Happy Birthday, Love

Thirty-five. We're the same age for a little less than a month.

I tried to honor you all day today. I think I did pretty well. I took some time for myself. I spent some time with friends, I let the twins eat pizza and raisins for dinner and go to bed without a bath. I drove like a maniac while playing Crazy Taxi on your Xbox and danced like the white chick that I am playing Dance Dance Revolution. I ate sorbet and BBQ and didn't feel guilty or count points. I bought Christmas presents and tried not to be stressed about the money.

Madeleine had her Early Intervention eval today. She totally tested out. She charmed the pants off the evaluators. Riley got in on the action, too. While he was not formally evaluated, I was reassured that he was well on target in all skill areas. Our children are brilliant, just like you.

I miss you extra today and I thought about you more than usual. Tomorrow I will drive north and the twins and I will spend the night with M and her husband. We are planning to make a scrapbook page for you, have a cake, build "gingerbread" houses out of graham crackers with the twins, play in the snow, and just be together.

You know all this, I know you do. It feels silly to write it to you because you already know. It's like you're in my thoughts, but that sounds creepy, and it's not. I just want to write it down so that I remember how I spent this, your first birthday that you weren't here.

So many people miss you. No one misses you as much as I do. I feel so hollow without you.

I love you, Goose.

Plants

I hate taking care of plants. I hate gardening. I hate yardwork. I hate all of it.

I love having plants around, and I love the idea of having a garden or a flowerbed. The problem is that at the end of the day, plants are just something else to take care of. I have enough to take care of. By the time I get to the plants, I have run out of steam.

John loved plants. When we moved in together, his plants had to wear seatbelts for the trip from his apartment to our place. They all had names. He lovingly tended all of his houseplants until he could not get out of bed anymore.

Knowing how much those plants meant to John, it's hard not to feel like a failure as I watch them die one by one. I'm trapped: looking at the dead plants gives me a sick, guilty feeling, as though I've let John down, but I can't bear to throw away things that were so important to him. Of course, now they are dead things. I seriously have two totally dead bonsai in the living room, Akira and Keisuke. Every week, on trash night, I think I'm going to be able to take them down and toss them. And every week I just don't have it in me.

I hate how physical traces of John are slowly being erased from the condo. There are lots of pictures around, but his stuff is being overtaken by the kids' stuff, by my stuff. Most of his clothes are gone, donated and hopefully being worn by someone who need them. His videogames are being used by family friends. I have plans to send his DVDs to the soldiers in Iraq; there are precious few movies I feel a need to own, and while not a supporter of the war, John was an ardent supporter of the troops. We're in desperate need of bookshelf space, and guess whose books are more likely to go? I'm not a big history buff, especially not military history, and I'm also not huge on biographies. John had huge collections of both. Something has to give.

I hate clutter, I hate having things in my house that aren't being used. But I also hate saying goodbye to reminders of my husband. It's a balancing act. But this may be the week that the dead plants go to the curb. Their dry, brittle presence is bringing back more unpleasant memories than good. Maybe that should be my rule of thumb: keep the things that recall happy times. Let go of the things that bring pain.

The Memorial

Everything went very well on Saturday, exactly as I had hoped. We had perfect weather (70s, sunny), a gorgeous setting, delicious food, and an abundance of friends and family. People played games, made scrapbook pages, and talked about John. I only wish that I had had more time to spend with each individual person who was there. To make a somewhat morbid comparison, I found being at my husband's memorial somewhat akin to being at our wedding in one—and ONLY one—key way: I wanted to spend a lot of time with each person there, but in reality I got only a few minutes with each one.

There were two moments for me that were very hard emotionally. John's oncologist came, and talking to her was very difficult. I was incredibly moved by how much caring for John had touched her. She is not an overly emotional woman. Caring, compassionate: yes. Prone to outward displays of emotion—positive or negative: not so much. But when she gave me a hug and talked to me and my mom about what an honor it was for her to care for John, she was teary. Which made me teary. Which is fine, but believe it or not, I forgot to bring tissues to the memorial! Talk about a faux pas.

The other difficult bit was the candle lighting. I had, somewhat deliberately, not given much thought to the logistics behind the ceremony or to what I'd say to the assembled crowd. In the end, I placed John's candle in the middle of the outdoor picnic shelter, and had the group form a big circle around it. I lit the main candle, lit a taper from it, and used that taper to light my mom's and John's dad's tapers. They then sent the flame around the circle in opposite directions. Once everyone's candle was lit, we had some moments of silence, broken by Riley deciding to burst into belly laughs when I snuggled him a bit too much. It was a good way to end the silence. The reflection during the quiet time did lead to some tears. Again, no tissues! What was I thinking.

