A New Year

I had therapy with Kelli Wednesday, we talked about how hard the holidays were, DC and the upcoming NYE. I really thought the worst was over, I said. How do you feel about it not being 2009 anymore? she asked. Hadn't thought about THAT one. So it will be 2010. Not a year that Chris ever lived in, a year that I will be in alone without him. Surreal. I imagined it to be like a ship sailing away, the year 2009, that last year he was alive. As I write this I can't believe that it is still true. How can it be? And yet I get up every day, go to work every day, talk to and see friends every day. Fed the dog, water the plants, do laundry, grocery shop, eat drink, shower. I carry on. And yet how do I?It still feels like I am floating on the surface of life, getting the to do list done. But if I dive below the surface and am still and think about things, like 2009 not being the year anymore and Chris not being in it, the pain is still so real, my mind can't seem to wrap around the idea of it.
My plan for NYE (never a big deal) was to stay home and drink a few beers and go to bed. For some reason I changed my mind and Max and I went to see the new James Cameron movie "Avatar"...in 3D. I wanted to go for Chris, a huge James Cameron fan.
Max wanted to see it too. As we head to the movies the radio is playing softly, and we are just making small talk. Something searingly familiar hits my ears, what is that song? It hits me! It is Adam on the radio WDYWFM (What Do You Want From Me)! I can't believe it. I interrupt Max mid sentence and turn up the volume. It is true; he is on the radio! This is the first time I have heard Adam over the airways. I beep the horn with excitement (Max tells me to calm down).I note the time 6:18PM. Is this a gift from Chris, I go see Avatar, you can hear Adam on the radio? I have just gone from flat to 3 D!
As I sat in theater watching it I wondering, if he could see it because I was seeing it. Can I do things that he would want to do to make them possible for him. He so loved movies, (and he taught me to love them). There are so may movies he wanted to see, that he didn't live long enough to enjoy. This of course would have been the biggie. I was never a sci fi fan, but I enjoyed the movie, occasionally wiping back a tear or two at the thought that if he can't see the movie through my eyes then I am sad that he is missing it. All crazy delusions that I have some control or don't have control. I concentrate on the movie, it is easy to slip into the fantasy world of Pandora.I want to be a Navi, I want to leave this worlds and be part of Pandora.

Max enjoys the movie, everyone claps at the end (Chris LOVED when that happened).
Max is hungry so we go fro crappy Chinese food, I can barely eat, I try to get through the grease fest and the crowded loud restaurant, it s after 10 PM and the patrons are well on their way to ushering in NYE, Mai's Tai's are flowing, I want one, but am afraid to have one and drive home.

When we get home I flip through the TV channels but end up in bed well before midnight.
Happy New Year, Chris. I look forward to the next movie......

Sunday in DC

unlike yesterday's gloomy drizzle, today dawns bright, my mood is still left in the Saturday drizzle. Max slept late as usual and I didn't have the energy to get him up, where were we going to go today anyway? I am really not interested in the sights and sounds of our nation's capital and I sincerely do not have the energy to think of places to go.....Max said he is "just a go with the flow kinda of guy". unfortunately my only flow is the one that takes me back to bed. I don't want to be here but i don't want to be home. I want to be dead, yes really (and no I won' t do anything ) Anyway I am already dead.
We go to DuPont Circle as suggested by Wendy, Chris' sister. I really wish she was here to drag us around, I have to walk everywhere because my anxiety is through the roof and one look at the Metro deep dive escalator caused a panic attack, I had to tell Max what was going on....I think he thinks I am nuts.
So we cab to the circle which is very disappointing, or we didn't know where to look, two bookstores a bead shop and a P town type shop that sold rainbow Christmas trees? Where were the funky Tibetan stores or the ethnic stores? We left after an hour, lucky enough to find a cab back. And now we are in the room I could stay here til Tuesday, but It is rather nice out and this is costing me alot, maybe a walk in the sunshine will up my mood somehow.

Christmas Eve Christmas morning

Finally in bed, the tacky tree I pulled down from the attic (so as not to scar the boy) is glowing from the living room. I give in to it finally the heaving poor me sobs, Christmas alone with out my Chris. Coincidence the Christmas has his name in it? Or that every Christmas we had was because of him. If it was up to me I would ignore it all. But now i know what a truly fun,wonderful and loving day it can be. So glad I learned that lesson so it could be ripped from my heart leaving a gaping hole that oozes pain and and drips anger. Anger that I was given the gift and for only a short while. Why show the child all the gifts under the Christmas tree only to shove them back in the orphanage. How draconian. Sleep finally stops the descent into a Charles Dickens nightmare.

i awake early the next morning. I see the lobster boat in the harbor. just another December morning, nothing looks like Christmas out on the water. I am relieved.

