I Am So Tired

My husband died 2 months ago. We were married for just 2-1/4 years. When we met, he was widowed and I was divorced. It was literally love at first sight, and we were both so grateful for this second chance at love.

When a couple is married for just a few years, there is much that is not jointly owned. Therefore, to satisfy the probate court of New York State, I've had to do an inventory of Ron's stuff, as I fondly, and sometimes crossly, call his belongings.

Now that I've been named executrix of the estate, I can also sell whatever I want of his stuff. I'm not talking about selling personal belongings. I'm talking about the big-boy toys and work-related equipment he owned. Big things that hold no sentimental value for me and that have to be liquidated before I can put the house on the market because they are taking up room in the house and on the property.

It's exhausting. Ron was a hunter and had dozens of guns. He also collected knives and clocks and marbles and fishing rods and..... stuff! He had big-boy toys, such as a bucket truck, a backhoe, a pick-up truck with a plow blade, a diesel work truck, a pontoon boat, a canoe, a full-fledged Indian tepee that he had made (he wasn't an Indian but when younger, often did extreme wilderness camping) to name a few of the bigger things. I've had to inventory, get estimates of value, and am finding buyers for everything.

I'm tired physically, mentally and emotionally. I'm tired of sorting, tossing and negotiating with potential buyers. I'm tired of doing all the work in and outside the house. I clean inside. I rake leaves, mow the lawn and am starting to prepare for winter outside. I'm tired of the additional chores brought on by the coming of winter: getting a large supply of bird seed; ordering rock salt for the driveway and walkways; arranging for the installation of an auto-start generator; measuring windows for plastic coverings; having the furnace serviced; negotiating with someone to plow the very long (200+ feet) driveway. I'm tired of paying all the bills and worrying alone about the cost of heating this 217-year-old house this winter. I'm tired of calling the service guy twice to fix the dryer, something Ron could have done because that was part of the business he owned.

I estimate it will be 18 months before the house is ready to be put on the market, and I anticipate almost constant work to reach that goal.

I feel as if I'm continually giving Ron away, but I know I can't keep all this stuff. I had no need for his leased pick-up truck nor could I afford the monthly lease payments. I have no need for shot guns or pistols. I have no need for a bucket truck or a backhoe. And how many grandfather clocks can one person have? But each time someone says, "I'll buy..." I weep.

He spent his entire life acquiring these things that he enjoyed -- that made his life fulfilling, and boy did he have a full life -- and I will eradicate them in a fraction of the time. It doesn't seem right but it's got to be done.

All I want is to go to bed, lay my head on his shoulder and cry.

It Doesn't Really Get Better

I want to scream and throw things. Screaming alone doesn't help all that much.

When a husband dies, it is not like other relatives dying. My mother died when I was 30; my father died 10 months later when I was 31. I was sad. I felt abandoned and alone, but I was not lonely for them as I am for Ron.

Losing the one person in the whole world who loves and accepts you just the way you are is at times unbearable. I'll hang in, and I'll be fine, but getting there is a passage that only another woman whose husband has died can understand. Each person's story is different, but if the marriage was good and there was love and contentment, those of us left behind know what it's like.

I miss Ron so much. The extreme longing comes in waves. I might not feel it for a couple of days, then I have a couple of days where I am ambushed every hour on the hour.

Working Hard

Lots has happened the past week. I was finally named executor of Ron's estate, which means I can start selling things. There are people interested in all the vehicles, from bucket truck to backhoe.

Yesterday the GMC dealership in Catskill bought out the remainder of the lease on Ron's truck with me paying a small amount toward the purchase compared to the entire lease payout. I was very relieved to no longer have that hanging over my head, but it was very sad to give up Ron's truck.

Today I turned Ron's vanity plates to DMV. That was even sadder because Ron had those plates for years and years. It's as if I'm slowly eliminating all evidence of his existence. It breaks my heart.

Somebody this morning said, "Ron's probably in a better place than we are." HUH?? Helllooo... My husband is dead. Don't tell me he's in a better place. My response to this person was, "He's not in a better place and he should still be here with me." Death is not better!

One of Ron's daughters and son come tomorrow to pick up big items that belong in the family. I also have Em down here. It should be interesting. :--)

I continue to work on cleaning out things. I can't see the time where I won't be cleaning out things, and I mean that literally. I estimate it will take at least 12 to 18 months to get rid of everything that has to go. I dread starting the attic. It's dark. It's either hot or cold. The ceiling is very slanted, and there are nails sticking through from roof shingles being nailed. The stairs are steep and narrow. It is full of stuff. It's dangerous. For that chore I may hire somebody to help me.

I really should write every day because these few paragraphs don't relate, and I obviously don't remember, what I do every day, and one of the reasons for starting this blog was for me to remember what I do in my life.

Ember was here Friday through Sunday morning. Brianna came up Saturday so I had a full house with Tony, Bri and Em. It was a good time, but when they all left at 9:30 Sunday morning, I breathed a sigh of relief. I had peace and quiet back again.

