I can't stop crying - I miss him so much. I don't even know what to say. What can I say? I just miss you, dear Apu.
For one whole year I haven't seen, heard, or touched the person I spent nearly everyday with for almost 38yrs. How can this loss, this pain, this internal ache be natural? It feels so alien, so wrong. I read the posts on the other websites and I know I'm not special or unique. I know I'm among so many who have lost loved ones - some with loss beyond comprehension, but it doesn't help, not one bit. I feel empathy for them, even a certain kinship. We have experienced somewhat similar emotions at varying stages along this past year. Processing this shared grief has comforted me somewhat - at least I know I'm not alone.
A year ago, today, part of me died too. I try not to be too melodramatic, but then why not? It's how I feel. I'm sure this past month has been building from July 14th, our anniversary, in preparation for today. Why, I ask, is it so much more acute today than two months ago? - or is my memory just that hazy. It well could be that. I try to remember so much of this last year and it's just such a blur. How did I get through it? ....and then I get the emails, the texts, the phone calls, the cards (and the owl earrings taped to my door - thank you Nancy) from so many of you wonderful, lovely, big-hearted people - and then I remember how I managed.
I'm so nostalgic that I can hardly breathe. All the little things: expressions, the lift of an eyebrow, the hearty laugh, his delightfully butchered english colloquialisms, his huge hands, his collection of suspenders, how dangerous he was with tools, just the sound of his voice, holding hands during a concert - AND of course the big things, I'm sure they are obvious: The excitement of our meeting and courting (it was so romantic), our three amazing children, the way he loved me, all the incredible things I learned from him....well, there is no end to either list. Sometimes I look into my mirror and wonder if I'll ever recognize that person again - or worse, afraid that I won't care.
In all of this I am relieved that I know where he is and that I'm not worried about him anymore. I've worried enough for three lifetimes and I can honestly admit that I find some relief in knowing I don't have to for him, at least (I have a few others to fret over, but that's another post). He suffered so very much during our time together. In past posts I've mentioned some of his trials and just rereading the year of posts leading up to his death I am amazed, again, at his endurance - both of ours really. And that was just his last year. He managed a life of chronic cardiac-related illness and all the complications that accompany it with such strength and dignity which holds those of us he left behind with great pride and admiration. He was quite a man, as I've said many times, and there's not another one like him. How did I get so lucky?
I spent the weekend with our son and daughter-in-love at our cabin where we feel the closest to Apu. A dear friend stopped in and great neighbors shared fond memories. It was a quiet, restful time with frequent check-ins from the girls down Cali-way. Wish we could've all been together, but this is about moving forward and carrying on with our lives as best we can and that's what we're trying to do one baby step at a time - sometimes three steps forward and two back.
We are fortunate to have so many rich memories, and that is something we all cling to. So many things bring him to mind several times a day, but nothing can cut through me like the music, always the music - well, and the food, ok, a few other things....
This piece, Ederlezi-Djurdjevdan, is from the movie, "The Time of Gypsies". It always made him cry, and me too - especially now. Thank you all for being on this journey with me. I know I can't walk it without you. Sometimes, even knowing you are there, I'm a little shaky, but it's ok - I'll be fine. I'm getting there. I'll leave you with Apu's own words and, of course, the music.
"Not remembering anything, but the taste, the feeling, the joy, the horror, the horrid monstranceness of it, the greatness of life, smell, sounds, taste. To hell with numbers and dates." -Apu (date unknown)
Ugh- new puppy! I got the heading of this post done yesterday and that was it. It's like having a newborn again. I'm either holding her, feeding her, taking her out to do her "business" or picking up that "business" that we didn't quite get out to do in time. She's worth every minute, I'm just adjusting. I better get her schedule down before I start teaching again. That will be another challenge.
I want to complete this last part of the family road trip so I can get on to other things. I wasn't home too long from this one before I took off on yet ANOTHER damn road trip, taking our youngest back to California - but that's a future post. Let me see....where did I leave off....?
...oh yeah - race day. I think I had mentioned that the day of the half ironman was also my daughter-in-love, MJ's, birthday. This is a young lady that likes celebrations (who doesn't) and LOVES presents (ditto) but I mean like an 8 year old. She really didn't get to have many parties while growing up in her native Romania so it is a joy to see her happiness over a lighted birthday cake (smuggled in from Dallas by her sisters-in-loves and a gift of a winter coat from her husband that he INSISTED I haul all the way from Seattle. There was a bit of hysteria seeing her model an insulated hooded parka in 110 degrees! Our son/brother/husband may have pulled off all of the athletic triumphs on June 26th but this was clearly her day.
It had been a full and exhausting day - more physical for some and emotional for others. We retreated to our home on wheels and noticed that the air-conditioning didn't seem to be working, not a welcome discovery after our triple digit weather. In our ignorance we began flipping switches and turning dials with the result of a high-pitched alarm that would not be quieted. Out came the manual but to our dismay each attempt at disquieting this sound pollution ended in failure. We were certain we'd all perish from carbon monoxide poisoning or some such fate. Our oldest, the captain of the ship, broke the news that the RV battery was, in fact, dead as the proverbial doornail. We were supposed to run the engine for several minutes once a day and in our excitement of all the events we forgot. Since we were set to leave this lovely part of Texas at the crack of dawn (ok, in the morning) we were dismayed at our predicament as all sorts of AAA scenarios played out in our heads. We were just too tired and hot to think about it -auxiliary-battery lights out~
Somewhere deep in my sweaty dreams I must have had a vision of packing my emergency road kit in the rental car. While the others slept - still with visions of triathlon routes, soaring temperatures, and birthday candles in their sweet little heads, I rose, donned my trucker hat and exotic nightwear and grabbed my trusty jumper-cables. I drove the rental SUV in front of the RV, made all of the proper introductions, hooked the positive to the positive and negative to the negative of each vehicle's battery - touching the "no-no" ends together only one memorable time (the 4th of July a little early -ha!). Started both engines up and by the time the sleep was out of the eyes of the rest of our crew we were purring like a kitten. Ah-h yes, sometimes you just got to get 'er done.
We traveled as a caravan since we had both vehicles and took turns riding and driving. Our oldest was the only designated driver for the RV, but she was up to the task and we tried to pace ourselves. We had an ambitious itinerary and first on our list was the Carlsbad Caverns National Park in New Mexico. If you've never visited this amazing place, I highly recommend it. It's located in the Guadalupe Mountains and two thirds of the park has been set aside as a wilderness area. A wild fire forced a sudden closing of the Caverns and surrounding park two weeks before we arrived but I couldn't help but think of this while descending the 750' to the caverns below in the small elevator. The look of panic on the face of my oldest expressed my feelings exactly as the door closed us in. If we could have bolted we would have, but I'm so glad we didn't because the natural limestone chambers we entered literally took our breath away. Once below the quiet, peace and serenity of the place put us all at ease - that and the sign that said, "this way to hike out".
