Looking at the Spaces

Saturday, February 25, 2012

This is the worst moment yet. I am simultaneously everything: lost, hurt, scared; confidant, secure, independent. I want to scream. I want to sleep. I am tired, but can’t sleep. I have energy found since I am not physically tending to Dave any longer. I can’t seem to give the energy much focus. I want to move and I want to sit. I shouldn’t have had the last cup of coffee.
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The Last Dance

Monday, February 20, 2012

On the Monday before Dave died (during a wee hour on Wednesday), I went shopping. Over the last couple of weeks prior, getting out for a few minutes for groceries, work-out, drugstore items or a little breather was difficult both emotionally and logistically. Over the previous week I had been looking for some stationery notes, something Dave could pen just a small “love you” to his kids, in his handwriting. I don’t know why but all I could find were flowery, girly cards. I suppose an index card would have work, but I had in mind a nice keepsake card that could be tucked inside the memory box I am having made. I didn’t have the energy to put some kind of card together myself at that late moment.

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Momma’s Pain

Friday, February 17, 2012

On Wednesday after Dave’s death, our daughter Leah stepped into her dad’s office to take a phone call in privacy. She came out with a polaroid photo that has sat on his bookshelf for many years and asked me to scan it.  Here is her Facebook post and the picture announcing the loss of her father:

Yesterday I lost my favorite person. He battled the cancer to the very end but there are some things we just can’t change, no matter how much personal power we may possess – and he had a lot of it. I love you, Dad, and I will always feel like this little girl, who wants nothing more than to be just like you.

Dear Me

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Dear me and you (family members):

This morning I am struck mightily by the thought that we have crammed what is typically three days of mourning into a 24 hour period. Or maybe it just feels like three days. “No memorial service” in this moment does not mean that death ritual and time is not required to process what has happened around us. There is no preparation for the emotional side of loss even when death is expected, imminent or predictable. What you feel is what you feel. Accept the time and attention to feel in the moments that break through the numbness or fog.
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Inching Along

Saturday, February 11, 2012

“I’m starting to catch glimpses of some small handwriting on the fireplace wall.” Dave will spend hours sitting on the edge of the bed facing the electric furnace fireplace and mantle in our bedroom. “Fine, handwritten words,” he says with a gesture of writing in the air I’ve seen him do in his sleep. It conjures up an image for me of parchment paper with the Declaration of Independence script transparently imposed over the façade of the white wood.
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Random Acts of Thought

Thursday February 2, 2012

It’s already 9:30 am. It feels like most of the morning has passed. I spend more time waking Dave, getting his pills, Ensure, tidying up than needed in past months… our new routine. I find myself in more of a decision mode, “do this” or “that” rather than “do you want?” Like taking over the divvying out of pills, it perhaps is better for us both to have a leader. I guess that’d be me! Dave is apparently in agreement to hand over the reins.
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