Saturday morning, I looked out of our bedroom window and standing on the pool deck was the pair,the mallard drake and duck! I was so excited that they were back! I could hardly peel my eyes away from the window to make it out to the living room to see them even better through the sliding door. I snapped a photo, trying to get them cemented on film that they really were here; they had come back. I had been worried. It was this thought that sat at the back of my mind, brewing and simmering, wondering; Would they return? If they don't return, what does that mean? I needed for them to return.
It had become an annual event this time of year, and BRUCE was always the first one to spot them - he would excitedly come into tell me; "Dear, guess what? ----------- They're baaaaaack!" and I would then have to figure out what he was talking about. We both got into them taking ownership of our backyard as their little dating and mating area. Of course, we never really saw any ACTION, just two ducks enjoying one another's company. Sometimes they would swim in the water that is sitting on the pool cover ontop of the pool water. Usually only staying for a few days before flying off and not to be seen again until the next annual ritual. On Saturday, I was thrilled with their return. Lance and Shayna came for lunch and I said, "kids, come look!" smiling at them with the delight of a 5 year old, curling my fingers to invite them to the window to take a look. Lance got it! He knew what I was thinking and said..."mom, that's so cool" - just what I needed. Someone to undertstand my goofy good grief thinking.
I want to publicly thank all of you who have called me, emailed me and or replied that you are following my journey on this website. I think of you as a group of people, like a mass of unknown size. ( I was going to write blob, but that didn't sound very nice!) This mass has a huge heart and massive amount of empathy that spills out on occassion to reinforce and cheer me on. The kids are supportive but tentative. I think they are unsure of just what I might say! Worried that this tell all might tell all and that their cover will be uncovered! This is a little bit of a joke, but not really. Taking care of myself is what I am trying to do. I am also very conscious that what I am going through, they too are going through on their own level. They do knowthat they can't stop me. So at times, I am treated with kid gloves from them. We don't talk about what I have written. I am not sure they even read it. Do I care? not really! I know that each one of them have journaled throughout the years. I tried to always give them their privacy. Yes, I may have read a few pages here and there, but for the most part, I respected that part of their growing up years. It was usually only if I was going into pick up laundry or the "I can't stand the way this room looks any longer" entry into their private space - and then see a journal open or lying on the floor that I might have picked it up and read a page or two!
I am acknowledging here and now that I don't know where I am going with these words. I don't know where I am going with my life. I am trying to find my footing right now. For me, writing is therapeutic. I feel like I have lifted off a ton of thoughts when I finish each entry. My sister called this morning. She and her husband had spent time on the weekend reading these blogs. Many of my accounts made them laugh, remembering what my life with Bruce was like. They knew us very well. These accounts make me laugh too. And THAT is one of the reasons why I am doing what I am doing. A great quote I will probably misquote goes something like, "a teacher appears when the student is ready to learn" ;I am not a teacher, but I want my life to have purpose. I do hope that some of my thoughts and reflections will add value, meaning and perhaps a life lesson from our home and my heart to yours.
Speaking of hearts, Abby and I had a conversation about our styles. She is so much like her dad. She is direct! Bruce was DIRECT! Yes, you know where you stand with Abby. She is forthright, bright, and personable just like her dad. What you see is what you get, just like her dad. She is not one bit trying to be someone she isn't.
She was telling me what she misses about her dad. That was his LISTENING skills. Yes, he had fantastic listening skills. I have FLITTING skills. I am flitting here and there, multi-tasking, thinking about this and thinking about that! We spent some time talking about our differences. She said, she had the perfect parent! It was a combination of both of us. What one parent didn't have in assets, the other one made up with. Yes, she did tell me I had poor listening skills. I did know it, but it still hurts. I am going to concentrate on becoming a better listener. I can never replace Bruce's way with her. I don't want to. I do just want to be MORE there when we are in coversation. I am o.k. with the critique. I needed to hear it, even though it stung.
The ducks are/were back. Maybe I will see them again today. I plan to do some yard work. It is something I am not sure I want to tackle. Usually,I did do a lot of it on my own. During the week, on a day off, I would always start. Bruce would have helped on the weekends, but in general a lot of this spring/fall cleanup work would be done by me. The memories pour out at almost everything I do. Every first step I take in doing something without him for the first time is going to be hard. This has been hard, harder than I imagined, harder than I ever would want it to be for me or for someone else. But...out of darkness comes light, out of clouds,peeks the sun and out of two ducks will come new life; aka a little peeper! Happy Spring, fondly Deb
Monday, March 26, 2007
Thursday, March 22, 2007
We, Our and Us to Me, My and I
I have found myself beginning to get comfortable to the Me, my and I words lately. I still don't like it - the thought of being alone, by myself and that this life of mine is now considered no longer married, but widowed. Words have always been significant to me. I attach a lot of meaning to plain old words that just are the way in which we communicate with one another. I am trying to think of a good example and perhaps I will before I get to the end of this narrative. But for now, trust me -and that would have been something Bruce would have said as well!
Writing is helping me with this little problem. I find myself backspacing. Erasing the We will to I will. I don't do it easily. Each backspace is a painful experience. It is a reminder of where I am; and where we are no longer. A reminder of what I no longer have and still want but can't get! I felt like I am betraying Bruce to not use the plural forms of these pronouns! Well, it is just seeming right in describing some things now in the present tense instead of the past tense. Although I want to be in the past tense..Does this make sense to anyone but me?
I can see that The WAY WE WERE to THE WAY I AM NOW is becoming a journey. Each part of the process is a step on the grief ladder. I do plan to get to the top one day and take a gander at how far I have climbed. But for now, I am just taking little baby steps. With each step, I find myself realizing what I am doing. And that is why this blog and what I write is so important to me. It is a journey from WE were to I am. The best part about this journey is I have the ability to remember all of the fantastic we moments, the our times together and when our family did things together as ALL OF US! Nothing can take away those memories except perhaps a brain disease and God help me if that should happen to me. I must get back to SUDUKO's..by the way.
Yesterday I was writing phrases down. Words that are important to me now. gone, without, married, merried, widow, grief, etc... As all of these words filtered onto my paper, I finally wrote, what's good about grief? As I wrote that, into my head popped Charlie Brown's say, GOOD GRIEF! and with that, a smile appeared. I had to quickly go google Good Grief to find out the origin. Reading that Good Golly, Good Grief probably originated to replace the BIG G word - GOD. You see, Wendy -our/my daughter-in-law and soon to be the mommy of our/my first grandchild is a SNOOPY fan! So much so, that the nursey is all done in SNOOPY and Charlie Brown theme. The irony in this GOOD GRIEF helps me to see the what's good about grief! And now I am going to have to do something to get that phrase in the baby's room! Maybe on the corner of a little quilt! Not sure exactly where, but it will be part of our/my new future.
So here's to all of the Me's out there that were WE's at one time. May your day be a good grief day! Fondly, Deb
ps as you can see, sometimes the our's just have to be included
Writing is helping me with this little problem. I find myself backspacing. Erasing the We will to I will. I don't do it easily. Each backspace is a painful experience. It is a reminder of where I am; and where we are no longer. A reminder of what I no longer have and still want but can't get! I felt like I am betraying Bruce to not use the plural forms of these pronouns! Well, it is just seeming right in describing some things now in the present tense instead of the past tense. Although I want to be in the past tense..Does this make sense to anyone but me?
I can see that The WAY WE WERE to THE WAY I AM NOW is becoming a journey. Each part of the process is a step on the grief ladder. I do plan to get to the top one day and take a gander at how far I have climbed. But for now, I am just taking little baby steps. With each step, I find myself realizing what I am doing. And that is why this blog and what I write is so important to me. It is a journey from WE were to I am. The best part about this journey is I have the ability to remember all of the fantastic we moments, the our times together and when our family did things together as ALL OF US! Nothing can take away those memories except perhaps a brain disease and God help me if that should happen to me. I must get back to SUDUKO's..by the way.
Yesterday I was writing phrases down. Words that are important to me now. gone, without, married, merried, widow, grief, etc... As all of these words filtered onto my paper, I finally wrote, what's good about grief? As I wrote that, into my head popped Charlie Brown's say, GOOD GRIEF! and with that, a smile appeared. I had to quickly go google Good Grief to find out the origin. Reading that Good Golly, Good Grief probably originated to replace the BIG G word - GOD. You see, Wendy -our/my daughter-in-law and soon to be the mommy of our/my first grandchild is a SNOOPY fan! So much so, that the nursey is all done in SNOOPY and Charlie Brown theme. The irony in this GOOD GRIEF helps me to see the what's good about grief! And now I am going to have to do something to get that phrase in the baby's room! Maybe on the corner of a little quilt! Not sure exactly where, but it will be part of our/my new future.
So here's to all of the Me's out there that were WE's at one time. May your day be a good grief day! Fondly, Deb
ps as you can see, sometimes the our's just have to be included
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
You Grieve Like you Loved
Sunday I was visiting with a friend of mine on the phone. She lost her husband 30 months ago and still counting. As soon as she asked me how I was doing, I began to cry. Then I was able to get a hold of myself and carry on a conversation. She understands how I feel. All of these raw emotions that are sitting right under my skin seem to erupt on and off whenever. I never know what is going to push me over the edge. What reminder of my life with Bruce is going to turn on the tears. She told me that one grieves as one had loved. I had never really measured our level of love for one another. I just know that through the year, we had weathered some rough storms and made it through. Learning to forgive one another and being stubborn at the same time had kept us together through thick and thin. We always enjoyed being with one another, we lived our lives outloud and in person most days.
