365 days later

This was the beginning of my first post:

July 3, 2017

 At 5:08 today it has been 3 weeks – 3 weeks of blur – poignant memories, mail I didn’t ask for  -  and fear.

And now 365 days later……….

I can still recall the sounds: his rasping breathing on the bathroom floor, and then the and lack of them, then the smells, and the images burned on my brain: the breathing tube manually pumped by a nurse, his closed eyes, body still….the helicopter nurses and  pilot readying him for transport, the quiet busyness of the nursing team tending to him… 

the look on the doctors face as he explains the situation… and what I must do… or not. And yet he looks like he is just sleeping…

The emotional energy of my family and two dear friends as we gather to hear what the doctor has to say… and then the matter of fact discussion about donating his organs… which was his wish.

 And so of course I did what he wanted… how could I not?

The memories are intentional recalls now… usually… sometimes they push their way to the front of my awareness, but not very often these days. I can bring them up like stuff from the basement. Put away, but not forgotten. But even then, somewhat hazy, like a Vaseline focus, not sharp: dream like? Kinda.

And now 365 days later……

It has been a blur – and yet not. This year has gone both quickly and at a snail’s pace. Some things are buried in the recesses of my mind, but they are intentional recalls now – usually – sometimes they push their way to the front of my awareness, but not very often these days.

And yet some things stand out in bas relief – friends and family with texts and snail mail, let’s go eat… I can just be there if you want…I’m praying for you … you are in my thoughts today… books and cards sent to me – maybe this will help…

Today - a box of roses from Glenn’s brother with a note –“Glenn is always with us.”

Yes he is. Always. With. Us. Always, as are all of our loved one who are no longer physically with us…. And they are legion.

An offer from a friend – ‘I can be there with you if don’t want to be alone on THAT day…”

This past weekend I gathered with family and Glenn’s closest friend to lay him to rest. 

I packed his ashes in a biodegradable paper urn in the shape of a turtle (he had a thing for turtles!) and set it adrift where the Mississippi and the Wisconsin Rivers converge.

 It was his wish. Rose petals floating on the water, marking the path and descent…laid to rest where he wanted to be. The owner/Captain of the boat was amazing… It didn’t take long for him to figure out what we were up to and help  make it sacred. And it was so. A sacred time. And it was healing.

The Mississippi and the Wisconsin Rivers converge.

He loved rivers – loved to sit by them and watch the world go by – loved to be on them in his/our canoe.  Where are the barges going? What’s in them? What are the stories of the people of the river? Real Samuel Clements moments.  Rivers – not stagnant - always moving. Going where?  It didn’t matter.  There was something magical about just sitting and watching the river flow by…………and for a guy who was not always very relaxed – this was huge.

And so we would often sit by the side of a river and just watch. And just be.

And it was good.

And it is good.

I can smile now in a way that I couldn’t before…

The hummingbirds at the feeder – his favorites…

Hunter after a squirrel… or the UPS truck… or the mail carrier…because he LIKES them!

The smell of rain as I sit in ‘his’ porch chair

The student recipients of his scholarship at Sauk Valley Community College

The campers who will use the new canoe gear at LOMC

The recipients of his lungs and kidneys – 4 people will live because of him

Memories that come unbidden of trips taken, moments shared at home, meals prepared, quiet and not so quiet conversations about nothing…planning for the next day, week, trip, life, etc., sharing our lives

A few months ago I thought I had made a significant turn around – but NOOOO it was a 180…but this time I think I’ve turned a significant corner…..

Because I am now grateful:

for family and friends that aren’t afraid to speak, to remember, to say his name

for work to keep me busy

for quiet time to reflect and remember and grieve and mourn My Way (cue Blue Eyes! Aka Sinatra)

for Hunter Dude and his unfailing devotion

for waking up vertical (most of the time!)

for sunsets and the occasional sunrise

for the ability to travel to see friends

for the memories of a journey shared

for the 38 years that we had together with its ups and downs. But mostly ups

for his support, whether he agreed with my choices or not

for his love -  no matter whether I deserved it or not

for his love – for me as I was

for the tears that cleanse my soul

As someone much wiser than me said – ‘ all marriages will end – either in divorce or death…’ So if there is anything to top the list of ‘grateful for’, it is this…… 38 + years of love, companionship, friendship, partnership: a life built together.

His ashes scattered in the  Rock River

It has been 365 days of more emotion than one human can endure – and yet I have. As do many before me and all of those who will come after me. 

I know the tears will always be there in the shadows, the sadness will never go away, the emptiness will always be a part of me. I know dozens of men and women who have traveled this path ahead of me, and I mourn with them. Saying goodbye and laying to rest a beloved spouse/partner is the hardest thing we will ever do.

I know, without a doubt, that he would want me to live to my fullest, whatever and how ever I decide to do that.

And I will. Me and Hunter. If for no other reason than to honor what we had together.

Amen