It's a bit strange to say, but I really had a lovely time at the memorial. I'm glad it's over, though. Since the event, I have slept better and felt more at peace. I guess that's what's meant by the word closure.

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Thank you to everyone who lit candles for John and sent good thoughts our way. OTRgirl posted about her tribute to John and her mother. I'm beyond honored by her what she did, her beautiful, private ceremony replete with symbolism.

Happy Anniversary, Goose

In honor of our third anniversary, a picture of us before cancer was a part of our lives. This is from before we even lived together, but both of us knew by the time this picture was taken that we were going to get married.

We had been mini-golfing with friends on a gorgeous summer day. I love this picture because it shows us being so happy doing what we loved to do most: spend time together, time with friends, and time outdoors.

Happy third anniversary to my Goose Love. I wish you were here with me and the twins. We miss you and we love you.

Broken Record

I haven't posted for a few days because every time I go to post, I realize it's just the same ol', same ol' yet again.

The kids seem to be in a cranky phase and are worse than ever about eating.
I'm tired.
Work has actually been OK, but it's still work.
Planning John's memorial is taking a lot out of me.
Riley said dog the other day. He also put two words together and said, "Bye bye, baby!" when we were leaving daycare.
Maddie has an awful diaper rash. The only thing that is helping is oatmeal baths in the kitchen sink. She finds the novelty of being in the sink very entertaining.

See? Not so interesting. Well, the kid stuff is interesting to me, but I'm not sure how interesting it is to the outside world. I'm tired of not feeling interesting. I'm tired of feeling like a downer. I'm tired, damn it. Mentally tired. Physically, I actually feel fine.

I made myself a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch today. It's overcast and cool today, only in the mid-60s, so something warm sounded good. When I was pregnant, I ate a lot of grilled cheese. John made great grilled cheese. At the end of grilling, he would sprinkle a bit of grated cheese in the pan that would make a toasty, caramelized, cheesy crust on one side of the bread MMM. Delicious. My sandwich was good, but his would have been better.

Rockin'?

Many moons ago, Halfmama dubbed me a Rockin' Blogger. (Someone else gave me the nod, too, and I can't remember who it was because as my last post indicated, I'm crazy like a fox. Remind me who you were and I will link to you here!) That Halfmama is very, very kind to me. I don't feel so rockin' these days. Well, actually, I do feel pretty rockin' on many days, but I feel that way just for getting through the day. Seems like I should do more than that to be truly rockin', but why don't I just shut up now and say, "Thank you, Halfmama! You make a girl feel gooooood!"

As a token of my rockin'-ness, I am to offer up five random thoughts on feminism. Here goes nothin':

1. I get sick of people saying to me, "Oh, you have boy/girl twins, it's a perfect way to study nature/nurture and gender differences since you are raising them in exactly the same way!" OK, maybe, yeah. But I don't think it's an excuse to label the differences between Maddie and Riley as gender-based. Two is a really small sample, people! Just because Maddie happens to be more verbal does not mean that girls are more verbal as a whole! Just because Maddie likes to give Elmo a bottle and Riley likes to throw Elmo on the ground and stomp on him does not mean that girls like to be little mommies and boys don't know how to show the love. (So that's not really about feminism, but it's about gender equality/inequality, and that will have to do.)

2. I think my husband was more of a feminist than me. As he always said, "I'm a counselor. I'm practically a chick!" He was very sensitive to gender issues. I hope I can pass the same awareness on to my kids.

3. When I lived in Africa, I worked on a project that involved getting some books printed in Gabon's capital city, Libreville. I had to find a printer that was willing to print the books at a reduced cost. How did I accomplish this? I left my (male) Gabonese counterpart at the office, got very dressed up, wore a low-cut shirt, and used my feminine wiles. No, no, no, I didn't sleep my way into a deal or anything, but I did charm my way into a deal on the printing costs with a bunch of sleazy men. Shameful? Maybe. But I can tell you right now that my colleague would not have gotten such a good deal, and I would never have gotten the deal I got by playing hardball. Not sure what all that means, but it was an interesting exercise.

4. I wish I was comfortable enough as a woman and as myself to not shave my legs. But man, I am a hairy girl and in the summer when I wear skirts I just can't stand how it looks not to shave.

5. Ultimately, I don't put much stock in gender differences. They should just not be a factor in things like career choices and how people are treated in the workplace. Of course, they are, but they shouldn't be. It just shouldn't be so hard. Why can't we all just get along?! Heh.

