November 20, 2010
Well, hello everyone! I really am still here. I started a new post after three months of silence on Saturday, October 30. In the midst of it my computer crashed. As most of you know, I have had a live-in computer technician all my married life. This was one of those times that I was super frustrated without Rick. I thought about the things I had learned from him over the years and was able to troubleshoot the problems. I am proud to say that I was able to resolve them myself with the aid of a borrowed monitor from Amy and Ray. So now I'm back to updating the post I started three weeks ago today. I will go directly to it and add more at the end.
Saturday, October 30:
I've received a couple of requests to add entries to this blog. I checked and it's been over three months since I entered anything. It's been a busy three months so I'll use this post primarily to fill you in on what's been happening to me both physically and emotionally.
I have decided that grief is probably the most selfish syndrome there is. I use the word "syndrome" rather than the word "emotion" deliberately. Grief encompasses so much more than one single emotion and also has physical effects. Grief is all about the one who is experiencing it rather than about the one who is gone. I have probably been more self-centered the past five months than since I was a child. (Having a three- and a four-year-old living with me, I am very aware of the self-centeredness of children.) Even though I am aware of the stages of grief, there is no way I can control their overtaking my emotions and life at times. That is the primary reason I haven't posted to this blog. So much of the time I have been "out-of-sorts" and felt that I shouldn't post when I was in a negative frame of mind. That defeats the whole purpose of the blog which was to share this journey into widowhood with you. I will try to do that in the following paragraphs.
We'll start with the emotional front. I have spent a lot of time in the anger stage but that seems to be improving the last couple of weeks. Unfortunately, that anger is too often directed to others that I love. For that I apologize and I thank you for your forgiveness. Hopefully, I will work through this phase soon.
I am happy to report that I am spending more and more time in the acceptance stage. Oh, the fact that Rick is gone is still my first thought when I wake up in the morning and the last thing I think of as I go to sleep at night, but it isn't overwhelming my thoughts constantly as it did for awhile. Fridays are now no different than other days and I am counting the time since his hospitalization in April and death in May in months rather than in weeks. Tears are no longer constantly at the surface and I haven't really cried in ages. I feel like me again and in some ways I see a new, or at least different, me emerging.
I have read in more than one source that hallucinating that one sees his/her deceased spouse on the street or in a crowd is quite common especially around the four or five month time period. That hasn't happened to me yet; however, a couple of weeks ago, I got an extremely strong and irrational feeling that Rick was still alive in the rehab center and was wondering why I hadn't been to see him in all these months. This feeling was during my waking hours and persisted for about three days. It was all I could do to keep myself from jumping in the car and driving there to check his room. I think this probably equates to the hallucinatory episodes mentioned in the literature.
Earlier, I related some about the dreams that I had about Rick. He continued to visit me in dreams for several weeks. They were so very real. Then one night in the midst of one of those dreams, he suddenly told me that he had to go. I said to him, "I am so glad that you are coming to me in these dreams. I know they're only dreams but I love being with you so much." At that he kissed me and said, "I really have to go now," and he disappeared. That was the last of those dreams I had. I still dream of him occasionally but he is just like any of the actors in these dreams. It is not the two of us having special time together. I wonder if there is a transitional period after death and once that is up the dream visits are over.
I can certainly see why it is recommended that a new widow or widower not make any major decisions for the first year. Up until August I was absolutely certain that I wanted to sell this house and downsize into a one story. Since August, I'm not so sure. Here is some of my logic: (Your comments and opinions are solicited and welcomed on this issue.) Two years ago, Hurricane Ike deposited a huge tree on the roof necessitating over $80,000 of repairs. I have new walls, new ceilings and new floors throughout almost the entire house. I also have a new roof and a new driveway and sidewalk. Within these two years, we have replaced the water heater, dishwasher and disposal. Four years ago we made over $5,000 of improvements to the fish pond and water garden in the backyard. Besides all this, I really, really like this house. With the repairs after Ike, we made some improvements and decorated it to my aesthetic. On the negative side, the landscaping needs a lot of work and the lot is huge (.76 acres) for me to maintain. The house is also big for one person (2400 sq. ft.) and when my knees are bothering me, the stairs are difficult for me to negotiate. The kitchen and bathrooms need some updating. I plan to start painting the kitchen cabinets soon. The kitchen needs new counter tops and the upstairs bath needs a new floor. I probably could make these desired improvements for the amount of the closing costs if I sell this and buy a different house. I'll certainly not make a decision until next spring or summer. My thoughts may completely change again by then.