My youngest and I did a record-paced tour as we left the others to drive to Roswell so she could catch her spaceship back to California. We wished we had enough time to visit the museum there and learn more about the "UFO incident" that was supposedly covered up by the US government. Whatever really took place, the area has benefited from all the interest and the community embraces the tourists interest in UFOs. The little local airport is so small that we passed it and I had to rely on "Margie" my gps bitch (don't tell her I called her that) to get us to the gate. It was difficult to say goodbye to Dr. daughter, but her stint as equine intern was up and she had packing and moving to do. Her next adventure....? Stay tuned...
The plan was for me to meet the rest of the motley crew at a place called Brantly Lake State Park. As I've mentioned before, it was no small feat to coordinate this caravan especially since we all added our travel requests and druthers to the mix. My son chose Brantly Lake and while it was definitely an oasis in the middle of desert it is fairly remote and especially desolate at this particular time because for some reason there wasn't a lick of running water in the entire park. There is the 4,000 acre (surface area) lake, but it was some distance from the campsite. It's a man made reservoir created when the Brantley Dam as built across the Pecos River in the 1980s. The temperature was soaring, no water and the group had to wait for me to return from the airport run to drive to the lake. I received several texts requesting jugs of water as the RV's reserves were low, ice, floaties for the lake....anything and everything cool...but "please hurry....we're dying here".
Margie took me on a bit of a scenic route and by the time I made it back to the camp there was an eery stillness about the place. I half expected to see buzzards circling. My arms were full of bags and as I fumbled to open the door my oldest daughter leaned her sweaty face over the top bunk and in the most desperate, weak voice pleaded, "h-h-e-l-p us!" I couldn't take another step....I began to laugh - she looked so pathetic, and she began to laugh... The more I laughed the weaker I became and I started to drop my packages, by then I was weeping I was laughing so hard and she was already in that silent hysteria stage. I knew I was in danger of losing all control and I prayed that I could just make it into the RV and run down the short hall to the claustrophobic bathroom. I hadn't made the first step when I heard a kindly male voice behind me announcing he was the park ranger here to check us in. What timing, I thought - well, that was it. Any attempt at suppression was completely lost and I was horrified! I was laughing so hard I couldn't speak, my legs were crossed twice and I was struggling with my bags and trying to back up into the RV. The official said, "Can I help you?" and all I could do was wheeze for breath and shake my head "no". I'm sure he thought I was drunk or drugged. I made it to the top of the two stairs, turned, wobbled to the back of the RV (by now my son is rousing from his stupor) and my daughter sees the back of my shorts and completely lost it. The park guy began backing away from the site and I don't think we ever saw him again. Oh Lord, but it was funny. I am laughing now -sigh~
We did make it to the lake and had a glorious swim. We survived the night without running water or taking a shower. Later we stopped at a dumping station and took mini-showers from the water hose there. We always appreciate the little things when we don't have them. Good lessons to remember....and then re-remember. We were off on our longest drive of the trip - ten hours to Sedona, Arizona. It was so worth it and even though our RV driver was completely delirious by the time we got there, we stayed at a great campsite, with all the fancy amenities, for two nights to reward her.
Sedona is a most beautiful place and I've always wanted to experience it. I know of Flagstaff which is not far away and remember even hearing of it snowing there which always surprised me since it is - well, Arizona. The area is often referred to as serene and even mystical. I imagined it as a perfect setting for a destination spa that would sooth both body and mind. I did get to stay at a place like that near Tucsan called Miraval, with my oldest, a few years ago. The environment so calming and healing. I felt like I could stay in Sedona for a very long time and explore the incredible Red Rocks, indulge in the local art and music scene and just soak up the atmosphere. But we had a date with the Grand Canyon that had been waiting for......a life time, and it just couldn't wait a second longer.
We all piled into the SUV and left the "Beast" behind. We each had our own Grand Canyon illusions and expectations but the anticipation was shared. I learned years ago to try to not envision what something that I've looked forward to for a very long time will be like. In my early 20s I finally made it to Rome after imagining what it would be like for most of my young life. I'm half Italian and it was my dream. I'll just simply say that I was disappointed. I'm certain that nothing could have lived up to the picture I had created. It was crowded, dirty, and I befriended a young woman who had just had all of her belongings stolen from in front of the Trevi Fountain. So now- I just let my heart and mind be free of expectations for this long awaited vista. I could build the drama and try to describe the approach to the south rim, but I have already tested your endurance greatly so suffice it to say that I was not prepared for the expanse and awe of this geologic phenomenon and natural wonder as it suddenly burst before us. I was stunned and immediately began to cry.
I felt Apu there - I can't explain it. My husband saw the Grand Canyon when he first came to the United States and we had always planned to go. I truly felt like we were there together. Back in February when I attended a women's faith-sharing retreat for the first time I became motivated to read the Bible. I've been trying to read it everyday since. I decided then that this was a year of so many "firsts" that I had no control over and that it was important for me to have a few that I chose. I'd never been to the Grand Canyon and I'd never read the Bible so I decided that this was my year to do both - read the Bible at the Grand Canyon. As I parked the car I was pleased and slightly appalled to see that there was a large section of the Canyon edge exposed to anyone who wished to approach it. Of course the first thing my son did on his bionic legs was to venture much too close for my comfort. I grabbed my Bible and left the group to sit away on my own and fulfill my promise - it was one of the most peaceful experiences I have ever known. I waited my whole life to see this wondrous place and I was not disappointed.
We left Sedona with the plan of driving through Las Vegas so my daughter-in-love (and my son, as it turns out) could see it for the first time. We had no intentions of staying but planned to continue on to Death Valley until my daughter remembered that when she rented the RV she had signed a waiver that the RV could not be taken to Death Valley (they won't service it there). I'm not sure why we even planned that leg of the trip except to say we'd survived it and it was on our way to Reno - our final destination for the RV. My oldest planned to fly out of Reno and we'd then make our way back to Seattle. Shortly after Flagstaff we passed a sign that said "Los Angeles 465miles". We'd pulled off the beaten track to follow the historic and nostalgic Route 66 (my request) for a piece when my son suggested a solution to our problem. "Let's drive to straight to LA!" Forget the 119 degrees in Death Valley, cancel Reno reservations, let's give our big sis a break and take her on home to the city of Angels!!! Done!
We may be a ragtag caravan on a wiley-niley road trip, but at least we're flexible if nothing else. I rode shot-gun and read to our fearless road warrior in an attempt to keep her awake as she brought us in to the home stretch. The bright lights of LA looked pretty damn good when we drove in that evening. We sat around her gas fire pit, sipped wine, and recounted tales from the road until 2am - not wanting our amazing adventure to be over quite yet.
