Christmas at the Cemetery

There's a holiday gathering place that no one rushes to get to. There are no carolers, no punch, no meals, no bells ringing, and no pretty ribbons and bows. There are trees and wreaths but the residents don't seem to notice. Only the visitors appreciate the beauty of it all.

It's quiet, peaceful and full of lost potential and tasks left undone. It's full of love and lives well lived. The visitors know not of each other but have so much in common. We've all come to remember. Remember that special someone that resides in this place. Their bodies returned to their starting places. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust." A journey. A personal journey that all of us must eventually take. We, the families, loved ones and friends, are mere spectators. We watch them laugh, live and love. We watch them move through their journeys and we're there to say our goodbyes. We're here to carry on without them. To find ourselves and who we are without them in our journeys.

We return to their final resting places like a pilgrimage to a far away land. Trying desperately to hang onto who they were to us. Hoping to grab a piece of those feelings once more. Trying to capture those magic moments all over again.

As I sat in my car this Christmas day in the cemetery where half of my family resides, I saw them come and go. The young, the old, the wives, the husbands, the children, the siblings, and the parents. We all had one goal in mind. To remember. To honor. To re-live the journey that now only exists in our memories.

It was cloudy, breezy and a chill was in the air. But still, they came. Every holiday is the same. The paths are worn. The residents don't change but the visitors do. The population grows each day. And each one has a story to tell. The son, who was taken way too soon because of someone else's indifference to life. The husband, who due to illness, endured too much suffering in the end because he wouldn't do what he should have in the beginning stages of diabetes. The grandmother(mother, mother-in-love) who "didn't do anything to get cancer and wasn't going to do anything to get rid of it." Those are just a few of the stories of my family that are residents there.

So the next time you're in a cemetery, close your eyes and hear what the wind is saying. Walk around and look at the headstones. See the names of those whom we celebrate every holiday season. Somebody loves someone whose name is on that headstone. Don't pass it by without acknowledgement. Remember, someday your name will be on the headstone.

I miss him. John W. Freeman. February 3, 1939 - July 22, 2009.
I miss him. Derrick W. Ellis October 4, 1989 - June 21, 2005
I miss her. Ruth M. Freeman January 8, 1920 - March 30, 2002
I miss him. William B. Ellis March 13, 1937 - May 24, 2001

What the Lonely Do at Christmas...

There's an "R&B" Christmas song called "What Do the Lonely Do At Christmas" sung by The Emotions that has never played a role in my Christmas' until now. So I am going to answer this perpetual question here tonight. Christmas Eve 2009. Who better to shed some light on this subject than someone who is right, smack dab in the middle of it.

What do the lonely do at Christmas?

1. We force ourselves to put up a tree because we know deep down in our hearts that if we don't, we never will again. We buy "memory" ornaments and hang them from the branches. Photos with their smiling faces watching us as we struggle to get through. Reminders of happier Christmases.
2. We shop for the ones we still have with us even though our hearts are not in it anymore. We see numerous items that we could buy for the ones we miss. I wonder why finding a gift for them seemed to be so difficult while they were here yet now on every shelf of the store there's something I know he would like and could use. Ain't that peculiar?
3. I make hot chocolate for one now. Sit by the tree with Christmas carols playing in the background, longing for him to walk through that door just one more time.
4. I see him, around every corner, in every aisle of every store, and in every face that I meet in the street.
5. I only wish for 1 gift this year. A gift that I know is impossible to receive. A gift that I didn't fully appreciate for the 25 years of our relationship. How could I have taken so much for granted for so long? If Santa were real, I would ask him for this one special thing.

Santa, will you bring my baby back to me? Just for a moment on Christmas Eve? So that I could tell him how much I still love him. So I can hear his voice, see his smile, and feel his touch just one more time. I know in my heart that one moment wouldn't be long enough. I'd want him to stay so we could be the couple we used to be. So I wouldn't have to experience a lonely Christmas ever again. If he could, I know that he would. That was who he was when he was here.

My husband, my lover, my friend. I miss him.

So while I may be lonely this Christmas, I know that I'm not alone. Someone once told me, "As long as we speak their names, they never really die."

John. John. John....'Till the day I die, his name will be spoken and he will live in my heart always.

Merry Christmas, Baby....You sure did treat me right. I miss you.

Deck The Hall and All That Jazz..

As Christmas quickly approaches, I find myself continuing to recall all those previous Christmas days that John & I spent together.

He usually worked on Christmas Eve. He worked the graveyard shift over the entire course of our time together so he was always home on Christmas day no matter which day of the week Christmas happened to fall on. He got just as excited as the kids. He tried to play it off over the years, but I saw that "twinkle" in his eye on Christmas morning. After lying down for just a few hours, he would "drag" himself out of bed after being beckoned by our kids to "come see what Santa got for us Daddy!" He loved it. He tried to be the Scrooge but he didn't fool me. I even got him to attend a few of the holiday parties that were put on by folks that I worked with.

I attended that party just last night. It was nice and I enjoyed it but it wasn't the same. An "ex" co-worker was standing in the kitchen and saw me for the first time since she'd come thru the door. She said something that I didn't quite hear so I moved closer to her. She asked the question again...."How's John doing?" I almost didn't know what to say. I thought everyone would know by now. But in all fairness to her, she no longer works with us. So I told her that John had passed away in July. She apologized for not knowing. That moment was so surreal for me. It still doesn't feel right saying that John is no longer here. But I got through it.

I returned home to my empty house. Reality. Cold, hard and unforgiving. As I sat and watched the Christmas tree display it's fiber optic light show, I drifted back to a happier time. Sitting with John and watching the tree lights flicker in the darkness after the kids went to bed. He would tell me of some of his childhood memories of Christmas. The good times with his siblings and their appreciation for whatever was under the tree.

So even though John talked like Scrooge, his actions betrayed his speech. We didn't care that we rarely bought each other presents. It was all about the kids. Sometimes, it was John that was the kid. He critiqued the decorations. He "helped" the kids open their presents. He cooked that ham for us almost every year. He drank the hot chocolate and listened to the Christmas music with me. He phoned home on Christmas Eve to lend his "expertise" on putting together the bicycles and toys. So he wasn't really a Scrooge. He didn't even put a tree when I first came into his life. So he came full circle over the years.

I miss him. John, my Christmas angel.

Loose Ends...

Every situation has them. Some more daunting than others. We all have to deal with some "loose ends" at some point in life and I just dealt with mine.

Things in regards to my husband and his long but not so long life were wrapped up this past week. With the exception of the health insurance trying to get all of the medical bills paid, there is not much else left to do. The last of the many things I could do for John was done some time last week.

The placing of the headstone, marking his final resting place so that I will never again not know where he is within the cemetery. Of course things never go as you imagine or plan and this was no different. On November 17th I received a call from the monument company informing me that "our" headstone was in and they were setting up a time to get it down but they couldn't do anything until I paid off my side of the plot. If you recall, I purchased 2 plots at the time of my husband's passing. 1 for him and 1 for me. Side by side for eternity. SPOOKY! Yet comforting. I had planned on paying my plot off over the course of the next 2 years so that I wouldn't feel the financial pinch at this time. I then ordered a double headstone. 1 side for him, 1 side for me. Wasn't informed that I couldn't get the monument placed unless both plots were paid in full. LOVERLY! So I worked it out with the cemetery to put a "down payment" in, have 3 months of payments taken until the stone was ready and then returning to pay off the remainder of the cost at the time that the stone was ready. PERFECT! Reasonable. Safe. So I made the mad dash to the cemetery office to pay off the "spot" after receiving the call from the monument company. YES! No more wandering around the cemetery in the rain with flowers and balloons in hand trying to find his "spot". What could be more perfect? My step daughter was coming in from NY for the Thanksgiving holiday and she could get a peek at it while she's here. GREAT! So I inform the monument company that I've paid the remaining balance off on the 17th. (The same day as the call). I ask the monument company if there's any way they could have it down by Thanksgiving. "I seriously doubt it because of the rain and I have to schedule it with the cemetery so I don't think it will be done that soon." Soon? I'm so disappointed but what can you do?

Fast forward to November 25th. Step daughter arrives safely with her daughter in tow. I go over to see them as they are staying with a niece. I tell them that the stone is ready but I don't think it's going to be down before they leave. It probably doesn't bother them as much as it bothers me. So I venture out to the cemetery on Thanksgiving day to check on the flowers that I had put out there over the weekend. The vase seems to be sitting higher than I remember and there are 6 little marker flags sticking up out of the ground. So I get out of the car and walk over and lo and behold, the headstone is down. So what do I do? I commence to boo hoo-ing like a baby. Caught by surprise after a crappy morning of missing him and talking with him while I was making up the bed. Telling him that he should be here with us on this day. There it sat. The "marker" of his final resting place. It looked so final. Sitting there all new and pristine in appearance. Mocking me like a 3rd grader at recess. "I look better than you do!" "I look better than you do!" I hate it. The whole scenario is just beyond anything I ever imagined. I take a pic w/my cell phone and send it off to the step daughter. She calls. Asks me what's it say under the car? I tell her. She says it's nice. It is. And it's so him. His name w/DOB and DOD. A Ford Maverick sits below that with the words, "Cruisin' the quarter mile". But the most interesting part is definitely my name on the other side of the stone. It's kinda creepy seeing your name on a tombstone. But it's inevitable. We're all going to die someday. But wow. I didn't think it give me such a pause. I have a football helmet on my side with the letters, "HTTR" below it. It actually is nice but I thought it was going to be green in color. That was the color in the brochure. But who actually thinks they're getting what they see in the picture? Me, apparently.

