When I first started this whole "process" of grieving, something or someone suggested painting my interior walls, redecorating, or rearranging furniture to help make my space different especially since I am not leaving the home we shared together.
Well, Roger and I were already planning on painting our house to get rid of the standard lovely sand home builder color. We had mostly decided on colors and it was on the year-two year plan of things to do.
But Roger's death and the suggestion upped the timing.
I had finally decided on a pale yellow for the formal living room and dining room.
And on a whim, because that's really how you should pick paint colors, I decided to paint the arch that divides the room a darker yellow (feather gold per Home Depot).
I started painting today.
And like most things, the whole process brought me back to Roger.
He creeps into almost everything I do at every moment of every day.
So again, why am I surprised?! I am not sure.
Roger and I had painted his master bedroom about eight months into our relationship.
Someone told me when we started that painting a room together was a good test to any relationship.
And it was.
At first, we couldn't really figure out how to work together efficiently. Once we/I figured out that Roger was a better ladder person that me, that became his responsiblity. I took the lower half of the walls and I did a lot of the prepping.
That project tested our patience with each other.
I would just want to get through a particular step when Roger would be ready to take a break. He would say something about eating or going to the bathroom or some other essential bodily function.
But when I was doing a project, I put all those things on the back burner.
But we made it through. We painted the room in a day and a half. We still loved each other and all was good.
Today, I missed my companion. My teammate. The person who told me "Hey, maybe we should eat about now."
And it takes a whole lot longer to do without him.
I also remembered why Roger was the ladder person. I hate being the ladder person.
I hate moving the ladder around the room. I hate mounting and dismounting the thing a million times.
As part of the prepping process, I had to take down our "wedding niche" with our official wedding photograph, some candid shots, our guest signature frame, the basket from our honeymoon, and our unity candle.
Damn unity candle.
We are one. Yeah right.
He left me. He f#*%&ng left me.
What do I do with a damn unity candle now besides throwing it against a wall?
The cats were quite amazed at whatever I was doing to the wall. They watched me with a lot of curiosity. I later found some paw prints of paint across the tiles on the dining room floor.
Of course, that again brought me back to painting with Roger.
I paint barefooted so I can feel when I step in paint. But Roger being the ladder person wore shoes. He liked to track paint around the room too.
I hate painting without him.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Thursday, November 20, 2008
The last meal
As I have mentioned previously, I don't really have cravings for specific food much anymore. They are slowly coming back, but, for the most part, eating is an even bigger chore than before all this.
I stand in front of the fridge or the pantry and just stare.
Nothing jumps out at me. I don't want any of these things.
I ask friends for ideas.
And Siobhan is always helpful. For a while I took her PB&J suggestion.
Today I needed a new one.
Sidenote:
I just hate going to the grocery store. I feel like its a waste of my money since most of the time things expire before I can eat them.
Plus we went to the grocery store together. A lot. Or Roger would go for me.
I also see the foods he liked and it just makes me want to cry. The gallons of apple juice he drank. Or some weird smoothie thing. Olives. Specific cheeses. Honey smoked turkey. Blue corn chips. I could go on and on.
So today, knowing that I was going to the movies later and I would be eating carbs for dinner, I decided to have some protein for lunch.
I decided to make an egg sandwich.
It's quick. It's easy.
And it was our last meal together.
I quickly remembered this fact as I was preparing it.
Ugh.
Roger's bread was toasted and mine was not.
I had cheese on mine and Roger didn't want any.
He had been running errands and I had just had my hair chemically straightened.
We were both hungry and we didn't have a lot of food in the house.
Neither of us had gone to the grocery store since we were going on vacation.
But the eggs were still good and we could be eating in a matter of minutes.
If I'd only known...
I would have made his favorite recipe of mine - ginger chicken with carrots and green peppers.
He loved it. But it took a while. Probably cause I'm just slow at chopping things and/or I hate touching raw meat.
He said it reminded him of Thai food. Another one of his favorites.
I hadn't made it in months.
And I haven't made it since.
But instead, I did something quick. Something so we could to some chores, pack, and get ready for the next morning.
And as we sat on our respective sides of the couch and ate our dinner, I never in a million years imagined this would be our last.
And especially his last.