It was a trip to remember - one of anticipation, excitement, endurance, and celebration. It was journey of discovery, interconnectedness, growth and adjustment. We came together after nearly a year of being without our husband/father/father-in-love and we were still pretty raw, but we found we could laugh, experience, enjoy, bicker, forgive, love, cry.....and remember fondly, in spite of ourselves. We covered a lot of territory both physical and metaphysical and he was with us every mile. I personally saw him every day in each of our children, I felt him in the awesomeness of the Grand Canyon, and I passed him on the nostalgic Route 66 - I think he was driving a red 1953 Mercury Convertible~
As the "Official Qualifier" card reads: 'Anything Is Possible'
With the first portion of the journey behind us, my daughter-in-love and I drove the 10 miles from Lubbock, Texas to Buffalo Springs Lake, "Lubbock's Oasis in the Wild West". It is a spring- fed recreational lake that was formed after a dam was constructed in l959. It has been a popular "outings" spot since early settlers dug out an area around the springs in the late 1800's. It is also known to host the annual Buffalo Springs-Ironman 70.3 (aka Half Ironman) which is one of only 38 events around the world that enable qualification to the 2011 World Championship event (aka FULL Ironman) in Kona, Hawaii. In other words - THE BIG KAHUNA!
Please read here about triathlons in general, if you are interested(CLICK). Although I've often heard of them and have even known some courageous people who have taken part (my youngest daughter in college and my friend Nancy as a breast cancer survivor) I really haven't had much actual knowledge about what they involve and the varying distances and events that comprise them. Exactly a year ago this month, our son and oldest daughter volunteered at the ACA's Paddy Rossbach Amputee Youth Camp that is held every summer in Ohio (click here). This experience was life changing for practically everyone in attendance and my two were no exception. This humbling experience motivated our son to attend the Amputee Coalition of America's national conference a month later in Irvin, Ca where he met double amputees for the first time. As he sat down to dinner with about ten of them one night the beginning of a dream took form. His father had died just two weeks before and he nearly cancelled, but the whole family encouraged him to go - his Apu would have wanted it. He and another novice made a commitment as a two-man team to tackle their first triathlon. In La Jolla, Ca, a mere six weeks later, that's exactly what they did!
Little by little he built a small network, learned more about competition and bought some equipment off of Craig's List. Ha! If we only knew.... but learn he did...we all are. There are some amazing and inspiring people out there and they only fueled our son's motivation. To heck with funding, sponsorship, experience, and equipment - seize the moment! Apparently following a much smaller event in Eugene, Ore in May that qualifies him to compete in an Olympic qualifying race (stick with me, I'll confuse all of us) the 'moment' proved to be Lubbock, Tx.
Why Buffalo Springs? Why? I asked myself that about 100 times after driving in to the first state of our trip that my adventurous sidekick stated she'd never care if she ever saw again. This part of the country is a hot, desolate wasteland (sorry Texas) and the temperature had been in the triple digits since before we arrived. The heat is oppressive and the lake temperature is around 75 degrees year round - oh, and id I mention the wind? I kept my eye peeled for a funnel cloud the moment I arrived. The competition is especially fierce and it is one of only five Half Ironman distance events that have slots for Hawaii. That, in a nutshell, is why. Have mercy.
It was no small organizing feat to gather us all at the starting line at the appointed day and hour - not this family! The kernel of the idea seed was planted months ago when our son tossed around the idea after getting 'hooked' in La Jolla. He didn't have the handcycle yet, but just transporting his secondhand racing wheelchair was a challenge. He really didn't know how to do it or who to ask. He does have some common sense (thank God) and called the airlines. One of our proud "sponsors", Thalia, used air miles and we were able to send the athlete, his wife (for moral and ground support) and his gear down south. Our oldest daughter provided the hotel and I rented an SUV for them (it really does take a village). The triathlon team of two (I think they called themselves the Lava Walkers - what can I say?) not only finished to their complete amazement, but did quite well. Our son completed the swim in the middle of the pack of able-bodied swimmers (he thinks the great-white shark attack up the coast only days before helped his speed) and refused all assistance up the long staircase to the transition areas - the dummy. As he prepared to take off for the "run" with his grouping he had a flat tire. The pack departed as he called out for assistance - somebody? anybody? While his tire was pumped up he sat for 5 mins at the starting line being interviewed about his Craig's list chair. The moment his tire was plump he took off - passing all others in that 'wave' and won, flat tire and all.
I stayed home from this event, biting my nails and waiting for news, but swore I'd attend every event that I could after that. I didn't really understand what was happening, but I knew he'd made it out of the water and completed his events. I think it was an amazing experience for a husband and wife to sort out together and they both learned a lot. My friend, Betsy's, son lives in the area and was there on race day. He was overcome with awe and inspiration at what he experienced that day - not just my son, but all the athletes. On the return trip the personnel at the airline gate were scratching their heads when he walked up with his chair, but he confidently informed them that they could, in fact, pack it on-board.
It was a no-brainer that we'd all be in Texas to cheer on our guy. We worked out the travel plans and while two of us were up for a road trip (bringing precious equipment) the other three organized their flights to arrive in Dallas within a couple of hours of each other. They had precious little time to travel the 40mins to pick up the reserved RV and receive all of the required orientation. Sister #1 generously rented this dainty 30 footer and was the only driver of it on the whole trip (note to self - never again). When asked why she thought we needed 30' to sleep five people she quipped, "It was the smallest they had!" They'd traveled all day, sat in RV school, shopped and loaded that damn thing and still had a 6+ hr drive to Buffalo Springs Lake.
.....Meanwhile the road trip divas were sitting in our bug-splattered SUV in a prime RV camping spot (right next to the lake) being held only with an orange parking cone and the sticker on our windshield. The temperature had climbed to 106 and while it was risky we ventured out to walk to the official swimming area that we were told (say in your best Texan accent) was "jes dawn th' road a piece". Three and a half miles and two heat strokes later we crawled to the 75 degree water on our hands and knees. The whole time I was certain that some 45' five-wheeler had driven over our cone and claim-jumped our homestead. The only thing that save us was the sound that could pull the child in any of us back from a deep coma - the tinkling tune of the ice cream truck! I flagged the 118 yr old driver down and told him that, "I'll gladly pay you Tuesday for two ice-creams today" since I'd only packed for "jes a piece" of road, I had no cash on me. He flashed a twinkle in those little cataract-ridden eyebals of his and said, "Sho, y'all can jes track me dawn." They even had an ice cream called 'the Ironman'. I swear every Texan we met was nicer than the last one - either that or they have permanent damage from the heat. He was so sweet. He asked, "Where y'all from?" When we told him, "Seattle", he said, "Ah wuz goin' to drive to Seattle one weekend but I only made it to Nebraska and ah ran outta weekend!"
We swam and then sat on the beach until well after sunset and then we hitched a ride back to the campsite from some locals driving a golf cart (favorite mode of transport around the lake by the "lake people"). The driver was sipping off of a bottle of "Lone Star" but since our lives were already in danger it seemed like a safe bet. We nibbled on the remaining snacks in our stash feeling too nervous to drive off our precious plot for dinner. We'd kept in contact with the newly christened 'redneck' faction of our group and due to a shopping spree at Walmart and then a stop for BBQ they were rapidly falling off schedule. We were quite worried that by the time they arrived they might not even speak the same language. Estimated arrival time was well after 1am, sigh. By now the temp had dropped to about 89 degrees so we laid back our seats opened the windows to capture the lake breeze, kept off all lights so as not to attract the West Nile virus, and plugged in our audio book which was all about a southwest (in these here parts) archaeological expedition that was being stalked by Anastasi 'night walkers' trying to protect an ancient cliff village. I rolled the windows up a tad and locked the doors. Soon we were softly snoring...well, she was...I don't snore...