BONUS SIXTH ITEM!

6. It bugs the crap out of me that professional orchestras are still very male-dominated even though my own involvement in youth music programs leads me to believe that women are equally if not predominately represented at the amateur level. There are lots of professional flute players who are male, but not so many guys who play flute in high-school band or orchestra. What's going on? Is it the competitive nature of professional music that for some reason weeds out women? I find it curious, and troubling. How many female conductors do you see? Not many. And female composers? They are out there, but they are not getting the commissions that men are. I fail to think this is because their music sucks.

I will pass the Rockin' Blogger badge on to the following: Rachel at Kitchen Fire, OTRgirl at Sojournering, Emmie at Better Make It a Double, Lisa at A Letter to My Children, and Buddha Girl at Buddha Girl's World. If you have the time and inclination, share your thoughts. No matter what you say, you ROCK.

One Month

When I picked up the kids from daycare yesterday, one of the women who works there asked if Maddie and Riley would be in today. "No," I said, "they will start full weeks next week."

"Oh, right," replied M.* "Well, since I won't see you tomorrow, I wanted to be sure to let you know that we'll be thinking about you extra hard, since it's an anniversary day and all."

All I could muster was a blank stare and a befuddled "Um, thank you!" I desperately tried to think of why today would be an important day. Then it dawned on me. One month since John died.

I recovered enough to add a, "That really means a lot" to my reply and accept the hug that M. offered me. Honestly, it really hadn't occurred to me that today marked the one month point. I know that the milestone dates are hard for a lot of people, but for me, today is just another day that John isn't here. It's no harder and no easier than any of the other days when he's not here. It sucks no more and it sucks no less.

I anticipate that the days that will be hard for me are ones like Father's Day. Our anniversary. The days that are just ordinary days, like today, are days of general, dull, achy grief.

One month, though, already.

I miss you, Goose. I wish you were here to see how much Maddie and Riley have grown and changed. Look! The twins got over their fear of the big bathtub and now like to splash and play in there together. I know you'd appreciate a couple of gratuitous naked baby shots.



I hope that you know that we are OK, that we are surrounded by people who love us and take care of us and make sure that we get the help and support we need. I hope you hear me talk about you all the time with the kids, that you see them wearing the outfits I know were your favorites, even as the clothes get too small. We miss you all day, every day, and we send you our love all the time.

XO

*I suck at giving pseudonyms.

Memory

I keep thinking of the night John died. Hours before his death, I was laying on the bed next to him, talking to him, hoping he knew I was there, hoping that my presence was a comfort.

At one point, I looked over and a tear was rolling down his cheek. His body was so toxic by that point that the tear was bright yellow, almost orange. It stained my fingertip when I wiped it away.

One Foot in Front of the Other

My mom left this morning. I miss her already. My dad is here now, which is nice and very helpful, but it's not the same as having Mom around. She probably won't be back until the twins' first birthday party in June. That seems so far away, but I have a feeling the time will fly.

I have started dealing with the bureaucracy of death. I made that horrible call to Social Security to set up an appointment about survivors' benefits for the twins. The soonest I can get in is 15 May. I've also been in touch with the group that administers one of John's retirement funds, and I've started looking into donating John's car to charity. I'm trying to take care of at least one item of business a day. I figure that pace is manageable and will get me through it all in a relatively timely fashion. Of course, I may hit the end of my gogogo phase soon and take a break from it all, but we'll see.

The twins are starting to sleep better (knock on wood). They have done great on the last two nights and I hope we're turning the corner on the 5:00 cranky wakeups for now.

I'm surprised by the way I miss John. I expected that I would be a tearful, hopeless mess for a while. That might come. For now, I feel an odd combination of relief for John that he is no longer sick and a hollow sadness like a dull ache, all the time. A particularly touching card or shared memory will make the pain more sharp and bring on the tears, but for now, I mostly feel a constant, lonely grief.

My mom and I were driving around the other day trying to go to REI. I wasn't sure what exit it was off the highway; John was always at the wheel for our REI trips. As I turned off at the third incorrect exit, I almost said to my mom, "Well, duh, we should just call John and ask him where it is. I know that he knows." This has happened to me a few times now, where I feel like John's just away for a while, or at work or something. If only that were more than wishful thinking.

For those of you who were wondering, GH stands for Goose Husband, although for those of you who thought it might be Gorgeous Husband, I'm not going to argue.