Of course they feed him through a tube at the hospital.
A nice protein shake formula.
At least he loved protein shakes.
On his last day, they stopped feeding him.
I understand it was because of the organ donation surgery.
It still bothered me.
I wish I could in some miraculous way given him his ginger chicken at least then.
I knew then it was his last day.
Our last day.
I stand in front of the fridge or the pantry and just stare.
Nothing jumps out at me. I don't want any of these things.
I ask friends for ideas.
And Siobhan is always helpful. For a while I took her PB&J suggestion.
Today I needed a new one.
Sidenote:
I just hate going to the grocery store. I feel like its a waste of my money since most of the time things expire before I can eat them.
Plus we went to the grocery store together. A lot. Or Roger would go for me.
I also see the foods he liked and it just makes me want to cry. The gallons of apple juice he drank. Or some weird smoothie thing. Olives. Specific cheeses. Honey smoked turkey. Blue corn chips. I could go on and on.
So today, knowing that I was going to the movies later and I would be eating carbs for dinner, I decided to have some protein for lunch.
I decided to make an egg sandwich.
It's quick. It's easy.
And it was our last meal together.
I quickly remembered this fact as I was preparing it.
Ugh.
Roger's bread was toasted and mine was not.
I had cheese on mine and Roger didn't want any.
He had been running errands and I had just had my hair chemically straightened.
We were both hungry and we didn't have a lot of food in the house.
Neither of us had gone to the grocery store since we were going on vacation.
But the eggs were still good and we could be eating in a matter of minutes.
If I'd only known...
I would have made his favorite recipe of mine - ginger chicken with carrots and green peppers.
He loved it. But it took a while. Probably cause I'm just slow at chopping things and/or I hate touching raw meat.
He said it reminded him of Thai food. Another one of his favorites.
I hadn't made it in months.
And I haven't made it since.
But instead, I did something quick. Something so we could to some chores, pack, and get ready for the next morning.
And as we sat on our respective sides of the couch and ate our dinner, I never in a million years imagined this would be our last.
And especially his last.
Of course they feed him through a tube at the hospital.
A nice protein shake formula.
At least he loved protein shakes.
On his last day, they stopped feeding him.
I understand it was because of the organ donation surgery.
It still bothered me.
I wish I could in some miraculous way given him his ginger chicken at least then.
I knew then it was his last day.
Our last day.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
So weepy
Today I have been so unbelievably weepy.
Or at least I thought it was unbelievably until I spoke to my counselor.
Of course I'm weepy.
It makes perfect sense to her.
For the last few weeks, I've been talking about the changes my life is going to be going through (besides the obvious) and now those changes are starting to take place.
The wheels have been set in motion and there is pretty much no going back.
The ball is rolling down the hill.
First, I am officially unemployed.
It is sweet relief.
I do not have to go back.
I don't have to face those people with their weird glances at me and their weird tone of voice.
I don't have to be observed by others to see how I am doing because I don't think I'm doing much better. Or that I should be at this point in their eyes.
But unfortunately there still isn't a day that I don't cry at some point.
There still isn't a day where I don't want to go back in time.
I'm not better. I don't even think I've truly started by some things I have read.
I don't have to finish the project that had become the thorn in my side.
Bleeding all over the place.
I don't have to continue doing the monotonous task of building order sets over and over again.
I don't have to sit in all day meetings to discuss things we have already discussed a zillion times before and no one is listening to me.
For now, I can just breathe in and breathe out. Just be. Just exisit.
And I, thankfully, have security as well.
Second, I went for a campus tour today at UCF.
Such a dorky thing to do I know but the campus is huge and it was overwhelming. So to avoid that feeling, I did the tour.
Amazingly, my emotions bubbled up. I am still surprised at when and how they show up.
I started thinking about how Roger was there.
How he took classes in these buildings.
How he walked this campus.
Then we went to the UCF Gym.
Thank goodness for sunglasses because I couldn't help but start to tear up. He spent many hours each week at that gym. He loved it there. He loved the martial arts club there. And he spent a lot of time talking to me on the phone as he was parking or walking to Aikido.
The first night I ever visited him at his house he had just left the gym.
Part of me just wanted to run out of the gym and part of me wanted to see exactly where he practiced. To be where he was.