November 20:
The above paragraph is where the computer crashed. I will continue with the dialogue I was in the midst of.
I am taking care of myself physically. In August I had tons of tests. My whole body was "ultra-sounded." I literally had that yucky gel from my ears to my toes. We learned that I have no new total arterial blockages--just the ones we already knew about: left internal carotid and the postier tibial artery in each leg. The right internal carotid hasn't narrowed any in the last ten years. I also passed my stress test with flying colors. My cardiologist wanted to do an arteriogram of my legs to see if there is anything he could do to help the flow to my legs and feet. I went in for that a couple of weeks later. He also did a catherization of my heart. The bad news is that he couldn't do anything for my legs. The good news is that the arteries in my heart are perfectly clear with the exception of some very slight narrowing in one. This all is great news.
I continued to lose weight until the Halloween candy invaded the house. I gained a little then, lost some of it and seem to be at a "set-point" right now. The last few pounds lost necessitated the purchase of new clothes as I was "swimming" in the old ones having lost three to four sizes. Thank goodness for Coldwater Creek's on-line outlet. I hope to lose about 20 more pounds. By the way, I lost the last 10 pounds while quitting smoking. I haven't had a cigarette since August 24.
This is about all I had planned to say when I started this three weeks ago. I hope to add some new entries soon--maybe even today. As always, comments are solicited.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
NEVER LEGALLY MARRIED?!
Several weeks ago, I contacted the benefits office at one of Rick's former employers to inform them of his death and to inquire about my eligible benefits. The following week I received a nice packet from them outlining what I would receive. I was a bit distressed to learn that I was eligible for only HALF of his monthly amount but I was also due a small cash settlement. They requested that I send a copy of his death certificate and a copy of our marriage certificate to prove that we were truly married. That seemed reasonable enough.
When Hurricane Ike deposited the huge oak tree on our house in 2008 causing over $88,000 of damage, we chose not to move out of the house during the repairs. Our insurance was willing to pay for an apartment but there were none available for miles. We have two attics and both required repairs. Everything in both attics was shifted from attic to attic while they made the repairs. When they moved on to repairing the rooms upstairs, they moved the furniture from the bedrooms and loft into the attics. Everything in both attics is in a jumble and not necessarily in the attic that it was originally in. The death certificate I had, but the search was on for the marriage certificate. I made foray after foray into the hot attics searching for the envelope that contains the pretty marriage certificate given to us by the minister with absolutely no luck.
I called the company and asked if a certified copy of our marriage license would suffice. They said that would be even better. We got married in McKinney, Collin County, Texas at 12 noon on March 23, 1963. I looked up the Collin County Clerk online, printed and completed the form and sent it off with a money order requesting two copies of our marriage license. A few days later, I received a call from the Collin County Clerk, saying that she had researched every record back to 1890 and no one by the name of Ulrickson had ever been married in Collin County. She asked if I were sure we were married in Collin County. Like I would forget where and when I was married. Then she ask if the marriage could have been recorded in some other county. I told her that we were living in Dallas County when we got married. She recommended that I check with them because it could have been recorded there. Dallas County has no record of our marriage. The search expanded. There is no record of our marriage in the State of Texas or for that matter anywhere in the United States.
I had a brainchild. Call the church where we got married. We chose to be married in the chapel of the First Methodist Church in McKinney because that was where the minister I had in high school and college was serving at the time. I didn't want anybody but Rev. Ed T. Hayes to perform my ceremony. Neither Rick nor I were ever a member of that church. I spoke to the church secretary explaining my plight. She was very sympathetic and said she would search and call me back in a few days. She left a message on my machine three days later. The church didn't keep records of non-members who were married there. She was so sorry but she couldn't help.
