Three Months

Three months ago today, Ron died.

At this time on July 31, he had about 13 hours of life left.

At this time 3 months ago, I was watching him sleep, having spent the night at the hospital with him.

At this time 3 months ago, I was planning my morning: what time to go home for food, shower, clean clothes, a trip to the bank for money and return to the hospital.

At this time 3 months ago, I realized that Abby, who was going to relieve me about 7 AM, would not be able to get onto the ward because its closed off for an hour during shift change so I called lher.

At this time 3 months ago, I knew Ron was dying, but I didn't know that later in the day he and I would make the decision to remove the vent and thus hasten his death from a couple of days to a couple of hours. That decision, jointly made, will always haunt me and bring me to a grinding halt.

In all honesty, though, the loss is not as difficult as it was one month out or two months out. It's different, and I am adjusting to the new normal. Sometimes the tears come out of no where. Sometimes I go all day without crying. Ron being dead is no longer the first thing I think of when I wake. Then, of course, it hits me within a few minutes and I'm so sad.

I think my mind has gone numb, almost like the first days after his death, because obsessive thoughts of him don't haunt me on an hourly basis. I am adjusting???? I don't know. It is what it is, and if I'm less anguished because of the passage of time, I'm not going to question the gift or its reason.

The tears for him will never stop completely, but as much as I wanted the world to stop when he died, it didn't, and as I've said before, short of taking my own life (not an option) my life didn't stop either. I like to think that Ron's helping me heal so I don't cry as much. My tears always made him feel helpless and hurt for me, and if, wherever he went, he has any realization of me and my life, he would do anything to make me feel better.

Rain Rain...

Rain rain go away. It is pouring outside today. Guess it's to be expected this time of year.

I've been feeling pretty good this week. Sunday was a bit touch and go because I attended a brunch birthday party for Gary and it was the first non-family social occasion I've been to since Ron died. I was fine 99% of the time because I sat with interesting people and we had good conversation. If I let my mind wander even the littlest bit, I'd feel the tears forming. On the way home and into the afternoon, I let all the tears out I had held back, and some more.

Em had soccer tots Monday. She loves it and had a good time. I brought her down here for a scheduled overnight but ended up calling her mom to take her home because Em got into a crying jag. She's had a lot of issues/stress in her life recently. Grandpa Ron died. Grandma Marla cried a lot (I now can control it 99% of the time when with Ember). Grandma Pam has been sick and in the hospital. Mommy had carpel tunnel surgery last week. Em spent two nights at my house last week, over the weekend went down to New Rochelle, Sunday was back at her mom's and then Monday -- the breakdown day -- she was back down here with me. Too much for a little girl. We'll try a night down here Monday next week.

So much has been accomplished with Ron's estate. All the major vehicles have been sold. The remaining big thing is the pontoon boat. The gun room is all but empty. I've done as much with the clock room as I can. I'll decide later on what to do with clock parts. I don't want to toss them if someone can use them.

I'm looking to hire someone to work on the gun room so I can paint it and make it into a bedroom for Ember. But then again, maybe I'll just paint it and leave it empty. So much has been accomplished that I may put the house on the market next spring instead of the spring of 2011.

Gas prices are going up again.

The Continuing Business of Death

Panic set in for a brief moment yesterday when I got a notice from the NYS Workers' Compensation Board that Ron's business owes $16,000 in penalties. Jezumcrow! Turns out the business (and therefore me and Ron's brother) would owe penalties for non-compliance because no workers' comp insurance has been carried since the end of July but.... duhh... the business closed when Ron died, so there are no employees. The local insurance agency will take care of the problem and hopefully I'll hear nothing more.

Also, the business (i.e. ME), needs to notify the NYS Department of Taxation & Finance that the bucket truck is no longer on the road, or even owned by Ron, and therefore does not owe over-the-road tax.

When I married Ron I was adamant about not getting involved in the business. I knew it was not run well, but had no idea how badly it was run. Had I gotten involved, I could have avoided some of the issues I'm now facing. I just never know when something else will crop up. It makes me very uneasy.

I've been posting to a message board/forum for widows, and have "met" a great woman. It's not often I click with someone, but when I do, it's like a gift. It's too bad that what brought us together is the death of our respective husbands.

This past Monday Em had her first class at Soccer Tots. She is THRILLED with it and as we walked out the door after class, she asked if she could ever come back. LOL Well, yah, cause Grandma paid for 8 weeks of classes and will re-up her at the end.

Tomorrow I'm taking Em and her mom to the Children's Museum in Saratoga. Em calls it the museum park and just loves it. After I'll take them to lunch and then Em's coming down here for the afternoon. Tomorrow evening she's going downstate with Tony to see Brianna.

I've had a few good days in a row. Not many tears; little intense grief. I miss him. I hate being alone in this house and on this property, but it is what it is and I'm not one to give up.

A Walk in the Woods

I headed back to the woods this afternoon looking for Ron. Our house (and when does one stop saying "our" and "we"?) sits at the front of 12 acres of land. Some of it is cleared; most is still forest. This time of year in Upstate New York, near the Catskill Mountains, it is so beautiful back in the woods. There are bright yellow, gold and red leaves still on the trees, but enough have fallen that the sunlight can again pour down to the ground as it does in spring before the leaves form their canopy. Everything is sort of glistening with the brightness of the sunlight on the leaves. The forest is open because the ground plants have all but died off, and it's easier to walk through the trees than at high summer.