It was also a realization that because of his death, I am now able to do this. I am now able to fulfill my dream of going to school full time. And this was just the beginning of that dream.
And as excited as that is, it is also scary.
It is also because he is not here.
And that makes me hurt.
Thirdly, I gave up my engagement ring and my wedding band to be made into a custom ring. They took it on Friday so my hands have been naked since then. Today I went to see how it will look and to sign off on getting the wax cast made. I saw my rings for the last time as they are now and how they have been. And I started to tear up.
I know I want to wear those diamonds and I know I don't want to wear them the way they are now, but at the same time it was sad.
They were being changed. They will never be the same.
I am not married and now I no longer have a wedding band.
It hurt to give them up.
I remember standing at the exact same spot just barely over two years ago putting the engagement band on for the first time.
At the time, I thought I'd never change it or take it off.
So the changes truly begin.
And I begin again.
For better or worse, I am still here.
I am being changed.
Like a river rock, I am being tumbled and shaped.
And it hurts.
And I cry.
Or at least I thought it was unbelievably until I spoke to my counselor.
Of course I'm weepy.
It makes perfect sense to her.
For the last few weeks, I've been talking about the changes my life is going to be going through (besides the obvious) and now those changes are starting to take place.
The wheels have been set in motion and there is pretty much no going back.
The ball is rolling down the hill.
First, I am officially unemployed.
It is sweet relief.
I do not have to go back.
I don't have to face those people with their weird glances at me and their weird tone of voice.
I don't have to be observed by others to see how I am doing because I don't think I'm doing much better. Or that I should be at this point in their eyes.
But unfortunately there still isn't a day that I don't cry at some point.
There still isn't a day where I don't want to go back in time.
I'm not better. I don't even think I've truly started by some things I have read.
I don't have to finish the project that had become the thorn in my side.
Bleeding all over the place.
I don't have to continue doing the monotonous task of building order sets over and over again.
I don't have to sit in all day meetings to discuss things we have already discussed a zillion times before and no one is listening to me.
For now, I can just breathe in and breathe out. Just be. Just exisit.
And I, thankfully, have security as well.
Second, I went for a campus tour today at UCF.
Such a dorky thing to do I know but the campus is huge and it was overwhelming. So to avoid that feeling, I did the tour.
Amazingly, my emotions bubbled up. I am still surprised at when and how they show up.
I started thinking about how Roger was there.
How he took classes in these buildings.
How he walked this campus.
Then we went to the UCF Gym.
Thank goodness for sunglasses because I couldn't help but start to tear up. He spent many hours each week at that gym. He loved it there. He loved the martial arts club there. And he spent a lot of time talking to me on the phone as he was parking or walking to Aikido.
The first night I ever visited him at his house he had just left the gym.
Part of me just wanted to run out of the gym and part of me wanted to see exactly where he practiced. To be where he was.
It was also a realization that because of his death, I am now able to do this. I am now able to fulfill my dream of going to school full time. And this was just the beginning of that dream.
And as excited as that is, it is also scary.
It is also because he is not here.
And that makes me hurt.
Thirdly, I gave up my engagement ring and my wedding band to be made into a custom ring. They took it on Friday so my hands have been naked since then. Today I went to see how it will look and to sign off on getting the wax cast made. I saw my rings for the last time as they are now and how they have been. And I started to tear up.
I know I want to wear those diamonds and I know I don't want to wear them the way they are now, but at the same time it was sad.
They were being changed. They will never be the same.
I am not married and now I no longer have a wedding band.
It hurt to give them up.
I remember standing at the exact same spot just barely over two years ago putting the engagement band on for the first time.
At the time, I thought I'd never change it or take it off.
So the changes truly begin.
And I begin again.
For better or worse, I am still here.
I am being changed.
Like a river rock, I am being tumbled and shaped.
And it hurts.
And I cry.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Cleaning
Caution. Caution. Here is an insight into my wacked brain.
I am probably going insane now I think.
Roger would probably just look at me right now and say "You are weird" but here it goes...
Everytime I do laundry, clean my house, or throw things away, I feel like part of Roger is going away.
Not like his memory.
But his DNA.
The actual proof that he existed.