I mulled this over for a few days and finally called the company to tell them of my problem. The nice benefits man is going to check with the legal department to see if there is anything they can accept in lieu of a marriage certificate. He will call me back. No call yet.
So I guess that as far as the law is concerned, Rick and I were never legally married. I told this to Karen, my friend and probate attorney, before our Sunday School class began last Sunday. Amy is in the same Sunday School class. Just as the teacher asked the class to quiet down so that we could begin, Amy said to Karen rather loudly, "I'm just a love child of the sixties." You can imagine how that got everyone's attention. When Chris told his wife, Julie, about it, she looked at him and said very seriously, "You're illegitimate," before she started laughing. Everyone I tell the story laughs as do I, BUT...Not married, huh? Boy were we ever married. This begs the telling of our wedding story.
Rick and I lived in the same apartment house. That's how we met. I lived upstairs in a three bedroom apartment with two roommates and he lived alone downstairs in a one-room efficiency. We got engaged on Valentine's Day 1963. Because Daddy had died so recently and Mother said she couldn't understand how I could marry a "complete stranger," (Mother had picked out someone else for me to marry and she had only met Rick a few times.) we decided to have a small, private ceremony at the church in McKinney. Without asking, Mother sold my Selmer saxophone for $40.00 (It would be worth thousands now.) and bought white silk to have a wedding suit made. Rick and I got our blood tests and took off early one Friday to get to the court house in McKinney before it closed to get our marriage license. I had a sore throat and began feeling really bad on the way home and within hours realized that I had the flu. I missed work the next week. Because of that we postponed the wedding for a week. We scheduled it for 7:00 p.m. on Friday, March 22. Penny, one of my roommates, and a colleague of Rick's from work were going to be our witnesses. We planned to spend the weekend in the Adolphus Hotel and go back to work on Monday morning.
On Sunday before the scheduled date, Rick just had to tell someone that he was getting married. He called his oldest sister, Edith, telling her not to tell anyone. On Monday evening, Edith called asking if we could postpone the wedding until Saturday. She had called the whole family in Kansas and they all wanted to come. On Tuesday morning, I called Rev. Hayes, and he said that he could perform the ceremony on Saturday. Wow, suddenly we were having a wedding in four days and the groom's family was coming but not one member of the bride's family even knew about it.
To say I panicked would be an understatement. I went upstairs from Rick's apartment to talk to my two roommates, Penny and Kathy. Rick's next-door neighbor, Lou was there also. Kathy and Lou had both been married but were divorced. They said not to worry that we could put something together. My first order of business was to call Mother to tell her. She called family in Oklahoma City while I phoned my older brother, Donald in Houston to see if he could come and give me away. Howard, my other brother, and his wife had just had a baby on March 2, so I knew their making the trip from Houston would be out of the question, but I called him anyway. Mother also called some of my friends from high school to invite them..
The roommates and Lou decided that we should have a reception in the apartment house club room following the wedding. We invited some friends and work colleagues to come to that. On Wednesday afternoon, Kathy ordered a wedding cake and rented dishes, etc., to use at the reception. I shouldn't worry. She was going to take care of the whole reception. I made an appointment to have my hair done and portraits made on Friday afternoon and ordered flowers. About midnight Wednesday, Kathy got a call that her grandmother had died in Buffalo, NY. Kathy flew to Buffalo on Thursday morning. Oops!
Meanwhile, back at the apartment, Rick came home sick on Wednesday afternoon. He was running a high, high fever but had no other symptoms. Should we cancel? Could we cancel now that all these people were coming? Canceling didn't seem to be an option. He went to bed while I went out to buy some stuff for the reception and to try to find some sort of semblance of a veil to wear.
Rick was so sick Thursday that he didn't go to work. When I got home from work, his fever was over 104. Off to the doctor we went. The doctor said he could tell that he was sick, but he didn't know what was wrong with him. I don't recall his even giving him any medicine. He just told him to take aspirin to keep the fever down. Rick's sister, Marilyn, who lived in Mesquite called to say that she was doing a dinner after the wedding for all the families in attendance. We told her about the reception at the apartment house. She said that we could do the dinner after the reception. While he had her on the phone, Rick asked if her husband, Jerry, would be his best man. About all I can remember about that evening is that I was horribly busy rushing around attending to all the details.