At 2am I was abruptly awaked by a wirey young man (clearly a distance runner) who was trying to inform me that we were parked on his claim - er, campsite. I quickly checked his reservation number and firmly (what I don't have in wirey I make up for in fiesty) but nicely explained that I was holding down the fort (not far off) in our space, but his was on the other side of the caution-cone. His eyes popped open as he asked how he was supposed to park his 5th-wheel in that space. I wanted to tell him my problems, but I helped him back-up instead. 15 minutes later our party of three and all 30 feet had arrived. They all looked like seasoned mother-truckers, backed her in without so much as a hiccup (delirium will do that) and 20 mins, a baby cry, and a dog bark later....and we were all air conditioned and unconscious. z-z-z-z
Day Before the RACE! The jitters definitely set in and there was much to be done. We had to figure out how to live in "The Beast" as our new home came to be known. Things like - how not to blow ourselves up while lighting the pilot light, what turns on what, what flushes etc...Then came the, "What is that alarm?" and "Don't forget we have to run the engine for 20mins to keep the battery charged" - all kinds of fun things like that. The manual was well read but usually AFTER we needed to know something. Sonny-boy had meetings to attend prior to the next day's race. We drove him to a hotel in Lubbock to check-in and have his equipment be approved for competition. Houston (at least we weren't far) we have a problem! There seemed to be a major issue with his handcycle not complying with the latest equipment guidelines for competition. Some items were minor, like no review mirror (duh) - even I freaked out that he'd been riding without one, but it seems it broke and he hadn't replace it. Every little thing is so expensive. I took off to the local Target to find a mirror only to return and find there were worse problems. His Craig's list vehicle is quite old and didn't meet the degree of seat slant and bike width specifications. They told him he could compete, but since this was the handcycle championship they didn't think his results could count. He took it like a champ, said he more than understood and felt happy that he could at least compete. He'd dealt with worse things in his life. With the talent in his division he really didn't think he'd place anyway. "Anything Is Possible"
As though nothing had intervened, his next plan was to drive the race course. Our youngest is an athlete in her own right and wanted "official" status to work as his handler. She was even able to get a pass so for us for parking in the staging area and for her to enter to assist her brother. Don't mess with the women in this family (even in Texas)! His wife was glad to step back and happily became official photographer. I was, as usual, official cheerleader and I take my role seriously. We managed to get some lake (aka bath) time in and per orders of the trainer in the family, prepared and ate a wonderful pasta dinner in our new digs. The female crew took off to town for the evening to give our Ironman (in more ways than most can imagine) time to ready himself and get to bed. It was our intent, but sleep would not come.
RACE DAY - He must have drifted off at some point, but it couldn't have been long because he and his handler were out the flimsy door at 5am. The rest of us mustered at the beach by 6am and I held back tears at the sight of over 1500 warriors gathered at dawn, battle-ready. A military band played the 'Stars Spangled Banner' as the swimmers took their mark - and in waves of 100 they were off! What a sight! I was overcome with emotion of the moment. Here we were, all of us there - minus one, but he was there in great spirit. We even had a shirt for Apu that read, "My son is fueled by Platinum" after a nutritional supplement that a company provides for him. Our youngest had shirts and hats bearing her brother's website for all of us to wear. We were a team united for one purpose - to support the efforts of this guy that we nearly lost and so love. A few short years ago we hoped it, but we couldn't imagine it. It was too far....
I could write another 2000 words on the sights, sounds, and emotions of the event that day. The temperature would eventually get to 111 degrees, but fortunately it started so early that the greatest heat was much later. The officials cut the time off but not before it had reached triple digits. I'll let the photos tell you a better story than I could ever. I will say this - our son, brother, husband, inspiration - he won his division even in an inferior cycle (that hindered rather than gave him an advantage), even though it did not count. He amazed so many people that day and was congratulated by athletes from all categories. He cheered on his race-mates until we had to load him into the car to get him out of the heat. Such bonds are formed so quickly - as in most battles, admiration is earned by worthy opponents.
Waiting at dawn End of 1st let - the swim~
Sisters waiting..... .....and the wife~
To view the start of the last leg click-> Download Last leg (does not open in a separate window, please page back when clip is finished)
Whew, finally - DONE!
OH-h-h the pain! The Interview~
Proud Mama!
On the awards stage, later that night, when all the winners were acknowledge from all categories, Carlos - a former Navy Seal wounded in Panama, spoke representing the Challenged Athletes Foundation. A former Ironman competitor, he now mentors rising athletes. I wish I'd recorded his words that night, but I was crying too hard to think straight. He shared how the CAF started and of the early athletes it helped. He explained that while all competitors are to be commended for their efforts these athletes are not just pursuing a physical goal, they are proving to themselves and everyone that they not only have claimed a life for themselves, but that they too are athletes in their own right. While an able-bodied runner grabs a pair of sneakers, a challenged athlete has more expensive and complex equipment to obtain and transport. He then spoke about a young man that earned his attention back in the fall, a guy with heart and guts, and well, Craig's list equipment. He explained about the old cycle not qualifying this athlete but that he competed anyway....and then....he won the whole damn thing (please, I'm not quoting any of this, but it has the same sentiment). People applauded and then he announced that the CAF in keeping with it's purpose and goal was going to provide this athlete (ours truly) with a new regulation handcycle so he can continue to compete. (I am a complete mess at this point).
As if that wasn't enough as the awards and slots for Kona are being announced each winner is asked the question, "Do you accept the invitation to Kona?" Everyone wants to go to Kona....that's why they're there! The young man who "officially" won in the handcycle division was asked that question, and - he declined. He knew our guy unofficially won and the spot was offered to our Numero Uno!!! We're going to Kona, BABY!! "Anything Is Possible"!!!
Accepting and signing for KONA!! (prayers pleeeese)!!!
We missed you Apu and felt you with us the whole trip - No owls, but plenty of Buzzards! Love you guys - love you all~
To hell with it - I'm diving right in! I wondered how I'd begin this post after being away so long and sometimes you just have to hit the water full bore. If I think about it too long my fingers will just get in a knot - there is so much to tell. You see, I've been on a little journey.
Since I've just recently returned home after nearly two weeks of being on the road I've had plenty to catch up on these last couple of days. It's been an adjustment to return to an empty house (even the dogs are gone) after such a full and thrilling time. Of course by the time I settle down to write it's nearly midnight - will I never learn? It was such an amazing, enlightening, and moving (literally) trip; I want to give it to you in sections so I won't abuse your kind attention. So let's go....
