sure. Within a few moments of you coming out of being disoriented, you had a panic attack. It was the first panic attack you had. I wasn’t sure what to do, I’d never experienced that before, but I remember just sitting on your lap, keeping one hand on your heart, the other hand stroking your hair/face/shoulder, trying to keep my voice calm and calm you down, while inside I was completely freaking out. It was one of the scarier moments of it all for me.
So, here I sit with Lost on pause, eating a bowl of Skor icecream (though I like it, it was never one of my favorites but it caught my eye in the store the other day, because it was one of yours), trying to figure out if I can actually watch the silly show. I want to – I’m curious to know how they end it. I smile as I think of how you had a love/hate relationship with it anyhow – you hated how ridiculous it all seemed, yet kept watching it – even with one eye (though I really think you were ready to give it up at the end). I know if I do watch it, I’ll miss your running commentary, picking it apart. I guess it’s late enough now that this decision will have to wait for another night anyway. It should. We’ll see. Maybe I’ll just fall asleep on the couch watching it . . .
~Chelsea
P.S. I Love You
01.30.10
It’s only a 2 minute drive
You know it barely takes more than 5 minutes to get from one place to the next here. From the bank to get dog food, maybe 2 minutes? Why, therefore, did this song have to come on as soon as we got back in the car when leaving the bank?
I ’sort of’ recognized the tune before the lyrics started, but didn’t fully realize what song it was until it was too late (as soon as I figured it out, I started to cry). By the time we were at the point to turn in and get the dog food, I was way too teary to try and go inside. Thankfully, since we live so close, we drove home (which is where I had happened to leave my credit card anyhow) and decided to walk with the girls in the wagon to get the food, which gave me a bit of time to recuperate (we really needed the food – we were pretty much right out). It was drizzling lightly, but the girls looked pretty cute in the wagon with their umbrellas. And, it was good to get the fresh air.
It’s a beautiful song, but it often made my cry even before you died (though in large part because it felt like foreshadowing for my future). I haven’t been able to listen to it since – it sent me running from the room when it came on at my parents house just days after you died (funny, I had completely forgotten about that until now . . . . ).
Such is the life of a widow, I suppose. I guess it’s time to just start driving with the radio off (though that wouldn’t have helped when I started crying the other day as an ambulance came up behind me with lights and sirens on a couple of blocks from the hospital you died in . . . ).
~Chelsea
P.S. I Love You
01.25.10
Our life in paper
Ok – first off, let me apologize in advance for what could be a cheesy analogy by the end here, but I spent close to three hours shredding paper today and it got me thinking . . . and perhaps drove me a little crazy.
A while back I went through our ‘filing container’ in the office. I pulled out a rather large stack of paper – bills/receipts/etc – anything that seemed old enough (some of it was over a decade old) that I didn’t need to keep it any longer. I did a fairly quick sort of it then and as the girls were around I didn’t pay close attention to all of it.
As I had some time on my own today, I took out the paper shredder and finally started to shred away. As I went through everything a little more closely (since the shredder could only handle a few sheets at a time and seemed to need a ‘break’ every few minutes) I realized that all of that paper summed up a great number of events in our life together. Big events.
Purchases of cars. Repairs from car accidents. Receipts for furniture we bought for our first condo together, our first house together. Our last house together.
Ambulance bills from when Eibhlin was born. Pay stubs from our various jobs. Paperwork from our RRSPs as we planned for our future. It was all there. And so much more.
Because I’m (clearly) such a packrat, part of me didn’t want to shred it. It felt like it was shredding ‘proof’ that we, well, were ‘we’. That we did all of these things ‘together’. I knew that I didn’t really need these papers to tell me that (fortunately) so I started shredding. Still, it was hard at first.
As I was shredding, I had a fair bit of time to think (it takes a LONG time to shred that much paper). In many ways I feel as if I’ve been through a shredder in the past 9 months – or really the last few years when you take in all we went through before you died. I feel like my heart has pretty much been sliced to bits, to a point where it will never be put back together. Never again whole.
I continued along, and as more and more paper had to go through I was struggling with the fact that, after having been shred to bits, the paper had such a greater volume it was tough to get it to fit in the bag I had for it. I would step on it. Sit on it. Jump on it to try and reduce the volume to make more room, but when done, the shredded paper easily took up at least 10x the volume as it had before (probably much more).
I’ve often read other widow’s blogs as they describe feeling that – though obviously they would never have chosen to lose their spouse – they grow to like the person that they have become after having survived such a loss. They realize they are stronger than they ever knew. More capable. Fearless. Passionate about life and all it has to offer, among many other great qualities. It’s difficult to write about, because no one wants to try and sound like this is perhaps the ‘meaning’ behind their spouse’s death, or that they are in any way ok that it happened – trying to express it with the right balance for other people to understand is tough, but I see where they are coming from (and some manage it brilliantly).