Yesterday I was in court. I was called as a witness for a sexual/domestic assault case that I had done last year. It was a complicated domestic abuse/sexual assault. It was a couple that wasn't in love. They shared common problems. They shared a hard life that included lots of alcohol and sex. They lived hard. There was no respect toward one another. This gal's self esteem was so low, she didn't think she was worthy of being treated like a human being. When this happened, including him trying to strangle her (which is a felony), I encouraged her to report him. She was afraid for her life. The exam I had done on her included taking photos of bite marks in unusual places, and collection of evidence just in case she decided to report. Two days later, I called her to see how she was doing. I asked her if she had reported it yet, and she said no, not yet. Then she said to me, "Why do you want to help me?" I told her, I cared about her and that she was a human being and no human being deserved to be treated like she had been treated. I was on the witness stand for over an hour yesterday. One year later, she looks much better. She is clean, has gained a little weight and is on her way to feeling better about herself. I hope he gets convicted. ... so yesterday was a heavy day. When I had finished with my testimony and was being consoled by my Sexual Assault exec. director, I was sharing a portion of what I had testified to. We began laughing about the questions we could imagine sharing with each other. All of a sudden, I thought of Bruce and what his remarks would have been on this subject. He would ask me when I would come home from a case, "Well, how did your sex case go?" sometimes I would give him the details and we would discuss them always injecting some humor along the way. As his memory appeared, I just started sobbing, tears ducts opened and I couldn't stop this "GRIEF MOMENT" that took over. Eventually I had composed myself. I am just glad that this happened during recess and not while I was up on the witness stand!
On Saturday, I was looking in his bed stand. In the last drawer, I found the two bags of Dove Chocolates where he had hidden them. He had discovered these delectables just this past fall. He and I both loved chocolate. Many a night throughout the years,m he would get a hankering for a piece of chocolate at bedtime. He would get up and go out to the freezer where he stashed a big ole Hershey candy bar, breaking off a piece for himself and another one for me to bring back to bed. Sometimes when I had a craving during the day, I would look for "his stash". Many times, I had been found guilty of eating the entire giant Hershey bar before he got one piece. He would lovingly yell at me and be mad, but not for long. I would just purchase another one the next day. When I discovered the unopened bags, one of DARK and one of MILK, I then remembered when and where he had tried to tell me their locations. He had just bought the candy prior to being hospitalized in December. When he showed me what he had bought, I told him he had to "HIDE THEM FROM ME!" The Sunday he went to the hospital, I had run home for a bit, while they were transferring him to his room and getting him admitted. As they were rolling him on the cart out of the emergency room and I was leaving, he yelled at me, "Oh Deb, the Doves are..." I immediately interrupted him, choking back the tears...and said, "Honey, I don't want to know where they are, remember?" Well, he never did tell me and I have discovered them on my own. Last night, in the night when I got up for a drink of water, I remembered them, and ate one for old times sake.
Yes, I believe our love ran pretty deep for one another. I am in for a long haul of up and down moments. I know that I just have to hang in there. I am going to savor the memories, let the tears fall where they may and eat a piece of chocolate. Maybe the bedside stand will just have to remain the candy stash drawer......Five and one-half weeks and counting!....Fondly, Deb
Yesterday I was in court. I was called as a witness for a sexual/domestic assault case that I had done last year. It was a complicated domestic abuse/sexual assault. It was a couple that wasn't in love. They shared common problems. They shared a hard life that included lots of alcohol and sex. They lived hard. There was no respect toward one another. This gal's self esteem was so low, she didn't think she was worthy of being treated like a human being. When this happened, including him trying to strangle her (which is a felony), I encouraged her to report him. She was afraid for her life. The exam I had done on her included taking photos of bite marks in unusual places, and collection of evidence just in case she decided to report. Two days later, I called her to see how she was doing. I asked her if she had reported it yet, and she said no, not yet. Then she said to me, "Why do you want to help me?" I told her, I cared about her and that she was a human being and no human being deserved to be treated like she had been treated. I was on the witness stand for over an hour yesterday. One year later, she looks much better. She is clean, has gained a little weight and is on her way to feeling better about herself. I hope he gets convicted. ... so yesterday was a heavy day. When I had finished with my testimony and was being consoled by my Sexual Assault exec. director, I was sharing a portion of what I had testified to. We began laughing about the questions we could imagine sharing with each other. All of a sudden, I thought of Bruce and what his remarks would have been on this subject. He would ask me when I would come home from a case, "Well, how did your sex case go?" sometimes I would give him the details and we would discuss them always injecting some humor along the way. As his memory appeared, I just started sobbing, tears ducts opened and I couldn't stop this "GRIEF MOMENT" that took over. Eventually I had composed myself. I am just glad that this happened during recess and not while I was up on the witness stand!
On Saturday, I was looking in his bed stand. In the last drawer, I found the two bags of Dove Chocolates where he had hidden them. He had discovered these delectables just this past fall. He and I both loved chocolate. Many a night throughout the years,m he would get a hankering for a piece of chocolate at bedtime. He would get up and go out to the freezer where he stashed a big ole Hershey candy bar, breaking off a piece for himself and another one for me to bring back to bed. Sometimes when I had a craving during the day, I would look for "his stash". Many times, I had been found guilty of eating the entire giant Hershey bar before he got one piece. He would lovingly yell at me and be mad, but not for long. I would just purchase another one the next day. When I discovered the unopened bags, one of DARK and one of MILK, I then remembered when and where he had tried to tell me their locations. He had just bought the candy prior to being hospitalized in December. When he showed me what he had bought, I told him he had to "HIDE THEM FROM ME!" The Sunday he went to the hospital, I had run home for a bit, while they were transferring him to his room and getting him admitted. As they were rolling him on the cart out of the emergency room and I was leaving, he yelled at me, "Oh Deb, the Doves are..." I immediately interrupted him, choking back the tears...and said, "Honey, I don't want to know where they are, remember?" Well, he never did tell me and I have discovered them on my own. Last night, in the night when I got up for a drink of water, I remembered them, and ate one for old times sake.
Yes, I believe our love ran pretty deep for one another. I am in for a long haul of up and down moments. I know that I just have to hang in there. I am going to savor the memories, let the tears fall where they may and eat a piece of chocolate. Maybe the bedside stand will just have to remain the candy stash drawer......Five and one-half weeks and counting!....Fondly, Deb
Cranky
I have written a couple of blogs from a computer other than my own in the past week and then haven't been allowed to publish them. It has fit in with the title of this post; it has made me more CRANKY! This morning as I was putting on my makeup and getting ready for the day, my mind was reeling. Excited that I was going to be able to have a moment to sit down at the computer and release these thoughts inside my mind. CRANKY is how I have been feeling lately....then I started thinking about how I was going to crank-out these messages. O.K. Yes, I do know there are a few people out there somewhere who are reading my thoughts. These words I am writing are my 2007 way of that I journal. And being a 54 years old widow, I have decided I am entitled to let it out, feelings, thoughts, disgust...whatever rolls from my brain to my fingertips is going to be written. yes, I might backspace, delete and edit as I read through this journal entry...but it is me!!! Who I am and what I am thinking on this day at this time in my life. So, as words go, here are some cranky thoughts from last week.
I feel like I am exploring and seeing this world I live in from an entirely different perspective. All of my senses seem to be heightened an edgy. This includes my nerves lately. For the past week I have been experiencing an increased amount of overwhelming sadness. It has been difficult for me to deal with. You see, I usually am in pretty good control of my feelings. Yes, I do lead with my heart, think with my heart and speak with my heart on a daily basis. But, usually my head is attached to my mouth, in most cases! When I do speak, it makes sense and I am not being unduly rude, snappy or plain irritating. But, in the past week I have found myself not liking me. Getting into these slumps is not of my choosing. It is just happening. Then when people around that I love, such as Abby, my daughter - I get snappy with her. Last weekend she came home and within a few minutes, she had pulled a brownie mix out of the cupboard and said excitedly she was going to make up some brownies. It immediately irritated me. Knowing that she would only eat one of these brownies, that I would then be left with a pan of them that would eventually get thrown out began to rub on my one nerve! Knowing also how she cooks. She is a great cook, she is a kitchen wizard - BUT....she doesn't do a very good job of cleaning up after herself. I guess she hasn't had to, since I have enabled her to cook then being right there to clean up after her. Now, I am tired of cleaning up messes for her or anyone else. Or at least that was the thought that was swirling that night. She reminded me that we were going to have company that would help eat up these brownies. So..the brownies were stirred, baked and filled the air with a delicious chocolate smell. I of course kept ruminating about the bowl in the sink that hadn't found its way into the dishwasher yet. As family arrived for the weekend to for Wendy's baby shower, we congregated in the family room. Everyone was happy and I a little on edge. I said curtly to Abby, "Are you going to serve your brownies and ice-cream now?" I I knew how I was acting, what I was saying and what I intended to infer from the message to Abby. I was taking out my frustration on her. This frustration,I believe was the loss of control in losing Bruce. I Transferring that feeling to Abby in controlling her to some degree. She did serve up the brownies, they were delicious. I did put the bowl in the dishwasher and my irritation wasn't resolved.