The dried skin. The hair. The fingerprints. The DNA.
I almost get nervous about washing my sheets.
Or wearing a T-shirt cause then it puts my DNA on the shirt instead of his.
And when I vaccuum, I think about how less and less of his germs, hair, and skin are going away.
I think about it when I wipe down something too.
I think about how his fingerprints are no longer going to be on things.
Its like I'm losing small parts of him sort of.
Not to worry, I am still doing these things.
But the thoughts are still there.
They won't go away.
I wonder if one day there will be no proof of him (scientifically) in the house.
If CSI could come in and not find a trace of him.
And all the memories and photos and other items will just be something I could have made up with lots of fancy photoshop and lots of drugs.
Yeah, I'm "normal."
I am probably going insane now I think.
Roger would probably just look at me right now and say "You are weird" but here it goes...
Everytime I do laundry, clean my house, or throw things away, I feel like part of Roger is going away.
Not like his memory.
But his DNA.
The actual proof that he existed.
The dried skin. The hair. The fingerprints. The DNA.
I almost get nervous about washing my sheets.
Or wearing a T-shirt cause then it puts my DNA on the shirt instead of his.
And when I vaccuum, I think about how less and less of his germs, hair, and skin are going away.
I think about it when I wipe down something too.
I think about how his fingerprints are no longer going to be on things.
Its like I'm losing small parts of him sort of.
Not to worry, I am still doing these things.
But the thoughts are still there.
They won't go away.
I wonder if one day there will be no proof of him (scientifically) in the house.
If CSI could come in and not find a trace of him.
And all the memories and photos and other items will just be something I could have made up with lots of fancy photoshop and lots of drugs.
Yeah, I'm "normal."
Monday, November 17, 2008
Good ol' charades
Roger and I spent a Saturday night earlier in the summer with our friends Holly and Scott at their condo on the beach.
I was a bit nervous at first since it was the first time we were spending more than a few hours with them.
I mean, we had the beach and the pool, but were we going to be tired of each other? Were they going to get bored of us?
Thankfully this was not a problem.
Thankfully I could count on my husband, of course, for some good laughs.
It started with a game of Cranium once the sun was set and we were all settled in.
Innocent game. Fun times whenever we played previously.
Players get to show off their different talent areas and each talent area has different little games.
We divided up with Holly and Scott against Roger and me.
The game was going well. Roger and I each tried to do different things.
And because he was better at some things than me, we were a good team.
So Roger draws a card and he has to do a charade and I need to guess in 60 seconds what the answer is.
No biggie.
We can do this.
First Roger starts rubbing his stomach.
Okay...
"Stomach ache?"
"Belly?"
He just keeps rubbing.
And I'm... not getting it.
So suddenly I see my husband starting to unbutton his shirt
"Oh my... what the hell is he doing. Why in the world is he undressing in front of our friends. This is not the kind of game we are playing."
Holly and Scott are hysterically laughing as they have seen the answer.
Roger is still unbuttoning his shirt.
Roger has completely unbuttoned his shirt.
He is still rubbing his stomach.
"Oh. My. God."
His stomach is exposed.
He is half naked.
Finally I shout "Washboard Abs?"
Yep. Yep. That is right. That is the answer.
But there's my husband standing with his shirt off.
We all are hysterically laughing at this point.
And Roger was slightly red either from laughing or from embarrassment. And probably the first.
Time had ran way out. But Holly & Scott just couldn't stop Roger.
It was just too funny.
And yes, Roger did have abs.
And he still makes me smile.
I was a bit nervous at first since it was the first time we were spending more than a few hours with them.
I mean, we had the beach and the pool, but were we going to be tired of each other? Were they going to get bored of us?
Thankfully this was not a problem.
Thankfully I could count on my husband, of course, for some good laughs.
It started with a game of Cranium once the sun was set and we were all settled in.
Innocent game. Fun times whenever we played previously.
Players get to show off their different talent areas and each talent area has different little games.
We divided up with Holly and Scott against Roger and me.
The game was going well. Roger and I each tried to do different things.
And because he was better at some things than me, we were a good team.
So Roger draws a card and he has to do a charade and I need to guess in 60 seconds what the answer is.
No biggie.
We can do this.