Having been through the shredder – though it still hurts like hell, I can see in some places where my ‘volume’ is slowly starting to increase. I’m still in pieces – and like with shredded paper I will never be back to the way I once was – but I have managed through many things in the last 9 months that I wouldn’t have imagined possible before. Still standing here today, without you is no doubt the biggest. The fact that I still have two legs standing beneath me some days seems a miracle. Some days I’m on my knees, and some days, though I get out of bed, I still feel as though I’m in a ball under the covers – but my legs are getting use, and are perhaps even getting a little stronger again too (some days).
I’m getting better at cooking. A little more adventurous. I made my first omelet the other day, and while it paled in comparison to one of yours, it was actually pretty damn good (especially since I don’t think I had even scrambled an egg before you died). I make a pretty yummy couscous dish. Quiche. Many things I’ve never made before. I fixed the toilet. I took apart and put back together Caia’s bike (with the girls chanting ‘Go Mama Go!’ the whole time). I’ve managed to run the house almost completely on my own – and though it’s tiring and I complain and some days it’s not as smooth as I want it to be – we’re all fed, relatively clean (I’m still not a big fan of bathtime), and under a roof. The girls are happy. Healthy. Nine months ago this all seemed out of the question. And, I’m about to start a new business to boot.
To take the analogy even one step further (pardon me for getting a little too far out there), but some of the big bag of shredded paper will soon be added to the compost and the rest recycled. And it will all eventually turn into something new. Though once shredded, a new life begins. As so it has been for us.
Ok, I’m done. But, finally – some photos from Christmas (and thanks again to Nana & Papa for the fun toys and helping make it a little easier) . . .
Not so sure about this guy . . .
Ok by me
Christmas eve - Santa was lost
A chef like her Daddy? (don't worry, I won't promote that)
Your presence was with us
It was hard to open
Something that shines - from Daddy's stocking
Her plasma car (that Caia always rides)
~Chelsea
P.S. I Love You
01.24.10
A little down time
This week has been a bit quieter, in a sense, for me since I didn’t have to go to Sechelt each day for workshops. It was good to be able to spend a bit more time around the house and with the girls again. It felt a little more peaceful not having to physically run around, though I still had to put work in on my business plan draft and my mind has still been running constantly from one thing to the next.
Yet, perhaps because it was a somewhat slower week, I was taken down a notch the other night. After the wave of Christmas and New Years, it took me a bit to recover, and though I’ve still had my moments since then and the weight of missing you is ever present, I hadn’t had any big ‘cry spells’ for a bit. There was no apparent particular reason for it – I guess that’s just the way grief works. It really sucks, though, when you have a wicked cough and it’s already tough to breathe.
The next day I felt as if I’d been hit by a truck, and though I was severely lacking sleep and rather exhausted, I still managed a pretty busy day in a relatively smooth manner.
I picked up a friend of Eibhlin’s and took them to soccer class. Yes, I signed Eibhlin up for soccer. You’re welcome. It was something you always wanted to do, and I had zero interest in (the idea of standing in the freezing rain at 7am on a Sunday morning is SO not me), but at least this session is indoors and it’s only 5 weeks so I thought we’d give it a try. It seemed important to you that she get a chance to play soccer (and I was able to get the rec centre to honor the 3yr old credit we had from her swimming lesions to pay for it). I’m still not making any promises about future lessons, but she really did enjoy it.
After dropping them off, I ran (literally) Caia down the block to her ballet class. It was the first class I had to opportunity to take her to in a while, so she seemed to want to cling to me a bit. After her class we walked back to the rec centre to pick up Eibhlin and Brandon to go back to our place for a quick lunch before I took them down to preschool. After dropping them off, it was back home to work for a few hours.
I was supposed to go view some potential lease spaces for the store this week, but apparently it seems all the realtors in town are on holiday and they couldn’t track down the keys to the spaces. That was disappointing, but hopefully this coming week I can get in. I have some big decisions to make about size and budget – it would be great to be able to have a space big enough to put a photo studio in the back, but I don’t know if that will be possible. We’ll see.
Friday was a beautiful day here. It was the 9 month anniversary of your death, and though that thought crossed my mind multiple times, I tried not to let the date have too much control of me. My mom taped something for me the other day where someone grieving the loss of his partner 5 yrs ago, was talking to a boy who recently lost his twin brother to brain cancer. He said that the ‘date’ is not what holds meaning, it’s the memories, so to try and not let certain dates take over your life. Easier said than done, since for the most part the date is what triggers the memory – like Christmas and birthdays – but I figured the ‘month’ anniversaries were a good place to start. It’s true, I miss you just as much today as I did on Christmas day, but it’s still different.