Rick was still sick on Friday. I left work as soon as my first-graders went home. Rick's family arrived from Kansas about the same time that I arrived at his apartment. His parents, and his sisters Rose Mary and Joyce and their families came. Guess who didn't come after all: His sister Edith who was the one who started the whole thing. I was a little miffed about that, but the race was on for me.
First I went to get my hair done. Then I raced home, put on my wedding suit and headed to the photographer. I changed out of the wedding attire and picked up the dishes, etc. for the reception, dropping them off at the clubhouse. Then I stopped in to check on Rick. All his family had gone to his sister's house in Mesquite. It was now about 8:00 p.m. Rick's phone rang and it was my roommate saying that my brother, Donald, his wife, B, and my 13-year-old niece, Donna, had arrived from Houston and were waiting for me in my apartment. I was putting Donald and B up in Kathy's now vacant bedroom and Donna was going to sleep with me.
Donald and B hadn't eaten dinner and wanted me to go to a restaurant with them. In spite of being sick, Rick decided to go, too, as he had never met them. I should tell you that Donald and B were truly unique individuals who marched to their own drummer. I hadn't adequately prepared Rick. The doctor had told B to quit smoking cigarettes. She complied by smoking a pipe. It wasn't just any pipe, it was either a huge man's Sherlock Holmes pipe or a corncob pipe. I was used to it and so hadn't thought to tell Rick. I'll never forget the look on his face when she fired up the pipe after her meal in the restaurant. We finally all got to bed about midnight, but I didn't go to sleep. I was only seven years older than Donna and we had always been close. Donna cried half the night because this would be the last time we would ever sleep together. (She was right. We haven't shared a bed since.)
Rick still had a fever on Saturday. I was up early in the morning. I stopped by the beauty shop for a touch-up of my hair, picked up my bouquet and the flowers for the wedding party, then the cake and other food for the reception at the club house. Lou had agreed to stay home from the wedding to set up the reception with the help of the apartment manager. By then it was time to get dressed and make the 30 mile trip to McKinney.
Well, everyone showed up at the church on time. My cousins from Oklahoma, friends from school and Mother arrived from Gainesville. Rick's family arrived from Mesquite, and a few friends from work were there, too. The minister met with Rick and me privately in his study, then we had the ceremony. Rick's brother-in-law, Jerry, served as best man and Penny, my roommate, was my maid of honor. Donald gave me away. Everything went fairly smoothly except Donald laughed out loud when Rick began his vows because he wasn't aware that Rick's real name was Oliver and he thought the minister was marrying me to someone else.
When the ceremony was over, we all headed to the apartment house and the reception was quite nice. Except Rick still had a high fever. Good friends and our two families were becoming acquainted. When it was over, Penny and Lou said for me not to worry about cleaning the club house. They would take care of it.
It was off to Marilyn's house in Mesquite. She had put together a very nice meal and we all had a good time. Except Rick still had a high fever. On the way from the apartment house, Donald had sneaked Rick and me bourbon and cokes that he had mixed in coke cans so Mother wouldn't know. I think that perked Rick up some. Finally, it was time to go back to the apartment house. Rick had canceled our reservation at the hotel since he felt so bad.
All my family went back to the apartment with us. The women and children went upstairs to my apartment and Rick, Donald and my cousin, Virgil, went to Rick's apartment. I also didn't think to tell Rick that Virgil had a problem with alcohol. Donald knew, but he didn't tell Rick either. Rick offered Donald and Virgil a drink. Donald and Rick had a Scotch and water and Virgil indicated that he would have gin. Rick began pouring straight gin into an eight ounce glass telling Virgil to "Say when." Virgil "said when" when the glass was full. They sat on the day beds that doubled as couches and began sipping their drinks.
The women decided that since so many people were there, it would be a good time to move all my things down to Rick's apartment. I went to Rick's apartment to tell him that we were going to start moving my clothes and discovered that Lou had moved all the dirty dishes from the reception from the clubhouse to Rick's sink. They were piled randomly in the sink and all over the counter in Rick's little kitchen. I wasn't happy.
