Friday, January 22, 2010

Coming Home

Last night I was watching some television.
I knew in one form or another I would probably cry.
I mean, it's "Grey's Anatomy" and "Private Practice".
It is almost a given that something will make me cry.
Something happy or sad or sweet or whatever but I almost always cry.
This even occurred before "everything" happened.

Last night on "Private Practice" there was a widower.
He had just lost his wife to cancer.
He did not want to leave the hospital with his infamous plastic bag to return to their shared home.

I completely got the plastic bag thing like a knife in the leg.
Not quite completely debilitating but still painful.
I remember my own plastic bag.
All of Roger's clothing put into a simple clear plastic bag labeled "Patient's Belongings".
A person's entire life is gone and all they give you is a plastic freaking bag.
My plastic bag actually came home with me the day of the accident.
Before I knew he was going to die for sure.
(I am not sure how the things in his ICU room came home. I have absolutely no idea or remembrance of this fact. I do remember there was not a lot of paperwork at that time or anything to do which felt odd.)

It was weird returning home for me.
The house was prepared for Roger and me to be on vacation for the weekend.
The cats had extra food and water.
Things were relatively cleaned up.
It felt odd to be home so soon when I was not planning on being home until Monday.
And it almost felt like I was invading a sacred space.
A different dimension or something.

It was weird that Roger was not with me.
Holly and Scott were with me instead.
But not Roger.
I did not realize then that Roger would never come home with me again at that point.
Not in a "normal" way.

The bag was put outside on the patio.
Who put it there I am not sure.
I vaguely remember looking inside the bag.
Carefully examining the contents.
His jeans were bloody.
His shirt was missing. And that still bugs the crap out of me.

I took a shower.
One of the last places I distinctly remember Roger at in our house.

I did not have the same feeling as the character in the show.
Yes, it was a happy place for us.
We were happy at home like the character.
But it did not feel right being home without him.
It did not comfort me the way it does now.
That whole first week, it was a reminder of everything changing.
Of everything that I was about to lose.

My home was not where my heart was.

Now, home feels good.
Home is my comfort.
My security blanket even.

Sigh...

2 comments:

Suddenwidow said...

Star,
I had the same feelings watching that episode of Private Practice last night. I never got a plastic bag from the hospital as they just handed me his pants and shoes at the local medical centre before he was transferred to the city hospital 40 miles away. But I do remember carrying his clothes into our empty house, and feeling like home was a very painful place to be without him. Like you, it has since become a security blanket but in those early days the house, and especially our bedroom, were almost mocking me and making the grief seem even worse. His absence was like a giant black hole that followed me around.

I also remember being in the shower the next morning and just sitting down and sobbing, the hardest I'd sobbed to that point. It was one of the last places he'd been in our house and he had been the last one to use the shower the morning before. And the realization of that hit me literally like a 2x4 to the gut.

Gee, do you watch Mercy? That show this week hit me hard too. I don't know why I continue to watch these medical shows! Maybe they continue to help my grief process, or I'm just a sucker for punishment. Glad to know I'm not alone!

Debbie

Maritza said...

ughhhhh this brings back soo many feelings! and yes I hate that damn plastic bag, although i think at times I wish mine had more.. they only gave me his wedding ring that he was wearing at the time of the accident, which is ironic cuz he never wore it when he rode.
and yes the dreaded shower the day after!