Anyhow, we spent the afternoon at Buz and Sian’s for our usual acro class/pizza day. The kids were riding bikes up and down the driveway, and Eibhlin was working incredibly hard on riding a two-wheeler on her own. You would have been incredibly proud (and I told her so). She was getting frustrated, but was relentless. Sian took her down to acro, and she told me that on the way back, Eibhlin put her had out the car window and said, ‘Daddy’s holding my hand right now.’
She’s such a fantastic kid. I know I’m being redundant, but it kills me that you don’t get to see first hand just how these little girls of ours are growing and changing and how amazing they are. The other day Eibhlin decided she wanted to write a book. She came to me with a tiny, folded piece of paper and asked me to help her write it. She told me exactly what she wanted it to say (it’s only about 3 lines, but very cute), then we came up with a title for it – ‘Cover Up Your Coughs and Sneezes’, and she wrote, ‘By Eibhlin’ on the cover and drew a picture on the back. I’ve never seen her more proud of herself. She read it over and over to anyone (or thing) who would listen, and kept exclaiming that she’s an author.
She took it to preschool to share with her class, and I was fortunate that, at the end of class just as I arrived to pick her up, the teacher called her up and she read her little book in front of the class with, a little nerves, but a big smile on her face. She then walked slowly around the room with the book held out to show each of her classmates the illustration, and as they were dismissed a few of them came up for a better look and she stood there explaining it to them. I could have cried (I ‘almost’ did). Today she was working on drawing pictures of your face on her magnadoodle. She often talks about things in relation to ‘when we still had Daddy’ or ‘before Daddy died’. She uses your death as a bit of a time stamp, even she’s not talking about anything involving to you. It’s clear that you are always on her mind.
Caia is incredible too. She’s almost completely potty trained already, and she has even woken up dry a few mornings recently. She still has the odd accident, but is doing great. She still cracks me up all the time – her little sense of humour is so reminiscent of you it’s amazing. The other night when we were lying in bed, she said, ‘A mitt Daddy a’yot.’ (for, ‘I miss Daddy a lot’ – she can’t make the ‘s’ sound yet). She flies all around on the plasma car, and pretty much refuses to walk from one end of the house to the other now. She has to take the car to the bathroom, to get socks. You name it. She has to try and do pretty much everything for herself and pitches a fit if I try and help before I’m asked (even if there’s only a 2 second difference), but it’s great to see her independence growing – and her fits are actually rather comical. She’s rather dramatic.
They both did a little ‘modelling’ this week. A friend who also went through the Aspire program, just before me, designed some little girl’s dresses and I took some photos of the girls in them for her website. It was great to do the photos, and the girls had fun with it too. She’s working on her fall/winter line now too, and in a month or so we’ll be doing more. The people at Aspire were really happy with the head-shots I did for them over the holidays, and it looks like I’ll be hired back to do more in the future, which is great. It’s nice to be spending so much time behind the camera again. Since you died (quite literally, the day after you died), I really tried to start picking it up more and more, and now it’s nice to get a few paying jobs for it. I still feel a bit rusty and I have so much I’d like to learn on the photo editing side of things – and I have no idea when I’ll get the time – but it’s another good focus for me (no pun intended).
I’m finally almost over this sore throat/cough, and this coming week is looking fairly quiet again so I’m hoping I can put a little more work into the house again and restore some order. I’m hoping to get back into the sauna a little more often again. Every morning I wake up and it feels as though I have fiery daggers in my arms. This morning it was hard just to get up and out of bed. I know that once I’m moving around in the day it subsides (unless I ‘tweak’ them), but first thing in the morning it’s ridiculous. And I refuse to get a cortisone shot, so I’ll just have to make the time to get in the sauna.
Well, I’ve finally figured out the problem I was having with uploading photos. I should get to sleep, but I’ll try to get them up in the next couple of days. God, how I wish you were here. Sometimes, I look at photos of us – it’s like that life was a dream. I don’t mean dream as in ‘perfect’ – I mean as if it never really even happened. This past 9 months have flown by in some ways, but in others it’s like a lifetime. A completely different lifetime. I hate it – but sometimes it feels like you were never even real – our ‘old life’ seems so foreign to me now. Yet I still have a hard time feeling like I’m really in this ‘new life’. I still twinge when I hear someone refer to me as a ‘single mom’ because – I don’t know. I still don’t feel single I guess. It’s a crazy place to be. I am certainly not the same person I used to be, in so many ways. I only hope you’re ok with that.
~Chelsea
P.S. I Love You
01.21.10
It’s these things that matter . . .
Lying in bed tonight, trying to fall asleep. I can’t. I think of how wonderful it would be to just reach out and feel your arm. Just your arm. It’s all I can do to keep from actually trying, only to feel the emptiness that awaits. But it doesn’t matter. It still hurts just as much.