Christmas Eve

Having successfully eluded the friends and family who are a part of my Italian traditional Christmas Eve fete, I call Lindsey to connect with her tonight as part of my safety plan with my therapist. Not being able to leave Christmas Eve night for DC made her nervous that I would be alone and depressed. Because it is so much easier/better to depressed with someone close by. I had told Lindsey all this and we had made a plan, that I would come over and give Jack his present (she had one for me to give , but I wanted to give him the chef set....these facts escaped her when I called. She and Kevin had a reservation at the Outback, wouldn't be home til late. So much for my safety net.....I was encouraged to join them and Max was enthused at the prospect of a large slab of cow so we went. I was feeling shaky so Max drove ( and we had to deliver the Fisherman/Santa to Lauren's house so we took his truck. I was quiet n the ride over. the restaurant was noisy and i was greeted by "V", Lindsey's friend and a former hairdresser of mine. Vanessa (V) is working at the Out Back tonight. She is over the top loud and bawdy in a cheerful and attractive way, she is hard to describe, part Dolly Parton (blonde and built) one part Kathy Griffin (wise cracking quick tongue) and one part sweetheart, that's her. She bring me a Bud Light and Max gets a Guinness.
We order, she takes Jack around the restaurant several times to buy Lindsey some time to eat (truly a full service waitress).
I get teary eyed a few times, and rest my head on Lindsey shoulder, I manage to hold it together, the Bud Light is helping......we finish our meals and I want to go but Lindsey ordered a Ginger Bread martini which we wanted to try, another distraction I am grateful for..... we sip it, it is weird I like the cookies that come with it better than the drink. I had brought Jack's gifts one of which he opened the rest i ave to Linds for Christmas morning. We hug in the parking lot, and head off in our different directions. I wonder if this will be my new tradition Christmas Eve at the Australian Outback. Christmas Eve down under. Christmas Eve down and under the radar.

Christmas Eve part 2- Santa Surprise

I had an idea to take the Fisherman statue that Laurie had given me and turn him into a Santa. I spent several nights painting his yellow slicker coat and hat red, layering the paint to get a good color. I also touched up his hat with red and white.
I was making this for my long time friend Lauren. Every year for many many years I had given her a Santa figurine, she collected them and I would go to great lengths to get them, usually buying them in the post Christmas sales for 50% off (they retail around 80 bucks). I hadn't given her a Santa in a long time and especially not a wood carved life sized one.
It is in Max's truck and we try to plan how we are going to get in her yard un spotted. I want this to be a surprise half the fun is Lauren's quandary of figuring out who sent it!
Lauren LOVES Christmas and I suspect has a house full which will either help by causing a distraction or hurt by adding eyes and ears to our covert operation.
We approach on side street, Lauren's House is dead ahead, and NO ONE IS HOME!
I can't believe our luck...... We place "Santa" by the door and scurry away. I wait for her to call but she never does. I facebook her son to put him on alert.
it is not until 2 days later she figures it out. i can't wait to see her to hear about her mental gymnastics to figure out where Santa came from!
This to me was what I think I would like Christmas Eve to be like.....pulling surprises bordering on pranks. Christmas Eve with a twist. Tim Burton may have to be called.

NIN

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UEW8riKU_tE

Am I Going too DeeP?

In bed, exhausted, shutters open out to the dark and white of the night the blackness of the sky against the white snow laden seascape. Black and White, like my thoughts, my life. I am either going to the mall with Max, having dinner, talking on the phone. From the outside it looks "normal" "ok" just an "average" life.
And then I stop, I go to bed, I rest my aching hips and it hits me......the reality of the loss, my loss, his loss, our loss. Are you as sick as reading this as I am of writing it? And yet I can't seem to get to that place where I remember being married to a wonderful man and am wistful, fondly thinking of him with a slightly crooked smile and perhaps one eye slightly brimmed with tears. The smile gets stronger and I have moved on.
I can't get there, I know what it looks like but I can't imagine ever actual implementation of that.
Instead I lie here staring out the window aching, missing, longing, yearning, thirsting, craving my husband.He is so larger than life by the vast hole he is left in my life, my heart and my mind.

