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.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Saturday, December 5, 2009
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.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
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.
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
