At the car wash

The lineups at the car washes have been quite long this past week, but this morning I decided to pick up a coffee and go anyway.  I listened to the radio and had a chance to do some people watching while the line crawled along.

I watched everyone in the nearby grocery store and coffee shop lot come and go about their business.  Things I used to do with my husband and never gave a second thought to. Getting groceries, buying coffee, filling the car with gas – all the small things that seemed  so ordinary and mundane at the time, but now can bring me to tears.

Mostly couples were out today, smiling and conversing while they loaded the trunk with their purchases, holding a hot drink while the other fumbled for keys, chit chatting while waiting in the car wash line.  Such small things; things that most couples take for granted as just another everyday activity.  I used to be the same way.  I would get bored waiting in line and wished we were doing something far more exciting, but now I would love to have just one more chance at having a morning with my husband.

While I have become quite proficient at maintaining my cars, managing the house and my finances, and starting new ventures, I miss having someone to share it with.  Someone to sit with at the end of the day and say ‘guess what I did today’.  How wonderful it would be once again to feel the warm glow of intimate conversation and work towards a mutual goal.

I wonder if any of those people I saw today realized how special those moments were in just doing the ordinary tasks of life.  I hope they appreciate them before they are gone.

Decorating the house

Since my husband has been gone, I wrestle with the idea of not decorating the house at all.  I still decorate every year though, and this year I actually enjoyed it, not quite like in years past, but it was still nice to get out all the boxes with the stuffed toys and decorations that have been in crawl-space hibernation since last year.

We have two trees, so it takes a while to set everything up.  Down in the family room is the large one we bought many years ago on sale to hold the ever-increasing collection of ornaments we amassed over the years.  Up in the living room, sitting on the end table in the corner, is the little 4-foot tree we bought in 1978 for our first tiny apartment.  It looked small even then, but our storage room at the time was really small, so this is all we could use.

It looks cute now with the small homemade ornaments from when we were young and broke.  I like to sit in the living room with the just the glow of the lights on this little tree – I find it melancholy but also somewhat soothing.

I wish he was here with all my heart, but I have to be content to carry on the family traditions without him, and maybe time to make some new ones as well.

The holidays march ever closer

This is another bad time of year for those who have lost a spouse or other family members.  Christmas is especially hard for me, since many of the family traditions my husband and I carried out together are now gone.

We used to hang several little ornaments together, our hands touching as we carefully navigated these very special pieces to a safe branch in the back.  These ornaments celebrated out First Christmas together, our First House, and a few other special occasions, but now they are jumbled in the box with the others and I let my son hang them up.

I miss the pretty goodies in my stocking.  Often there would be a small piece of jewelry, or a purse-sized bottle of my favourite Chanel fragrance.  Now no one buys me those things anymore.

I miss the walks out in the snow and taking photographs of the sparkling trees or a small cluster of berries peeking out.  I no longer go for walks as wandering alone, watching other couples stroll hand-in-hand, is not a punishment I wish to inflict on myself.

Christmas is approaching quickly it seems this year, and I for one will be glad when it is over and gone.

 

A difficult anniversary

Three years ago today was when my husband fell ill and our world collapsed.  He was the strongest, healthiest person I knew and his illness and passing only a few months later was and is incomprehensible.  It still doesn’t make any sense.

Many things have stayed the same, but I have changed dramatically from who I used to be.  I still love the home we created together and it’s surroundings, have good friends, and a loving family – those are the constants that keep me grounded.

I, however, have undergone quite a transformation.  I sometimes wonder if my husband would recognize me.  I used to be fairly introverted and shy – even the thought of eating lunch at his office in a lunchroom full of people would make me sweat.  I couldn’t drive due to the physical pain from my accident, and I withdrew into a shell.  I went nowhere unless someone took me and life became very small.

It has been a struggle to break out of the introverted bubble I was in – it’s not easy suddenly having to become  independent when one has been dependent most of their lives.  I had no choice however, and am proud that I have risen to the challenge.

I still hide back in my shell once in a while when the tide of grief washes over me, but I keep popping back out and carry on.  My world became so much larger this summer and I am so grateful.  Car meets, camera club outings, a new group of choir friends – so many new things I wouldn’t have even dreamt of a year ago.  It feels good.  I feel human again.