Solstice Eve

Chris' birthday. Snowing, we have 12 inches already. I can' deal.I do quick chores all day (while looking for my lost checkbook) Check the files, rearrange the files, gather the etrade documents, I clean out a drawer, check bank balances (in case check book was stolen.) Check Etrade look for cost basis (whatever the fuck that is) banter with Bill in emails (Chef Bill, who is having a Hanukkah bash in Amherst), actually consider driving 2 hours to Amherst, talk to Chris' mom (neither of us can stay connected too long, too painful).
Finally, Finally I sit down to write. The ache in my heart becoming more painful with each key stroke. Unable to be ignored or chored away I have to face it. And yet I can't. It will be 9 months in a week, and I am still in a state of shock, I can't believe he is gone. I try to look at some pictures, I can't do it, he is mostly always smiling in the pictures (its what people being photographed do) and I want to smile back but my face cracks and the tears come down filling in the cracks with hot wetness.
I can't even do this, write, I start to feel anxiety and panic. No where to go nothing to do. Last time I took an Ativan I puked for 2 days, too afraid to do anything. I go to the couch and lie down.
I can't do this anymore, I just can't. I want to go outside and fall in a snowdrift and disappear. Maybe the plow guy will push me around and I won't be found until spring.

The eve of 12/20

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Was it the Christmas Specials?

Wednesday Night after an hour or two of channeling surfing the only thing on was "Christmas in Can" A Christmas Wish" " Christmas Wedding" "Christmas Vacation" (no I am not kidding), I felt awful, like I was going to have a heart attack. Just anxiety,I tried to convivnce myself so much so I actually took an Ativan......no relief. I thought about filling out the "do it yourself" will I had purchased a few weeks ago, but had no strength to even get up off the sofa. I figured I would either die on the sofa or wake up late for work....The pressure on my chest became so unbearable I thought about calling my neighbor to take me to the ER, but I hated the thought of waiting hours to be seen, plus I wouldn't get any sleep and then would have to call in sick to work (which I guess is worse than calling in dead).
After an hour or two of this it became painfully obvious as I rushed to the bathroom that I had some sort of stomach flu (WARNING GRAPHIC CONTENTS). I spewed out dinner (leftover PF Changs Chicken Dali---their spiciest dish which was as hot coming up as going down) I had the added pleasure of also having diarrhea, also known as the "coming out of both ends" disease. Before I lose you for good, suffice it to say this went on all night, almost every hour on the hour until dawn. Sometimes I made it to the bathroom and sometimes, well let's just say on day three I had 7 loads of laundry to do....you do the math.
I was ill for 22 hours (what else to do when you are flat on your back between bouts of kneeling to the porcelain goddess (ok sorry I promised) but watch the digital clock change numbers. I couldn't watch TV, read, or move. I barely had the strength to call in sick, or call my neighbor. Poor Kathy had to negotiate the floor and towels while delivering my requested Gatorade and Popsicles. I subsisted on them for two days. This is my first day up. My third day out of work. I also took (well my boss insisted) tomorrow off, a rare Saturday that I work.
I learned two things however (well maybe more)
1. Being sick as a widow sucks. I was totally on my own. I thought if I have a heart attack while puking my guts up, naked in the bathroom, it will be not unlike a scene from SAW.
2. Minions work even months after Chris died. I called Kathy, and Andrea and Bev. They all came bringing whatever I needed and not staying or in the case of a very pregnant Andrea, not even coming in.....( I insisted---early labor because of the "swine like but non H1N1 flu" was NOT an option).
Still alone sucks it makes me so sick I want to............

back to bed

I am in familiar territory and I don't like it.
Again I am staying in bed until the last minute before I need to leave to go anywhere. Pushing the envelope, coming home in between clients to climb into bed.
Exhausted, unending fatigue fills my body like thick corn syrup, invading my joints and making them ache and move painfully, causing me to move at a snail's pace. This is where I was in May, 7 months ago, a month after Chris died. Now it is a month after Jenn died, and I am back at square one. It seems to have dulled the fresh pain feeling and now I am numb again. I don't understand why at all, but I know all about this strange land of flat emotionless landscape. I barely notice the Christmas lights, as I drive, oh I see them, their laser beams seem to bounce off of me. Am I becoming too numb to life because of all the caner deaths? Or am I just adding an extra layer of protection I approach the Trinity of holidays-Chris' Birthday, Christmas and New Years that all occur within a ten day period? I haven't been numbing myself with the elixir (Bud Light) so maybe this is a natural substitute?
I know this place, I have been here and I didn't like it the first time. I want to feel the pain, hold it, know it. It is the only way I feel close to Chris. I feel the pain of his loss acutely, therefore he must have just been ripped from my life, my arms. Therefore he must be close by and there is chance I can feel him.
This is fucked up thinking. I know it but I embrace it.
I still can't shake that "he will be back" feeling. I don't dare touch his clothes or his desk files, I even mused that he would read all this someday. Or maybe he is reading it now. Not even mad that I have started to use his computer to do do my writing. It is the best of the 7 we have!
I can't believe I am even upright this morning. Aurora got me up at 5:30 and I stayed up thinking I might be able to write if I stay awake. I will pay for this later during my killer day of 12 clients, 12 home visits on what is supposed to be the most frigid day thus far. And it's not even winter yet.
But my heart is frozen solid.