So the loose ends are no longer twisting in the wind. It's all over except the crying. And I'm sure that I will take care of that little detail. The last of what I can do for him is finished. One more step in the journey of letting go and moving forward. Stubbornly, I take that step. I don't like it. I don't have to. But I do have to do it, like it or not. It's a requirement in life. One that I'm not thrilled about at all.

The Second First....

As my second "first" comes to a close, I'm still remembering the many Thanksgiving holidays that my husband & I shared over the course of our 25 year relationship. They're all so vivid in my mind. He would start asking about where we were going for Thanksgiving in September. "Honey, where are we going to eat for Thanksgiving this year? Your mom's or what?" I would politely remind him that it was only September. "So?", he would say. I would laugh.

This year, there was no question in September about Thanksgiving plans. I missed hearing it. I missed packing him into the car for the 44 mile trip to my moms that we had made so many times over the years. She missed buying the sweet potato pie that he always asked for. That was his only request of her. The one time of year where he wasn't chastened for what he ate. A diabetic should always pay attention to what they eat but during this day, I let him slide. It was one of the few enjoyments left for him. That's why he started to ask about it in September. That & he finally realized that holidays were for family. So he tried to make up for the many times that he "volunteered" to work on a holiday. He liked feeling like he was a part of something bigger than himself.

Today, I had my moments. Quite a few of them actually. Cried in the bed before getting up for the day. Cried while I was making up the bed a little later. Cried when I visited the cemetery. Some of the family (his family that is) called me today to see how things were going. "Crappy", I said. One asked me if I had been having a good day thus far. "No" I said while my daughter said yeah. So many memories, so many emotions, so many missed opportunities. I shouldn't cry over spilled milk I suppose. But I miss him. I'm going to miss him for a long time to come.

But I got through the day. Tears and all. But I'm still here. Like 1 of my sister-in-law's told me earlier today, "I loved my brother dearly but you're still here and you have to keep on living." Yes. I do but I don't have to be so doggoned cheery all of the time and when my day is crappy, I'm gonna say so. I have to live this hell on earth and if I have a crappy day once in a while so be it.

Thanks John. Thanks for the memories. Thanks for the moments.

I miss him. John, my eating machine.

Giving Thanks.....Regardless

This time of year often makes me take inventory of the shelves of my life and realize how much I have and how thankful I am to have it. This year....not so much.

While I am, indeed, grateful for my life and those that are special to me that are in it, I can't help but think of the things that I've lost along the way. And when you've lost as much as I, you tend to realize how fragile life & love are and how quickly they can be gone. The Bible says, "in the blink of an eye." That's the speed in which things are gained & lost.

So here I sit, 2 days before the Thanksgiving holiday, asking myself "what are you really thankful for this year?" Health? Life? Family? Job? Home? What is the true value of these if you no longer have the people that made all of that meaningful? My family has been cut in half over the last 5 years. Split right down the proverbial middle. Will Thanksgiving ever be what it once was to me again? Perhaps. But not this year it seems.

My husband loved this holiday. He would eat until it ran out of his ears. Everything was good to him. Turkey, potatoes, candied yams, greens, cranberry sauce, rolls & desserts stood no chance with him at the table. The term 'eating machine' comes to mind.

In the last few years, however, my husband actually took stock of his life. The good, the bad and the ugly. He didn't like some of what he saw. It humbled him. Made him know that there were other people in this world and they had feelings too. He realized that who was important were the people that stand by you during the storm not those who show up after the skies have cleared. He realized that often times the ones closest to him felt the biggest brunt of his ill thought out words over the years. He asked some for forgiveness, including me. I forgave. I loved him. It was easy for me. It was far more difficult for him to ask me for forgiveness than it was for me to give.

So I am thankful that my husband's life came full circle and he was able to see the forgiveness in my heart. I'm thankful for the 25 years we had together. Every touch, every laugh, every tear, every kiss, & even every argument made us who we were together. As one. I'm thankful that I was by his side that early July morning. Fulfilling a promise that I had made to him years ago. He thought I'd be gone before then. Nope. I'm not made that way. I would have never left him like that. Not when he needed me the most. That morning he knew it & understood what was meant by the words, "I LOVE YOU". He saw it every day of the last 6 years. He lived it. He received it. And most importantly, he gave it back.

I miss him. John, the humble, grateful man.

Jumpin' Jack Flash....Backs

I thought this time would be easier. That's what I get for thinking!

I accompanied my mother to her surgical appointment today. This appointment required us to go to the hospital where my husband & I spent a great deal of time over these last 6 years. This wasn't the first time, however, that I had returned to my husband's "2nd home" (as he used to call it in his more animated days). So, naturally, I ASS-U-MED it wouldn't be as difficult this time around. Perhaps it will never get easier for me to step through those doors.

I'll admit that the 1st trip back there was much longer in length therefore giving me plenty of time to remember. This time, I seemed to focus on his last stay there. I remembered the countless hours that I spent by his bedside. The overnight stays I pulled because I couldn't bear to think of him there alone on Thanksgiving, Christmas or New Years day morning. I wanted to be the first to wish him happiness on those days. I was.

The sights, sounds and people transported me back to those moments. Every tear that I cried because I knew his health was rapidly declining, every hand holding minute, every stroke of his brow and every word that I spoke swirled in my mind each minute that I was in that hospital today. A swell of emotion slammed into my brain and heart. A tug on the ol' heartstrings. A longing to have him back so that I could comfort him. Everyone else went about their business like nothing has ever happened to me and mine. They don't know the loss that I felt as I watched them making themselves busy with the business of taking care of people. How could they? Why should they? The gap between life and death grows wider as the days pass and time moves on. I feel further away from "us". A separation. I'm becoming "me" again. No longer "John's wife" or "John & I" or "me & John". No more of that kind of talk.

I miss him. John, the patient.

In My Dreams

I've been waiting. I knew it would come. It always does but only when the time is right and I'm ready.

The time was right this morning. I awoke at around 4am or so and got up to go to the bathroom. Laid back down and waited for sleep to return. As usual, it took it's sweet time. I often take these moments to pray or think or remember. I usually wind up talking to John. Telling him how much I've missed him and wishing he were here. I drifted off somewhere during the conversation. And it happened.

I usually get a "visit" from a loved one after they've crossed over. Some take longer than others. With my son, it was about 2-3 weeks after his death. It was a very vivid, detailed visit. My husband was disappointed that he hadn't been visited by Derrick and was upset that I had. I told him he wasn't ready and when he was, Derrick would come. Not sure if he ever got that visit. I think John paid Derrick a visit before Derrick was able to get to him. With my dad, the visit came about 1-2 months after his death. I've had "visits" from almost everyone that I've lost that I was particularly close to during life. Aunts, grandfather, friends etc.

So I knew it was only a matter of time before my dear would get here. He had to wait until I was ready for the visit. He appeared this morning. My "visits" take the form of dreams. I guess that's the only way I can handle it. I was sitting on a sofa. John was on one side of me and somebody was on the other. I didn't see who was on the other side. Perhaps it was my son but I didn't see whoever it was and I knew someone was there. John didn't say a word. Just sat there, looking at me with this big grin on his face. He looked like the John I met all of those years ago. I immediately woke up. I got mad that I woke up so quickly. I didn't have a chance to say anything to him nor did I give him a chance to say anything to me either. I couldn't believe he made his first appearance and I woke up without so much as a "hi, how ya doin?".

I know now that he's watching me. He sees what I'm doing. And he's happy and well and whole and he's with someone that I also care deeply about. I felt that presence next to me and knew that it was someone special but didn't look at the person. I only looked at John.

I was so thankful to see him and to feel him next to me again. However, it's bittersweet. I wanted it to last longer and I wanted him to stay knowing full well he wouldn't choose this world over the paradise where he now resides. The pain of losing him came rushing back full force but I know he's ok and that's he's happy and he's watching his "dear" as I struggle to get back onto my feet without him. He's gonna help me do that.

I miss him. John, my dream guy.

Sometimes

There are moments that happen in life where you can't for the life of you figure out why things happen the way that they do. You think and think but still you have no answer for life's unending questions.

As I sit in my living room tonite, checking facebook for signs of life, chatting with FB family and eating left over spaghetti, my mind drifts to a better time in my life. Before death came knocking on our front door and burst in without so much as an invitation.