This entire grief thing has gotten a grip on me. When people ask how I am , I have been stating, "well, I am CRANKY!" I visited with a friend the other day and she pointed out to me the following. She said, "Deb, you were in the caregiver mode for Bruce. You didn't have time to be a wife. you have cared for other patients who have dies and that was O.K., now that you are no longer in the caregiver mode for him, you are able to be his wife again and you are now realizing he isn't here! It all made sense. I have been thinking lately that I am suffering from post traumatic stress disorder, aka - SHELL SHOCK. That does feel aptly titled. I feel like an empty shell. Our home is empty, quiet, large all of a sudden and the routines that were part of my life are no more. Going places such as the grocery store feels unfamiliar and weird. It is like I am experiencing an out of body experience. Being in places I know feels uncomfortable to me.
Learning as I go along day by day, sometimes - minute to minute - that this is how my life, isn't always the lesson I want. Keeping busy, keeping my mind active is a good thing. I stopped down to the office to visit the boys the other day. They greeted me, we visited. Then the sadness came over me. I couldn't answer their questions. I just nodded. I didn't want to cry, but the tears filled my eyes. Both of them got up from their desks and came over to give me a hug. I am so darn lucky to have them close by. Preparing food for my family and others feels good. I have been thinking about the summer months. I want to do a lot of entertaining. I will just change it up a bit, having more potlucks and BYOB. Being around family and friends is going to happen. Everyone will just have to put up with me asking to hear their favorite "Bruce moment"...isn't that the least they can do for a grieving widow? :)
I am also learning that people mean well, they just don't know what to say to someone who has lost a spouse. Sometimes what they say sounds "stupid". Yet, I know they don't mean to hurt my feelings. They just care. We all want to say and do the right thing and in our hurry-up and stressed-out lives, we think we need to "fix" things. I am learning sometimes is is just best to have someone sit with me in silence and let me take the lead. I learned in all of my years of sales that silence is good. Waiting and figuring out what that person needs sometimes happens in the moments of silence, instead of forcing an answer from them. I will try to remember this the next time I am with a grieving friend. Letting someone navigate through their own muddy water by taking the conversation where they want to go is important I believe. Learning that silence is OK in all situations is happening to me as well.
In the car the other day, I was thinking about our memory. When we recollect a memory, we can see, feel,hear, taste and sometime even smell that memory. There isn't a screen that pops up anywhere that we push play and review the memory of whatever we are thinking. It just happens. Perhaps this is our spirit world. Could it be that this is the area of our soul's energy, where our memories lie? Perhaps after we die, our soul's energy lies in this dimension. Does it interact with things in nature, like clouds, dust particles, or flowers? Is that why, when I view the stars early in the morning, or a beautiful sunset I feel so connected to this universe and beyond? Or why the pink rose petals make Bruce think of me? Well, I have gone into deep thought an beyond. One never knows do we? I do feel that Bruce and all of the people I have lost are very near by. It is in the memories that I recollect that I feel closest to them. Your thoughts on these subjects and more are welcome. Fondly and always, Deb
I feel like I am exploring and seeing this world I live in from an entirely different perspective. All of my senses seem to be heightened an edgy. This includes my nerves lately. For the past week I have been experiencing an increased amount of overwhelming sadness. It has been difficult for me to deal with. You see, I usually am in pretty good control of my feelings. Yes, I do lead with my heart, think with my heart and speak with my heart on a daily basis. But, usually my head is attached to my mouth, in most cases! When I do speak, it makes sense and I am not being unduly rude, snappy or plain irritating. But, in the past week I have found myself not liking me. Getting into these slumps is not of my choosing. It is just happening. Then when people around that I love, such as Abby, my daughter - I get snappy with her. Last weekend she came home and within a few minutes, she had pulled a brownie mix out of the cupboard and said excitedly she was going to make up some brownies. It immediately irritated me. Knowing that she would only eat one of these brownies, that I would then be left with a pan of them that would eventually get thrown out began to rub on my one nerve! Knowing also how she cooks. She is a great cook, she is a kitchen wizard - BUT....she doesn't do a very good job of cleaning up after herself. I guess she hasn't had to, since I have enabled her to cook then being right there to clean up after her. Now, I am tired of cleaning up messes for her or anyone else. Or at least that was the thought that was swirling that night. She reminded me that we were going to have company that would help eat up these brownies. So..the brownies were stirred, baked and filled the air with a delicious chocolate smell. I of course kept ruminating about the bowl in the sink that hadn't found its way into the dishwasher yet. As family arrived for the weekend to for Wendy's baby shower, we congregated in the family room. Everyone was happy and I a little on edge. I said curtly to Abby, "Are you going to serve your brownies and ice-cream now?" I I knew how I was acting, what I was saying and what I intended to infer from the message to Abby. I was taking out my frustration on her. This frustration,I believe was the loss of control in losing Bruce. I Transferring that feeling to Abby in controlling her to some degree. She did serve up the brownies, they were delicious. I did put the bowl in the dishwasher and my irritation wasn't resolved.
This entire grief thing has gotten a grip on me. When people ask how I am , I have been stating, "well, I am CRANKY!" I visited with a friend the other day and she pointed out to me the following. She said, "Deb, you were in the caregiver mode for Bruce. You didn't have time to be a wife. you have cared for other patients who have dies and that was O.K., now that you are no longer in the caregiver mode for him, you are able to be his wife again and you are now realizing he isn't here! It all made sense. I have been thinking lately that I am suffering from post traumatic stress disorder, aka - SHELL SHOCK. That does feel aptly titled. I feel like an empty shell. Our home is empty, quiet, large all of a sudden and the routines that were part of my life are no more. Going places such as the grocery store feels unfamiliar and weird. It is like I am experiencing an out of body experience. Being in places I know feels uncomfortable to me.
Learning as I go along day by day, sometimes - minute to minute - that this is how my life, isn't always the lesson I want. Keeping busy, keeping my mind active is a good thing. I stopped down to the office to visit the boys the other day. They greeted me, we visited. Then the sadness came over me. I couldn't answer their questions. I just nodded. I didn't want to cry, but the tears filled my eyes. Both of them got up from their desks and came over to give me a hug. I am so darn lucky to have them close by. Preparing food for my family and others feels good. I have been thinking about the summer months. I want to do a lot of entertaining. I will just change it up a bit, having more potlucks and BYOB. Being around family and friends is going to happen. Everyone will just have to put up with me asking to hear their favorite "Bruce moment"...isn't that the least they can do for a grieving widow? :)
I am also learning that people mean well, they just don't know what to say to someone who has lost a spouse. Sometimes what they say sounds "stupid". Yet, I know they don't mean to hurt my feelings. They just care. We all want to say and do the right thing and in our hurry-up and stressed-out lives, we think we need to "fix" things. I am learning sometimes is is just best to have someone sit with me in silence and let me take the lead. I learned in all of my years of sales that silence is good. Waiting and figuring out what that person needs sometimes happens in the moments of silence, instead of forcing an answer from them. I will try to remember this the next time I am with a grieving friend. Letting someone navigate through their own muddy water by taking the conversation where they want to go is important I believe. Learning that silence is OK in all situations is happening to me as well.
In the car the other day, I was thinking about our memory. When we recollect a memory, we can see, feel,hear, taste and sometime even smell that memory. There isn't a screen that pops up anywhere that we push play and review the memory of whatever we are thinking. It just happens. Perhaps this is our spirit world. Could it be that this is the area of our soul's energy, where our memories lie? Perhaps after we die, our soul's energy lies in this dimension. Does it interact with things in nature, like clouds, dust particles, or flowers? Is that why, when I view the stars early in the morning, or a beautiful sunset I feel so connected to this universe and beyond? Or why the pink rose petals make Bruce think of me? Well, I have gone into deep thought an beyond. One never knows do we? I do feel that Bruce and all of the people I have lost are very near by. It is in the memories that I recollect that I feel closest to them. Your thoughts on these subjects and more are welcome. Fondly and always, Deb
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Boyhood in Iowa
I have started reading the book by Bill Bryson, titled "The life and times of the Thunderbolt Kid". In January, when Bruce was home and not able to do much John and Geoff, the men from our OUI VINTAGER's WINE group, had wanted to come spend an evening reading excerpts from this book. John had received it for Christmas. He was laughing so hard one afternoon, his wife thought there must be something wrong with him. The author is from Iowa, was born in December of 1951..the same year and month as Bruce. His memoir of boyhood growing up in Iowa is right on the mark. Not only did he grow up in Iowa as did Bruce but, his father worked for the famous sports section of the biggest newspaper in Iowa, The DesMoines Register. The sports section is printed on peach colored paper and is known as 'the peach'. Thus far, I have only read 20 pages of this book and it is about baseball. I probably wouldn't have gotten so excited had it not been for the fact that Bruce also LOVED baseball....maybe just a titch less then he loved me (or maybe even a titch more than me, oh well! ) He loved the TWIN's as a kid...he loved to read the sports section of any paper, but especially 'the peach'. Whenever we were in Iowa on a weekend visiting relatives, he would buy the weekend edition of this newspaper so he could savor the color of the paper, bask in the memories of childhood and reading his favorite writers. Knowing now that the book I am reading was written by probably Bruce's favorite sport's writers son makes me ache just a bit.
In January, when Geoff suggested coming over to read excerpts...Bruce just wasn't up to it. Now I feel bad that he didn't get to hear or read the book that is now going to be placed down at the office when I get finished with it. I KNOW for a fact that he would have loved reading the book. He would have related, remembered and laughed as hard as John did. It is all about the 50's..the years that meant so much to Bruce and to me; it was our childhood.