Decision and Pizza

I've decided that it's time to let you all know that GH's real name is John. I usually called him Goose, a habit that started early on in our relationship under circumstances I no longer remember. He called me Goose, too, which sometimes made things confusing to other people, but not to us.

For the past few months, John and I had been in the habit of ordering pizza on Friday nights. Throughout his illness, pizza was the one food that reliably sounded good to John, plus it's easy and cheap and easy and cheap. We'd call in the order just before feeding the babies so that it would be ready for pickup just after they went down.

My mom's still here helping me, and she and I decided to carry on with the pizza tradition. We'll light John's candle and eat our pizza and watch our movie. We're going to watch Invincible. I'm a sucker for the inspirational sports movies, and it was one that GH put in our Blockbuster queue before he died.

It won't be the same without you, Love, but I know you'd want me to carry on

A Couple of More Notes on Grief, Mine and the Twins'

Riley is having bad dreams. He woke up terrified at 10:30 p.m. last night. Poor little man. I rocked him back to sleep, but as soon as I laid him back down in his bed he was screaming again. I managed to soothe him back to sleep with some lullabies, and he slept through until 5:00 a.m., but then he was ready to rock and roll.

Both babies are waking very early and waking unhappy.

I continue to eat a lot.

I have purged a massive amount of cancer-related stuff from my house. It feels really good.

My in-laws and I picked up GH's ashes today. It went OK. GH is now on one of our bookshelves at home, for now in the ugly brown plastic box from the crematory. I need to figure out what to keep him in more permanently.

After picking up GH's ashes and dropping my in-laws off at the airport, my mom and I took GH to Whole Foods. We needed to stop there, and I didn't want to leave him in the car.

Since GH died, the weather here has been horrible. Saturday, the day we sent him off on his journey at the crematory, has been the only exception. Today, the weather is not great, but seems to be turning the corner. I think GH is glad to be home. I know I'm glad to have him here.

Secret Journey

Yesterday morning, the twins and I got up a little early along with my mom. We all got dressed and had our breakfast, then packed ourselves up into the car.

It was a gorgeous day, sunny and breezy, not too cold. We drove just a few miles, to the most beautiful cemetery I've ever seen. It's like a garden.

At the cemetery, the funeral director led us to a small chapel. Maddie and Riley rode patiently in the stroller, enjoying the lovely spring day and the fresh air. In the basket of their stroller was a sage green pillar candle and a clear glass plate for it to rest on. The matches were in my purse.

We met GH at the chapel. In his simple box, he was wheeled into the crematory. We all followed quietly behind. The funeral director closed the door and left us alone.

We lit the candle and wished GH a safe journey. Mom and I told Maddie and Riley to say goodbye. Maddie obliged by waving and saying, "Bye bye bye bye bye bye," but Riley preferred to chew on his bagel.

Mom stepped out to give the four of us some time together. I told GH to be on the lookout for Dorcasina's husband. I told GH that he would be looking for him, too. I think they will be fast friends, and that is some small comfort.

Love you, Goose. Hope you had a safe trip.

Notes on My Grief

For right now, grief and eating seem to be synonyms. I am in serious comfort eating mode.

I am all too painfully aware that this time right now, while difficult and sad, is not the most difficult nor the most sad part. Thanks to my mom's presence, I'm holding myself together for now. Once she has to leave, I think I'm going to fall apart.

I talk to GH all the time, but it feels like a moot point. He always knew what I was thinking before; why wouldn't he know now? Still, I'm keeping up the chatter.

My in-laws have, surprisingly, not been too terribly annoying, and they didn't really push the issue of where to have GH cremated.

I'm clearly in "do" mode. I think that's OK for now. There's a lot of stuff to do, so why not do it right now before the emotional tsunami comes ashore?

All day, I wander around my house throwing away cancer-related stuff. As I move from room to room, if I see something that reminds me of cancer, into the trash it goes. I want GH's presence to remain in the house, but I don't want any reminder of cancer. Books, pills, teas, Ensure . . . away it goes. It can't be out of the house fast enough.

I'm surprised by how much I'm able to enjoy things: dinner with friends on Friday night, a trip to the north shore with my in-laws yesterday, a walk to the store with the twins.

Retail therapy continues. I bought four pair of pants and top at the mall on Friday, plus an outfit for Maddie for her first birthday party. Planning ahead. Couldn't find anything I liked for Riley.

I'm not surprised by how much I appreciate the outpouring of support from the Internets. Thank you.

I'm really, really, really tired. I'm sleeping OK, but I feel like lead all the time.

I miss GH. No surprise there.