We all lose folks we love if we live long enough. That's the circle of life. I know it. But when you lose folks that are so close to you that you don't see it coming, it's a hard pill to swallow. My pain started in 2005 when my baby boy was taken at such a young age. Now, undoubtedly, I have lost lots of loved ones prior to 2005, but they didn't require the energy that losing a child does. I managed to get through the endless days and nights with prayers and focusing on taking care of someone else besides me. That would be my husband. I dedicated myself to taking care of him and the pain of losing Derrick didn't hurt so much. Although I grieved, I didn't have the time or the energy to "truly grieve" like I probably should have. The distraction was welcomed with opened arms.

Fast forward to 7/22/2009. The last day here on earth for my dear. In the blink of an eye, it seems, he was gone. The man I had married and taken care of since his illness drifted away in front of my eyes. I knew it was the right thing for him. God makes no mistakes. So how come it hurt so much? How come I didn't want him to leave? How come I got angry a few days later and cried out to him, "You promised you'd never leave me and here I am all alone!" I heard God say, "But you're not alone my child, I am here with you!" "Yeah, but you're not my John.", I so bravely spewed. How ridiculous was that? I had zero distractions this time around. Me, the quiet house and the empty bed. It loomed large, especially at night.

Folks from every corner had advice and things they felt they should say. I heard them all.
"You're young, you'll find someone else.", "Pretty soon, you'll be back to normal.", "It takes time, you'll land on your feet sooner or later.", "Take care of you now, you've done all that you can for John." Take care of me? How does a natural born caretaker take care of themselves and not feel guilty at some point? How does someone who lived for someone else ever be "normal" again without that someone? I know that time heals all wounds and that there is no sorrow on earth that heaven cannot heal, but I miss him. I miss everything about him. His laughter, his smile, his quirky comebacks, his phone calls, his touch, the warmth of his body in the bed next to me, his complaining, his snoring, his questions, the way he used to call me "honey" and "dear". This time I have no one to distract me from the loneliness. It's just me. It's just me without him. I feel like half a person sometimes. I don't fit in. I'm not married, I'm not divorced, I'm not separated, I'm widowed. I even hate that word. Makes me think of spiders. Yuck! The phone calls from family are slowing down to a trickle now and I know that's the way things go. I can't rely on them forever. I've got to stand on my own 2 feet at some point. I know things will get better. I knew this was going to be difficult. But I never thought I would be in this predicament. In between the living and the dead. Trying to hang onto the love of a ghost. I look at the pictures and remember those moments like they happened yesterday. "He should still be here!" I always say. It's just not right. I haven't accepted it yet although I know it's real. Acceptance will come. That will hurt also. But I can't let it go until I accept it in my heart. Accepting in my heart means letting him go, but my heart still yearns for him.

I miss him; John, my everything.

'Til Death Do Us Part...

There's a reason that this statement is part of the wedding vows. It's purpose, at least I thought, is to impose upon the consenting parties that this union is supposed to last for the remainder of their lives. When one spouse dies the other becomes 'not married' henceforth. This ensures (theoretically, of course) that the couple will only part ways if one of them dies.

However, in this age of privacy acts and frivolous lawsuits, 'Til Death Do Us Part has taken on a whole new meaning. There was a time when a spouse was treated by all "outside forces" as practically the same as the person whom they married. As a husband or a wife, you could call places and get info on each other. Doctors would tell you what was ailing your spouse openly and freely. Government agencies had no qualms about telling folks how much their spouses were drawing each month, make changes to "official" documents upon request from a spouse and basically be a tell all of everything.

Not anymore! Those days are a distant memory in the computer banks of life. Now you must show "legal authority" in order to get so much as the time of day for anyone other than yourself.

I get a call yesterday from the home health agency that cared for my husband in his last days (yes, the one who failed to get me help for 2 weeks in April when I first brought him home) informing me that the claims they were filing for payment from Medicare were being rejected because they were no longer his primary care insurance. WHAT THE HEEZY? They asked me to call Medicare and find out what the problem might be. GREAT! FREAKIN GREAT is what initially runs through my mind.

I call Medicare and explain my plight. Tell them that I'm his surviving spouse and that the claims from the home health agency are being rejected due to Medicare stating they're not his primary insurance which is surely a mistake since they've been his primary insurance payer since 2004. After the obligatory 20 questions to make sure I was THE Mrs. Freeman, the kind representative says, "I'm sorry I can't discuss this with you unless you have proof of "legal authority". "Excuse me? Proof of what?" "Legal authority, you know, executor ship or something like that." "I'm next of kin, we were legally married at the time of his death and I need to know why you're not paying these claims since you've been the primary insurance since 2004." Again, she tells me she can't discuss this with me if I don't have "legal authority". She starts to give me all this information about a state health insurance program office (SHIP) and says I should call them if I have questions about this case. The smart a$$ in me says, before I can stop myself, "so I guess being married to someone means squat anymore right?" "I'm just following Medicare guidelines here ma'am." "Yes, you've told me that several times over the course of this conversation. And how is that garbage you've told me about a SHIP office supposed to help me?" "They can be your advocate if you have a dispute with Medicare." "I don't have a dispute except that you won't talk to me regarding my husband's insurance." So then I ask her this simple question, "If you can't talk to me as his legal spouse or his next of kin, then who can you talk to about his case?" She apparently has no answer for this since she didn't give me one.

I called the home health agency and told them that Medicare wouldn't talk to me about my husband's case. They informed me that they called Medicare after I had spoken with them earlier and that Medicare had corrected the problem and put themselves as his primary payer since 2006. Well that's just dandy!

So let me just shine a bit of light into this dark situation for you. Medicare won't discuss anything with me. I was his legal spouse at the time of his death and we've been married since 2002, I've lived in the same house with him since 1985, the Social Security Administration recognized me as his "representative payee"; but his "ex", who hasn't lived with him since 1973 and they've been divorced since 2002 can get money on his social security record. Go figure! And people want these folks to manage health care for the entire population? They can't manage the stuff that they're currently in charge of. How do you supposed this is going to turn out? Be afraid....be very afraid!

So the phrase 'Til Death Do Us Part now means that once your spouse dies, you become nothing more than another single person in the eyes of the government. Sad to say the least.

The '7 Year' Ache

Today. November 2, 2009. A date that will live in infamy. Better yet, a day of Murphy's Law in full effect.

Today would have been 7 years of wedded bliss for my husband & I. Lucky #7. Not so lucky for me.

A damp, drizzly, dreary day here in the 7 (perfect) cities. Matched my mood to a "tee". I was determined to put something out on that piece of ground where his remains lay. I stopped at the store and picked up a bouquet of small, varied colored roses and 2 Mylar balloons. 1 balloon read "Happy Anniversary" and the other had a puppy with a heart in between his paws and it read "Miss You".

I knew that the headstone was not yet in place so I stopped at Wally World and got a cemetery vase with that green, foam stuff in it so that I could place the flowers in it and stick it in the ground.

Off to the cemetery. 8:45am. Drizzling, windy and miserable out. But I don't let something as insignificant as the weather deter me!(eyeroll) I park the car on that muddy, squishy "road" and walk over into the grassy area. Looking around, I realize I can't find his "spot". Back & forth. Back & forth. No luck. I had my i-pod with me and was listening to "I'd Rather Go Blind" by Etta James and the tears start to roll. He's only been gone for 3.5 months and I can't find a trace of his final resting place anywhere! "It's our 7th wedding anniversary" , I cry out to the trees, birds and God! The balloons are blowing in the breeze, my feet and the hems of my pants are getting wetter by the second. I look over at my son's grave and realize that I've gone too far. I backtrack. Looking everywhere for some hint of a "freshly" laid grave. Finally, I find the "hole" that once held some flowers that my mom had put there as a marker for locating that piece of real estate. I place the vase and balloons in the "hole" and shove it down hoping it will stay in place. I say, "I hope this is you John. If not, then someone has gotten some pretty flowers and 2 balloons."

I go back to the car and lose it. I can't even get in the car! It's just not right! It's raining, I'm soaked and it's my 7th wedding anniversary and the love of my life isn't here! He's gone!

I gather myself enough to drive to work (for which I am now late btw). I call the "cemetery lady", as she so fondly refers to herself, and ask her to please do a "drive by" and make sure that I've somehow placed those meager offerings in close proximity to my target. She called and confirmed that despite my feelings of futility when I was clamouring through the endless rows of the dead, I got it right!

I cry again!

I miss him. John, my husband of 7 years.

Blast From the Past

Sometimes things happen that catch you in a surprised state. And then there are things that happen that throw you for a loop!

I had one of those "loop" moments on yesterday. I was doing the hated task of housework on yesterday and decided it was about lunchtime and I will text my daughter and see if she's interested in going out to lunch. I turn on my cell phone and there's a text message waiting for me. I look at the I.D. number of where the message originated and have no clue as to who it's from. I started to delete and not even read it but something said, "you don't want to do that..just look, what can it hurt?" So I did. I'm glad that I did. I couldn't believe my eyes! It was from an old friend. A "someone that I used to know" if you get my meaning (ahem). An old Navy buddy that I had been stationed with prior to my relationship with my husband. So that would have been in early 1983. He was in town visiting his mother and wanted me to call him.