Baseball and sports were his outlet then and beyond then. He had a photographic memory. He had details beyond details, numbers and stats, wins, momentus victories stashed in his head. Every once in a while, he would recall a moment in history that he had listened to on the radio or seen on tv. His memory banks were full of details from all of these years. As Bill, the author of the book explains; Baseball was the sport back then. It was what all kids in the USA followed. It was before the Superbowl. Yes, there was basketball and there was football. But, it was the WORLD SERIES that kept kids and adults hooked. It is hard for a girl to comprehend just how much history a boy holds in his memory about sports. Games, years, dates, wins, batting averages, baseball card details, who played for who, who got traded to whom! I am trying to comprehend and compare something similar that has been part of my life since I was 8 years old. I don't have anything in my memory that compares to this type of information.
Sometimes I and the kids would give Bruce a bad time about all of this information he had in his head. Since I didn't follow sports and it was details that took place before our boys fell in love with sports; whether it really happened or not was up for grabs. Bruce would be going on and on about some play, some game, some major event... and we would tease him that he was 'feeding us a line'. He would then defend himself saying ....where he add more detail and also where he was at the time this data had happened, etc. etc...
All of this sports talk lately has gotten to me. The newspaper gets delivered every morning and the sports section doesn't get read unless Lance comes over to scrounge some food at lunch. I have tried to open it up and scan it. Bruce used to say to me when he would recognize my ignorance. "Deb, all you have to do is read the sport's section for an entire month and you will know what is going on in the sport's world." and I would say to him, "Bruce, I don't need to know what is going on in the sport's world, because I have you!!"
I went down to the office yesterday and stopped next door. Jeff and Bruce were buddies. Jeff also has an insurance business. He and Bruce became good friends many years ago. They bantered back and forth. Jeff came to drink the coffee Bruce would make every morning. When Bruce became ill, Jeff was devastated. He misses him about as much as I do. So, the other day, when I stopped in his office to say hello, I requested a hug. That is what I am requesting these days from all of Bruce's men friends. I tell them I am "hug deficient". After Jeff hugged me, he was telling me that he and 'the boys' were going to carry on with the College Basketball Pool Tradition that Bruce always ran. Yes, I knew about it, but again, I was on the fringe. As I left his office and went to visit 'my boys' down the hall...I told them "I want to be in on the basketball pool!". ( I am not even sure this if how you say what they are going to do, I am so ignorant when it comes to sport's verbage) Knowing what I was talking about, Lance said, "Mom, yes, you are definitely knowledgable on who is going to win college basketball!" Yes, this was his tease, his loving way of saying "you are so not aware of what is going on in the sports world". I want to feel involved. I want to hold onto a piece of Bruce. This piece has to do with sports. I don't know how or why. I don't need to be an expert. I just feel like it was such a big part of his life and if I just could grasp on to a little of how he felt, I would be comforted.
That thought leads me back to growing up on a farm in Iowa as Bruce and I both did. He used the radio to listen to sports as many boys did back then. I can see him in his room, lying on his bed listening to a game rooting excitedly for his favorite teams. He transferred his love of sports to our sons. Ty used to go out in his car to listen to the Iowa Basketball games. When you live in Wisconsin and you are an IOWA fan...the AM stations from Iowa could be better recieved out in the car! Even if it meant, putting on your hat, gloves and winter parka! Yes, Bruce instilled his love of sports to our sons. And one day....that love will be passed on to our grandchildren I have no doubt. I have discontinued the sports package on our satellite tv. The sports channel doesn't get turned to unless the boys are over. There is no noise coming from our family room that I have to become irritated at as it drifts up the stairs. Yet, Bruce's love of sports will not be forgotten. Fondly and always, Deb
In January, when Geoff suggested coming over to read excerpts...Bruce just wasn't up to it. Now I feel bad that he didn't get to hear or read the book that is now going to be placed down at the office when I get finished with it. I KNOW for a fact that he would have loved reading the book. He would have related, remembered and laughed as hard as John did. It is all about the 50's..the years that meant so much to Bruce and to me; it was our childhood.
Baseball and sports were his outlet then and beyond then. He had a photographic memory. He had details beyond details, numbers and stats, wins, momentus victories stashed in his head. Every once in a while, he would recall a moment in history that he had listened to on the radio or seen on tv. His memory banks were full of details from all of these years. As Bill, the author of the book explains; Baseball was the sport back then. It was what all kids in the USA followed. It was before the Superbowl. Yes, there was basketball and there was football. But, it was the WORLD SERIES that kept kids and adults hooked. It is hard for a girl to comprehend just how much history a boy holds in his memory about sports. Games, years, dates, wins, batting averages, baseball card details, who played for who, who got traded to whom! I am trying to comprehend and compare something similar that has been part of my life since I was 8 years old. I don't have anything in my memory that compares to this type of information.
Sometimes I and the kids would give Bruce a bad time about all of this information he had in his head. Since I didn't follow sports and it was details that took place before our boys fell in love with sports; whether it really happened or not was up for grabs. Bruce would be going on and on about some play, some game, some major event... and we would tease him that he was 'feeding us a line'. He would then defend himself saying ....where he add more detail and also where he was at the time this data had happened, etc. etc...
All of this sports talk lately has gotten to me. The newspaper gets delivered every morning and the sports section doesn't get read unless Lance comes over to scrounge some food at lunch. I have tried to open it up and scan it. Bruce used to say to me when he would recognize my ignorance. "Deb, all you have to do is read the sport's section for an entire month and you will know what is going on in the sport's world." and I would say to him, "Bruce, I don't need to know what is going on in the sport's world, because I have you!!"
I went down to the office yesterday and stopped next door. Jeff and Bruce were buddies. Jeff also has an insurance business. He and Bruce became good friends many years ago. They bantered back and forth. Jeff came to drink the coffee Bruce would make every morning. When Bruce became ill, Jeff was devastated. He misses him about as much as I do. So, the other day, when I stopped in his office to say hello, I requested a hug. That is what I am requesting these days from all of Bruce's men friends. I tell them I am "hug deficient". After Jeff hugged me, he was telling me that he and 'the boys' were going to carry on with the College Basketball Pool Tradition that Bruce always ran. Yes, I knew about it, but again, I was on the fringe. As I left his office and went to visit 'my boys' down the hall...I told them "I want to be in on the basketball pool!". ( I am not even sure this if how you say what they are going to do, I am so ignorant when it comes to sport's verbage) Knowing what I was talking about, Lance said, "Mom, yes, you are definitely knowledgable on who is going to win college basketball!" Yes, this was his tease, his loving way of saying "you are so not aware of what is going on in the sports world". I want to feel involved. I want to hold onto a piece of Bruce. This piece has to do with sports. I don't know how or why. I don't need to be an expert. I just feel like it was such a big part of his life and if I just could grasp on to a little of how he felt, I would be comforted.
That thought leads me back to growing up on a farm in Iowa as Bruce and I both did. He used the radio to listen to sports as many boys did back then. I can see him in his room, lying on his bed listening to a game rooting excitedly for his favorite teams. He transferred his love of sports to our sons. Ty used to go out in his car to listen to the Iowa Basketball games. When you live in Wisconsin and you are an IOWA fan...the AM stations from Iowa could be better recieved out in the car! Even if it meant, putting on your hat, gloves and winter parka! Yes, Bruce instilled his love of sports to our sons. And one day....that love will be passed on to our grandchildren I have no doubt. I have discontinued the sports package on our satellite tv. The sports channel doesn't get turned to unless the boys are over. There is no noise coming from our family room that I have to become irritated at as it drifts up the stairs. Yet, Bruce's love of sports will not be forgotten. Fondly and always, Deb
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Pieces of Love
Sewing has always been part of my forte'... with 4 years of HOME EC, I was toying with the idea of teaching that...but nursing won out. Home Ec teachers didn't wear cute white starched caps on their heads or white uniforms and white nylons and clean white shoes...and that was my fantasy!!
I made my Wedding gown and most of the bridesmaids dresses for our wedding. There isn't anything I won't tackle...O.K., I might not get a project finished, but I will start something new.
Our daughter-in-law sews as well. She has been yearning to learn how to quilt. I really don't know how, know that I could read the directions in a book but - I really do learn best by hands on tasks. Last fall I took Wendy to this quilt shop not far away. It has tons of really cool fabric and a HUGE classroom in the back. We inquired about classes. They would let us know after the first of the year. So...Wendy and I are now taking Beginning Quilt Classes. The timing was perfect. They started 4 weeks after Bruce died. It has been good for both of us. We are learning a lot besides, it takes up one night that I am gone and not at home in our quiet family room.
When Bruce's parents were alive, in their 2nd story farmhouse bedroom sat a big old wooden box that had a fliptop lid. The precursor to the Lane Cedar chests and now the $6.99 plastic tubs. It was approximately 3'tall x 4' wide, and was on casters. It held all of the extra blankets and 'stuff' that one would store. Many times when we were visiting, we would go into the box to get out an extra blanket. In that box was the "QUILT TOP" that Bruce's mom was given when she was a little girl from her grandma. It was a crazy quilt made from all sorts of fabrics. Those fabrics were probably old clothes that were no longer worn or used. Bruce's mom, would recant the story to me each time she would come see it in the box. I loved how she talked about this quilt. I could tell it brought back many wonderful childhood memories for her. She was quite young when she received it. I only know this because she would point out the embellishments she made to the quilt. In the corners she had put her initials, DV for Donna VanOsDoll, in a sort of embroidered straightstich. Much like I remember myself learning when I was about 8 years old. The stitches were not uniform at all. Other little things had been attempted in other corners of this quilt. As the farm got sold, and we were going through this box...I put my 'dibs' in for this quilt top. We also took the box and still have it out in our garage. It is made from wainscoat-like material. (sp) Anyway... I eventually found a lady from VietNam who spent an entire winter refurbishing this quilt. Repairing and replacing a few of the pieces, she also added a back to it. It has hung in our living room for years. A crazy quilt means that each of the pieces are different sizes. Of course, that was an entirely handsewn quilt.