The motivation for this adventure in the first place was for the whole family to be together in Lubbock, Texas on June 26th to cheer on our son/brother/husband during his first complete half Ironman (more about that later). We've needed this time together as we close in on the one year mark of Apu's death. We've been plotting and planning the ins and outs, twists and turns of this family vacay for months. It has changed and evolved more than the colors of a schizophrenic chameleon. There've been some challenges to work around and we all rallied like true road-trip warriors. This being the first competition requiring all of our son's highly specialized equipment (hand cycle and racing wheelchair), we wrestled with the most efficient and economical way to get all of it to Texas. We are still neophytes in the finer (not to mention the major features, as will be explained in part 2) details of triathlon competition and unlike most able-bodied athletes who only need a pair of sneakers and a bike, transporting delicate equipment is expensive and complicated.
Since our son was working as well as training, it was important to conserve his energy so it was decided that his wife and I would DRIVE his equipment to Texas and he would meet us there along with his sisters who would be traveling from California. The plan was for the three of them to meet in Dallas, rent an RV (oh, say a 30ft one) and drive 6 hrs to meet up with us a day before the event. Sounds good - in theory.
Packed, loaded, and filled with excitement my daughter-in-love (happily I can still say "love" 5,000 miles later) and I took off from Seattle the morning of June 21st. I'd rented an SUV big enough to load both the cycle and chair plus all our gear. I've done the research, in case you ever need to know the exact make and model that can accommodate the largest load in it's class. With hope and a prayer it was waiting on the lot for us the night before. You can order what you want, but they only guarantee a class of vehicle. I've made it my business to know "John" of the local Avis...he fixed me up! I'll probably have to bring him donuts for the next month.
My son's wonderful wife is from Romania and has never experienced a USA road trip - certainly not one our family's style! First up we have to begin with traditional traveling music. I introduced all of you to Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsody #2 (review) recently which officially marked the beginning of any family road trip. It boldly blared out of the SUV's considerable sound system as we pulled away. I set the course for our journey on my new gps madam whom we immediately christened, "Marge" (I'd completely forgotten you named yours Molly, Jim. lol) She was Margie when all was running smoothly, but "Marge!" was undoubtedly her moniker when ever she required a stern reprimand, as in "don't get your panties in a knot, Marge!", when she'd start droning "recalculating, recalculating...." after we'd stop for gas. I grew to love her while the other members of the sojourn threatened mutiny. I think they were just jealous. Even as they rapidly fiddled with their iPhone's gps - Margie got us out of plenty of scrapes. Don't know how I lived without her.
The day of the race would mark my "sister of the traveling leggings" birthday. It was destined to be a red-letter day no matter what, but with all the attention on her husband I wanted this to be a special trip for her. When we traveled with our young children, whether flying or in the car, I always packed little gifts for them to open every hour of the journey. It may sound excessive, but they were small, little items mostly, like snacks, or crayons....the fun was in the anticipation...the unveiling. It was magic on a trip and kept them quite manageable. Bribery in all it's forms works....I'm just sayin'. Well, I love spoiling my d-i-l and now she's my kid too, so she received a gift per hour....for 30 hrs!!! It was so much fun, more for me I think than for her. We made up little rules about it along the way (she did) like she couldn't open them when she was driving, of course, so some times she'd anticipate a couple at a time. There were things she'd need on the trip, like sun block, and aloe spray, her favorite puff chips....and fun things like a spray bottle with a battery operated fan. We had just watched a documentary together about drilling for natural gas in several of the states we'd be driving through and the negative affects on some of the local water. While we realize that this was not wide spread and generally in some local specific areas, I included a water bottle with a filtering system just to be sure....she loved it.
So, we set course for Mountain Home, Idaho for our first night, Rawlins, Wyoming for our second night, and our last evening we rolled into Lamar, Colorado early enough to do a little exploring. Each state offered us it's own unique beauty and it was lovely to witness the new experiences through someone else's eyes - it made it all the more exciting for me. I'd never been in Utah or Wyoming. Since my d-i-l is a photographer we were always on the look out for an interesting angle of light, landscape, or human interest photo op. Seeking out suggestions while in a local diner in Lamar we were informed of a former Japanese Internment Camp site just outside of town also know as the Granada Relocation Center (no, not THAT Granada). I couldn't wait to see it because I'd read about it in a book called "Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet" by Jamie Ford. The book begins in the now "international" district of Seattle and covers one of our country's less proud historical moments. It was quite a somber and serendipitous find in a most unexpected place.
The next day we crossed over the pan-handle of Oklahoma (you can't imagine my excitement, truly). I've never been there. I had to stop the car to step on it, even though I nearly died in the heat - how anti-climatic would that have been? June 24th found us refueling in Lubbock, Texas just before heading to Buffalo Springs Lake (the "Oasis of Lubbock") a mere 15 minutes away where not only the Ironman 70.3 takes place, but it is also the Handcycle Championship competition. Here our son, her husband, their brother hoped to earn a slot in the Kona Full Ironman in October - he on a Craig's list handcycle..... As we waited in our reserved campsite for the rest of our ragtag caravan we noted the temperature - it was 106 degrees. (It was 62 in Seattle!)
We'd done it! We'd crossed the mountains, the valleys, the plains and the hills - 1932.93 miles, 29 hrs of driving!! At night we stayed in hotels with swimming pools with full breakfasts each morning and traveled with a woman of technology named Marge which is probably why we're still speaking today.... Stay tuned~
I'd almost forgotten how beautiful you were before your heart failure and all the meds you needed to survive ravaged your poor body and prematurely aged you - but not your mind - never your mind. To me you were always the same and I loved and respected you more than any person I've ever known...even my own dad, and that's saying something. When I speak to you directly I feel so much closer to you. I usually save it for my private journal - our alone time, but today is Father's Day and I felt you deserved a public shout-out. You were my guy....but you were theirs too, and they miss you, but then you know that already. As fathers go you were pretty unique and quite special - there will never be one like you, not even close.
Remember how sad you felt that you spent so many hours working at the hospital so I tried to teach you ways to maximize the time you had with our children. I explained that the time in the car with them driving to and from sports and events could be used for practicing math, spelling, and story telling. The next time you left the house with a full van of animals and kids you were optimistically hopeful. You arrive home red-faced and completely frazzled as you sputtered, "Vell, I can see thet your way is just not my way, sheetgotdammit! They never shaddup and I couldn't get a verd in sideways". LOL - I laughed till I cried, but you failed to see the humor.
It's true our styles were different, but you always backed me, supported me, and never, never disagreed with my methods in front of them - thank you for that. Never mind that I never missed a game, recital, or school function - it's the ones you attended that they remember and I'm perfectly ok with that. When you were with them there was a quality and a presence that was owned by only you. Each of our children play a wicked game of chess because you taught them. Though they learned to love music from both of us their memories are of sitting quietly with you before the fire listening to Smetana, Dvorak, and Mozart (who your sister claims to be a distant relative) with an open book on their laps. A family trip hadn't officially started until you put on Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsody - I supplied the lollipops so we could conduct along the way.
Your health didn't allow you to be very athletic, especially these last several years but you taught our children strength of a different kind. You encouraged them to think for themselves, showed them how to stand up for what they believed, and how to be part of the solution and not the problem. Having defected from a communist state you provided our three with the very best example of how to appreciate your country by being the best American any of them know.