Let me fill you in on how we got to yesterday. Shortly after my husband passed away in July, I was sitting around with too much time on my hands (which isn't good when you're newly bereaved) and was checking my updates on facebook. I decided to try and look up some of my old Navy buddies. So I put in a few names and BINGO!. I hit the jackpot! I knew the moment I saw his profile pic that it was him. Men just don't age and "spread" like us girls do (makes ya sick for real!). So I emailed him to make sure it was him and of course, it was! He gave me his phone number and told me to call him. I thought, "wow, after all these years what do you say to someone that you used to know?" I waited a few days (didn't want to seem overly aggressive you know) and called him. We chatted about our lives. He's married and has kids and lives in upstate VA. He retired from the Navy (shock #2..marriage was shock #1 btw) and was an administrator for an ER (shock #3). He's done quite well for himself and he's quite proud of himself and he should be. I told him of my trials and losses and what I was doing these days. We ended the call with a promise to keep in touch. And we have.

Back to yesterday. He told me in that initial conversation that his mom still lived in this area and that he comes to visit regularly and would like to pay a visit to me when he's down sometimes if that was alright. I said sure as long as it's cool with your wife. He says don't worry I'll handle that (yikes!) Anyhoo, I get the text, see that it's him and have some fun with him with the banter back and forth and then I call. He wants to come by. He asked where we could meet and then he asked me where do I live? I told him and he asked if he could come by the house. I said, "you want to come to my house?" He said, "oh is that some kind of problem for you?" I said, "no, I'm a single lady and I run this joint, you're welcomed to come by if you like". So he did. I couldn't believe that he was actually sitting in my living room after 26 years! Life has been kind to him. He's put on a slight bit of weight, a small beer belly I suspect. He's no longer in the military so he doesn't have to be in tip top shape. He looks happy and things seem to be going good for him. He hangs out for about an hour and a half and then he has to go pick up his car which he's had to put a tire on. So he gives me a hug and tells me how nice it was to see me again and I walk him to his car. He says, "I'll be giving you a jingle every now and then if that's ok". "Sure", I say. We're friends, we have a past, we're adults, we should be able to handle that. Right?

Why post this here you ask? Well, if my husband were here this would have never happened first of all. I probably wouldn't have looked anyone up on facebook because I didn't have the time or the energy to do much else. I remember when I first started dating John back in 1984. I remember him saying that he saw me going in and out of the front gate with a "long, tall, dark guy". I told him yes, he & I were dating at the time that he saw that and he asked me why? I said, huh? He said, "that guy used to come through that gate several times a night with a different girl each time, why would you waste your time with someone like that?" Firstly, I didn't know that, secondly if I had known I wouldn't have wasted my time with someone like that, thirdly, we're done. He said, "good!, want to meet me for breakfast in the morning?" So he was actually trying to find out if I was seeing anyone before he asked me out and he had seen me with him not that long ago so I guess he was wondering if he & I were still a "thing". When I said we were done, he jumped. So my old friend actually precipitated my future husband and I's relationship. WEIRD!

I could hear John's voice in my head as my old "flame" sat on my couch in OUR living room. "What's he doing here? I thought you were done with him! I don't believe he's in my house. What do you think you're doing? Have you lost your mind? Just because I'm gone doesn't mean you can just talk to just anyone! Remember what he did all of those years ago and I was the one who told you about that so you could go out with me...OOOPS! I should shut up now!"

I miss him. John, the reporter.

It Was a WONDER-ful Night

I fulfilled a lifelong dream last night. It had been a dream of mine since I was a child growing up in good ol' Sedley, VA, a la' boondocks, USA. Last night, it was fulfilled.

I was in "da house" with none other than Steveland Morris, a.k.a. Stevie Wonder! I've always been a fan of Stevie's ever since I can remember. Loved his music every since I was about 10 y/o. I remember buying those '45's and playing them over and over on the old record player in our bedroom, dancing without cause and singing into the mirror with that hairbrush as a microphone. Songs like, "Living for the City", Signed, Sealed, Delivered", "You Haven't Done Nothin'", "Sir Duke", "Boogie on Reggae Woman", "Happy Birthday", "Hotter Than July", the list goes on and on. In the 11th grade, I wrote a report on Stevie Wonder for my black history project and I got a record player from the audio/visual folks at the library and played several of those '45's to the class as I read about my hero and favorite performer. I got an "A" on that report and the class got to dance a little. Thinking of seeing him in concert back then was nothing more than a pipe dream. Never thought I'd have the opportunity to witness greatness first hand.

What does this have to do with my husband you ask? It's a round-about thing. I had told my husband for many years if Stevie ever got even remotely close to VA, we're going. No matter the cost, no matter the venue, no matter what obstacles we have to overcome. We're going!
We both had people we wanted to see in person. He wanted to see Tina Turner. We did that about 7-8 years or so ago. He also wanted to see James Brown "just 1 more time before I die" he would say. We did that too. About 3 or so years ago. I wanted to see only 2 people that I'd never seen or ever thought I would see. Michael Jackson and Stevie Wonder. We never thought these 2 icons would even get close to this area of the world. Where would they play? Was there even anything around that could hold the amount of people that would buy tickets for them? We didn't think so. We waited and waited. We waited some more. John got sick and then John got sicker and then John passed away. And just a mere 3 months after his death, one of my dream performers shows up. I just had to go. I would have never forgiven myself if I hadn't and I think John would have wanted me to go. So I bought the ticket. A single ticket, a floor seat, 6 rows from the stage. I could have reached out and touched the very braids on his head, practically.

I could hardly wait for October 25th to get here. I was so excited. As I stepped through the door and handed my ticket to the lady, I thought I would burst. She says, "Are you seeing the show by yourself this evening?" "Yes", I say. "I am." "Oh, enjoy the show then!", she says. I stepped through the turnstile and it hit me. I'm seeing this show alone. My dream performer concert was supposed to be something that I shared with my husband just like the 2 of his dream concerts that we attended. I walked to my seat. I sat. Alone. No one to chat with while the stage was being readied. No one to share the laughter with. No one to talk endlessly about what a great show it was when it was over. No one to share this moment with.

Stevie was great. He hasn't lost a step. He looked good and sounded even better. He is the consummate professional. Full of life, love and energy. He belted out song after song and I sang right along with him. I sweated, danced and sang myself to exhaustion. Hardly believing that this was all real. When it was over, I had my single ticket and a car in the garage. Headed back home with the silence of an empty passenger seat. It was deafening.

John would have loved the show. He would have talked for hours about how great it all was. He would have told everyone that he saw in the coming days how fantastic it was and how much we enjoyed it. He was there in spirit I know and in a picture which I lovingly placed in my purse before leaving home, determined that he would go with me somehow. I looked up into the hot lights above the stage and blew him a kiss because I knew my John wouldn't let me have all this fun alone. I'm sure he was there, next to me as I danced and sang. And when the lights came on and the crowds pushed out, I trudged home. Feeling good and bad at the same time. The first concert I had attended alone in 25 years and it was one of the best I'd ever seen. But it would have been even better had my John been by my side, bobbing his head and clapping his hands to the beat.

I miss him. John, my date for the night.

As If I Needed Another Reminder

As my journey to healing continues, I find that each day brings a different reminder of my loss. I know I don't need to be reminded of just what I lost on that July morning but it seems that God takes an opportunity every now and then to remind me of the multitude of things that my husband filled my life with while he was here.

John fancied himself an auto mechanic. He was actually pretty good at it and he loved it. One of the many things that he lost after his illness rendered him disabled. You could see the hurt in his eyes when the car malfunctioned and he not be able to get out there underneath it and search for it's problem. I supposed it presented a unique challenge to him each time. He voiced so many times in the early days of the onset of his illness that he could still fix the car. But even he had to give honor to the illness as it stripped his favorite past time from his grip. He often told me, "honey, I can go out there and tell you what to do and you can do it for me!" I always said, "well if you think I can do it then I'd be willing to try." We never tried it but at least he knew that I would try if he ever really got out there.

Over the years since the illness struck, I often consulted him whenever the car made a strange noise or didn't quite run like it should and he almost always knew what the problem was without even looking at it. But as the illness planted itself into his body, he started to "forget" those things that had lived within his mechanic mind for so long. It was painful to see him lose his first love. Yes. Cars were his first love. A love myself or the kids could never compete with on any level. Very seldom did the car take a back seat to me. (Pardon the pun..lol). I was okay with that for the most part but I did rag on him every now and then about it. I remember asking him once, "what does that car do for you that I don't?" He said with the most serious face, "it doesn't talk back and with enough attention it will do what I want it to do." To which I promptly said, "yeah but I bet it can't make love to you like I do." He looked at me and smiled and said, "touche', you got me on that one honey." We both laughed at that one.