Yesterday, I reluctantly went through Bruce's clothes . My sister, Nancy has been up visiting for a few days. She is an organizer with a capital O! She had offered while she was here to help me 'organize or clean out' whatever I might want help with. I had a hard time wanting to get started on any project, let alone this one. The week after he died, I had told more than one person, I was going to get rid of his clothes. I had said, "I know, his clothes aren't going to bring him back." In the weeks since the funeral, I have found myself opening up his closet less and less. Not wanting to think about this task that was looming before me. So...yesterday bright and early, I knew Nancy was going to want to get started on "whatever you decide you want my help with", she had said. So...dragging my feet, I first chose the closet in my office. Plus, if that went well, then maybe I would see how I was feeling. After lunch, when that project was completed, she said; "Well, what's next Debbie?" Then we went into the closet in our spare bedroom - where most of my clothes are kept and some of Bruce's off season clothes. As I began to pull the first of his shirts out of the closet, the tears began to flow, I tried to hold back the sobs and know that I could quit at any time. She wasn't forcing me, she was being quiet and patient. For my sister, that is not always easy. As I got used to touching his shirts, his pants, his sportscoats...the task began to get easier. And with that the idea began to sprout. That was, what I wanted to do with them. Of course, I want the boys to go through what they want of their dad's. I know that won't be that much. Their tastes are 30years younger. My friend Connie, had suggested to me a few weeks ago to keep some of his shirts as she also quilts and had an 'idea' for me. So...the shirt pile for the quilt began to grow. Then I decided I could do the same thing with his jeans. Soon, I found myself getting a bit excited about how these quilts will look. I want to make one for each one of the kids plus myself. Bruce was a sweater vest guy! He has several. He also loved to tie a great tie. Somehow a sweater vest and tie will get appliqued onto these quilts...and the pieces of love will remain not only in our hearts and mind, but we all can get wrapped up in the good memories they represent.
As my fingers fly on the keyboard this morning, a few tears well-up in the corners of my eyes, yet I feel excited for what lies ahead. Yes, I know Bruce is not coming home. His clothes are in the trunk ready to go to Treasures. A few baskets remain for the quilts and a pile for the boys to go through. When it is all said and done, his leather jacket will be the only remaining piece that won't leave this house until I do. That is the final word for now. LOVE, Deb
I made my Wedding gown and most of the bridesmaids dresses for our wedding. There isn't anything I won't tackle...O.K., I might not get a project finished, but I will start something new.
Our daughter-in-law sews as well. She has been yearning to learn how to quilt. I really don't know how, know that I could read the directions in a book but - I really do learn best by hands on tasks. Last fall I took Wendy to this quilt shop not far away. It has tons of really cool fabric and a HUGE classroom in the back. We inquired about classes. They would let us know after the first of the year. So...Wendy and I are now taking Beginning Quilt Classes. The timing was perfect. They started 4 weeks after Bruce died. It has been good for both of us. We are learning a lot besides, it takes up one night that I am gone and not at home in our quiet family room.
When Bruce's parents were alive, in their 2nd story farmhouse bedroom sat a big old wooden box that had a fliptop lid. The precursor to the Lane Cedar chests and now the $6.99 plastic tubs. It was approximately 3'tall x 4' wide, and was on casters. It held all of the extra blankets and 'stuff' that one would store. Many times when we were visiting, we would go into the box to get out an extra blanket. In that box was the "QUILT TOP" that Bruce's mom was given when she was a little girl from her grandma. It was a crazy quilt made from all sorts of fabrics. Those fabrics were probably old clothes that were no longer worn or used. Bruce's mom, would recant the story to me each time she would come see it in the box. I loved how she talked about this quilt. I could tell it brought back many wonderful childhood memories for her. She was quite young when she received it. I only know this because she would point out the embellishments she made to the quilt. In the corners she had put her initials, DV for Donna VanOsDoll, in a sort of embroidered straightstich. Much like I remember myself learning when I was about 8 years old. The stitches were not uniform at all. Other little things had been attempted in other corners of this quilt. As the farm got sold, and we were going through this box...I put my 'dibs' in for this quilt top. We also took the box and still have it out in our garage. It is made from wainscoat-like material. (sp) Anyway... I eventually found a lady from VietNam who spent an entire winter refurbishing this quilt. Repairing and replacing a few of the pieces, she also added a back to it. It has hung in our living room for years. A crazy quilt means that each of the pieces are different sizes. Of course, that was an entirely handsewn quilt.
Yesterday, I reluctantly went through Bruce's clothes . My sister, Nancy has been up visiting for a few days. She is an organizer with a capital O! She had offered while she was here to help me 'organize or clean out' whatever I might want help with. I had a hard time wanting to get started on any project, let alone this one. The week after he died, I had told more than one person, I was going to get rid of his clothes. I had said, "I know, his clothes aren't going to bring him back." In the weeks since the funeral, I have found myself opening up his closet less and less. Not wanting to think about this task that was looming before me. So...yesterday bright and early, I knew Nancy was going to want to get started on "whatever you decide you want my help with", she had said. So...dragging my feet, I first chose the closet in my office. Plus, if that went well, then maybe I would see how I was feeling. After lunch, when that project was completed, she said; "Well, what's next Debbie?" Then we went into the closet in our spare bedroom - where most of my clothes are kept and some of Bruce's off season clothes. As I began to pull the first of his shirts out of the closet, the tears began to flow, I tried to hold back the sobs and know that I could quit at any time. She wasn't forcing me, she was being quiet and patient. For my sister, that is not always easy. As I got used to touching his shirts, his pants, his sportscoats...the task began to get easier. And with that the idea began to sprout. That was, what I wanted to do with them. Of course, I want the boys to go through what they want of their dad's. I know that won't be that much. Their tastes are 30years younger. My friend Connie, had suggested to me a few weeks ago to keep some of his shirts as she also quilts and had an 'idea' for me. So...the shirt pile for the quilt began to grow. Then I decided I could do the same thing with his jeans. Soon, I found myself getting a bit excited about how these quilts will look. I want to make one for each one of the kids plus myself. Bruce was a sweater vest guy! He has several. He also loved to tie a great tie. Somehow a sweater vest and tie will get appliqued onto these quilts...and the pieces of love will remain not only in our hearts and mind, but we all can get wrapped up in the good memories they represent.
As my fingers fly on the keyboard this morning, a few tears well-up in the corners of my eyes, yet I feel excited for what lies ahead. Yes, I know Bruce is not coming home. His clothes are in the trunk ready to go to Treasures. A few baskets remain for the quilts and a pile for the boys to go through. When it is all said and done, his leather jacket will be the only remaining piece that won't leave this house until I do. That is the final word for now. LOVE, Deb
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
Anger
I am angry. I have been containing myself. I don't like conflict. I never have. And since Bruce isn't here to fuel my fire, perhaps it will just be a little blaze and go out on it's own.
Bruce and I used to get mad at one another, but in the past 5 years, it happened less. And when it did, it usually was in front of company or family. I would think to myself, "great! - they must think we act like this all of the time!"
You see, Bruce and I both suffered from the stubborn-bullheadedness of being middle children. Or, at least that is going to be my excuse. Neither one of us wanted to admit we were wrong or give into one another. (By the way, that is one key to a long lasting marriage!) His impatience with me or a situation usually initiated one of our brawls. Many arguments dealt with driving. My driving - which Bruce didn't like. I drove too fast, I tailed too close, etc. etc. And, yes, I do have the speeding tickets to prove he was somewhat right. He sometimes didn't feel like I was in control of the car during bad weather. On the other hand, it was my nagging about the way he drove that fueled our fires. He would usually listen to me for while, until his nagging tank got filled to the brim, then he would explode!
Now...I didn't like the way he drove either. He drove like my grandma. He was very cautious. He was always thinking someone was tailing him, he was worried that the semi in the next lane was going to hit us, he drove with a big D. He drove within the speed limit. He was probably a safer driver than me. O.K. I will give him credit for that. BUT, he had less experience in city traffic. He didn't like to drive in city traffic and he usually let everyone know it in the car. I would try to avert these bad car scenes by volunteering to drive to the cities. On long car trips..he always started out to drive, then would begin to yawn within 2 hrs. I would then take over driving, he would promptly fall asleep. And at the very first bump in the road, he would wake up in a panic -screaming; "Deb, are you O.K., what the H...is going on!!! his arms would be flailing and it would always scare me to death! This just didn't happen once. He would be reassurred that all was well, go promptly back to sleep until the next time I passed a car..and this scene would repeat itself! I of course go frustrated with him often. Passing cars, trucks or semis was something he didn't do often. And when he did, it was with breakneck speed, his foot would pound the gas pedal, my neck would fling back and away we would go!!