Even when you were working 70 hrs a week you provided an example of sharing the household responsibilities and duties of a parent. They learned about commitment, discipline, and self respect from you, not because you set out to teach those things, but because they were part of your skin. ....And they learned something else...they learned what if feels like to be loved completely and unconditionally....wholly, deeply, madly....because you adored them before they were born - you are their father.....their apučko and you always will be.
You were never fond of commercial days, my dear one....but you were always up for an excuse for good food, so you let us spoil you and celebrate Father's Day. Our son told me today that his favorite birthdays have been those that fell on Father's Day. He missed it by 3 days this year and I think that would have been a double difficult wammy - even when you try to shake them off. He's celebrated 4 of his birthdays with you on Father's Day - did you know that? You may remember that he was actually born the day before, but as far as you were concerned it WAS Father's Day - you were so over the moon! (As you were for each of our girls, ahem.) His next shared birthday with this officious date will be in 2013 - how fabulous it would be to have it be both his birthday AND his father's day (hint). Would you see what you can do? I know you are new up there but by then you should know your way around the place and maybe have some pull.....just a thought.
I want to thank you for being such an amazing father in every way. Those few little words can never tell you how I feel, but I know that you know.... You've left quite a legacy of love, my darling.....it seems funny to call you that because that's what you'd occasionally call me...but with a "k" in it...like Zaza..."darlink".....
Sheetgotdammit I miss you...your beautiful eyebrows...your amazing voice....the way you loved us...especially your children who adore you. Thank you for being that man - our man. We love you. Happy eternal Father's Day~
We loved Victor Borge and saw him perform in Seattle
I just wrote the words, "Widow Walk 10 Months 3 Days" and burst into tears....and the day had gone so well...
"She was no longer wrestling with the grief, but could sit down with it as a lasting companion and make it a sharer in her thoughts." -George Eliot
I've been mercifully busy this past month. I think of writing and I want to but I fall into bed exhausted and awake to another active day. I'm grateful for this and if perfectly honest, probably waste a lot of time. I've learned to be kinder to myself in acknowledging what my mind and body needs. If it is rest, quiet, mindlessness that I require - it's of a purpose and I give myself permission. It's ok.
My sister and her boyfriend of two years recently had a painful break-up. She stopped eating, which my tiny sibling cannot afford to do. For some days I felt like I literally talked her through each meal. I urged her to buy supplements and drink gatoraide, but she continued to lose weight. I felt so bad for her but I recognized the symptoms of grief - I know them well. She was listless, heartsick and without direction - and this man is still alive. I tried to encourage her to keep busy - that's what I do. Lord, life can be so complicated...but does it really need to be? So many people are suffering; I wish I knew better how to comfort them. Experiencing loss doesn't make one an expert. I just love her so much and I make sure she knows that I do.
"The cure for grief is motion." - Elbert Hubbard
I don't know if that's true, but it gives you something to occupy yourself while you are slowly going crazy...I think that is why walking has been so therapeutic for me. There is no way around grief...only through it and with a little luck (and lots of support) you'll survive.
Circles...I walk in circles - some call it pacing. I find it very soothing like running my fingers over my rosary beads - worry beads with hope. The circles remind me of rings - so many images of rings. Of course the first that come to mind are those on my left hand. I've read many posts by individuals mulling over the dilemma of how long to wear them. The answer seems uncommonly simple to me - as long as it feels right. I can't imagine in this day that people would think there is a "proper" time to remove them, but then I'm easily amazed. At this time I can't imagine NOT wearing them.
I'm getting so damn old (and grateful to still be here) that I can't remember what I've already told you. I guess I do have an excuse or two should I repeat myself from time-to-time. With any luck my readers are forgetful enough not to remember (thanks for playing along). Apu and I purchased our rings in Hawaii where we moved just before we got married. His was just a larger version of mine and they were very simple gold bands. I did not get a diamond nor did I care (I earned one much later). To me this was a symbol of our commitment and our unending love - corny as that sounds. Of course there is much written on the history and meaning of wedding 'bands' as well as their origin, but most commonly they represent eternity.
I had this idea before we got married about never taking off my ring. How romantic would it be to wear this sacred symbol my whole life without ever removing it? A few hours after we got married I flung my hand out to dance and my ring went flying off my finger - so much for that idea. I think I had it sized down the next week. Later that year we had a boating accident with our small Hobie Cat sailboat and when we finally made it to the beach we noticed my husband's ring was gone. I was more upset than he was (not surprising)-I'm sure he placed much less significance on the symbolism than I did, but bless his mother because she believed a married man should wear a ring. She promptly sent the one his father (who had recently died) wore. Last August I reluctantly took his ring off of my husband's finger shortly before he left us. I slipped it on to the chain around my neck and wore it everyday. I would not remove it...not for a second.
I began to worry about losing it - what if my necklace broke? What a loss it would be. I started to stress about it and finally I relaxed into what has helped me alot these past months - I will not think about this for one year, then I'll see. It gave me a pass - a bye to give myself time to make decisions. These past ten months have been a blur and only occasionally do I feel that the fog is lifting.
The first weekend in June we took my daughter-in-love's mom sight-seeing to the gorgeous San Juan Islands. It was the first beautifully sunny day we'd had all spring, with temperatures warm enough to sit outside on a deck overlooking the ferry dock on Friday Harbor. My son noticed Apu's ring (not for the first time) and I told him that one day it would be his. He asked if he could try it on and of course I handed it to him. It was just a little loose (his hands are so much like his father's) when he slipped it on next his wedding band. I said, "Keep it, but maybe wear it under yours to keep it secure." He asked if I was sure and at exactly that moment I really was and I still am. The thought of him wearing his father's ring when he competes in his first half Iron Man, later this month, makes it feel so right and I am sure I'll know when to make other decisions that I must face.
Rings - symbols of so much....the age of a tree, endless love....the never ending cycle of life. Maybe one day a grandchild will wear our rings and meld his or her life story with ours. I hope the profound love that they represent will surround them and that somehow they will know that someone who came before them, someone they never met, will always part of who they are. They were loved before they even were.....
Our son added another ring to his tree of life yesterday - Happy Birthday sweetheart, Apu and I love you and are so proud. Thank you, our creator God.
Oh my dearest, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, Oh how I miss you.....I could write it to infinity and what good would it do?
I thought it was getting better but it's not...I'm not. I'm worse. I feel so alone and I've been so sick -This has me missing you all the more. I know it's selfish, but you always took such good care of me. You were the ill one, but you rarely got sick - ironic, huh? You never missed work unless you were having some procedure done ....like...say, open heart surgery. But whenever I got the flu or a cold you babied me like no one would believe....and I miss you so much.