The strength of the human spirit is amazing.  We can do whatever we choose, but often we just need that push to get us moving.  Beauty can arise from the ashes.

You never know until you try.

This past weekend I reached a goal that I never thought I would see. I drove my Thunderbird to a meet out of town, which meant driving on the highway (which I haven’t done in well over 25 years), and getting back home again on another multi-lane freeway. My car won another trophy, and while I appreciate it’s other awards, I really earned this one.

When I inherited my car a few years ago, I wasn’t driving much at all, usually just a few blocks at a time due to the pain and fatigue that has persisted after an accident many years ago. My husband would drive the car for me when it wasn’t in winter storage, then after his loss, my son and his friends would take it to meets for me.

I love my car and I enjoy talking to others about it at the weekly meets and shows, but for the past several years I always felt like a fraud in the car world, since someone would always have to drive it for me. I didn’t feel like a true owner – someone who could talk about the joy of driving a classic car and enjoy the admiring glances of others. I always had to explain at the meets that it was my car but someone else drove it for me, since my driver would often get queried about the car then point over at me. I would get sympathetic yet strange glances, as in, ‘this person owns a car but doesn’t drive?’

I have been working very hard this summer, taking driving lessons and practicing. Instead of going to one meet every few weeks, I now often get to three a week. It’s a wonderful feeling being able to get there myself. I now feel like a legitimate car owner.

I am very proud of my achievement – it has come with a lot of sweat and anxiety, but I kept on. I also owe a big thanks to a special friend from my car club, who has sat in the passenger seat on unfamiliar routes until I got used to them, and also helped me map out the best route to get to this week’s show. His encouragement and friendship has motivated me to keep trying.

Sometimes we just need that push to move us out of our comfort zone, and while it is difficult, the feeling of accomplishment afterwards is so worth it.

Bring on the summer heat!

For years I dreaded the hot sultry days of summer as our house became an oven. Few windows on the top floor along with still evenings made for uncomfortable sleeps.

This spring, I decided to buy a central air conditioning system along with a new furnace. My husband never really wanted one and there always seemed to be something else to spend the money on, but I finally had enough after last summer and took the plunge.

It works beautifully, in fact, too well sometimes. I had to sit with a blanket over my legs in the family room last night because it was chilly even though outside the temperature still hovered around 28C.

It’s still a strange feeling after two years to make big decisions like this on my own. Normally my husband and I would talk about it, and he would analyze all the different options, but often wouldn’t get around to getting something done since the time had passed for it’s usefulness. Now if I need something, I get it done. I look at a few options, but not many. I just wave my arms and make like a foreman and say “Just do it.” Like Nike says. Just do it.

I miss his advice and guidance, but I also am starting to feel empowered at the big chores I have tackled since he’s been gone. The yard has been groomed to my liking, I bought a new car just for me, I have donated all the things in the house that I don’t need anymore but kept because his folks gave them to us, finished a University certificate in Writing that I wouldn’t have had the time for, and now the air conditioner. As the fall starts to approach I am considering replacing the old wood burning fireplaces with gas ones so I can finally enjoy them.

When the heat rises and the cool air gently blows out of the vents, I curl up in the evening with a book and take pride in another step forward. The sad part is that he’s not here to enjoy it with me.

The days march on in no given direction.

Even though I have been keeping busy this summer showing my classic car and finishing up my writing classes, there is a sense of uneasiness and lack of direction as I go through my days.

I have seen my friends go on holidays with their families but I have nowhere to go, as I have no desire to travel alone or with a bunch of strangers on a bus somewhere.

The happy family vacations I once took every summer are gone, and have been for three summers now. Every day is busy with activities and keeping the house running, but there is no purpose, no excitement, no real sense of accomplishment. Sure, clean floors and paid bills are a good thing, but they really don’t nourish the soul.

All the retirement hopes and plans, the travel, the adventure, the love and friendship of my one and only love – poof – all gone. I haven’t loved anyone else – he was everything to me since I was a teenager. How does one start over again?

An unknown future in one’s 20’s is exciting – in one’s 50’s it can be terrifying. Who will be by my side when I need help? I haven’t been single before except as a child. I am not doing a very good job of being single at this age.