So...he didn't like the way I drove - too gutsy, too risky...and I didn't like the way he drove.
One time we were headed to Iowa to visit my folks. It was in the Spring, we had planned to go help mom do outdoor stuff for Mother's Day. We had gotten a late start. ( I wonder who was the cause of that!) So, of course, I was hoping to make up time on the road. Well, Bruce was bound and determined to stick to the speed limit. Finally after 3.5 hrs, and me goading him, he finally got up to 65 on a county road 15 miles from my folks. .... You can imagine what happened next! Yes, he got pulled over and a ticket! Needless to say, he was right, I was wrong and then he was mad at me for "making him go fast"
Many of these car stories involved our kids. They will attest to the temper Bruce had, and my stubborness in the car. I have made him stop the car and I have gotten out, bound and determined to walk the rest of the way home! Not all pleasant memories. I believe this is what they call the 'spice of life'.
Bruce's impatientness was really evident if we pulled up to a drive-through to get fast-food. Invariably, his order was screwed up. Try as we may.. something would be missing and it usually was his own order! As the kids grew up, we even went through a period where the order was 12 cheeseburgers and 12 fries.. there would be no choices made by them. Easy, simply.."can they screw this up?" he would say. His intolerance for mistakes in the restaraunt industry must have been fueled from his days at Shakey's Pizza Parlour working with High school students.
So, as these anger memories return to the surface. I am trying to analyze why I have been the calmer of the two of us! I do know, my upbringing was much more casual than Bruce's. The intensity he had in his family home especially from his mother caused him to ignite quickly. On the other hand, my mother was Mrs. Cool, Calm and Collected. I think I have picked up her qualities. Oh.... I can FLARE UP...and that I got from my DAD! No doubt...if you get under my skin, watch out.. no holds barred deb will come out kicking, biting and scratching if need be.
Maturity was a good thing for both of us. As we both turned 50...we learned that it was easier to agree than disagree. It was easier to say, "Yes dear!". We got smarter about choosing our battles with one another. And, not every point did we have to prove to one another.
In my internal agreement with myself to pick and choose the battles with Bruce, I decided his health could no longer be my concern. He had to be the one to decide to make changes. That was very hard for me to let go of. As a nurse, care giver, mother, wife and lover; I hated the fact that he smoked, that he ate too much fat, that he didn't get enough exercise and that he acted like he didn't care! I am angry that I couldn't make an impact on the man who professed to love me more than everything else in this world. That is a hard pill to swallow.
Maybe tomorrow, it will go down a bit more easier....
Deb
Bruce and I used to get mad at one another, but in the past 5 years, it happened less. And when it did, it usually was in front of company or family. I would think to myself, "great! - they must think we act like this all of the time!"
You see, Bruce and I both suffered from the stubborn-bullheadedness of being middle children. Or, at least that is going to be my excuse. Neither one of us wanted to admit we were wrong or give into one another. (By the way, that is one key to a long lasting marriage!) His impatience with me or a situation usually initiated one of our brawls. Many arguments dealt with driving. My driving - which Bruce didn't like. I drove too fast, I tailed too close, etc. etc. And, yes, I do have the speeding tickets to prove he was somewhat right. He sometimes didn't feel like I was in control of the car during bad weather. On the other hand, it was my nagging about the way he drove that fueled our fires. He would usually listen to me for while, until his nagging tank got filled to the brim, then he would explode!
Now...I didn't like the way he drove either. He drove like my grandma. He was very cautious. He was always thinking someone was tailing him, he was worried that the semi in the next lane was going to hit us, he drove with a big D. He drove within the speed limit. He was probably a safer driver than me. O.K. I will give him credit for that. BUT, he had less experience in city traffic. He didn't like to drive in city traffic and he usually let everyone know it in the car. I would try to avert these bad car scenes by volunteering to drive to the cities. On long car trips..he always started out to drive, then would begin to yawn within 2 hrs. I would then take over driving, he would promptly fall asleep. And at the very first bump in the road, he would wake up in a panic -screaming; "Deb, are you O.K., what the H...is going on!!! his arms would be flailing and it would always scare me to death! This just didn't happen once. He would be reassurred that all was well, go promptly back to sleep until the next time I passed a car..and this scene would repeat itself! I of course go frustrated with him often. Passing cars, trucks or semis was something he didn't do often. And when he did, it was with breakneck speed, his foot would pound the gas pedal, my neck would fling back and away we would go!!
So...he didn't like the way I drove - too gutsy, too risky...and I didn't like the way he drove.
One time we were headed to Iowa to visit my folks. It was in the Spring, we had planned to go help mom do outdoor stuff for Mother's Day. We had gotten a late start. ( I wonder who was the cause of that!) So, of course, I was hoping to make up time on the road. Well, Bruce was bound and determined to stick to the speed limit. Finally after 3.5 hrs, and me goading him, he finally got up to 65 on a county road 15 miles from my folks. .... You can imagine what happened next! Yes, he got pulled over and a ticket! Needless to say, he was right, I was wrong and then he was mad at me for "making him go fast"
Many of these car stories involved our kids. They will attest to the temper Bruce had, and my stubborness in the car. I have made him stop the car and I have gotten out, bound and determined to walk the rest of the way home! Not all pleasant memories. I believe this is what they call the 'spice of life'.
Bruce's impatientness was really evident if we pulled up to a drive-through to get fast-food. Invariably, his order was screwed up. Try as we may.. something would be missing and it usually was his own order! As the kids grew up, we even went through a period where the order was 12 cheeseburgers and 12 fries.. there would be no choices made by them. Easy, simply.."can they screw this up?" he would say. His intolerance for mistakes in the restaraunt industry must have been fueled from his days at Shakey's Pizza Parlour working with High school students.
So, as these anger memories return to the surface. I am trying to analyze why I have been the calmer of the two of us! I do know, my upbringing was much more casual than Bruce's. The intensity he had in his family home especially from his mother caused him to ignite quickly. On the other hand, my mother was Mrs. Cool, Calm and Collected. I think I have picked up her qualities. Oh.... I can FLARE UP...and that I got from my DAD! No doubt...if you get under my skin, watch out.. no holds barred deb will come out kicking, biting and scratching if need be.
Maturity was a good thing for both of us. As we both turned 50...we learned that it was easier to agree than disagree. It was easier to say, "Yes dear!". We got smarter about choosing our battles with one another. And, not every point did we have to prove to one another.
In my internal agreement with myself to pick and choose the battles with Bruce, I decided his health could no longer be my concern. He had to be the one to decide to make changes. That was very hard for me to let go of. As a nurse, care giver, mother, wife and lover; I hated the fact that he smoked, that he ate too much fat, that he didn't get enough exercise and that he acted like he didn't care! I am angry that I couldn't make an impact on the man who professed to love me more than everything else in this world. That is a hard pill to swallow.
Maybe tomorrow, it will go down a bit more easier....
Deb
Monday, March 5, 2007
Kitchen Window memories
Our kitchen window looks out over our front yard, a tree is off the the right, as is the driveway. A few years ago, we replaced the window. It seems wider, but it really itsn't. The window design is just different. It opens by pushing up instead of vertically. Therefore, the view is wider when looking out of it. This morning, as I was looking out at the still clean bright white untouched snow, the memories of moments at the window came to the surface. I have stood there many times by myself waiting for kids or Bruce or company to arrive. Bruce was always an "on-time" guy. In fact, he hated that I was always a "bit-late lady". He was always waiting for me to go with him somewhere. I was always in the bathroom doing my last minute primping. He would then tell me in his loud verbal almost vibrato tone. "Deeeeerar you have 5 minutes to get your 'ass' in the car!", then...a minute later, "Deeerar, you now have 4 minutes to get your ass out in the car!" He might continue this banter for a few more minutes. Then, he would then go out to the car...and turn it on and then, I would be scurrying to get out there. He wasn't angry..just impatient with me and... HE DIDN'T LIKE TO BE LATE!
While I am on the subject of ass...he used that word a lot in some endearing ways. Most wives might have been offended, but I rather enjoyed his 'ways'! I had gone on Weight Watchers about 5 years ago, stuck with the program for an entire year and had dropped about 18#. For me, that was quite a feat. As I was losing weight, Bruce would be very complimentary to me. And usually it was toward my backside. There became a point back then, that he told me that my ass was looking "nice" ! Any woman would take that as a compliment. As I got to the lowest I had been in weight in a long time ( and haven't been there since) , he then told me I had "no ass". In a sick way, I liked that endearment! ( I still had one, don't envision me as a waif, I never was that!. Since that is where my weight accrues, it did look smaller!) I stopped going to W.W.'s, and I began to put on a few pounds, I then noticed him saying, "nice ass" again, instead of "no ass".. We had many laughs over these silly remarks. I would say to him, "So, my ass must be getting bigger, because you say it is nice now!" Regardless of the size of my backside, over the years...since that time, Bruce realized that how he described my "ass" to me made a difference. In the past few years, he began to say I had a "perfect ass"!! All of this ass talk was just part of our back and forth, this and that stuff that husbands and wives do to tease, to show we care about one another and most importantly to demonstrate that we loved one another.
Well, one never knows where a memory of kitchen window will lead do they?