It’s not flowers. It’s not fancy dinners or dozens of roses. Jewelry. Not even chocolate. The feel of your arm. To fall asleep with your hand in mine. To wake up to the feel of your lips on my forehead, then on mine. To see your fuzzy silhouette as we mumble ‘Good-bye’s’ and ‘I love you’s’ as you slip out the door for work and I drift peacefully back to sleep.
The feel of your arms around me when I break down and cry.
These are the things that matter.
How I wish I had those arms around me right now.
~Chelsea
P.S. I Love You
01.17.10
No need for a plumber . . .
Hello My Love,
It feels like forever since I’ve written, though it’s only been a week. It’s been an exhausting week in many ways. Perhaps that’s why it’s felt so long.
This was my last week of Aspire workshops, so now I have three weeks of working on my business plan from home before it’s due, then one more week to prepare to present it to the committee. It will be nice to have the freedom to work at it from home and not be tied into going to Sechelt every day (the 23min commute each way is a killer =), but I’m worried it may be tough to find the time to focus on it with the girls running around. Still, it will be good to have a little more time around them again for a bit. The workshops were incredibly valuable though, and we had such a great group of participants.
Caia and I have been sick all week, as was my Mom, which made it much harder on her to babysit. She trooped it out though (with a little help from Mary Poppins and the like). We’re down to just a nasty cough left, but the other night I had such a major coughing fit so bad I thought I cracked a rib. My abs have been sore for two days now, and I sure hope that, if nothing else, I get at least a little more definition in my stomach muscles out of this. The cough is exhausting. Thankfully Eibhlin seems to have passed most of it by.
Missing you has been strong this week (as usual), but being exhausted and sick doesn’t help. I get tired of being tired. The pain of missing you is terribly wearing. A few other things this week just magnified it too. Ryan’s condition has recently worsened recently, and that hit home hard. I feel so much for his family, knowing too well what going through all that is like. He’s still keeping that amazing outlook though – just as you did. He even went on the news to share his story and try to encourage people to enjoy their lives and be thankful for what they have. Again, not unlike your mission.
I found out I can fix a toilet – and for only $0.66 to boot! Ok, so it was an incredibly simple fix, and my Mom was at the ready to jump in with her assistance as she’s fixed the odd toilet in her days, but I was glad to look after it myself. At the time it broke I was annoyed that it was just yet another thing to deal with, but in the end it is a bit of a sense of accomplishment. And today, as it wasn’t raining, I ‘patched’ the holes in the fence that the neighbor’s little dog (and bunny) keeps getting through. Cleaning up Cali’s poop is more than enough for me. I don’t need extra. There were a few holes at the bottom, so I just moved some big rocks and scrap wood in front of them, and for the smaller ones i just piled up a little extra dirt to cover them. I know it’s not a permanent solution – the fence looks like it will likely need a lot more work one day, but hopefully it will be enough fro now. Caia seems really bothered every time she sees that dog (she starts yelling ‘white ‘og away!’) so perhaps it will at least put her mind at ease.
I’m hoping with this free time I’ll be able to get the house back in some sense of order too. It worries me trying to figure out how I’ll keep up when the store opens, but I’m planning on getting a small deep freeze so I can spend the next few months making lots of food to freeze for easy dinners, so at least that will be taken care of for a bit.
There are many other things I wanted to write about, and I wanted to put up photos from Christmas but I can’t seem to get it working just now, so I’ll have to save that for another time yet again. For now, I suppose then, I will leave you with a song. I remember dancing with you to this song in your parents family room, not long before you died. I could never have known exactly what it was like for you in the last month of your life – struggling with declining senses and physical abilities, but I hoped you felt you weren’t lost with me by your side (I know the first few lyrics are more like a break up song, but that aside I felt the rest applied at the time). I remember you telling me how you felt safe as long as I was near.
Now when I hear the song, I think of it in a different way. All the lyrics seem to apply as if it could be your words to me – unfortunately, including the part where you wouldn’t recognize the girl I am today. Though I don’t have you here with me physically and I don’t get to feel you and your love first hand, which hurts, I still feel your love with me, and know that I am not alone. When I look hard enough, I can find you. Thought it often feels that way, I am not lost. (not completely anyway)
~Chelsea
P.S. I Love You
01.10.10
Forever My Love
Though I know it’s impossible to put into words just how much I miss you, I sure wish I could find a way . . .
It was so great having LB here for a visit this week – she ended up coming on Tues evening, and after joining us for dinner she jumped right in to help put the girls to bed. They loved it too, and it was a nice break for me. I hate that it sounds so silly to make such a big deal about having a night off from the bedtime routine – it’s really not that hard to brush teeth and read stories, etc – but it makes such a difference to not have to do it once in a while. And even though I pretty much always did it before you died anyway, you always were there to help in some capacity or we split ourselves between the girls and it was just so much easier.