Sorrowful Sunday

Horrible day today.....it started sunny and the day darkened and ended with a mighty rainstorm. Again the outside weather mirrors my inner weather. I was almost this side of half of ok this morning and now at 6 PM I am suicidal. I can't go on any longer I don't want to and I don't care. I am not acting on it, It is just a feeling but it is very strong.
I went to Kendra's ( friend's daughter ) birthday. I was an hour late because I really didn't want to go. The only thing that motivated is that I could probably have a beer with Shawn while I was there. I left the house at 1:45 for a 2 o clock party. And I had to go to the mall to get a present. I arrived at 3 bringing my next door neighbor's daughter with me. I honestly didn't think I could go by myself. As it was I cried when anyone asked me how I was doing. So labile....what is going on? This sucks. Please ground open up and swallow me whole. I came home after an hour exhausted and now and trying to hit on the right music to get me out of this funk. Nothing is working it is 6 PM I could just go to bed, but am not tired at all. I just want this to be over, but there really is no end in sight.

I can't remember Christmas

I worked a party with Chef Bill last night.....big house in Marblehead, very tastefully decorated for Christmas, pink roses stuck in pine boughs, small Christmas catus in siver tulip vases. Very elegant, very nice. The tree was was adorned with only glass ornaments, no garland and white lights. It was as if I decorated the house.
The party was huge and it was non stop. At the beginning of the party the patriarch of the house, was turning on music, small stereo somewhere. I marveled at how with all these decorations, catering, cases of wine he didn't have a whole house sound system or a vault. Made me miss/appreciate Chris.
I woke up this morning paying the price for being on my feet for 7 hours, hobbling around....Thinking back to the pretty MarbleHead house. I try to remember what Christmas was like last year. BIG MISTAKE.
I bring Chris' computer to life, and look for the back up picture albumns, I know they are all on the vault I just don't feel like going through all the turning on of the tv nonsense. And anyway I just want a quick peek (it's kinda like biting on a sore tooth, I know it is going to hurt, I just can't stop).
I click over to the picture file....there they are Christmas 2008. Is that right?
Just a year ago. Of course, Chris was the picture taker, so there are no pictures of him. But oh what is that? video? of what. Click takes me there. Chris is videoing the dog doing her mad Christmas paper war. She takes all the paper on the floor and pretends it is some fend-less prey and has at it. Chris loved that part of the day, his wild child acting the beast she can be.
I hear his voice..."What are you doing?", "get it get the paper".
I crumble, the tears come and I am helpless to stop it. That was a year ago? Really?
How can he be so present digitally, His voice sounds so wonderful, yet so so painful to hear. It almost hurts my head to hear it, but again I cannot stop. The videos are short, taken with the digital camera. There are about five. At one point I am on the phone and ask Chris a question. I hear the conversation, the back and forth. Oh My God I want that so much I just want to talk to him. Even if he can't be here physically I just need to to talk to him, to know he is here for me. The need is so real I feel it physically, It is an ache a longing, a pulling from my heart, a want, a crave, a need so real I feel it so present. The unmet need turns to pain. The pain is excruciating I am gulping air and trying to breathe as I type this. I feel like I am suffocating and I want to just give in and slump over. Stop breathing just end this fucking nightmare. Why ? What the hell is the meaning of all of this.
In the video Aurora helps Chris unwrap his unicycle. He wanted one, he asked for it in one of his infamous "this is what I want for Christmas and no I don't think it's tacky to be specific" list.
The unicycle represented hope for the Spring. He would get better, we would find a GIST toxic drug, finally and he would ride the unicycle as he had as child. The unicycle is downstairs in the box with dog teeth marks on it. He never opened the box or had the chance to ride it.
We never had a chance after the diagnosis. We were so stupid, chasing a cure, we should have chased a life.
I miss him so much it is so searingly painful, it hurts worse now than it did right after he died. The pain is fresh, made more so by the holidays and the death of his sister.
I have to get up I can't stand it anymore. I go to the kitchen where the files I have been working on or all over the place. I should clean up before the day is shot. I think about putting on some music and think Chris would have been playing Christmas music non stop as he did on every weekend in December.
I think I will work in silence, the only sounds coming from my sniffles and the icy wind outside. Maybe I can freeze my heart so it is hard like the ground and I won't have to feel this burning pain.