I took his car (the car is still in his name btw) to the shop 2 days ago. It has been neglected because of a few more important things that I've been dealing with (care to guess what..yes..that's the ticket). Of course, if he were here he wouldn't want to hear that. Nothing was more important to Mr. Freeman than the car and it's upkeep. As I turned the keys over to the mechanic and waited for the dollar signs to multiply before my eyes, I felt a sense of sadness deep down in my "john-missing" soul. I almost felt like I was betraying him with another man. I know what he'd be saying. "You're gonna let another man get under your hood?" "Neva" I would say. "That's what I'm talking about gal. You know better." But with his death came another reminder. I no longer have a built in mechanic. I no longer have the luxury of calling him if I get stranded on the side of the road (which didn't happen very often btw). I now have to pay a mechanic just like everyone else in the free world. It's something that I didn't think of very often. How valuable that skill was to our wallets and cars and livelihood. Another skill of his that I took for granted. I did learn from him though. Thanks to him I can properly change a tire, change the spark plugs, change the oil and few other things. He always took the time to show me and he loved that I took an interest in the one thing that made him happy beyond belief. He once told me that I was the only "girlfriend" he'd ever had that remotely showed any interest in his favorite hobby. I liked it because he liked it. And if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

Back to cheating on him with another mechanic. It's going to cost a small fortune to fix this vehicle but I think it's worth it. And if he were still here the price of the work that they're asking would certainly kill him. He was thrifty in all things except when he was rebuilding his car. We indulged him on that. It kept him home. It kept him happy and out of trouble was how he justified the hours he spent in the driveway working on that old piece of car that he'd talked someone into practically giving to him. The 1971 Maverick. The last car he owned and worked on before he fell ill. He gave it to his brother not long after he came home from the nursing home in 2003. He knew his mechanic days were over. He tried to live them through his son and myself. But then, Derrick was gone and he was sicker and I was tired. He yearned to get grease on his hands for many months afterwards. But in the end accepted that those days were well behind him. I felt bad for him. Another loss. Another step in the wrong direction.

So as I left his vehicle in the hands of a stranger, I heard his voice in my head. "They're going to charge you way too much for that work and if I were there, we could get it done for less than half of what they want. It would be easy. We could do it. Go to the junkyard and pick up those parts and get in that driveway with the piece of cardboard box on the ground underneath you so you don't have to lay on the cold concrete. C'mon honey, hand me that wrench."

I miss him. John, the auto mechanic.

Have Family....Will Travel

Whew! Just got back from a nice little jaunt down south. It was a nice distraction from my endless days and nights that are my weekends now.
I went with the same 2 family members that I not too long ago, went to lunch with in Wakefield, VA. Yes. I ventured even further with them this time. My sis-in-law, Inetta, fancies herself an actress. She's actually quite good if the truth be told. She's been a part of this small ensemble, known as "Charlie T Productions", for about 3 years or so (I'm really guessing at that number). "Charlie T" is a ministry. They play small venues and grace their audiences with "in your face" gospel plays. Their want is your salvation. A unique way of getting out of the pews and reaching the lost.
We traveled to Oxford, NC for this particular production. Inetta asked me about 3 weeks ago if I would be interested in coming with her. I said sure, why not? It's a distraction from my humdrum existance and it's different and I've never been to Oxford so it should be interesting to say the least. I then find out that 1 of my nieces is also coming. This pair of folks will keep you in stitches. They compliment each other quite nicely. Her yin to her yang if you will. That makes for an often hilarious encounter. This one is no different.
Oxford, for lack of a better word, is a hick town. For anyone whose remotely familiar with NC, Oxford is about 10-12 miles south of Henderson, NC. It lies between Henderson and Durham, NC. A one horse town indeed. It actually reminds me of the small town where I grew up. Quaint, quiet and Norman Rockwell-esque. As it turns out, one of the cast members is from there which explains why we must travel the 2.5 hours to this town that time has forgotten for the most part to see a play. Life is slow there. The people are laid back. There are no sirens wailing in the middle of the night.
We left the big city at 0700 Saturday. We entered Oxford at 10:15am. We did stop in Emporia, VA for gas and sustenance. The trip there was uneventful. We didn't get lost. We saw miles and miles of trees and fields. My sis-in-law enthralled by the "quaintness" of the country life. I'd give her about 30 days to get thoroughly sick of it if she ever tried to live there. My husband could never get over the fact that there were no streetlights lining the streets in these small places. It's indeed a different way of life.
So, here we are. 3 city mice venturing into the country for an overnight stay. We all agreed that Oxford was a nice place to visit. Inetta, perhaps, would try to live there someday but not today.
It was dreary and rainy in the big city upon our exit. The clouds broke some as we got closer and the sun peeked out several times during our driving time. Spirits were high and we endlessly chatted our way south. Found the hotel, rented a room for the night and settled in. Took the sis-in-law to her assigned destination for rehearsal. We found the school after being directed by one of the hotel staff on the proper way to get there. "Follow exactly what I tell you or you're gonna get lost" is what she told us poor, pitiful city mice. I could just see her inability to understand why anyone would want to live anywhere other than Oxford, NC. But she got us there relatively easy and I'll take easy anyday.
We pulled up to the school and found that we were the only car in the parking lot. Well this was issue #1 for Inetta. "Why are we the only ones here?", she says to me as if I know the answer to that pertinent piece of information. She calls the "boss". She's told that rehearsals won't start until noon because there's no one there to open the building yet. "Thanks for letting a sista know these things", she said as we cracked up in the background. Back to the hotel. There's hair to be done and make up to be applied (which apparently is Yvette's {the niece that accompanied us} only mission here). We finally get her there and they have to sit and wait. Still no one to open the door. Yvette and myself decide that it's past lunch time and we're going to "sight see". We head to Henderson. My mission is to find a place that sells "authentic" Carolina BBQ. There's nothing like it in this whole world. If you ever have the real deal, this crap they try to pass as "carolina BBQ" here in Virginny will either make you laugh or cry. We find it in a place called Smithfield's Chicken N BBQ. OMG! It's like heaven on earth. I'm happy and Yvette and I have a real nice heart to heart about the issues in this family. It's a comical, yet true, view of the legacy of Ruth Freeman, my mother-in-law. We covered it all. We laughed. We pitied. We made ourselves feel better about the whole thing just by saying, "we just don't understand it".
The play was a smash with the approximately 50 people that attended. We liked it. We laughed at Inetta and her "lost in her role" way of getting into character. Yvette continually said during the play, "she really thinks she's a first lady!" I say, "yep..she likes it too!" I, then get asked on the way out of the school to give my thoughts on the play. It was well done, thought provoking and I enjoyed it is what I gave the fellow who was toting the video camera which he promptly shoved into the faces of us unsuspecting spectators. It was like the old "deer in the headlight" look for most of us. Back to the hotel. Sleep is a welcomed friend this night. Up at 0730. Got to take advantage of the free continental breakfast. Pack the car. Yvette's husband is coming to get her and they will go on to visit a relative of his that's down the road a piece. Inetta and I head back to VA.
It won't go without a hitch tho. A blown tire on I-85 could have been much worse than it was. I jump out of the car, automatically thinking of "A Christmas Story" and the tire changing scene where Ralphie is helping his dad by holding the hubcap with the lug nuts and the dad hits the hubcap and the lug nuts go flying into the darkness and Ralphie says, "oh fuuuuuuuuuddddggggeee" except it wasn't fudge that came out of his mouth. The dad thinks himself a pit worker in a Nascar race and times himself. My sis-in-law, thinks I'm just dandy because I actually know how to change a tire without my husband by my side. I feel like a superhero. A state trooper comes upon us and offers to lend a hand. I tell him I have things under control and that I'm glad I listened to my husband when he told me to get a 2 ton hydraulic jack and put it in the trunk. "Those piece of crap jacks that they give you in cars these days aren't worth crap." Crap isn't what came out of his mouth. The nice state trooper directed us to the nearest WalMart to buy a tire. The only tire they had in my size cost $80 the nice Wally world worker tells me as he smiles. $92 for 1 tire! $92. I know my husband rolled at least 1 time in his final resting place. I could hear his voice in my head. "Have you lost your mind? 92 bucks for 1 tire? You've got to be kidding me! Highway robbery!". Tire on, shopping done, we hit the road again. After about 2 miles, I realize we should be heading east, not west so we do a u-ey and get back on the right track. Home sweet home is what's on our minds. My sis-in-law and I have now bonded more than either of us ever thought we would. It's been nice. It's been interesting. It's been a learning experience to say the least.
Hotel room: $102/night (split in half). Gas: $37. New tire and labor: $92. Food: Approximately $30.
An overnight stay in a town far away with my niece and sister-in-law loaded with laughs and a good time: Priceless.

A Family Affair, Part Deux

The baby steps keep coming. The more I take, the further along in this journey I go.

My first "family" gathering without my dear by my side. The gathering was in the home of one of the sister-in-laws, in honor of her birthday. There was a cross section of this huge family in attendance. 3 brother-in-laws, 3 sister-in-laws, some nieces, some nephews, some family friends and me.

There was every kind of food imaginable. BBQ chicken, spaghetti, cornbread, pot roast, tuna casserole, potato salad, baby lima beans, garlic bread, punchbowl cake, and a store bought birthday cake. Yummy! Sabotage for a gal trying to lose some poundage though. I suffered through it in silence and with a full mouth. Couldn't resist the cake. It's a weakness of mine. (What can I say?)