About that time, I realized that Rick had given Virgil alcohol. Virgil had finished about half the glass. I guess he realized that he had had more than enough as Rick and I watched him pour the remainder of the gin into Rick's new shoes that he had bought for the wedding. Then my things started arriving. The clothes from my closet were brought down on hangers and piled on the floor. The contents of the dresser drawers were dumped on the floor and the empty drawers were returned to the upstairs apartment.
Donald, B, and Donna were going to spend Saturday night in Gainesville with the rest of my family at Mother's house. Once they got the clothes moved, they decided that it was time to head north. So there Rick and I were. A newly married couple. But Rick still had a high fever. I looked around at the mess and decided that I must do the dishes from the reception. There was no dishwasher in the apartment so I had to do them by hand. We both changed clothes and Rick decided to lie down for awhile.
By the time I finished the dishes, Rick was sound asleep. I decided to deal with some of the clothes. By 10:30, I was exhausted. Now I spent more on a gown and peignior set to wear on my wedding night than I spent on my wedding suit. I paid over $60 for it at Neiman Marcus. It was beautiful with sheer puffy sleeves, lots of lace and satin ribbons. I went into the bathroom, freshened up and put it on. I made my entrance, calling Rick's name. He just moaned in his sleep and rolled over. I sat on the vacant daybed for awhile feeling very sorry for myself and wondering what to do. I decided I should let him sleep but I'll be damned if I was going to waste that expensive gown and peignior set. I took it off, put on my outing granny gown and crawled into the daybed by myself. I really wished I was in Gainesville with all my family having a good time.
So now you know the story of our wedding. We were together for 47 years. We have two children and five grandchildren. We owned four houses together. You tell me. Were we married or not?
When Hurricane Ike deposited the huge oak tree on our house in 2008 causing over $88,000 of damage, we chose not to move out of the house during the repairs. Our insurance was willing to pay for an apartment but there were none available for miles. We have two attics and both required repairs. Everything in both attics was shifted from attic to attic while they made the repairs. When they moved on to repairing the rooms upstairs, they moved the furniture from the bedrooms and loft into the attics. Everything in both attics is in a jumble and not necessarily in the attic that it was originally in. The death certificate I had, but the search was on for the marriage certificate. I made foray after foray into the hot attics searching for the envelope that contains the pretty marriage certificate given to us by the minister with absolutely no luck.
I called the company and asked if a certified copy of our marriage license would suffice. They said that would be even better. We got married in McKinney, Collin County, Texas at 12 noon on March 23, 1963. I looked up the Collin County Clerk online, printed and completed the form and sent it off with a money order requesting two copies of our marriage license. A few days later, I received a call from the Collin County Clerk, saying that she had researched every record back to 1890 and no one by the name of Ulrickson had ever been married in Collin County. She asked if I were sure we were married in Collin County. Like I would forget where and when I was married. Then she ask if the marriage could have been recorded in some other county. I told her that we were living in Dallas County when we got married. She recommended that I check with them because it could have been recorded there. Dallas County has no record of our marriage. The search expanded. There is no record of our marriage in the State of Texas or for that matter anywhere in the United States.I had a brainchild. Call the church where we got married. We chose to be married in the chapel of the First Methodist Church in McKinney because that was where the minister I had in high school and college was serving at the time. I didn't want anybody but Rev. Ed T. Hayes to perform my ceremony. Neither Rick nor I were ever a member of that church. I spoke to the church secretary explaining my plight. She was very sympathetic and said she would search and call me back in a few days. She left a message on my machine three days later. The church didn't keep records of non-members who were married there. She was so sorry but she couldn't help.
I mulled this over for a few days and finally called the company to tell them of my problem. The nice benefits man is going to check with the legal department to see if there is anything they can accept in lieu of a marriage certificate. He will call me back. No call yet.
