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.