She(the sister-in-law whose birthday it was), asked me to bring a picture of my son with me when I came. "Sure", I said. But I wondered what in the world could the purpose of that be. Well, I handed the picture over and away she went to another room. I called out to her, "hey, I need that back when I leave tonite, I swiped it off of my daughter's bedroom wall." "No problem", she called out. So we sat and chatted after getting hugs from all around. It seemed a bit "weird" to be in her home without my husband. I felt like I was out of place. Not because of anything anyone said or did, it was because I'd never been in that circumstance before. I have to get adjusted to being with them without him. It's still a new thang.

As it turns out, she requested the picture to add it to a small table that was in her living room. Upon that table were pictures of 3 important people in her eyes. Her mother, who passed in 2002, my son, who passed in 2005, and my husband, who passed just 4 months ago. She lit a candle in the middle of all 3 pictures. We blessed the food and she spoke about the 3 souls represented in those photos. "My mom", her voice cracking, "I wish she were here today". "My nephew, his birthday was last week on 10/4. I may not have always gotten him a present each year, but I always called him on his birthday and he would say, " hey aunt Eunice." "My brother", if he were here he would be the 1st to the table and the last to leave. I just miss my brother." " I wanted to just gather with family tonite and I debated whether to do this or not but I felt I needed it. We don't spend enough time together and I miss that. My heart has been heavy of late and I just wanted to be with my family today." Beautifully said. The tears she was shedding made it real and heartfelt. She is a good soul. I felt honored to be in that circle holding hands with the family that I was lucky enough to be welcomed into and I thought in those moments of prayer and heartfelt words, "how would I have made it without them these last 4 months? How will make it in the future if our connection is broken by something unforeseen?" I shudder at that thought. For this family may NOT be perfect, but it is a loving, kind, affectionate, good time family. With all of their faults, they love each other unconditionally. And I was blessed enough to have met the eldest sibling a very long time ago and survive. I know that I can call on them and they will be there. Even without their brother by my side, I know that these folks have my back. And that's a feeling no amount of money can pay for.

I'm still not exactly sure where my place is in the grand pecking order, but I know that I have a place in there somewhere. I am a Freeman. That's a heart full.

You Never Know Where Your Help Will Come From...

I had visitors yesterday. Family. Don't you just love family that checks on a gal now & then?

My niece stopped by first. Hadn't seen this one in a minute. She listens well and is doing well. She reads this blog and was asking if I was still posting. I had taken a break because there was nothing to post in a few weeks but I told her there were 2 new posts last week. Check 'em out.

Then I got the shock of the day. My brother-in-law drove up. Now you must understand why I say "shock of the day". This brother rarely visits and it takes moving mountains to get this man to call. But I had gotten him a package that he needed to pick up so he ventured beyond the yard of safety and came over to the poor side of town.


This is James. One of my husband's "little" brothers. (There were 5 boys). He's 2 years my husband's junior. I tend to view him as younger than he is because my husband always spoke of him from the standpoint of his being younger. It's hard to get that perception out of my head because it's been there for so long. But I must learn to view him through my own eyes now.

Now, he's far from a recluse but he doesn't deviate from his routines often. That's neither good nor bad. It's just.....James. He is....well.....James. Everyone knows he's a creature of habit which isn't much different than most of us if the truth be told. I know he's probably wondering why I'm calling more than I used to. But he's too polite to ask. He doesn't know that his "big" brother made me promise that I would keep in touch with him after he was gone. He doesn't know that John asked me to "keep an eye on him". My husband was concerned about James. He's had some health issues and I guess my husband thought since I am in the medical field and I helped him whenever I could that I should try and do the same for his "little" bro. I don't have a problem with that. Will do what I can. The question is, does James have a problem with it? I don't think it will be a major issue. But I sense that he may not be thrilled with the idea that someone was asked to keep a "check" on him. Especially since the checker will be me. Although I've never called it that and haven't told him of the promise I made to his brother.

I told him that I like to call him because he sounds like John over the phone. At times when we're chit chatting, I close my eyes and if I didn't know better, I'd swear it was John's voice coming through that receiver. Another reason I call him is that James lost his long time spouse in 2004. So he's walked this journey 5 years longer than I. He knows and understands the road I'm on. He knows the feeling of utter loneliness in the midnite hour. So I don't feel so alone when I talk to him. I know he has no idea that he brings a sense of connection because we now share this common issue. He's a dude afterall. Guys very rarely comprehend that misery loves company. But it certainly helps me to know I'm not alone and there's someone who has made it through what I'm currently struggling with. I see him laugh. I see him engage people. I see him embrace life on his own level. These things make me know that I, too, will make it. This season will pass with time. So, he helps me without even knowing, which is pretty cool in itself. To watch him progress from where he once was to where he's at now allows me to realize that things will get better as time moves on. I will adjust and get used to doing things alone. I don't have to like it but I do have to do it.

So, to my brother-in-law, I thank you sir. You've served as an example without even knowing it. Thanks for showing me that there is life after. Different but life nonetheless. I'll watch and learn from you. I'll just put my feet into the footprints that you left behind until I can leave my own set that someone else may need to follow. If I can move forward as gracefully as you have then I know I'll come out shiny and new. Just look at him in that picture and see his light shine.

Road Trip

I ventured on a road trip today with 2 of John's relatives. Probably 2 of my most favorite folks in the family. We went to Wakefield, VA and ate at the world famous (cough cough) VA Diner. I felt like I needed an afternoon away from the hustle and bustle of Norfolk so I buzzed up the sis-in-law and said, "Let's go eat at a place I've never tried before." "And call that crazy niece of yours and see if she wants to tag along." She said, "Ok". And off we went.

The food was delicious. I had the pulled pork BBQ sandwich with onion rings (real onion rings btw) and sweet iced tea. The sis-in-law had fried oysters(lightly dusted), loaded baked potato, a side salad, and 2 biscuits. The niece had a mini BBQ sandwich, mini cheeseburger, and onion rings. We all cleaned our plates and it was yummy!

We talked about our lives. We talked about my husband and the niece's parents and the matriarch of this huge family. We laughed some, we remembered plenty and we missed the ones no longer here. My loss being the freshest made it difficult but I survived.

The thing about reminiscing with family members is that you hear things about your loved one that may not be so pleasant. And that was the case today. I won't go into any specifics but let's just say if I had known what I heard about today prior to "getting serious" with him, our relationship would not have gone very far. It was hard to hear and even harder to imagine. I knew a far different man than the one in the picture that was painted for me today. I know we're not all perfect and I know we've all made mistakes along the way. But, this was just too much. I just thank God that the man I married was no longer the man that he used to be before I met him. Things would have most certainly been different in our lives. I found it hard to reconcile in my mind, the things that I heard today with the man that I had called husband. I came into his life at the exact right time. I missed all of the less than desirable qualities that he possessed. He had mellowed I suppose. It would not have been pretty had he not and our paths still crossed.

Aside from that conversation, our day was nice. The weather could have been better but the food made up for that somewhat. The really cool thing though was the fact that all 3 of us wore black & white clothing today. I've never dressed anywhere near like those 2. And today, we all had the same color scheme. And we didn't plan it.

My sis-in-law told me several times that I looked good today. I said, "well how bad did I look before for goodness sakes?" She then backed up the conversation and said, "not that you ever looked bad, but you look different." "I've never seen you dress like that, why haven't you dressed like this before?" I said, "I couldn't fit into these jeans until recently is 1 reason." "The other reason being, I was too tired to get "all gussied" up most of the time and if I had left the house looking like this when your brother was alive, he'd have 20 questions and I would have been too tired to go anywhere by then." "I did dress like this when he & I went out together, you were never privy to that." She said, "I like it. You really look nice." I thanked her. Losing 30 pounds always helps a gal look and feel better. If my husband were here and himself he would say, "who are you losing weight for?" "Certainly not me." "Well, of course, it's for you dear, don't you know I love you that much." Battin'eyes.

We all agreed that we must do this again soon. We all enjoyed each other's company. What's better than good food and good company? Nothing, I say.

Fillin Time

That's what has consumed me for the past few months. Figuring out ways to fill the vast amount of time that I find myself having these days. Aside from work, I don't really do a whole lot so I've gotten creative with occupying my mind.

EXERCISE
I've started exercising in an effort to keep my idle mind going. How desperate must one be to turn to this form of ancient torture? Yes. Pretty desperate. But it's working. Not only does it occupy my mind, I've lost 29lbs in the process! I never thought I would be capable of losing that much weight again EVER! Now, I haven't lost that much weight since my husband died. I had started trying to lose weight back in February. The majority of the weight, however, has fallen off since his death. I don't eat as big a meal these days. And apparently, eating was my stress reliever during those difficult times when he was so terribly ill. A coping mechanism if you will.

DANCING
I've also started just breaking out in dance at home. I spend a good amount of time with my I-pod attached to my head. I've loaded it with my favorite tunes and some of my husband's favorites as well. So I randomly break out in dance and song during the evening hours at home. I often close the windows, blinds and doors as not to run all of my neighbors away.