Lost Ring

I am coming home from the gym. I had stopped at the grocery store(can I ever go a day without a trip to my safe haven?). Driving home almost there. Listeneing to Music Again (again). I feel my hand on the steering wheel. My ring is gone. My wedding ring is gone. I panic, full blown panic. Can't breathe, what happened? Did it fall off in the gym? Where is it? Where? A miracle happens and I rmemeber after work and after group I had come home to go to the gym and reoved the mutiple bracelts and my Adam look a like ring) maybe I took it off along with Adam's scarab ring?. Whe I get home I dash upstairs and find it on my dresser. It is loose on my left hand but very tight on the right. I jam it on my right hand. I can't get it off if I tried. I feel relieved, but so spent emotioanlly. I have a couple of hours before I head over to the house in Marblehead where I am helping Chef Bill cater a Christmas party. I feel like a wet dish rag. I better rest before the party or my legs/hips won't hold up.
I vacate to back room and the sherpa. Click on the Tv and fall into a fog. The opposite of the 5 senses on fire in panic mode.
Breathe.

Widow's Holiday Gathering

lost car keys, lost christmas, lost life

I lost my car keys at work today. At Addison Gilbert, trying to get to Physical Yherapy after work, and need my gym clothes. I cannot find my keys anywhere, they aren't hooked on my bag or anywhere in the office. Becky (my intern) tries to help. We search the office, the parking lost, we call security, lost and found, Becky even looked in a Donut box nothing. I called Amy the nurse that shares my office, she didn't pick them up by mistake, but offers to drop everything (she has 3 kids and it is dinner time) to schlep me to Beverly and back to G town).I tell her I will call her back. I shoo Becky away admists protest, to go to Physical therapy, I would figure this out. After PT I come back to the office. Who to call, what to do? The obvious but oh so unavailable choice is Chris. The reality of having no one strikes again, complicated by the reality of being able to snap my fingers and have the minions all arrive. It's not the same as having the husband, lover, best friend to rescue me. And I need rescuing from this darkness. I WANT HIM BACK. I cry out in my office, no one hears (hopefully). I cry for a while. Then I start texting the minions let's see who answers first. Kayla the 17 year old who lives next door and is a " new driver" offers to fetch my spare keys and bring them to me. She heads over to my house to find the keys. Not sure which ones she sends me a picture of the one she thinks is right,I marvel at the technolgy and laugh a little at the picture of her chipped black fingernail poished hand holding the correct key. I gice the go ahead and she is on her way......I call Amy to tell her I am all set, she tells me that she lost her keys recently and that it drove her nuts.
(I lost my husband and am nuts.....). I love her though but I dismiss her all the same. I await the 17 year old, she is about all I am emotionally equipped to handle. She won't notice that I have been crying when she gets here.
Lindsey calls I tell her I am all set (2 out 5 minions responded withing 10 minutes, not bad) She wants to come I tell her Kayla is on the way.,....
I hang up I cry. Why? Everything is resolved. I am pathetic. I feel like a loser feeling sorry for myself.....but I can't stop.
Kayla arrives she calls me from the parking lot over by the emergency room, I go out with out a coat. The night is cold and dark and I feel so chilled to the bone. I can't take a winter in New Engl;and alone I can't. The winters here have always been so frightening to me. Where else could you die just by being outside? I hate the dark and the cold when it is out of doors. I seem to like it in my house though.....although there is no thermostat outside. I can inch the thermostat down each night, but I can always turn it up if I want. Something you can't do outside.
I grab the keys and Kayla wants to follow me home unsure of the way. I feel bad that she is frightened to get lost and is 17 and yet she drove 20 miles to rescue me.
I get in my car and drive over to her, beep and our wagon train is on the way. I am grateful to be alone in the car. I don't have Adam in the CD player, having taken him out to play in the office, I drive in silence, hearing "Fever" only in my head. I don't remember most of the drive, just conscious of driving slow, watching Kayla in the rear view mirror. Finally we get to the Beverly exit. Off the exit we pass the same houses I always pass, although with the passage of a few days, more and more of them have Christmas lights. My mind travels to a conversation I had with my son Max about Christmas presents. He asked me, since we are going to Washington as an escape/present if I wanted him to get me a present, I said no and that thought crosses my mind now. I think that there is no one that loves me to buy me the perfect Christmas present. I will never know that joy of opening Chris' gifts to me. I want no other presents,only his, so thoughtfully picked out, perfectly wrapped. He so loved Christmas, he made it all sunny and bright and fun. I never loved Christmas morning like I loved with him. Childhood Christmases with hungover parents could never match the special joy and fun we had. And now I will never ever have that again. The searing pain begins. Hot tears travel down my cold cheeks (I forgot to turn the heat on) I marvel that I can be so sorry for myself, so unlike me. I had an abusive childhood, but this is turning me into a a "poor me". and I can't help it, don't want to change it and am wallowing in it. Is this the anger I am supposed to feel?
Crying so hard now I have to pull over in front of Casa De Moda, a local popular gift store. I can't stop the tears. Hated Christmas and Chris opened the door to its wonderment and fun, a door that is now permanently shut. I wiill never have a Christmas again, no presents not tree. I want to go home and burn all the decorations up in the attic.
I limp home in the car and wonder why it is that I even continue on. This last week has done me in, why don't I just end it? Really, I am beyond full of grief, beyond full of pain. I want this over. My hip hurts, I can't even walk the dog or enjoy anything I want out and I want out now.
I get home I have all these bags from work, my purse, briefcase, lunch bag, I think I should clean up and get organized. Look around the rest of the house is pretty tidy. Could just kill my self now I think. What would be the difference. Just end it.
I decide to have a beer first. Then I remember: Adam: The View. I should watch.
I open a beer and settle on the sofa. I play the show. All the hoopla around his performace on the AMA's is discussed. He anwers perfectly, holding hois own admist the firestoprm that is Elizabwth Hassleback. He sings a song.He sounds great. I decide that after I will write/blog/ post whjatever. I open another beer. I am feeling calmer. I still want to die, I just don't want to DIY.

