Thursday, October 22, 2009

How Are You Doing?

I am alright. That is how I answer. Usually people wait a few seconds, waiting for me to perhaps elaborate. At this point I usually just say: "Really, I am alright." I just don't know what to say. How in the world could I possibly explain my emotional world at this moment. I have difficulty finding words for myself. Some times I feel nothing. Sometimes I feel hollow and empty and tired. Sometimes I feels like my soul is being torn to shreds.

It is the little things that are the hardest. Things like coming to the realization that I now own all the pens in the house, that I don't have to sneak my hubbies good pens into my purse. Oh how I miss being caught in the act. How I miss him saying: "Beasely! It says AgPro right on the pen!"
It is hard to come to the realization that all the cans of oysters and brown beans in the cupboards will in all probability still be there years from now unless I donate them to the food bank. It is crying over the new bath loofa that he only got to use once or holding the shirt he last wore and checking the pockets and finding a candy that he will never eat. But the hardest thing of all is seeing the grief in the eyes of our children and thinking of all the things that he will miss with the grandchildren that he loved ever so much and who loved him ever so much. It is knowing that I will never hear him tell me how much he loves me again. It is knowing that I will not have the fun of figuring out what present to surprise him with at Christmas and knowing that I never could surprise him anyway and loving him for it and laughing about it. It is knowing that I will never just be able sit and stare lovey dovey and drink in his eyes. It is a thousand times a thousand small things.

I watched television tonight for the first time in weeks. For a couple of hours I let that take me away from reality and tried to pretend that things are normal. Now the television is off. My daughter and her kidlets have gone back to her home. My son has gone out for coffee with friends and the house is quiet. This was a time that John and I used to enjoy. We would smile at each other and sigh....ahhh....peace. An hour later we would be missing everybody. Now I have to get used to the fact that I don't have somebody around that knows me so well that they can read my mind, somebody that can tell me things without even one word spoken but just by expression, somebody that was a part of my soul.


The Invisible Mo said...

Well, that made me cry, finally. I haven't been able to make this real because I never saw John this trip, only the people he loved and who loved him. I would say I know how you feel, but I really don't, even though you expressed it very well.
Don't hurry to donate the cans. I kept Brian's last box of macaroni and cheese way too long and it was still hard to use it. Each time I used up some of the things that had been his it was like giving a little part of him away. It's been 13 years and I still have his canister of tea and his little Crystal Light container with his bread wrapper clips and wire ties.
It's not exactly the same for me because we weren't married and didn't live together, but we were very close friends who communicated every single day for hours at a time and I don't think you will ever get used to not having him around to communicate with. I know I haven't.
Even still if the phone rings around 10pm, I expect it to be Brian.
You will always have things you want to talk over with him and you will always miss those little everyday things that made the two of you who you were to each other. You will always miss that little laugh that was just for you and the way he laughed with his children and grandchildren. You will always be alright. But you will never be the same.
I love you, Chris. Thanks for sharing your family with me.

Becky said...

Awe Mom. Awe Sheila.


I love you.

Lucy said...

You know, I read something the other day that says it is much easier to write what we feel than to say it face to face to someone. You just wrote it beautifully. I cried because I could feel your pain. You are not ALRIGHT but you just can't say that to anyone FACE TO FACE. I have never experienced what you are experiencing but I have a feeling you will never be totally ALRIGHT. Although, I believe you will be better overtime. You will find different joy
in your children and grandchildren and then when you say you are ALRIGHT there will be some belief in it but not yet.

Sue said...

That made me cry too, but I haven't exactly had a shortage of tears lately.
I remember you said to me in the hospital that you were going to be OK. Maybe not right away but you would be someday. I believe you because you are such an amazing person and I know that you lean on God for your strength.
I can't begin imagine what it is like to lose the love of your life. I only know what it feels like to lose a very special brother. I miss him so much.
His greeting whenever I'd see him in church..."Susan!!" and then the big hug. The times he came to soak his sore legs in the hot tub and we would talk about the camping /fishing trips we were going to take and the ones he had taken. And he would always talk about his family and how special each one was to him. He would always ask us to pray for them.
I will miss passing him on the street and his big smile and wave.

diana said...

i, too, cried. partially because i hear your pain through your words. and partially because i try to imagine what it would feel like if i lost my husband. i say i try because i can't quite imagine it. it's something you can only feel while going through it. and that makes me so sorry that you're going through this.

i think it's good to write down your feelings. whether it's here or somewhere else, i think it will help you with the grieving process. know that there are a lot of people who care about you.

hope you have a good weekend.

Jientje said...

I don't think I can even begin to imagine. It must be the hardest thing one gets to go through in life, especially if you have such a wonderful bond like the two of you have. I'm using the word "have" here instead of had.

That bond will always be there.

I'm sure, wherever he is, he's looking at you, and smiling at you.

Anonymous said...

i'm trying not to cry because i'm at work.
oh christine, my heart goes out to you. i just want you to know i'm still thinking about you and your family. i'm sending love and prayer and healing thoughts your way.

Momisodes said...

I can only imagine what you're going through right now. Your love for each other has always shined through here in your words. And I know they will continue to do so. Please know that we're all out here thinking of you and sending warm thoughts your way.

Write when you can and if it helps.

footsack said...

I am so sorry for your pain. My heart is breaking for you. You put it very beautifully though and once again I am thankful that you have allowed all of us to share in your grief and some of what you are going through.
We love you and will be praying for you!

Avaelyn said...

I realize this comment is a bit belated, but... I read this before and I was just at a loss for words. And I'm crying again. Auntie Chris, I just can't even imagine what you must be going through, and I'm so sorry. I want to give you the biggest hug.

Silly Swedish Skier Says So said...

Oh, this breaks my hear for you. My mom lost her husband 2 years ago. Its still so hard. She found help/support and some friends at a grief support group. Not sure if there's one in your area or if you'd even be interested but...