Sunday night I went to Elsie's for supper. I was glad I went but it was sad. When I got home, I didn't put my car in the garage because Ron wasn't there. Every Sunday after Elsie's I'd ride back to the garage with him, and we'd walk back in the dark holding hands. It tears my heart apart not to have his hand to hold.

Monday I made 4 trips to the post office and one trip to the bank. I had to copy, get things notarized send registered mail, pack a box to sent to Montana and .... I forget what else.

Changes....

Just changed the outgoing message on the answering machine, thus replacing Ron's voice with mine. A giant step forward I guess. Whatever label I place on it, I know it was time, and I've been following my gut feelings in this whole moving forward thing.

Ron's voice has been saved, though. I ran the outgoing message while taking a video of the answering machine with my cell phone. The video feature has sound. I did this three times to ensure I had at least one good recording. I sent the video to my email address for downloading. It makes me smile to think that I can hear Ron's voice whenever I want.

Sharp Reminders; I Hate This

There are reminders all over of Ron, but the worst one, the one that hits me deep with emotions, is the new garbage can sitting outside the house. We never had garbage pick up at the house because we always used the dumpster that was, first, outside the store on Main Street, and when Ron closed the business, was moved to the apartment building he owned. Now that the apartment belongs to his offspring, it is no longer mine to use so I've contracted with the company that most people in this area use.

It is a big, ugly green can on wheels. I've rolled it here and there, trying to find a compromise between keeping it out of sight and having it live where it's easy to get it to the road. Nothing works. Short of keeping in a garage, 150 from the road, it can be seen. If Ron were here, he'd build a house for it (at my request), but if Ron were here, it wouldn't be needed.

I've had many days in a row of feeling pretty good. There have been some tears and continued thoughts of Ron's last couple of months, but I've been good. Today, though, is bad. It's bad because of the new garbage can. It's bad because there is so much work to do. It's bad because I want Ron back to help me do all that has to be done -- but then if he were here, there wouldn't be the work. It's bad because I went to Elsie's for supper Sunday and the ride up is sad because we always always always did it together!!

Labor Day

Labor Day makes me think of being a child with the knowledge that school starts in a couple of days. Even as an adult, I used to get a feeling of pleasure thinking about notebooks, paper, pencils and text books.

This year I feel sorrow. As I watch the leaves fall, I think of how Ron and I usually worked together to rake them into mounds, pile them into the wheelbarrow and dump them back in the woods. Not this year.

Yesterday got emotionally bad for me. Ron's absence was glaringly apparent, and by late afternoon until I went to bed, I did a lot of crying.

The ups and down of grieving surprise me a little. When I have a day or two where, for the most part, I'm pretty good, it blindsides me to have a hours like I did yesterday where the pain is overwhelming.

I'm back to sleeping on the couch. I'll have to stop that by the end of this week because Tony moves in Saturday and when he gets home from work at 12:30 AM, he'll want to relax before going to bed by watching TV.

I may go shopping up to Crossgates today. It will be something to do, and I need a few things for winter. I may have to pay full price but the choice of boots and coats will be at its highest right now. I also need a few household things from Target.

Watching the news about Swine flu is scary. It's already making a big negative impact on college campuses. I suspect before to long, we'll see people in grocery stores and shopping centers wearing masks.

Time to start my day.

Melancholy in Change of Seasons

Shadows are long and come earlier each day. Leaves are dropping from the trees almost like raindrops, floating down in lazy circles, falling dry on the ground, begging to be crunched under foot.

It makes my melancholy worse. The change in season from Summer to Fall has always made me melancholy, and this year is, of course, much worse. Missing Ron is constant, though sometimes it's hazy and obscure, sitting in the back of my mind when I am busy as I continue to work on the estate.

This weekend is the beginning of what I label the holidays: three-day weekends leading into the true holidays. There is Labor Day, Columbus Day weekend, Halloween (which is a big deal to Ron), Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's. I wish I could go to bed and sleep until January 2. Labor Day weekend is turning out to be difficult; I miss Ron so much. I can imagine how much worse it will be as the season progresses.

Estate issues, though continuing to be great, are falling into place. With any luck, I should be officially named executrix of the estate within three weeks and then can seriously tackle the big job of liquidating that which is not sentimental or useful to me or anybody in the family. Nobody has any feeling for the backhoe or the bucket truck. Well, actually, I do have sentimental feelings for the bucket truck because Ron loved using it and anything that made him happy made me happy. He was like a 7-year-old boy with a new toy. Below are pictures of him taken in May 2007. With help from the guys, he was lifting a stove onto his pontoon boat to take up to camp. Click on the pictures to enlarge them. In the first picture, you can see the stove just about to be set into the boat.






Gotta admit, the pictures are pretty awesome! I always admired, and always will, his interest in so many things and throwing himself into enjoying them. He did nothing halfway, including loving me. There was never one moment in our relationship, from the very first week of knowing each other, that I doubted his love. He showed it in so many ways.