Anyhow, it was great that she was able to pitch in and we also had a really nice time to catch up and chat. On Wednesday I didn’t have work or Aspire, but having her there gave me the chance to go out to Sechelt to do some photography for a friend, then head back to Eibhlin’s preschool and do a few photos there for the website they are building.
I had also mistakenly thought there was a preschool meeting that night and thought it worked out great that LB was there to look after the girls (as she decided to stay an extra night), but I forgot that the meeting had been cancelled. I joked that since I had childcare already arranged for a night out, I should head out with Buz and Sian to the Blackfish – and LB insisted that we do it. She kicked me out, and it was really nice to have just a couple of hours to sit with Buz and Sian, without the distraction of 4 kids. The girls were asleep when I came back, and LB and I had another great chance to chat.
I was sad to see her go on Thursday morning – I tried to convince her to pick up and move in with me =), but no such luck. Having the extra hands around the house & with the girls, even just for 40hrs, was so great. It also reminded me just how much I miss having you around – not that I ever forget, but I’ve just become accustomed to making-do around the house on my own (ok, not completely on my own as I get some help from my mom and Sian), and it was so nice to have that help, and the company. Something other than a screen to engage with after the girls have gone to sleep.
On Thursday, my mom had noted that Caia was a bit grumpy while I was at Aspire, and while I worked in the afternoon I noticed she did seem a little ‘off’. I picked her up and she felt quite warm. Sure enough, she had a mild fever. It’s the first time I can remember her having one. She was quite tired as well, and was practically falling asleep on my lap, which is quite out of character for her. She still had an appetite, and after shortly after dinner she went to sleep quite easily. Friday afternoon Eibhlin had acro and we were thinking of cancelling pizza night with Buz and Sian, but Caia’s fever was gone and her energy was back up. We went for dinner, but by 6:30 she was wearing down so we went home and off to bed. Today we had planned to go to a friend’s for dinner, but I cancelled as in the morning I was not feeling well, and Caia – though her fever is gone – now has a cough and cold, so we opted to stay home for the whole day and tried to take it easy. My coughing has progressed some through the day, so I’m hoping to rest up as next week is my final week of daily workshops with Aspire. That said the house is still a bit of a mess, the recycling is overflowing and the cupboards and fridge are looking a bit bare, so I should put in at least a little effort around here tomorrow.
Something else occurred this week though, too. Caia woke in the middle of the night, Thursday (or Friday morning). I brought her into bed with me, thinking she would likely sleep more soundly. It took her some time to settle back down (this was the night her fever developed) and I was in and out of sleep for a while as she was trying to settle herself. At one point, I started to dream . . .
I had just got Caia back to sleep, though in the dream she was in her bed and I in mine. It was 2am, and suddenly the phone rang. I answered it quickly, so it wouldn’t wake the girls.
‘Hello?’ I heard a lot of static. Background noise. Then I heard you.
‘Hello? Hi!’ It felt so amazing to hear your voice. I could even hear your smile. I remember feeling indescribably excited. Happy. At ease.
‘So, when’s dinner going to be ready?’ you asked, with that smile.
‘I’m putting it on the table right now’, I replied, smiling too (though it was not true by any means of course – remember it was 2am in my dream and I was in bed).
Then I think you asked something about what was for dinner, and either I told you that we were having stew, or you asked for it – I can’t remember which (I can’t remember it exactly and for whatever reason there was a lot of background noise on ‘the phone’).
‘It better be a meat stew’ you laughed, ‘I’ve got to have my meat you know’. (ironic, as immediately before you died you had decided to become vegetarian). I laughed, and said ‘Ok. Sure.’ (also ironic since I NEVER cook meat).
Then it was over. There would have been more, I’m sure, as just as you started to say something else Caia began to stir and I woke up. My heart was immediately racing (it must have been during the dream too). I thought it would beat out of my chest. It felt so real. SO real. And, it felt so good. But then I found myself almost in a panic trying to remember it all exactly. I retold myself the dialogue over and over again, not wanting to miss a thing – though of course now it’s somewhat foggy.
I needed that. It’s still hard, because it just wasn’t long enough and it sucks that it’s the only way I can experience you in a new way – but it was comforting too. You sounded great. Content. As if all was ok. I haven’t had many dreams that were so clearly you thus far – I can only think of two – though there have been many where I feel like I have sensed your presence but could just never be sure if you were there. Though I didn’t ‘see’ you in this dream, there was no question that it was your voice. And you were telling me you were ok.
As good as it felt, it’s still brought me near tears a few times as I’ve thought of it since, but I wish you could come to my dreams all the time. I’d take it. Even if just through a phone call. It’s funny, because though I can’t bring myself to watch videos with you in them, even to hear your voice on a video is too hard – but this was ok. Somehow.