Getting back to the view - I am missing seeing him pull out of the driveway in the morning, coming home for lunch, and again at night. I am missing us looking out of the window together to see if the kids have arrived for dinner on Friday night, or if LUKER as Bruce called him has pulled up out in front. I miss our banter about the way the kids parked their cars behind ours..now someone will have to move their car, so the car in front can get out! I miss how we looked forward to spring coming, noticing the strength of the sun coming in the window. And I know for sure, I am going to miss how we noticed the birds! If Bruce saw a certain bird at the feeder, he would call to me to come look... and I would do the same. Cardinals in particular we enjoyed. Last year, I fixed up our bird bath. It is off to the left in our front yard. We would have to get way over to the right of the window to peer out at the birds bathing! This too, we did together.
I wonder if the pair of mallard ducks will be back this spring? I hope so. For the past few years, we had a pair of ducks who thought our pool was their mating ground. Even before the cover came off, this pair would land and swim in the stagnent melted snow/water/dead leaves..their private pond. Bruce usually noticed them arriving and landing and swimming. I will have to keep an eye out for our friends.
Monday mornings, doo, doo, doodoo...by the Mamas and Papa's tune came into my head as I wrote that. I can't remember the words right now, but the tune is there and the blues of the tune is how I feel right now. I know that as the moments of today move forward, my mood will too. Right now, I am savoring the Monday morning memories that are soaking in. It is good for me to remember all of the above. Whatever the emotions and personal memories that are sweeping over you as you read this, allow them to happen. Life is all around us today, even in our memories. Have a good Monday. Deb
ps. And yes, I am missing the 'ass comments' too!
While I am on the subject of ass...he used that word a lot in some endearing ways. Most wives might have been offended, but I rather enjoyed his 'ways'! I had gone on Weight Watchers about 5 years ago, stuck with the program for an entire year and had dropped about 18#. For me, that was quite a feat. As I was losing weight, Bruce would be very complimentary to me. And usually it was toward my backside. There became a point back then, that he told me that my ass was looking "nice" ! Any woman would take that as a compliment. As I got to the lowest I had been in weight in a long time ( and haven't been there since) , he then told me I had "no ass". In a sick way, I liked that endearment! ( I still had one, don't envision me as a waif, I never was that!. Since that is where my weight accrues, it did look smaller!) I stopped going to W.W.'s, and I began to put on a few pounds, I then noticed him saying, "nice ass" again, instead of "no ass".. We had many laughs over these silly remarks. I would say to him, "So, my ass must be getting bigger, because you say it is nice now!" Regardless of the size of my backside, over the years...since that time, Bruce realized that how he described my "ass" to me made a difference. In the past few years, he began to say I had a "perfect ass"!! All of this ass talk was just part of our back and forth, this and that stuff that husbands and wives do to tease, to show we care about one another and most importantly to demonstrate that we loved one another.
Well, one never knows where a memory of kitchen window will lead do they?
Getting back to the view - I am missing seeing him pull out of the driveway in the morning, coming home for lunch, and again at night. I am missing us looking out of the window together to see if the kids have arrived for dinner on Friday night, or if LUKER as Bruce called him has pulled up out in front. I miss our banter about the way the kids parked their cars behind ours..now someone will have to move their car, so the car in front can get out! I miss how we looked forward to spring coming, noticing the strength of the sun coming in the window. And I know for sure, I am going to miss how we noticed the birds! If Bruce saw a certain bird at the feeder, he would call to me to come look... and I would do the same. Cardinals in particular we enjoyed. Last year, I fixed up our bird bath. It is off to the left in our front yard. We would have to get way over to the right of the window to peer out at the birds bathing! This too, we did together.
I wonder if the pair of mallard ducks will be back this spring? I hope so. For the past few years, we had a pair of ducks who thought our pool was their mating ground. Even before the cover came off, this pair would land and swim in the stagnent melted snow/water/dead leaves..their private pond. Bruce usually noticed them arriving and landing and swimming. I will have to keep an eye out for our friends.
Monday mornings, doo, doo, doodoo...by the Mamas and Papa's tune came into my head as I wrote that. I can't remember the words right now, but the tune is there and the blues of the tune is how I feel right now. I know that as the moments of today move forward, my mood will too. Right now, I am savoring the Monday morning memories that are soaking in. It is good for me to remember all of the above. Whatever the emotions and personal memories that are sweeping over you as you read this, allow them to happen. Life is all around us today, even in our memories. Have a good Monday. Deb
ps. And yes, I am missing the 'ass comments' too!
Saturday, March 3, 2007
One month and counting
Why is it that we count and remember dates and numbers? Placing so much significance on a symbol used for counting seems silly. But yes, I am doing just that. It was one month ago tonight that Bruce left my arms and now is with our eternal saviour. I even came up with why he died on 2/3/2007... The two of us had three children, and 7-2 = 5 of us all together. Why I do that is beyond me. I guess it is about making sense in my head for what is happening in my heart.
Tonight the OUI VINTAGERs are coming over. The two couples and then me will celebrate Bruce's life with a French Pinot Noir that they gave me at the funeral. I really should be getting ready for them to arrive. But, then again, that doesn't take long. No one is using the bathroom but me these days. I am not interrupted by anyone anymore. The downstairs could be vacumned, but will they notice? Everything takes on a new meaning when your spouse dies. It will be fun and I know we will laugh. It will be my first "5th Wheel" experience. I am game to try it. Why not?
I have been thinking that I am not really mourning as much as I should be. I do miss Bruce, I do cry and I do feel alone. But, my core being is a very optimistic person. I don't think Bruce would want me to be sad for long. Especially if he is having a good time and I believe he is. I need to think about myself and what I want. I don't know what that is exactly. But I am going to be pondering that. Someone asked me if I was going back to college. I have decided not to at this time. Perhaps, I will change my mind. It doesn't hold the same significance. My number one cheerleader and supporter and studyguide is no longer here. I never have stopped learning, but it did put me on a more charted course when I was taking classes. Oh well, so what, I can wait a few more years and go back to college free. Maybe I will do that.
Well, this rambling has got to stop. Company is a coming, the minutes are ticking and I have got to stop stalling. Happy Saturday, Happy 1st Month anniversary, Bruce is no longer struggling for each and every breath, he is FREE! Loving him always and forever. xxoxoxoo Deb
Tonight the OUI VINTAGERs are coming over. The two couples and then me will celebrate Bruce's life with a French Pinot Noir that they gave me at the funeral. I really should be getting ready for them to arrive. But, then again, that doesn't take long. No one is using the bathroom but me these days. I am not interrupted by anyone anymore. The downstairs could be vacumned, but will they notice? Everything takes on a new meaning when your spouse dies. It will be fun and I know we will laugh. It will be my first "5th Wheel" experience. I am game to try it. Why not?
I have been thinking that I am not really mourning as much as I should be. I do miss Bruce, I do cry and I do feel alone. But, my core being is a very optimistic person. I don't think Bruce would want me to be sad for long. Especially if he is having a good time and I believe he is. I need to think about myself and what I want. I don't know what that is exactly. But I am going to be pondering that. Someone asked me if I was going back to college. I have decided not to at this time. Perhaps, I will change my mind. It doesn't hold the same significance. My number one cheerleader and supporter and studyguide is no longer here. I never have stopped learning, but it did put me on a more charted course when I was taking classes. Oh well, so what, I can wait a few more years and go back to college free. Maybe I will do that.
Well, this rambling has got to stop. Company is a coming, the minutes are ticking and I have got to stop stalling. Happy Saturday, Happy 1st Month anniversary, Bruce is no longer struggling for each and every breath, he is FREE! Loving him always and forever. xxoxoxoo Deb
Friday, March 2, 2007
Elton's Tiny Ballerina
Last night while I was preparing pizza dough before the kids arrived, I put on Elton John and cranked up the volume. As he began to sing, I could hear Bruce singing the words right along with him. That is what he would always do. He would be louder than the music. Sometimes we would have to tell him to tone it down a bit, so that we could here the song too. Bruce loved to sing. In fact, he went to college to first major in vocal music. Finding some comfort in being alone, remembering Bruce's spin on Elton John made me laugh. Then, Tiny Ballerina came on. As the song continued, I was transported to Las Vegas and the Piano Bar in New York New York during August of 2003. We had taken a family vacation with the entire Tokheim Clan, which included Bruce's brother, Mike, his wife and two sons. Lance, our youngest had turned 21 that year. As a celebration of all of the cousins being adults..we took our annual CLAN ADVENTURE to Las Vegas. It was fun from the minute we landed. We all went to the Piano bar and found out that it was under construction, so it was out around the pool area that night. We celebrated Mike's August birthday with him riding on a horsey stick, then the boy cousins all dressed up in drag for some other song and finally,Tiny Ballerina was played. Abby's 20+ years of dancing experience took center stage. As we watched her with less inhibitions than she normally has, she entertained the entire crowd. She looked like a professional as she twirled and danced. But, what I remember most, is how Bruce and I proudly felt, watching her dance - watching the crowd watch her dance and knowing just what a good girl she was! We didn't say anything to one another. We didn't have to. What we were both thinking was, "That's our girl! We did good didn't we? " These are the memories that sit there and wait for something to trigger them to surface.
Lance's Birthday went well. The kids got into making their assigned portion their own. They said it was the best pizza they have had in a long time. I followed through with my photographing almost every moment for posterity. Another day has come and gone ...
And I will wait for another Bruce memory to surface and to savor. Deb
Lance's Birthday went well. The kids got into making their assigned portion their own. They said it was the best pizza they have had in a long time. I followed through with my photographing almost every moment for posterity. Another day has come and gone ...