COMPUTER
I find myself returning to facebook numerous times during the evening. I don't do those silly, little games that so many of my "friends" do yet. I'm a bit leary of having to download or "allow" access by those little buggers. I've been bitten by the virus bug a few times and I'm a bit trigger shy. But it consumes time nonetheless.

TELEPHONE
I've never been much of a telephone person. Rarely talked on the phone when I was a teenager. Partly because my mom wouldn't allow it and the rest was me. What would we talk about? I saw all of my friends in school everyday so why chit chat during the evening hours? I'd save my conversations for school. (Not during class tho ..:) ). This continued in to my adulthood. Called home sometimes when I was on active duty. After meeting my husband, I talked with him more on the phone sometimes than at home. He was the phone talker. Not me. He called me every night from work. I called him regularly when I was on a Med. Cruise back in 1985-1986. I talk with my mom almost everyday now. Especially since our son was killed. She calls me everyday. And has continued this habit since my husband passed. I've also been instructed to call his siblings as often as needed. I must say I've done this to a small number of them and it's been interesting. I'm branching out in ways I never thought possible. My husband would be proud of his newly born phone talker.

SCRAPBOOKING/CRAFTING
I've gotten half way through the scrapbook of our lives. It got hard and I have had to take a break. I also have tried my hand at sewing. I've got a project that I will pick back up again. And because some of our relatives read this blog, I won't go into any detail as I'm saving it as a surprise for them. Let's just say, it's frustrating if you've not sewn since you were in vacation bible school. But it was interesting to try and I will finish this if it takes me an eternity.

HOUSEHOLD CHORES/LAWNCARE
I find myself checking to make sure the grass is getting cut regularly. I always hated cutting the grass but now it's another chore that fills the time. My yard looks great! I also clean the house regularly and wash the dishes even if they're not running out of the sink! AWESOME! It also fills my time so I try not to think that I'm doing housework. It's time filling.

So there you have the gamut of things I'm trying or re-incorporating in to my life since losing my husband. There are a few other things on the horizon. Lunch out w/a sibling and niece on this Saturday. Trying a new restaurant out in the country. I heard it's really good, homecooking. Yummy. I also purchased tickets to see Stevie Wonder today. He's coming to the Ted Constant Center at ODU in October! I can't wait! I've always wanted to see him and now I have the chance. I'm sad that my husband isn't here to enjoy the show with me. I told him for years that when Stevie came close by we were going. He would have never let me spend that much money on that ticket tho. But I'm sure he's saying, "go ahead dear, go see Stevie and have fun. You deserve it." But did you have to spend that much money? He was el cheapo!

I miss him.

Getting To Know You...

"Getting to know all about you". That's how that old song goes and that's what I've been doing as of late with my extended family.
With my husband resting in peace, I've turned to his family for comfort and for sharing my memories. In turn, I've gotten to know some of them better as well. It's taken 25 years but better late than never.
I'm learning the pecking order and my place in that order little by little. I'm seeing who's who and what's what and it's fascinating to say the least. Some talk a lot, some say very little. Some call and check on me regularly, some haven't called yet. Some have stopped by our house and visited, some can't bring themselves to do that just yet.
I even went somewhere with a sibling recently. Something we've never done! She commented on it like this: "I think it's amazing! It's just amazing that after all of those years that you were with my brother, this is the first time that I've ever been anywhere with just the 2 of us in the car." "What took so long?"
My husband dominated my time in all of those years. We spent every moment we could together throughout our relationship. That was mostly my choice. He never forced me or demanded that of me. Between work, sleep, and the kids, we had very little time to spend together over the years so we made the most of it. And now, I'm glad that we did it that way. Those are times that no one, not even death, can take from me.
I'm slowly learning how to get out and about without him by my side and it's not as bad as I thought it would be. I do have my moments when I glance over to my side and expect to see him sitting there with that goofy look on his face. I'm trying to face things and get them behind me.
I went fishing the other night, something he & I used to do regularly. Went to "our spot" and sat and fished. His voice reverberating in my head about who's going to catch the biggest fish. I looked over to my right (which is where he usually posted himself) and the space was empty and it made me sad. Again, a reminder of what I've lost. A companion. Someone to do things with.
So I'm getting to know his family and I'm getting to know myself. This new person who has no husband. The one that has to do things alone. One of his brothers probably put it best when he said, "You have to get out and make something happen, you can't sit here and expect it to come to you." "Just get out and do it."
Easier said than done. But I'm trying. Spending time with his family gives me a sense of connection to him. Kind of like training wheels on a new bike. They keep me from falling on my face and I gain confidence that I will use as time moves on. The roller coaster ride is far from over but I'm learning how to tolerate the drops a little better.

It's Written in Stone

Well, I did it.

I ordered our headstone yesterday. OUR headstone! Do you know how weird it is to tell the monument salesman how you want your name on you OWN headstone? It's freakin weird! The conversation went like this:

Monument saleslady: "Mrs. Freeman, how do you want your husband's name to read on his side of the monument?"

Me: "John W.

Monument saleslady: "Now, Mrs. Freeman, how do you want your name to read?"

Me: "What? My name? Ummm...let me see. (This is the part where I was freaking out in my head) I guess it should say Sherry Ellis."

Monument saleslady: "Ok then that sounds like a plan."

Me: "This price includes adding my date of death when it happens right?"

Monument saleslady: "Umm...no it does not." "Do you want to pay for that now? Today?"

Me: "Yes."

Monument saleslady: "Are you sure?" "Most people don't pay for that up front."

Me: "Really, why not? This way my daughter won't have to worry about it when the time comes." "How much does it cost?"

Monument saleslady: $288.

Me: {faint}

These things cost a small fortune but you do get to pick whatever you want to put on there and you can put as much as will fit for the most part. So I picked a simple, not so decorated bronze(which is what the cemetery dictates you to get when you choose to bury your loved ones in their piece of dirt....can you say..."rip off?" I thought that you could.) slab. It will be a double headstone b/c after all where else am I going to go when the deed is done? In a place where a bunch strangers just pass me by and say stupid stuff like "why is she here by herself?". They call them "companion markers" now. Anyhoo, I chose a nice little Ford Maverick to put under his info with the saying; "Cruisin' the 1/4 mile". My husband loved drag racing and they didn't have any dragsters only pukey Nascar cars (ewww..get a life really). The Maverick was because this was the last car that he drove and worked on before he got sick. He loved that stupid thing. Was peacock proud and hyena happy when he finished it. Made me tape him telling the audience (which was just me btw) what he did to the car. Hood scoop, modified to accept a 460 engine, straight axle from a 1963 Econoline, blah blah blah.

My side will have my first name and my maiden last name as I chose to hyphenate my name after marriage. Of course under my info will be the ever present Redskins helmet (if they have one available..I mean, they should have one they had a friggen Dallas one for God's sakes...uuugggghhhh). Under the helmet they will put; "HTTR!" Every self respecting Skins fan will know what that means and if they don't they're not really Skins fans!

Ok...so I pay for the monstrosity to the tune of over 3k. Yes! 3k! I'm sure I heard my husband turn over in his grave at that point. But I'm not finished yet. You didn't think it was over did you? If you've read any of this blog, you would know it's not over. It's never over on the first go round.

I got a call today from the monument company. She says she was so sorry for calling me at work but she had to go over something with me that apparently I didn't realize. She says, "you're paying for your spot on "time" right?" "Yes", I say. "Well, they won't let us put the monument down until your site is paid for." "Excuse me?", I say. "No, Mrs. Freeman, you can't put this marker down until your plot is paid for." "You're kidding me right?". "No, I'm afraid not." . "Let me call the cemetery and speak to them to get the cash payoff". "I can't let my husband lay out there for 2 years without a headstone!" "I don't believe this." "And folks thought lawyers were bloodsuckers!"

I call the nice cemetery people and say to them that I don't remember anyone telling me that I can't place a marker until I pay for my spot. They say, that's the way it is. IF you don't pay off your spot and a marker is already placed then we're screwed. So I guess that means they are going to screw me first so they won't get screwed last. Cash payoff for my plot: $2613. The marker won't be ready until November so I can pay a little on it and then pay the rest off when they are ready to place it. Really? That's might white of yall don't you think? So the cost of my husband's death comes to approximately (including the funeral) $13k. I know that I've heard my husband do a 360 in his resting place. I think the earth moved. I can hear him now. "You're gonna pay that?" "Are you high?" "Rip off!" "Highway robbery!" "Get your money and get the hell out of there". I know that's what he's saying. But I can't leave him nameless for 2 years! I wouldn't be able to rest! He deserves a marker. Now if the shoe was on the other foot, I'd be nameless.

Death is a business. Sad. The poor and ill planned suffer yet again. So ramp up that insurance folks. You're gonna get screwed w/o K-Y in the end.

Hey There Lonely Girl

As my journey through grief continues, one of the biggest changes has to be that I'm alone most of the time. I have never experienced loneliness such as this. I dodge the doldrums of aloneness during the daylight hours because of work. But after the sun goes down. The loneliness surrounds me like a huge overcoat. Heavy and encompassing.