Something that also brought me to tears the other day – while driving – this song came on the radio:
Picking up the pieces, of a life that I once knew What will tomorrow bring? Gray skies all around me, I don’t know where to turn Can you help me with this pain? A shooting star, a ray of light A breeze that calms me in the night I got your message yesterday I feel you here, I wish that you could Stay with me Two hearts forever You were the spark that lit the flame Only if you’d Stay with me This love’s forever And in my heart you will remain Until we meet againSitting in the cold room, waiting for the sun Will it ever shine again? Pictures frames, the better days, are swirling in my head Will I ever find a way? A shooting star, a ray of light A breeze that calms me in the night I got your message yesterday I feel you here, I wish that you could Stay with me Two hearts forever You were the spark that lit the flame Only if you’d Stay with me This love’s forever And in my heart you will remain Until we meet again
As much as all of this hurts, I do try to take peace in some things, and I’ve been trying to focus on that more the past few days (perhaps mainly in an effort to recover from the holidays) – our love was worth this. It still is.
Nothing can take the pain away. In time, I will get used to living with it, but the wound will remain and the intense grief will always be lingering in the shadows of my existence. There will be an open gash across my heart for the rest of my life. It will never heal, though I will learn how to bend and move with it to avoid constant pain. From time to time, however, it will still get hit and the pain will knock me back – I have accepted this as inevitable, and in some ways I am ok with that, as I actually find comfort in knowing our love was so strong that, even years from now, I will cry for you. For the rest of my life I will cry for you. And that is ok.
It doesn’t make it easy. By any means. It doesn’t mean I’ve yet accepted all of this – there are still many moments where I feel you have to be coming back, or that I can’t actually believe this is really my life now. It doesn’t mean that I don’t wish, with every fiber of my being that you were still here. My tears are still frequent. The wound is incredibly raw, even 8 ½ months later. But I know that, even without you here, our love is forever. Until we meet again.
~Chelsea
P.S. I Love You
01.05.10
So, how were your holidays? . . .
One of my new, most dreaded questions.
How exactly do I answer that? ‘As good as can be expected’? How do you even know what to expect on your first ‘widowed’ Christmas? How are you supposed to celebrate? And for those who don’t know about you – do I stick with the standard, ‘Fine’? In ’some ways’ it was, but, really, without you it wasn’t.
Anyhow, Christmas day came and went, without you. We kept it low key, which is all I felt I could handle. I ended up making yet another last minute decision to stay the night of Christmas Eve at my parents home. I initially wanted to stay at our home and perhaps try to do something in the morning to honour you before diving into the day and the presents and what not, but I worried that the girls would have a different focus and it wouldn’t go as I wanted. Instead, we packed up our belongings after dinner, and then took a few moments with ‘you’ before leaving. The girls and I sat in front of the little altar I created for you in my room, we lit a candle, and they each wrote a letter to you (ok, well I did the writing) and drew a picture. We took a few moments of silence to think of you, and then they each put their letter to you in your stocking.
We packed up all the presents, stockings, and the candle, and headed to my Mom and Dad’s. I was feeling extremely exhausted, got them to bed (and they were extremely excited), and finished wrapping presents. After the girls were in bed, my parents and I watched some of the sports plays of the year – another tradition we used to have (and I’d love to update you on how things are going in the hockey world, but believe it or not I haven’t watched a single game – not even the world juniors, but I think Canada’s in the finals . . . another tradition gone for us. I miss watching hockey with you). Somehow I fell asleep that night.
The girls were up early and ready to get going on their stockings. We lit the candle again first, then let them go at it. When they were finished with theirs, I drew their attention to the fact that something was in your stocking. The letters they wrote were gone, but something was in its place. An extremely shiny ornament. It seemed a little odd to them, but then I directed them to notice a present in the tree with the same wrapping paper as the ornament. It was a book, titled ‘Everything that Shines’. A beautiful book about a girl and her horse. Long story short, the horse dies and the girls grandpa helps her to see that because she loved the horse so much, she could still see the horse – just in a different way. She could see her in everything that shines. Eibhlin got the connection pretty well, but as there was a lot going on that day, she moved passed it pretty quickly. I couldn’t expect much more on the actual day, but I’m happy that since Christmas, she has noted a few shiny things to me and told me that they make her think of you. We also discovered that Santa must shop at London Drugs, because the ornaments were there (I had gone to get more and hoped to distract her while I picked them up, but she saw them right away on the shelf) – and now we have a number of them hanging in the house. When the light hits them they really do shine. I think they somehow give me as much, if not more comfort then the girls.