nothing

Just an ordiary night of Tv followed by going to bed alone. I can't beleive that he is gone, and yet it has been over 8 months

first snow.............

Andrea and Steve are leaving. I cooked them dinner from the cookbook Steve brought me when Chris was in the hospital. It was a wonderful gift, It is a huge cookbook very technical and way beyond my capabilities, I thought.
I cooked Steve and Andrea a dinner from that book tonight, tomato tart are and haricot verts salad, venison with braised shallots and pan seared butternut squash ho made coffee ice cream
It is an amazing feat, ands amazing feast. I cooked all day, I enjoyed that part although I was missing Chris terribly. He would be checking in and doing the "cleaning" of the house to prepare for outr guests. I didn't bother, the dog hair dust bunnies will be an uninvited guest.
Steve and Andrea seem to really enjoy the food, Ithought it alittle flat but when tasted all together some of the elements were ok. I wondered if Chris would have liked it....too many tomatoes, in the tar tare and in the tomato diamonds that were in the brunoise (braised shallots and leeks and carrots with a moulage of butter).
We watch the Bon Jovi special I had recorded for my sister in law. I think it is good, I don't know much about Bon Jovi but he seems really talented.
AS they leave it starts to snow, I start to panic. Not the first snow without Chris, I am not ready for this a new first. I am sad my heart is as heavy as the snow that is clinging to every branch and lateral surface it can find.
I shut off the lights, I try to blog, I can't I am crying. I don't want to be here alone in the dark, cold house with the snow outside. I imagine a real Nor'easter coming and what will that be like to be here by myself. Maybe it will be like the other night when there was so much wind and noise I stayed up almost all night.

12/5

December my sister turns 50, without any fan fare. She is not married to you

Speakers Widowhoodwalk day 247

I want to play some music but the speakers in the front room died a week ago they crackled and hummed and now are dead. The Jones' are coming over for a "Bon Jovi" dinner (we had planned to watch "the Circle" after dinner and my parties always have a theme, but what good is a theme without music? Maybe Steve can look at them when he comes over...... He is an EE like Chris. I have already tried plugging them in and re connecting all the wires, nothing works. I am crying upset. another wonderful given only to be snatched away. The gift of music, so precious so sweet I am so frustrated that I yell "Stop Fucking with me". To whom do not know...Chris? the devil? God???
I am mad at myself for not being able to fix these things.
I know Steve will at least try.
I go to turn the music on anyway, even if it is only in the back room. I walk to the back room and turn on the vault, the speakers respond! The music starts, not a crackle, a pop or a hiss. Another strange broken thing fixed. Is it Chris? I like to think so. He is energy and electricity is energy. Maybe he did something. now if he could defibrillatate my heart.