I will keep trying to stay busy and have fun with friends, but at the end of each day the silence as I lay in bed and stare at the ceiling is unsettling. I used to be annoyed by my husband’s snoring and sometimes would sleep downstairs to get some peace, but I would give the world to hear that sound again.

Surviving the storm

I’ve always been afraid of thunderstorms, so when an enormous lightning and thunder show rolled in during the wee hours of the morning today, I did what I usually do. I grabbed my sleep mask from the nightstand so I couldn’t see the flashes, stuffed plugs into my ears so the noise wouldn’t startle me, then pulled the covers up high to shield me from nature’s display. Soon, the storm was over, and I put my protective devices back on the night stand and drifted off to sleep.

How I wish I could shield myself as easily from the storms of life that have come my way with the loss of my husband. The old adage says that things look brighter in the morning, but for someone going through grief, does it really? A bit of peace comes in the evening during restless sleep punctuated by dreams of our loved ones, but the cold reality faces us when we rise, knowing we have to go through another day without our helper, companion, confidante, lover, and friend.

As each day goes by, I congratulate myself for taking care of life’s issues normally shared by two, but that in itself is not satisfying. Without my partner, all my victories are hollow. No one to be proud of me. No one to hug me and say ‘well done’.

All of us going through grief await the day when peace comes after the storm, and we can finally say we are not just surviving, but have survived. I look forward to that day.

Life in an older home

This seems to be the week of stuff falling apart around my house. My closet door fell off it’s track and I haven’t figured out how to put it back on. My son’s closet rod pulled out of the drywall and now the clothes are on the floor in the spare room and there’s a hole in his wall. The main light fixture in the family room burned out and new bulbs aren’t working.

Normally this is just fiddly stuff, more of an annoyance than anything, but being alone has magnified them into bigger problems. I can’t just ask my husband to help me fix them anymore. I now have to study videos on the internet or hire a handyman to do everything. Considering how fast things are breaking around here, the handyman option is going to be a very expensive proposition.

There are days when my new life is ok – I am trying new things and becoming more independent, but when all these little things pile up, it’s more than I can take somedays. I sat on the floor and cried for ten minutes yesterday amongst the piles of clothes when my son’s closet broke. Trying to manage a home along with everything else is just too hard some days.

I’d give the world for a helper. Not that I am a helpless little woman – I can work power tools with the best of them – it’s just the burden of maintaining everything by myself. Most married couples have trouble keeping up with home responsibilities. Alone, it feels impossible most days.

How do you keep up with things around your house?

My week with the Mod Squad

I think I am showing my age here, but I will carry on anyways.

After my driving lesson on Monday, I came down rather quickly with a bad cold or the flu ( I can’t always tell the difference ), so I canceled all my activities and made a little fort down in the family room.  Tissues, tea, water, Advil, snacks, books, and my trusty remote control.  I made a wonderful discovery while flipping through videos on YouTube – the original Mod Squad from 1968 was available – full episodes for all the seasons.

If you are of a certain vintage, you will remember how cool Pete, Julie, and Linc were – the clothes, the cars, the hip language (it was ‘solid’ as Linc would always say).  It was a groundbreaking show for its time and it tackled social issues people just didn’t talk about.

Sitting on the couch under my warm blanket while taking a trip down memory lane has made me appreciate all the more the wonders of today’s technology.  Back in the days when Mod Squad first aired, if I missed an episode, it was gone forever, unless the network reran it over the summer.  No VCR’s, no DVD’s to buy, no YouTube.  Shows came and went like a flash, and we scheduled our social time around the TV schedule.  Where were you Tuesday nights at 8pm? Watching Red Skelton of course.  Sundays at 8?  Ed Sullivan.

Through the miracle that is technology, the media that shaped our lives as children can be called up anytime, anywhere, to be enjoyed once again, but now from a more experienced view of the world and how the hope expressed in the shows has come (or not) to pass.

Having a miserable cold was not how I wanted to spend my week, but It wasn’t all bad.  I had a great visit with three old and dear friends I hadn’t seen since childhood.  Now I know where they live, and plan to spend more time with them and others from that era.