I loved how you'd force me to eat something and I never wanted anything until you'd bring the tray to me in bed. Ah, then you'd win me over with some deliciousness and I'd suddenly be starved. I'm sipping my tea now - you'd be so proud, but it's not the same. It's not the right temperature and it's not dripping with honey like yours or all lemony - tart and sweet at the same time. Ugh, my eyes are all watery...it must be this damn cold. My cough has been so bad that yesterday while I was in the jeep I had a tracheal spasm and couldn't catch my breath. I had to open the door and get out on to the parking lot so if I stopped breathing someone would find me....pretty pathetic, huh? Maybe I'm being a little dramatic, but it scared me....and I missed you so then cause I knew you'd be worried when I told you. I would tell you that I'm fine, but you would fuss and listen to my chest and I'd be secretly pleased that you were concerned. It wasn't that I ever wanted you to feel distressed, but I just thought it good that you had a small idea of how I worried for you every day.
The kids and I went to the cabin over the Memorial Day weekend. Our daughter-in-love's mother is here visiting from Romania for her very first time - her virgin trip to the USA! She is wonderful and lovely and fun. We both cried up at the cabin at the thought of how much you would have loved being there with all of us - cooking, listening to fabulous music (played our favorite old LPs) teaching J how to play Hearts (no english)(she plays almost as badly as you) walking to Hidden Lake, and just loving being in that favorite place. How you would like her. I know the both of you would have never left the kitchen. She made home made chicken noodle soup for me (Romanian style) and I couldn't get enough of it. I felt so bad contaminating her, but our son is sick too (and now our DiL) so if J is destined it's out of our hands. I prayed for a cloak of wellness to surround her. It's bad enough being near death on the top of a mountain let alone in a foreign country....we've had enough of that nonsense. I dreamed of you for the first time up there by our lake. I was walking and you came up beside me wearing that funny over-sized coat and bow-tie that made you look like some 19th century artist. You had on your race car cap, all sporty-like, with a mischievous grin and you said, "There you are. I've been looking for you!" I just hugged you and hugged you so tightly....it felt so real. No one can know but you...
So sweetie, I've rambled on long enough. Our friends, family and my followers don't want to read this drivle, but I can't help it...it's where I am tonight. I need to get it off my chest - it's congested enough. I finished my last final student evaluation of the school year. I feel such relief - it was such a chore these last few days. Tomorrow I'll have conferences and then lock my office door for the summer. I know I'll walk to my car, buckle myself in (unless I have another coughing fit...then I'll throw myself on the blacktop {I never hid my Diva from you}) and promptly burst into tears for having made it through this school year. I never thought I'd be able to do it.
Please don't worry, I'll get over this damn flu/cold. I'll pick myself up off the parking lot, dust myself off and go home to prepare for a little celebratory dinner with the family. J's going to cook us some good old fashioned Romanian food and we'll make a toast to you. We're making some wonderful summer plans and I'm going to spruce the place up, plant the flower pots the way you love, and brace myself for what would have been our 38th wedding anniversary. I think it will be the hardest 'first' yet. I still feel as married to you as I have these past 37 yrs and I can't imagine ever removing my rings....I just can't. One day at a time....one foot in front of the other....will I ever feel normal again? Will I ever want to? Right now I'll settle for a clear chest.....my tea's cold...and, oh yes.....I miss you. Remember when the whole family surprised you at your retirement party and performed this for you? The girls and I (I tried) sang and our son had practiced the sax so much his lips were swollen. It wasn't quite as good as this but...not bad, and just as touching. You thought so anyway. You broke the mould....simply unforgettable....that's what you are. Did I tell you I miss you?
I don't know whether to hug me or slap me.... How's that for slight confusion?
Friday night I came home from a long, emotional day at the hospital, sat myself down and wrote a new post of over 800 words and promptly lost the whole damn thing. I don't know what happend - the server got stuck or something. I searched in vain for a while and then accepted reality...something I seem to do a lot of these days.
I actually took it better than I would have guessed. I think the day that I had just experienced at the hospital put things into perspective. Many people were so sick, families were stressed, nurses and other staff were exhausted, and my poor students - well they just looked at me for reassurance that they were making the right decision in choosing this profession at all. One of our patients took a downward turn and, thankfully, with quick thinking we pulled together to get her transferred to the ICU in time. Whew....what a day! What a year!.....what a life...
I could complain (I'm sure I have) about my situation, but then I'd have to look up and quote the stats on where my world sits compared to most people on this earth. I know, I know....but sometimes you just want to wallow in it. But lately I have noticed I'm not the only one suffering. Maybe here in my 9th month I'm beginning to find that I am able to look outside myself just a bit more. Maybe, just maybe the fog is lifting just a little. My friends and family all have their own problems and some situations are serious - heartbreaking even. I think it's time to shrug off my protective cape and expose my thin skin to the wind as I wrap it around those who've been there for me. I'm going to try.
Anton Chekhov tells a story called, "Grief" and speaks to what is important to the healing of it. In the story an old world cab-driver portrays a grief-stricken man, who has recently lost his son, waiting on a snowy night for a fare. Finally he gets a passenger and then the night continues he eventually gets two more. Each time he tries to tell them about his son - tell his story. On every attempt he is interrupted, rather rudely, until one of them even says the equivalent of "shit happens".
There is so much he feels the need to relate. Chekhov writes: "One must tell it slowly and carefully; how his son fell ill, how he suffered, what he said before he died, how he died. One must describe every detail of the funeral, and the journey o the hospital.... Surely the listener would gasp and sigh, and sympathize with him?" Then finally at the end of the day the cab-driver goes back to the stable where he begins to speak to his horse. (I just remembered to stop and save my post - whew) He says to his horse, "Now let's say you had a foal, you were that foal's mother, and suddenly, let's say, that foal went and left you to live after him. It would be sad, wouldn't it?" The horse breathes slow and evenly and eats his hay and does not interrupt him. That's how the story ends - with the cab-driver telling his story, finally, to his horse.
It has been written that perhaps that is what grief requires - that the process not be interrupted. That without interruption it may find a time and place to unfurl or evolve with someone to bear witness without (too much) interruption. Writing, for me, plays a role in this process. You, my dears, do not interrupt - and for that I thank you. Thank you for bearing witness to my grief. Maybe, just maybe I'll be able to help someone else.
Hi there, it's been awhile - since my birthday actually. My ride has been a bit bumpy lately with some extreme highs and lows - rather exhausting, but not boring. Boring sounds kind of good to me right now, as sad as that may seem. Oh, I don't know - I'm all mixed up.
The good news is that I just returned from several days in Palm Springs. I know....I was just there in March. I didn't really plan it that way, I mean I'd never been there in my life and now three times in the last year. I love it! It's amazing how the temperature changes there in such a short amount of time. In March the days around the pool were very pleasant, but slightly breezy in the 70s. This week I flew out of 105 degrees back home into 53 degrees. I'm still recovering, but it was glorious - salve for the weary soul and wounded heart. My gal pals and a few Pina Coladas helped as well!
We had so much fun I almost felt guilty. We attended an intimate concert for 60,000 called "Stagecoach" -California's country music festival (click). It was there that Jay DeMarcus from Rascal Flatts announced the death of Osama bin Laden from the stage. Even though most of us had already received a text (gotta love modern technology....still blows my mind) this confirmed it and the crowd erupted. The huge screens framing the enormous outdoor venue projected a flowing American flag as 60,000 people chanted "USA, USA, USA". It was a moment. I felt it was less a celebration of a death, but more jubilation of justice; of national pride of persistence. Whatever...I'll never forget it.