Body Of Christ widowhoodwalk day 245

When driving from Jenn's funeral to the reception, my mother in law shared that the priest who handed her the host, the body of Christ had just wiped his nose beforehand. Not wanting to risk H1N1 and given no choice to refuse as the priest walked over to the front pew and handed out the host to Daryyl and the kids (all Catholics) as well as my mother in law (unenrolled). She didn't know exactly what to do she said, she saw her grandchildren placing the wafer in their mouths, not wanting the germ laden albeit living bread, she tucked it in her purse.
I couldn't believe this as she was telling it....."where is it now?" barely able to contain my myself, images of my Baltimore Catholicism urban legends of hosts turning to blood, priests having to burn carpet when a host fell to the sacristy floor and my favorite a host caught in a chiffon scarf which also had to be burned as well as the neck of the now scarf less catholic lay woman washed with holy water. This was serious stuff. It frightened and fascinated me then, the echo of that still reverberates now.
And now here I am driving in car with the host in my mother in law's purse. I ask her for it thinking I can dispose of it in a way that will not get us all sent to hell. Despite having not practised my religion of my upbringing for quite sometime, I feel this is something I must do. It provides me with distraction We get to the hall and not only cannot I not find a priest but Donna can't find the host. Perhaps it has already turned to blood and sank to the bottom of her pocketbook. It bothers me still, but she doesn't want to look for it and I don't want to push it.

Jenn's funeral

Jennifer Wiswall Ware's funeral Mass was today. We met at the funeral home to gather for the million mile processional. Over 100 people were at the funeral home to process in their cars to the church. Jill is here and takes some medication for the church service (it is leftover anti anxiety medication from dentist appointment---the same dentist appointment she had the day she came to my house to see Chris.) I had gone to the airport with Wendy to pick up Doug, so I had the opportunity to finally ask her about the end of Jenn's life. I was curious about the process and if it was similar to Chris'. Wendy said that they knew Jenn was failing but the thought was to get her to the hospital to get her strength back (just like we went on Hospice to get Chris stronger so we could get to Florida). I was relieved somewhat and felt a little like this must be how it happens all the time, the family (I) doesn't know that the end is really near until the very very end. I hope Chris didn't know.

The ride to the church is very long, we are in the third ca I cannot believe how long the processional is. It seems like an endless flow of cars. When we get to the church and park there is an "honor guard" of students from Bishop Feenan where Jenn's eldest daughter attends. The high schoolers are out on the steps with no coats on, their uniforms crisp and green plaid.

We process into the church followed by Jenn in her Pink Casket(her favorite color).
The mass begins. Many people are softly crying throughout the service. I feel ok, sad but not on the verge of anything. Until at one point prior to the eulogies I notice many of my sisters (in law) crying and being held by their boyfriends or husbands. Every Wiswall has a shoulder to cry on, and I am sitting here between Jess and Wendy. The realization that I am alone and that I don't have Chris to comfort me hits me. It feels like a giant white freezing cold knife falls from the ceiling and goes right through me and slices my hear apart. The physical pain is real, it is sharp, cold, penetrating, excruciating. I breathe in the air feels cold. A sob so big and so loud comes bubbling up. I know that if I let it go I will cry so loudly that I will frighten everyone. I want to scream and cry and sob and wail and weep and thrash and yell and just turn myself inside out. The tears silent and safe stream down my face. They burn in sharp contrast to the cold hard pain of the knife in my heart. I am gasping trying to quell the large sobs, I don't want to scream, but I fear I cannot hold on any longer. The act of pushing air down makes me nauseous and I feel like I may throw up. I am panicky, frightened, cold and hysterical. I gasp rather loudly and finally cannot hold back the muffled sobs. My nose is running, my eyes burn I just want to die right here and now. I don't want to live one more second this is fucking unbearable. I try to will my heart to stop, it doesn't I let out another cry, not so loud that everyone looks except my pew mates. Doug, Wendy's boyfriend reaches across and rubs my back. It makes me feel better, but I still can't hang on.
I try some mantra's: Ohm mani pad hum ohm,Ohm mani pad hum ohm,Ohm mani pad hum ohm.
It doesn't work. I try to nostril breathe, still hysterical. Finally I see a green light way up high in the ceiling. It is blinking in some type of pattern. I concentrate on the blinking green. 12, 123, 123, 12 the pattern of the blinks. It reminds me of the Power Plant Tower lights outside my house. I used to watch them at night and follow their pattern. It was after my divorce during the "Bob" years (he died of pancreatic cancer). I was numb at the time and couldn't even manage to watch TV ( of course I didn't have a 65 inch high def to become addicted to).
SO I concentrate with all my might on the green light flashing away. The hysteria ratchets down a notch, Doug's hand slips away.
I calm down just in time to hear Darryl's eulogy, which makes me cry, but in a controlled sniffling into my tissue kind of way. I can't cry for Jenn the way I cried for myself minutes ago, or was I crying for Chris.....I glad he is not here to bury his sister, but I want him here for me. I don't want to be alone to handle this, I don't want my grief compounded, ripped open made raw and wet and bleeding again. I don't want to look in Darryl's eye and see the fear, hurt, sorrow and pain. I want to die, end it all. This is too much. I bury my face as I cry some more. When I lift my head up thinking that I can't suffer like this any more, I see the back of my mother in law, sitting up ahead of me. She has lost her husband, her son and now a daughter. How is she even standing? How is she even breathing. Oh sure she has more children left, but how is her hear beating? How can I complain compared to her sorrow?
Still the floor does not open up and take me away.
Finally after some incense some songs and a final prayer, we process out and make our way in the million mile car line to the cemetery. More prayers, but no hole in the ground. Thank God for that.