After the stockings we had some breakfast, then tackled the rest of the presents. Caia loves her new little kitchen, though she gave up half way through unwrapping it as she said it was too hard. Eibhlin loves her plasma car – and the girls have been sharing both of those gifts (from my parents) wonderfully. They ride together on the car as if in a parade, then they drive by the kitchen to pick up the cookies they made. It’s very cute. I can only imagine how much fun you would have had on the plasma car. On Christmas morning, as I watched Eibhlin ride around, I pictured you – with that big smile and laugh – having a great time with it. As for me, I LOVE my new lens my Dad got me, and I’ve been having fun putting it to use. The girls got some other fun stuff too, as did I – including my mom getting the girls to help make me a new laptop case (I’ll have to post a photo sometime). Eibhlin had a great time playing ‘santa’ since she could read all the names, but she was so excited handing them out that we couldn’t keep up. I had to remind her a few times to slow down, but I was happy that it was not because she was tearing crazily through her own gifts. Caia started to get a little overwhelmed towards the end, threw a few presents that were handed to her to unwrap, then trying to unwrap other peoples gifts while laughing maniacally, but overall she enjoyed it.
After the presents were all opened, the girls were primarily content to play with their new ‘loot’ for the day. Caia was overtired and had a few meltdowns here and there, and I spent the whole day in pajamas, much of it just lying on the floor or almost falling asleep on the couch. The day actually seemed to go pretty fast. We lit the candle once again for dinner – I couldn’t help but look to it all the time. Wishing it was really you instead. As I took the first load of bags out to the car, something stopped me in my tracks. I walked out of the house and looked up to see, directly in front of me, a beautifully bright, lone star above the trees. It made me think of the last line of Wintersong:
A sense of joy, fills the air
And I daydream, and I stare
Above the trees and I see your star, up there.
It gave me chills. I looked around and didn’t see any other stars immediately, and shook my head, and smiled. Of course when I took the second load out to the car I noticed many other stars, but for that moment it felt like there was only one. And perhaps it was yours.
Though I managed to get through the day without breaking down (too numb and too tired I think), coming home was hard. As soon as we started to drive off, it started to hit me. Walking into the cold, empty house, another hit. After the girls were in bed, I was feeling pretty down, but fortunately Brenda called (even though it was 1am for her), and we had a nice chance to talk. As I went to bed I saw Peter and Ally online, so I chatted with them for a bit too, which was another nice distraction. The next few days I just felt pretty numb. I was on the ‘other side’ of Christmas, but it was still hard. I did a couple of photo shoots for the Aspire program, which was fun – but I was quite nervous as it had been so long since I had done a shoot like that, and as I walked out the door I really missed your encouragement and confidence in me. The way you would help calm me when I was nervous for a shoot. The kiss you would give me, telling me I looked great and I would be fine. Reason number 16,123 to miss you.
I had to work in town on Thursday, so we went on Wed night and stayed with your parents. Thursday was new years eve. The ferry home was really busy and awful. Line ups for the bathroom, and trying to fit all three of us in those tiny stalls, with Caia trying to crawl out under the door was a nightmare. Then the lineup in the cafeteria was long and Caia decided it was time (3 times actually) to really show that she’s two as she lay down on her back and cried in the middle of the caf as I was trying to get the food and pay for it. Of course, by the time we got a table and sat down we had about 4 minutes to eat before the docking announcements. We had initially planned to go to Buz and Sian’s for new years, but by the time we were home I had a terrible headache and was feeling nauseous (as noted in my last letter) and we were all just tired.
After the girls were asleep, I ‘planned’ to go to bed early. I was crying. A lot. I spoke for a bit on the phone with Sian, then cried off to sleep somewhere around 10:30. New Years was hard. Harder than Christmas for me, somehow. I hoped it would end there. For some reason, it just wasn’t my day. It was faint at first, I barely remember hearing it – but Caia was crying. As it got louder and I realized she wasn’t going to stop on her own, I was gradually waking up, but it hit me. I hadn’t looked at the clock yet, but I knew it wasn’t quite 12am. And I knew it was close. Somehow, I knew. I couldn’t believe it. I begrudgingly looked, and sure enough, 11:39am.
I picked Caia up as she was on her way to my room. I thought perhaps I could just fall back asleep quickly with the girls. She was trying to say something through her cries, but I was so tired I didn’t catch it. It was only when I lay down with her back on the bed that I realized – she had thrown up. Great. Fortunately (?) it was really only on the comforter, so I changed that quickly and they fell right back asleep. I was not quite so lucky. Back in bed at 11:48.
I kept my back to the clock, but it felt as if it was mocking me. Taunting me to look and see that it was almost midnight. The soft green light from the numbers felt like it was burning my back. I felt each silent tick of the clock. It was agony. Again, without looking – I knew it was 12. I felt it. A second later I heard the fireworks starting. Bang after bang, feeling like a kick in the stomach.
Why? Seriously. Why did I have to be awake for that? I could have missed it. For once, I was asleep before midnight.
Had I not cried enough yet? Are there still a few pieces of my heart left to tear? It sure doesn’t feel like it.