And I will wait for another Bruce memory to surface and to savor. Deb
Thursday, March 1, 2007
The Office, Today, Fiesta ware
I was up at the OFFICE yesterday. I had decided I needed to clean out "Bruce's corner". All of the years he has been in the office, it has always been his territory. My job was to just stop in as the good wife and visit, schmooze with customers if they were in there and then leave. Many times it was common for Bruce to call me up around 11:45 and ask if I wanted to meet him and Ty for lunch at the local bar -Bo's and Mine. They would walk down the street from the office, and I would drive to the bar. The waitresses knew what Bruce liked and many times would bring his pepsi before asking him. So back to the office... instead of him being behind his desk, it is now our young son, Lance. Looking at all of Bruce's nooks and stuff, I decided Lance needed to begin to claim this space. Armed with cleaning supplies, garbage bags and my vacumn cleaner I arrived yesterday to do some true office cleaning. I started in all of the areas except Bruce's desk, getting used to the feel of picking up stuff that reminded me of him. His Hole in One trophy from Missouri Valley, along with the yellowed newspaper clipping framed by me many years ago were there. The many photos of his Golf Tournaments. He was most proud of playing with Karn Bye, the Olympic Gold medalist in women's hockey from here in town. The many cups of pens/pencils/paperclips. Then there are the stacks of notepads from all of the insurance companies/glass companies, etc.. And then, the notes in his handwriting..little sticky notes everywhere with pieces of information he needed to know, or not know anymore - but just there. There was the M&M Slot machine I had gotten him in L.V. And, the "Hawkeye" Yellow and Gold M&M's that are at least 5 years old in another candy jar. There was the HuGE picture of me in my Red Boa Glamour shot. I said, "I am taking that down - and the boys chimed in together, "Yes, mom- Please!" As Lance was helping me dig out of a corner of his desk, he pulled out the silver/definitely 1970's vintage beer stein I had gotten him. It is made out of a heavy stainless steel and has rather a horn shaped style to it with a curved handle. He held onto it and held it up. "This is cool mom!", he said. Then, he read the inscription and laughed. It read, "Bruce Tokheim, Assistant Manager - 1974" I had to think about when and why I had gotten that for him. As the memories sifted to the surface of my mind, I remembered it was when we had moved to DesMoines after graduating college and nursing school. We had both gotten REAL JOBS. I was a nurse in the Intensive Care Nursery at Iowa Methodist Hospital and Bruce had gotten a job at the Shakey's Pizza Parlour. His intention was to go to ISU for his masters..but we just happened to stop at the Shakey's in DM to see if they had any work. He had worked at the Shakey's in Cedar Falls, IA during our senior year of college and first year of marriage. They offered him the job of assistant manager right on the spot! We decided it was a job. Actually we were pretty pumped about the 'manager' thing. He soon did become manager of that place and was a damn good one. Plus he learned how to make a mean pizza. Ask any of our kids or their friends. Personal Pan Pizza's was his favorite thing he would do with the kids and their friends on their overnights. So...getting back to this mug. It was his Christmas or Birthday present that first year after we had both gotten full time jobs. I must have felt so excited and so adult to purchase something and then have it engraved. Me, at my big salary of $3.33/hr as an R.N. taking care of critically sick premature babies! My has life changes a bit. I hadn't laid eyes on that mug for years. Lance asked if he could have it. And I said yes...it is yours. He thinks it will be cool to drink a cold beer out of. I am thinking it might have to stay at our home for awhile, so that I can savor these memories a bit longer.
TODAY is Lance's 25th Birthday. Our baby is that old! It is also the first birthday we are celebrating without Bruce. I had planned on fixing pasta for his birthday. Now the menu is going to be PERSONAL PAN PIZZA's..yeah..that just might have to be our tradition from here on out for all of the kids birthdays. Ty's birthday was December 15. That was the day we brought him home from the hospital after the diagnosis. It was so important to both of us that we get home that day. Neither one of us slept the night before. Both of us were remembering what we had done 30 years before. Bruce had just gotten home from Shakey's Pizza after closing that night and I had begun to go into labor. We spent the night in the hospital and Ty was born the next morning. Abby's birthday was on January 30. That was the last week that Bruce was alive. Her highschool girlfriends had planned on coming over on Saturday night to bring dinner and be with all of us. With Bruce's condition deteriorating, the party took on a somber mood upstairs. The quiet chatting of girlfriends and laughter upstairs filtered downstairs to where Bruce and the rest of the family was biding time and keeping watch. Shortly after the girls all left, he did also.
Time goes on and I know that these memories will hold significance for years to come. We will relay the stories of these special birthdays of our kids to their kids about Grandpa being sick, dying and then how we decided every birthday was going to be a Personal Pan Pizza birthday.
Yes, in everything there is a silver lining if we look. I must remind myself of that daily.
My FIESTA WARE has been on my mind. I just have to write about it. Ask anyone how much I love COLOR in my life. I have had pink walls, no...HOT PINK walls in our home. SEABLUE chairs adorn our living room. I can't help it. Bruce was just always... laughing or raising his eyebrows. He may not have agreed with my decorating style, but he allowed me to BE... I loved that about him. So...Fiesta ware dishes sparked my interest several years ago. I built my evergrowing collection one color at a time. After the first of this New Year, in putting away Christmas stuff, I looked at my cupboard of fiesta ware and began to sort the colors from light to dark. The dark went on the bottom. So, for the plates, the salad plates, the bowls..everything was neatly lined up and in order. I loved looking in this cupboard. The top of everything was the WHITE dish/plate/bowl. As I would use them, wash them and put them away..throughout the month of January and Bruce's last weeks, I would put them away in this order. Since Bruce has died, they are all again all mixed up. There is no order to them at all. Thinking about these plates and what I did has consumed my thoughts. I now know that what I was trying to do was make sense of something in my life. Something that I could control and something that pleased me. I had no control over what was happening to Bruce. But, I could control the order in which I put my dishes away. If this seems nonsensical to you, it does to me as well. Yet, I know...without a doubt that it was important to my sanity at the time.
Celebrating life and death happens everyday. Today it is happening in the Tokheim household. Ty just called and invited me out to lunch with the guys and Wendy. We are all filling the shoes and life that Bruce walked in. Tonight, I will do my best to serve up some damn good personal pan pizzas on my colorful fiesta ware. Lance will drink his first beer of many birthdays to come out of his dad's beer stein. Creating memories is continuing to happen in our home. Here's wishing the same in your home as well. Happy Birthday Lance...Love, mom
TODAY is Lance's 25th Birthday. Our baby is that old! It is also the first birthday we are celebrating without Bruce. I had planned on fixing pasta for his birthday. Now the menu is going to be PERSONAL PAN PIZZA's..yeah..that just might have to be our tradition from here on out for all of the kids birthdays. Ty's birthday was December 15. That was the day we brought him home from the hospital after the diagnosis. It was so important to both of us that we get home that day. Neither one of us slept the night before. Both of us were remembering what we had done 30 years before. Bruce had just gotten home from Shakey's Pizza after closing that night and I had begun to go into labor. We spent the night in the hospital and Ty was born the next morning. Abby's birthday was on January 30. That was the last week that Bruce was alive. Her highschool girlfriends had planned on coming over on Saturday night to bring dinner and be with all of us. With Bruce's condition deteriorating, the party took on a somber mood upstairs. The quiet chatting of girlfriends and laughter upstairs filtered downstairs to where Bruce and the rest of the family was biding time and keeping watch. Shortly after the girls all left, he did also.
Time goes on and I know that these memories will hold significance for years to come. We will relay the stories of these special birthdays of our kids to their kids about Grandpa being sick, dying and then how we decided every birthday was going to be a Personal Pan Pizza birthday.
Yes, in everything there is a silver lining if we look. I must remind myself of that daily.
My FIESTA WARE has been on my mind. I just have to write about it. Ask anyone how much I love COLOR in my life. I have had pink walls, no...HOT PINK walls in our home. SEABLUE chairs adorn our living room. I can't help it. Bruce was just always... laughing or raising his eyebrows. He may not have agreed with my decorating style, but he allowed me to BE... I loved that about him. So...Fiesta ware dishes sparked my interest several years ago. I built my evergrowing collection one color at a time. After the first of this New Year, in putting away Christmas stuff, I looked at my cupboard of fiesta ware and began to sort the colors from light to dark. The dark went on the bottom. So, for the plates, the salad plates, the bowls..everything was neatly lined up and in order. I loved looking in this cupboard. The top of everything was the WHITE dish/plate/bowl. As I would use them, wash them and put them away..throughout the month of January and Bruce's last weeks, I would put them away in this order. Since Bruce has died, they are all again all mixed up. There is no order to them at all. Thinking about these plates and what I did has consumed my thoughts. I now know that what I was trying to do was make sense of something in my life. Something that I could control and something that pleased me. I had no control over what was happening to Bruce. But, I could control the order in which I put my dishes away. If this seems nonsensical to you, it does to me as well. Yet, I know...without a doubt that it was important to my sanity at the time.
Celebrating life and death happens everyday. Today it is happening in the Tokheim household. Ty just called and invited me out to lunch with the guys and Wendy. We are all filling the shoes and life that Bruce walked in. Tonight, I will do my best to serve up some damn good personal pan pizzas on my colorful fiesta ware. Lance will drink his first beer of many birthdays to come out of his dad's beer stein. Creating memories is continuing to happen in our home. Here's wishing the same in your home as well. Happy Birthday Lance...Love, mom
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