Awakening Part 2

At the funeral home. There are flowers everywhere. Donna tells me that Jenn hated flowers thought they were a waste (just like me!!) She would have hated all the flowers.
Jenn is in her coffin, no wig (another thing my mother in law thought Jenn wouldn't like. Darryl seems intent n having his wife buried bald. Not sure why am thinking it is something along the lines of "this is what cancer did to my wife" sentiment.
Oh well, I am sure where ever Jenn is she doesn't care about all this. I wish I could share the common belief that she is in heaven, or someplace with Chris but is just not there. Maybe I am a hard core Buddhist. Just nothingness......
I won't go near the casket, nt up to the kneel-er. I stand off to the side, it doesn't look like her at all, her skin is mottled like Chris legs were when he was alive, a sign of death coming I later learn. (are you all checking your legs now?)
The family lines up,I haven't resolved whether or not I want to be in line or not, no matter the Wiswalls insist and I stand next to Jess. And it begins.
We stood for 5 and half hours, the line stretched out the door, down through the parking lot, around the building around the corner and down the street. I twas incredible. Some folks stood in line for over 2 hours to pay their respects. The line never stopped moving I must have shook hundreds of hands an hour. Old jhands, arthritic hands (many of the those) rough hands, soft hands, gloved hands, scratchy hands, dirty hands, slippery hands, calloused hands, cracked hands, smelly hands, perfumed hands. I began focusing on the hands. So many people......many of whom sped through the line (after waiting for two hours I think they wanted to get out of there). The quickly shook hands saying "I am so sorry", "sorry for your loss" "condolences". I seemed endless. It was endless.Many people had not seen me since Chris died, and since I didn't participate in this ritual of saying good bye to a corpse I missed out on all this. And I am so glad. If anything it served to validate that I made the right decision. How is Darryl doing this? How can he possibly stand this, stand so close to his wife's dead body and not want to jump in with her? How can he stand next to his crying children and not want to destroy the parlor, break all the vases, ruip of the flowers. Must be on triple strength Ativan.

a WAKE ning

Tuesday, Jenn's wake is tonight and I am heading to Attleboro. Before I go i fill my tires with air they were incredibly low (and so am I).
I flip on my GPS and start the 75 minute journey to the land of cults and christmas shrines.
I am anxious about the drive, I haven't done this before. It's scary and yet i don't care anymore. So what if a BST (big scary truck) hits me and I careen off the highway? Sure would spare me the grief of the next couple of days.
I arrive and my mother in law and sister in law Wendy are completing a photo collage. there are of course pictures of Chris. I cry when I see them....It hurts that he is not here and yet why would I even want that? Why not spare him the pain of burying his sister. He looks so young and healthy in some of the picyures my heart,soul and physical body aches for him.....I just want to reach out to where ever he is and just touch him.....The ache is real and it hurts so so bad. I start to sob. Donna, my mother in law comes over to comfort me. If I can't have Chris Wiswall at least I can have Donna Wiswall. I can't believe she is comforting me. she not only has lost her husband but her only son and now her daughter. How he can even breathe is beyond me. I would have killed myself by now, even if I had other kids, they would have to understand.
I brought some stuff for lunch and it is a godd thing because when stressed I need to cook, and so i do. Some turkey meatballs with polenta. Donna and Wendy seemed to like it. I started to clean out Donna's fridge. She had a lot of moldy jars of tomato sauce and out of date food. I felt bad but what did I expect? Donna is in major grief mode and truth be tole her husband did all the cooking. And even though we just finished lunch I decide to make a snack before we leave for the wake in 3 hours (Hamburg sliders with some frozen hamburger and leftover Thanksgiving rolls).

We all change into our receiving line outfits, eat a slider or two and i drive to the funeral home. I have been here before....Mark Hall's parents? Darryl's mother?
It is an old funeral home we are there an hour early.