So I guess that as far as the law is concerned, Rick and I were never legally married. I told this to Karen, my friend and probate attorney, before our Sunday School class began last Sunday. Amy is in the same Sunday School class. Just as the teacher asked the class to quiet down so that we could begin, Amy said to Karen rather loudly, "I'm just a love child of the sixties." You can imagine how that got everyone's attention. When Chris told his wife, Julie, about it, she looked at him and said very seriously, "You're illegitimate," before she started laughing. Everyone I tell the story laughs as do I, BUT...Not married, huh? Boy were we ever married. This begs the telling of our wedding story.
Rick and I lived in the same apartment house. That's how we met. I lived upstairs in a three bedroom apartment with two roommates and he lived alone downstairs in a one-room efficiency. We got engaged on Valentine's Day 1963. Because Daddy had died so recently and Mother said she couldn't understand how I could marry a "complete stranger," (Mother had picked out someone else for me to marry and she had only met Rick a few times.) we decided to have a small, private ceremony at the church in McKinney. Without asking, Mother sold my Selmer saxophone for $40.00 (It would be worth thousands now.) and bought white silk to have a wedding suit made. Rick and I got our blood tests and took off early one Friday to get to the court house in McKinney before it closed to get our marriage license. I had a sore throat and began feeling really bad on the way home and within hours realized that I had the flu. I missed work the next week. Because of that we postponed the wedding for a week. We scheduled it for 7:00 p.m. on Friday, March 22. Penny, one of my roommates, and a colleague of Rick's from work were going to be our witnesses. We planned to spend the weekend in the Adolphus Hotel and go back to work on Monday morning.
On Sunday before the scheduled date, Rick just had to tell someone that he was getting married. He called his oldest sister, Edith, telling her not to tell anyone. On Monday evening, Edith called asking if we could postpone the wedding until Saturday. She had called the whole family in Kansas and they all wanted to come. On Tuesday morning, I called Rev. Hayes, and he said that he could perform the ceremony on Saturday. Wow, suddenly we were having a wedding in four days and the groom's family was coming but not one member of the bride's family even knew about it.
To say I panicked would be an understatement. I went upstairs from Rick's apartment to talk to my two roommates, Penny and Kathy. Rick's next-door neighbor, Lou was there also. Kathy and Lou had both been married but were divorced. They said not to worry that we could put something together. My first order of business was to call Mother to tell her. She called family in Oklahoma City while I phoned my older brother, Donald in Houston to see if he could come and give me away. Howard, my other brother, and his wife had just had a baby on March 2, so I knew their making the trip from Houston would be out of the question, but I called him anyway. Mother also called some of my friends from high school to invite them..
The roommates and Lou decided that we should have a reception in the apartment house club room following the wedding. We invited some friends and work colleagues to come to that. On Wednesday afternoon, Kathy ordered a wedding cake and rented dishes, etc., to use at the reception. I shouldn't worry. She was going to take care of the whole reception. I made an appointment to have my hair done and portraits made on Friday afternoon and ordered flowers. About midnight Wednesday, Kathy got a call that her grandmother had died in Buffalo, NY. Kathy flew to Buffalo on Thursday morning. Oops!
Meanwhile, back at the apartment, Rick came home sick on Wednesday afternoon. He was running a high, high fever but had no other symptoms. Should we cancel? Could we cancel now that all these people were coming? Canceling didn't seem to be an option. He went to bed while I went out to buy some stuff for the reception and to try to find some sort of semblance of a veil to wear.
Rick was so sick Thursday that he didn't go to work. When I got home from work, his fever was over 104. Off to the doctor we went. The doctor said he could tell that he was sick, but he didn't know what was wrong with him. I don't recall his even giving him any medicine. He just told him to take aspirin to keep the fever down. Rick's sister, Marilyn, who lived in Mesquite called to say that she was doing a dinner after the wedding for all the families in attendance. We told her about the reception at the apartment house. She said that we could do the dinner after the reception. While he had her on the phone, Rick asked if her husband, Jerry, would be his best man. About all I can remember about that evening is that I was horribly busy rushing around attending to all the details.
Rick was still sick on Friday. I left work as soon as my first-graders went home. Rick's family arrived from Kansas about the same time that I arrived at his apartment. His parents, and his sisters Rose Mary and Joyce and their families came. Guess who didn't come after all: His sister Edith who was the one who started the whole thing. I was a little miffed about that, but the race was on for me.