It was awful. Definitely a low point for me. I felt like a zombie all day Friday. Sian came over to help with the girls so I could catch up on some of my Aspire homework, then we went to their place for a delayed new years (and our pizza Friday). I’ve still been ‘coming down’ from it all and have been feeling very weepy lately, but I somehow managed to make my first quilt in the midst of it all. It was Buz’s birthday on Sunday, so it was for him. Yes, I made a quilt (and no my mom didn’t do it for me – though I couldn’t have done it without her guidance). Aspire started up again today, and now we are in the final two weeks of workshops before I have the crunch to finalize my business plan. I still have some catching up to do on homework, but LB is coming to help out on Wednesday, which will be great. I still need to find a name for the store though. It’s tough. Really tough.
Well, as I have a workshop tomorrow morning, I should get to bed . . . I planned on adding photos tonight, but perhaps they will have to wait for another day or two – sorry! In the meantime you can have a glance at my dad’s flickr page for his Christmas photos (along with shots of our special visitor that came by in the afternoon on Christmas Eve). I just wanted to let you know that I survived the holidays. I missed you terribly. I got a few extra wounds along the way, but I’m still here. I guess that could be my answer . . . .
~Chelsea
P.S. I Love you
12.31.09
A year without you
2010
You won’t have lived in 2010. Even though you died over 8 months ago, I could say that you were alive ‘this’ year. I could even say that you died ‘this’ year. As of midnight tonight, I can’t say that any more. A new year is starting, without you.
My husband died ‘last‘ year. You’re getting farther and farther away from me.
Not only that, but this is the first year in the last 14 that we won’t have been together for new years eve. December 31st, 1995 . . . the night we met.
Well, I guess we didn’t officially ‘meet’ until January 1st, 1996, but I remember seeing you earlier in the night. I was at the house of a friend from high school. You had arrived with a group of some of my other friends from high school, who had just happened to stop in and wish us a happy new year.
There, in a doorway, with your hat pulled low, your head down, nervously biting your thumbnail, I saw you. For the first time.
I remember being immediately intrigued – it was dark, crowded, and I couldn’t see you well, but there was something about you. I can still see that image so fresh in my mind. It doesn’t seem like 14yrs ago.
It was a while later in the night that we were finally introduced. I walked into the gym and could see you there, smiling, laughing, playing basketball. I was told your name (though I misheard and thought it was Eli initially), and we played ‘horse’ while you flirtatiously kept knocking the ball out of my hands (sending me running all over the gym). I remember sitting on the kitchen counter with you past 2am, talking away. Getting to know each other. As if there was no one else in the room.
There was an instant attraction. Butterflies. Of course I was at the very tail end of a relationship so that’s where it ended – we didn’t even start dating until over 6 months later (though there was a fair amount of flirtation in that time) – but, perhaps because we met that night, I’ve often thought of New Years as what ‘started’ it for us. It felt like we knew from that night there was something between us. That we should be together. I found the love of my life at 18.
And for the next 13yrs we were. And no matter what was happening on New Years Eve since that one, so many years ago, we made sure to be together at the stroke of midnight. So many years you were working at a restaurant somewhere, but I always managed to get to you before the strike of 12 (though once or twice it was close . . . ) to share a kiss to bring in the new year. Recent years were very low key – just putting the girls to bed as usual, watching ‘Dick Clark’s Rockin’ New Years Eve’, and flipping around on the tv watching the other celebrations. Drinking our sparkling apple/grape juice (since you couldn’t drink because of your meds). And always that kiss at midnight.
A far cry from this new years eve. The girls are now asleep, as usual. But I am here, without you. In a dark, cold, quiet room with nothing but the hum of my computer and the light from its screen. I don’t want to watch the festivities on tv this year. I don’t want to see the celebrations.
I don’t want the new year to come. I don’t want to start a new year without you. And I hate that I now know that these things I dread come nonetheless. I am powerless to stop them. Tomorrow will come. 2010 will start no matter how much I curse, cry, will it away. I’ll be dragged, kicking and screaming my way into the new year. But hey – another fucking milestone crossed, right? Hoo-ray. It hurts more than I can begin to say.
As much as I would rather take the mindset that I could instead celebrate this night as the anniversary that we met and how it started (and this does make me happy), sitting here alone without you is just too hard.
I’ll write soon about Christmas, and other news – but for now I’m going to sleep. As soon as possible. No staying awake late for me tonight. Even if I weren’t so exhausted, with a headache and feeling nauseous, I would still avoid being awake at midnight.
But, before I go to sleep, I will raise my figurative glass to you (and to my friend Deb who is missing her love Austin on what would have been their 14th wedding anniversary) in thanks for coming into my life that night. As much as this hurts, I am ever thankful that you did. I told you before you died that had I known then what our outcome would be, I would never have changed a thing – and that still holds true. And I love you even more now than ever – which I wouldn’t have imagined possible.
Only 3 hrs left in the last year you lived . . . . god how I hate this.
~Chelsea
P.S. I Love you