Ron is back in the woods, some place. I kicked through a good 4 inches of crunchy leaves and I felt him there. He was a great outdoorsman. He literally could live off the land. He could start a fire with stones and wet leaves if necessary. He knew what plants were edible and what were not. He was a very good hunter (not my piece of cake but oh well..) and if he had to, he could have fed us from that. He could build shelters from almost nothing, or anything, and pretty much was prepared for whatever might come his way.

I was in need of him today so headed out beyond the back garage into the woods and felt calm and peaceful. With just a little bit of imagination, he could have stepped out from behind a tree and given me a hug. It didn't happen, of course, but for a few minutes, I was alone in the woods, not another sound but that of a squirrel, and Ron was there too.

I am doing fairly well. There were a few days last week into the weekend that were tough, but I woke up Sunday feeling better -- less grief stricken -- and so far it's stuck. I know the heaviness will return, but I hope that it decreases each time and stays away longer.

Damn!

Below is a post I made to a message board for widows to which I belong:
______________________________

I've been doing really well, until now, though I suppose technically I'm still doing well. I still shower and dress. I take care of the house inside. I take care of the house outside. I take care of my granddaughter 2-3 days a week. My son, who is living with me through the winter, is getting my approval even when I might not approve, and he's certainly not here often enough to give me the help he said he would. I take care of my cat and now the stray that my son asked if he could adopt. I give support to my best friend whose husband has serious health problems. I give rides to my friend's kids when she's not available. You get the idea.

I doubt I'm doing anything unusual. Most if not all of us are doing for others because we have the obligations and usually want to. Those of you with children are always doing and giving. You more than anyone have to quell the desire to SCREAM, weep and fall apart at the drop of a hat for the sake of your children.

But ya know what? We're not getting filled up any more. We're not being nurtured any more. The creek is running dry and there's not much water coming down. My husband is gone forever, and he was the person who filled me with love and support so I could easily do what had to be done.

It's gotten to me. All I want to do is crawl under the covers and stay there for a very long time. My body's giving out a little bit. I've had intestinal problems and had a 12-hour bug Friday into Saturday with a high fever, vomiting, sore throat and shortness of breath. Nothing like being sick and not having Ron here.

For the first time since Ron died 10 weeks ago, I am feeling sorry for myself. I recognize it. I accept it. I'm wallowing in it. I'm feeling sorry for myself because there is nobody to fall back on. It's me, myself and I, and I hate it!! I hate raking the leaves by myself and wheelbarrowing them back to the woods. Oh, and the wheelbarrow broke. I hate that I have to go to the local lumber company and buy a new one. I hate that I had to turn off the water to the outside so it doesn't freeze. I hate that I had hook up the roof defroster wiring in anticipation of winter. I hate that I have to arrange to get the canopy swing taken apart and put away in the back garage for the winter. I hate that I have to do this and then cook, do dishes, do laundry, vacuum, dust, put up plastics at the window, take care of 2 cats and continue to peck away at the stuff that Ron left behind after living in this house for 30+ years.

I hate having to do it all, and I am a very capable woman. What do women do who don't have the resources or ability to slog along getting the work done?

I'm thinking that I am going to pay me back by taking a trip in January. A trip to somewhere warm, away from snow and ice. Ron and I never did winter vacations. We traveled in the summer and fall so it won't bring back memories. I'll create new memories that are just for me. Alone... and I hate that thought but I will do it anyway.

So those of you with more than 10 weeks experience of not having a husband (I freakin' hate the "W" word and will probably never attend one of the conferences because it's labeled with that word!!! Camp Widow next August? Camp Widow? Boy is that depressing sounding), have you done something good for yourself such as traveling?

Henry Hudson; Leaves of Autumn

What a rush it is to sit in the 36-paned window in the TV room and look out over the backyard watching the leaves blow from the trees, dancing in the air, twirling, skittering and barely finding a resting place on the ground before being swept up again by the wind. I can also easily watch the birds at the bird feeder. It is lovely and the sun has just come out to bring light to what has been a dank day up until now.

From Sunday to Wedneday night, I was deeply wrapped in my grief. I was depressed, and recognized the signs. I knew it was temporary so I went with the sadness. I woke up Thursday morning with an entirely different attitude. I went shopping and met my friends for our usual first-Thursday-of-the-month dinner.

Part of the order I had brought up to Albany for framing was ready Thursday. The 16x24 portrait of "Henry Hudson" is absolutely gorgeous. Long story short about this is back in the last 1980s, Ron was the model for Henry Hudson, a portrait being drawn by the artist Constance DelVecchio Maltese who had been commissioned to draw portraits of great explorers through the ages. Henry Hudson was one of the 12 explorers she drew. (To see all the explorers, go to this web site: http://cmaltese.homestead.com/AgeofDiscovery.html) Because Ron looks so much like the historic pictures of Hudson, he was her model. This year is the 400th anniversary of Henry Hudson discovering what is now New York City and sailing up the Hudson River to Albany. In observance of this celebration, Hudson's portrait as painted by Constance was revived and put on postcards and posters. Constance also had a few 16x24 inch canvas portraits made up to be hung in prominent restaurants in towns along the Hudson River, and she gave one of them to me. It is below, all framed and ready for hanging. It looks so much like Ron it's uncanny, though the expression on "Henry's" face is more somber than Ron's.


What a thoughtful present to give me. This picture will be a family treasure that I will make sure returns to Greenville to go to a family member when I die.