First I went to get my hair done. Then I raced home, put on my wedding suit and headed to the photographer. I changed out of the wedding attire and picked up the dishes, etc. for the reception, dropping them off at the clubhouse. Then I stopped in to check on Rick. All his family had gone to his sister's house in Mesquite. It was now about 8:00 p.m. Rick's phone rang and it was my roommate saying that my brother, Donald, his wife, B, and my 13-year-old niece, Donna, had arrived from Houston and were waiting for me in my apartment. I was putting Donald and B up in Kathy's now vacant bedroom and Donna was going to sleep with me.
Donald and B hadn't eaten dinner and wanted me to go to a restaurant with them. In spite of being sick, Rick decided to go, too, as he had never met them. I should tell you that Donald and B were truly unique individuals who marched to their own drummer. I hadn't adequately prepared Rick. The doctor had told B to quit smoking cigarettes. She complied by smoking a pipe. It wasn't just any pipe, it was either a huge man's Sherlock Holmes pipe or a corncob pipe. I was used to it and so hadn't thought to tell Rick. I'll never forget the look on his face when she fired up the pipe after her meal in the restaurant. We finally all got to bed about midnight, but I didn't go to sleep. I was only seven years older than Donna and we had always been close. Donna cried half the night because this would be the last time we would ever sleep together. (She was right. We haven't shared a bed since.)
Rick still had a fever on Saturday. I was up early in the morning. I stopped by the beauty shop for a touch-up of my hair, picked up my bouquet and the flowers for the wedding party, then the cake and other food for the reception at the club house. Lou had agreed to stay home from the wedding to set up the reception with the help of the apartment manager. By then it was time to get dressed and make the 30 mile trip to McKinney.
Well, everyone showed up at the church on time. My cousins from Oklahoma, friends from school and Mother arrived from Gainesville. Rick's family arrived from Mesquite, and a few friends from work were there, too. The minister met with Rick and me privately in his study, then we had the ceremony. Rick's brother-in-law, Jerry, served as best man and Penny, my roommate, was my maid of honor. Donald gave me away. Everything went fairly smoothly except Donald laughed out loud when Rick began his vows because he wasn't aware that Rick's real name was Oliver and he thought the minister was marrying me to someone else.
When the ceremony was over, we all headed to the apartment house and the reception was quite nice. Except Rick still had a high fever. Good friends and our two families were becoming acquainted. When it was over, Penny and Lou said for me not to worry about cleaning the club house. They would take care of it.
It was off to Marilyn's house in Mesquite. She had put together a very nice meal and we all had a good time. Except Rick still had a high fever. On the way from the apartment house, Donald had sneaked Rick and me bourbon and cokes that he had mixed in coke cans so Mother wouldn't know. I think that perked Rick up some. Finally, it was time to go back to the apartment house. Rick had canceled our reservation at the hotel since he felt so bad.
All my family went back to the apartment with us. The women and children went upstairs to my apartment and Rick, Donald and my cousin, Virgil, went to Rick's apartment. I also didn't think to tell Rick that Virgil had a problem with alcohol. Donald knew, but he didn't tell Rick either. Rick offered Donald and Virgil a drink. Donald and Rick had a Scotch and water and Virgil indicated that he would have gin. Rick began pouring straight gin into an eight ounce glass telling Virgil to "Say when." Virgil "said when" when the glass was full. They sat on the day beds that doubled as couches and began sipping their drinks.
The women decided that since so many people were there, it would be a good time to move all my things down to Rick's apartment. I went to Rick's apartment to tell him that we were going to start moving my clothes and discovered that Lou had moved all the dirty dishes from the reception from the clubhouse to Rick's sink. They were piled randomly in the sink and all over the counter in Rick's little kitchen. I wasn't happy.
About that time, I realized that Rick had given Virgil alcohol. Virgil had finished about half the glass. I guess he realized that he had had more than enough as Rick and I watched him pour the remainder of the gin into Rick's new shoes that he had bought for the wedding. Then my things started arriving. The clothes from my closet were brought down on hangers and piled on the floor. The contents of the dresser drawers were dumped on the floor and the empty drawers were returned to the upstairs apartment.