First Roger starts rubbing his stomach.
Okay...
"Stomach ache?"
"Belly?"
He just keeps rubbing.
And I'm... not getting it.
So suddenly I see my husband starting to unbutton his shirt
"Oh my... what the hell is he doing. Why in the world is he undressing in front of our friends. This is not the kind of game we are playing."
Holly and Scott are hysterically laughing as they have seen the answer.
Roger is still unbuttoning his shirt.
Roger has completely unbuttoned his shirt.
He is still rubbing his stomach.
"Oh. My. God."
His stomach is exposed.
He is half naked.
Finally I shout "Washboard Abs?"
Yep. Yep. That is right. That is the answer.
But there's my husband standing with his shirt off.
We all are hysterically laughing at this point.
And Roger was slightly red either from laughing or from embarrassment. And probably the first.
Time had ran way out. But Holly & Scott just couldn't stop Roger.
It was just too funny.
And yes, Roger did have abs.
And he still makes me smile.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Wow that was hard
I knew it would be hard. I knew that I had to be very strong. I had to put on my game face.
I didn't realize it would be that hard.
It hurt.
It stung.
It felt like my heart was being ripped apart.
I missed him so much.
Not only was I single, I am the single girl due to her husband's death.
A very recent death.
A death that was sudden and I was there.
I went to my good friends' wedding this past weekend.
It was a lot of fun and I enjoyed myself, I really did.
They had great music and it was beautiful and just a good time.
But...
It was also a reminder of what I lost.
Of everything I do not have.
And everything everyone else does have.
I forgot my tissues for the ceremony.
As a friend handed me a tissue cause I just couldn't contain my tears, I prayed that no one would touch me. I would not be able to keep it together if someone touched me.
I prayed I wasn't too loud as I sniffled.
And as Sean and Deborah made their vows, I remembered my own.
I remembered Rogers.
Death do us part.
In the reading of Sean and Deborah's ketubah, the last words mentioned appreciating each day that you wake up next to each other.
Those words echoed inside my head over and over again.
Why?
Why did we get so little time?
Why do I wake up each morning alone?
As we moved through each step of the wedding, my own wedding played in my head.
I thought about what it would be like with Roger there with me.
What we would be commenting on.
How cute he would be in his yarmulke.
How we would dance the night away together.
We could practice our foxtrot.
I would have a partner for the slow dances that wasn't someone who just felt sorry for "the girl with the dead husband".
Thankfully I did have a great support system there.
And I'm grateful for those who did support me 110%.
But I still feel a stigma of some of my friends.
They don't stand too close.
They don't want to be associated me for too long.
It as if I smell of death.
Perhaps I do.
I didn't realize it would be that hard.
It hurt.
It stung.
It felt like my heart was being ripped apart.
I missed him so much.
Not only was I single, I am the single girl due to her husband's death.
A very recent death.
A death that was sudden and I was there.
I went to my good friends' wedding this past weekend.
It was a lot of fun and I enjoyed myself, I really did.
They had great music and it was beautiful and just a good time.
But...
It was also a reminder of what I lost.
Of everything I do not have.
And everything everyone else does have.
I forgot my tissues for the ceremony.
As a friend handed me a tissue cause I just couldn't contain my tears, I prayed that no one would touch me. I would not be able to keep it together if someone touched me.
I prayed I wasn't too loud as I sniffled.
And as Sean and Deborah made their vows, I remembered my own.
I remembered Rogers.
Death do us part.
In the reading of Sean and Deborah's ketubah, the last words mentioned appreciating each day that you wake up next to each other.
Those words echoed inside my head over and over again.
Why?
Why did we get so little time?
Why do I wake up each morning alone?
As we moved through each step of the wedding, my own wedding played in my head.
I thought about what it would be like with Roger there with me.
What we would be commenting on.
How cute he would be in his yarmulke.
How we would dance the night away together.
We could practice our foxtrot.
I would have a partner for the slow dances that wasn't someone who just felt sorry for "the girl with the dead husband".
Thankfully I did have a great support system there.
And I'm grateful for those who did support me 110%.
But I still feel a stigma of some of my friends.
They don't stand too close.
They don't want to be associated me for too long.
It as if I smell of death.
Perhaps I do.
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