The day I arrived both of my daughters were about two hours away from where I was staying. They were out past a place called Joshua Tree National Park celebrating a birthday weekend of a friend. This had been planned for awhile and I didn't want to intrude on their celebration and time together but at the same time it seemed so strange to be that close to them and not see them. I knew they'd be heading back to LA later that day and hoped we'd connect. Not wanting to put the dreaded "Mother's Guilt" on them I left a message saying that I understood the logistics and we were all just on our own adventure. They texted back that they wished that I and the swimming pool were just a little closer. After a quick swim I nestled down on my deck chair to soak up some sun. Out of a half doze I heard, "hey lady is this chair taken?" and looked up to see both of my beautiful girls standing there. I felt so out of it, I thought I was dreaming! Then....I promptly burst into tears! I think they just relish doing that to me. I'd show the glorious snapshot of all of us poolside, but they'd kill me. Here's just the pool instead, sorry... ok, and me...double sorry....:)
Now it's back to reality. I juggled my schedule just a little to make this jaunt happen. It almost got cancelled at the last minute - life happens, but we pulled it off and I am so happy we did. My gals Betsy, Pam, Denise and I had our little morning routine of room service coffee on the balcony in the morning. We woke leisurely, talked our hearts out, laughed, cried and got ready for poolside. Almost as an afterthought I purchased a couple of inexpensive float rings and you would have thought we were a bunch of 7 year olds again. One man said, "I thought this was supposed to be the adult pool!" Cocktails and snacks under the palm trees can heal almost anything that ails you. Everyone seems so relaxed and friendly - we felt like we knew everyone there - even the couple from Wales. We solved all of the world problems and a few of our own. It was heaven.
One evening we got all dolled up to go out on the town but Betsy, who is an avid American Idol fan, was conniving a way to see her show. She finally got us all on board by convincing us we could go down to the lounge and have dinner in front of the big screen then listen to the group performing in the hotel later. We heard her make the call to the concierge and say "what do you mean there's a basket ball game on?" She was incensed that the Laker's playoff game was going to preempt Randy, J-Lo, and Steven Tyler. We ended up getting a private dining room, two big screens and our own waitress. I can't wait to see that bill! The smile on Betsy's face....priceless. Thanks ladies for the BEST time!
Yes, this widow journey has been quite a trek so far, but with the grace of God and a LOT of help from my friends and family....well, I just might make it. My girls and I toasted our individual accomplishments and those of our families. I've made it past some milestones and many firsts....family birthdays without *Apu (including his) the holidays, paying property taxes on my own, lawyer meetings, estate issues, my first solo income taxes (even got a little money back-woohoo) and my own coming of a new age without my guy, but I'm still breathing. I haven't done it alone; I'm grateful to so many and I still have a long way to go. I even have strangers who have become part of my blog family who support me. My latest is Jim, a recent widower from South Carolina. I am so honored that he says I've inspired him to start his own blog to process his loss and celebrate the life of his beautiful wife, Sharon. I think it is so valuable to have a man sharing his feelings of grief publicly. I don't think men get the same amount of support as women who've lost a loved one do. I also know that not all women get the amount of propping that I've gotten; this is essential to healing. I'd like to share Jim's website with all of you. Please comment on it if you feel you can - those comments are such a gift, I know I love them. http://delithopia.wordpress.com
In closing my very tardy post I just want to share one of those serendipitous encounters that I just adore and amaze me. The girls and I made it to the Stagecoach lineup in time for the opening act (mind you this concert venue goes on all weekend and starts at noon each day) on Sunday night. He was a beautiful specimen of a young healthy man by the name of Josh Turner with a deep rich baritone voice - I'd never heard of him before. He won the crowd over and i enjoyed his performance very much, but the night was young and there was a lot more music ahead. Carrie Underwood showed her maturity and talent and Rascal Flatts celebrated their 10 years of music with all of us. I'd been up since 6am, flown into PS, soaked up the sun, reunited with my beautiful daughters, changed and hopped a shuttle bus and walked several football fields worth of concert grounds....not to mention a burial at sea of the country's #1 enemy - it was a full day. I returned to the hotel tired and happy.
As I sipped my coffee on the balcony with the iPad I'd inherited from Apu on my lap I tapped on the notepad app. The kids had given him the iPad on his last Father's Day and I'd never noticed that he'd made several lists on his notepad. In his organized style I could see the different categories he'd arranged and on the bottom was "music". It was his habit to jot down new music or artists that had attracted his attention. There on the bottom of the list was Josh Turner. I couldn't believe it; he was never a big fan of country music. Josh Turner - my new boyfriend!
I think those who can remember how this feels...no matter how old and sick and broken down we might become....are so fortunate. Apu would never have said it like Josh, "I can't believe how much it turns me on to be your man", but the effect was the same when he'd say in his crazy accent, "Sheet gotdammit, Petti....you look expensive!" Well....I just melted. We weren't ones for sweet little nicknames like 'babe' 'honey' and the like. He'd call the kids 'sweetie' and his nurses were 'darlink', but besides my maiden last name as you'd call a team member he'd most often just call me 'mama'...... On Mother's Day he'd say "you're not my mother, but you're my mama!" I just loved it. Josh Turner couldn't have said it better!
(*for you new comers - Apu is what my children called their father).
Eight months (8)! How is this even possible? How have I kept on breathing? One breath at a time...
Today was my birthday (it's just midnight now and I have to be up in 5 hrs). I'd love to tell you about my day, but I'm pretty tired and I have to be at the hospital tomorrow. I need to show my students a good example and I'll send them home if they have less than 5 hrs of sleep....so I'll have to fill you in later on how I survived my first birthday without my guy. But, it appears that I did make it through a day more difficult than I tried to fool myself it would be. We are hard-wired for those damn milestones of sorts...and "firsts".
A new reader, Jim, from South Carolina has reminded me that it's not just widows that grieve their loss, but men who have loved well are also working through this process. Some of us are older and some, I've recently met, are still very young. They are often the ones who feel so out of touch, so unsupported. I'm only one - telling my story, sharing my journey and I know I'm not alone even though sometimes it's hard to convince myself of this.
Jim introduced me to the American folk singer, Steve Goodman from Chicago. While Jim shared the lyrics from "Spoon River", the name sounded familiar and I now know why. Steve wrote the song "City of New Orleans", made famous by Arlo Guthrie (gotta love Wikipedia). He died way too young of leukemia in my very own Seattle at the University of Washington Medical Center (where I had my very first nursing job). I found a song from him that I'm posting as my birthday present to myself. If Apu could, I know he would try to sing this one for me...even with his crazy accent, and I would love it. He always said that my song was "Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone", but I think he would pull this one in second - it's how loved I felt. I miss him greatly - especially today. I'm going to share this one with Jim's Sharon (she was a nurse too).
Recent Comments