The memories swirl in my mind. Most are good memories. Remembering the laughter we shared always makes me long for him to be here. I look to my left, as this is the position where he sat most of the time, and see that empty space. It screams at me, "HE'S GONE!". It's so quiet in the house now that it hurts my ears. The sound of quiet is the loudest noise I've ever heard in my life.

He filled up this whole house with his presence. I never knew that he took up that much space. I didn't realize how much of me he consumed. It was a good kind of consumption. He filled my space, my heart, my soul, my mind. Now, he's gone. His physical presence is no longer a factor in my day to day life and I, frankly, don't know how to live like this. I play the moments we shared as a couple over and over in my mind. The littlest details jump out at me. The words he spoke. The way he spoke them. The touch of his hand in mine. The look on his face as he slept. Knowing that I'll never experience those moments again is just too much to bear some times. I'll never make new memories with him again. I have to rely on the past memories to bring me comfort and make me smile.

I know I'll carry him within my heart for the rest of my life but sometimes that's not enough for the human side of me. I long to share a meal with him, a conversation or just watch him sleep.

Loneliness is not for the weak.

I miss him.

Cry Me A River

Yes. Today is yet another crying day. I've had these scattered throughout these weeks. I never quite know what brings them on. They just seem to happen.

Perhaps it was a memory I shared with a friend earlier today. Perhaps it was the video I watched earlier where I could see him and hear him but couldn't touch him. Perhaps it was my telling the customer rep at Direct TV that I have to cancel the service because I lost my husband's income due to his death so I can no longer afford their services. Perhaps it was the way I ate dinner. Alone and quiet. Perhaps it was the street I turned on to come home or the sight of a couple walking down the sidewalk hand in hand. Whatever it was, the dam broke and the tears flowed.

Anger crept in with this latest spell. Mad at John for not doing what he should have all of those years ago. "Just take the freakin pills already! What's so difficult about that?" Those are the words I used to say to him when I would find out he wasn't taking his medicine. Mad because if he had just taken the medicine perhaps the last 6 years would have been different, better. There's no way to tell. There's no guarantees but at least he would have given himself a fighting chance. Doing something is better than doing nothing.

I don't know if him taking his meds would have played in our favor or not. I don't know if it would have allowed him to extend the time he had here. I'll never know those things.

My heart is broken. I miss him so much it hurts inside. My soul is lonesome. My soul mate is gone. And I'm left here to pick up the pieces and try to carry on. I hate it. I hate that he's not here. I hate this whole thing without him in it. I hate being without him. I hate crying and still remaining in the same circumstance when I'm done.

Unfortunately for me, I know what this is all too well. It's called grieving. It's not for the weak nor the weak at heart. It's not for someone with little fortitude. It will eat you up and spit you out and not care how broken you are when it's done with you. I know there will be an end to these raw, sore feelings. But the journey to get there is wracked with a soul-searching, excruciating self examination. The little baby steps make the progress slow. And a slow progression is better than a no progression. As painful as it is, I know I must trudge on. I will prevail. My God says so.

Weeping may endure for a night, but joy will come in the morning.

I miss him. Pass the tissues, it's going to be a long night.

Give Me Back My Bullets

"The Good Lord giveth and the Good Lord taketh away."

That says a mouthful. I guess I should be saying Social Security giveth, Social Security taketh away. They are REAL good at the taking away part. So good, in fact, that their taking away occurred before their letter arrived to inform me to give it back.

My husband was retired/disabled upon his death and was drawing a monthly benefit from Social Security. I informed social security of his demise and handed them a death certificate at the same time. The dude who was working there at the time made a copy of the original death certificate and handed the original back to me. I politely asked him if he was sure he didn't need the original one with the little raised seal on it. He politely said, "No". He proceeded to input some of the info into their computer(which makes it official btw) and then told me how sorry he was that I had lost my husband 10 days before. "Thank you", I said as my daughter and I headed out of the door ecstatic that it only took us 15 minutes to pull that off. There were tons of aggravated people sitting in that room. I guess that there were not many there to report a death.

Before departing the office, I asked the guy about the check that had just been deposited into our account for my husband's July benefits. He said, "don't touch it until you get a letter from us and it will tell you what you need to do from there." Cool, I thought. Easy peasy!

But of course this is government business, so it's never easy peasy. The following week I received a statement from my bank telling me that Social Security had gone in and removed the money. No problem, I thought. That's less that I have to do. I thought it was a done deal at that point. But oh nooooooooo. That wasn't the end of it. I got a letter from Social Security this past Friday telling me that I needed to return the monies that they had paid for my husband's July benefits because and I quote, "Social Security doesn't pay benefits for the month of death." I immediately got on the phone and was ready to give them a piece of my mind. I told the guy who answered the phone what was going on and he told me to "calm down" and he would check the computer (which apparently is their version of the Holy Grail). I gave him all of the necessary info and he pulled up my husband's info. He says, "oh yes I see we've already taken that payment, so don't send us any money because we don't want you to overpay us". How nice of you I thought. I then proceeded to ask him about the not paying benefits in the month that the death occurs. I told him my husband passed away on July 22, which is well past the middle of the month shouldn't I be able to keep a portion? "No", he said. But...but...but..what about the money I spent on him prior to his death in July? (cricket's chirping.) "Hello?" . "Ma'am, we don't pay benefits for the month of death, that's all I can tell you." "But you can apply for the $255 death benefit while we're on the phone if you like". Ok..I like. "Please hold while I get a claims agent on the phone". Good grief.

So this lady comes on and tells me how sorry she is that my husband has died and that she'll file the paperwork for the death benefit but she needs to "ask a few questions first". I roll my eyes (thank goodness I'm on the phone for that part..lol). She asks me a gazillion questions and I answer them as best I can. She then asked me if I had been in the military. HUH? I say, "what's that got to do with anything?" (crickets chirping again) She says, "we have to ask". "Why?" She doesn't know I don't think. She then tells me that his Ex is entitled to widow's benefits if they were married for more than 10 years, which they were. Really? Not that I begrudge someone from getting what they're entitled to, but does the government realize how much money they might can save if they stop paying these numerous ex-wives that these husbands leave behind? Shouldn't they not pay them once they're the "EX"? No wonder social security is broke. It turns out that I can draw widow's benefits when I turn 60y/o and depending on what my income is determines how much I can get. But at least I was still married to him when he died. I don't get it. You (social security) go into our account, take out the money you've already paid because you "don't pay benefits in the month of the death", but you'll pay his ex-wife widow's benefit even though they didn't occupy the same space in over 30 years?

It's not about the money. It's about what's right imo. I used some of that money for his needs up until the date of his actual death and then I have to give it ALL back because he's not entitled to anything because he died. So whether he died on July 1st or July 31st, social security isn't responsible. But his ex can get benefits based on his record after he's gone but not the recipient themselves while they're alive.

The gubment giveth, the gubment taketh away. That's why this country's drowning in debt. The logic of this is just too illogical. Typical bureaucratic bull.

"Please do NOT pass go, please do NOT collect $100 but give us back our money even though you earned it through your hard work and sweat".

Disappearing Act

There are so many things to get done after you lose someone you love. Pay for the funeral, notify social security, pick out the headstone, file the insurance papers, and notify my job.

Along with those things mentioned above, there are also other, more tedious things to do. I have to remove him from dependent status with my job benefits, take him off of the bank account, change the car title from his name to mine, and take his name off of the mortgage and the deed to the house. I feel like I have this giant, pink eraser in my hand and I'm slowly making him disappear from existance. I know, I know. I don't have that kind of power but it certainly makes me feel that way.

As I take each step, I feel like I'm erasing his history, his record of being here. His name will disappear from everything and it will be like he's never been here at all. I don't want to do these things. I don't want to NOT get mail with his name on it.

With each task it seems he dies yet again. The only trace of him is in my heart and on my walls and dressers. I desperately try to hang onto anything that proves he was here and that he lived. But it's inevitable. It will be beyond final when tax season comes. Afterall, until the IRS knows you're dead, you're still alive for all intents and purposes.

This was all brought about today because I received an email from the human resources department about my "life changing event" that allows an employee to make changes to their benefit elections outside of the normal "window" of opportunity that usually occurs in October of each year. They sent me the costs of my benefits without the spouse portion. It's no longer "employee & spouse", it's the "employee only" election now. And it lists how much cheaper these benefits are when you're all by yourself. I almost cried (again). Talk about a reality check. When you see it on paper, it's even more real than when you try to formulate it in your mind.

• Health Care - Employee Only (widow)
• Dental Care - Employee Only (widow)
• Vision Care - Employee Only (widow)
• Life Insurance - Employee Only (widow)

That's what I saw in that email. A stark reminder that I am a widow. But I don't feel like a widow. Wait a minute, what does a widow feel like? If it's defined by loneliness or meals for 1 then I must be a widow.

I want to throw this eraser in the Atlantic ocean and never see it again. But I can't. I have to use this tool of torture and take care of business.

Afterall, that's what us widows do, apparently.