Donald, B, and Donna were going to spend Saturday night in Gainesville with the rest of my family at Mother's house. Once they got the clothes moved, they decided that it was time to head north. So there Rick and I were. A newly married couple. But Rick still had a high fever. I looked around at the mess and decided that I must do the dishes from the reception. There was no dishwasher in the apartment so I had to do them by hand. We both changed clothes and Rick decided to lie down for awhile.
By the time I finished the dishes, Rick was sound asleep. I decided to deal with some of the clothes. By 10:30, I was exhausted. Now I spent more on a gown and peignior set to wear on my wedding night than I spent on my wedding suit. I paid over $60 for it at Neiman Marcus. It was beautiful with sheer puffy sleeves, lots of lace and satin ribbons. I went into the bathroom, freshened up and put it on. I made my entrance, calling Rick's name. He just moaned in his sleep and rolled over. I sat on the vacant daybed for awhile feeling very sorry for myself and wondering what to do. I decided I should let him sleep but I'll be damned if I was going to waste that expensive gown and peignior set. I took it off, put on my outing granny gown and crawled into the daybed by myself. I really wished I was in Gainesville with all my family having a good time.
So now you know the story of our wedding. We were together for 47 years. We have two children and five grandchildren. We owned four houses together. You tell me. Were we married or not?
 |
| September 27, 2009 |
Saturday, July 24, 2010
This 'n That
It's Saturday morning and I have the house to myself until 4:00 or 5:00 this afternoon. Amy and Ray sell their grass-fed beef at two farmers' markets on Saturdays and Chris and Julie keep Katherine and William while they're there. There are tons of things I should be doing, but I've decided "I shall not should on myself today." So here I am at my computer to catch you up on recent happenings and thoughts.
In some ways it was a busy week. Last Saturday I worked the farmers' markets with Amy and Ray. After we stopped by Chris's and Julie's, we went to a Mexican food restaurant to eat. Sunday was church. I reported earlier that I went to see Rick's cardiologist. He ordered a lot of tests and on Tuesday, Amy drove me to the Texas Medical Center where we spent almost the whole day. I had a nuclear stress test, doppler ultrsounds of my carotids, aorta, and legs from my groin to my toes, and an echo cardiogram. I was literally covered with that icky gel from my ears to my toes. I guess everything was okay as I didn't get a call saying to rush in to surgery or anything. After the tests Amy and I went to Pappadeaux for a wonderful meal. I love those restaurants and highly recommend their current Triple dessert that Amy and I shared. It's generous portions of creme brulee, pecan pie a la mode, and bread pudding with whipped cream. Yum, yum--my three favorite desserts on one plate!
The rest of the week was routine. I'm still working on business related to Rick's death and rearranging closets and drawers. I hate doing both things which is why everything was in such a mess to begin with. Emotionally, I'm still all over the place. The book that I ordered, On Grief and Grieving by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross and David Kessler, arrived on Wednesday and I finished it last night. It and the book Widowed by Dr. Joyce Brothers are very helpful to me. Sometimes I wonder if I am trying to intellectualize this whole experience too much but that is who I am. By nature I am a researcher so my need to validate my feelings through reading shouldn't be a surprise. I seem to be progressing normally. It is good to know that because there are times that I wonder if I'm "losing it." In my counseling career, I have worked with many individuals about the stages of grief, yet I needed the refresher course these books provided. Tears are always so near the surface and I still can't anticipate when they will begin to pour. Each book talked about the importance of crying and said that one should never repress those tears. They are part of the healing process and the healing can't be complete without them. Kubler-Ross said to cry "whenever and wherever" without being ashamed.
One of the things both books talk about is the isolation of widows. I am already experiencing this. A few weeks ago I was at an informal gathering where a meal was going to be served buffet-style. There were widows and married folks in attendance. Prior to the meal, there was good interaction. At my table, a group of eight people were visiting. When the meal was served, all the married people moved to a table with other married people even though some were at the event sans spouses. The two other widows in attendance and I ate at the table with five vacant chairs. I'm sure it was not a conscious decision of the married people to "abandon" us but none-the-less they did. I'm also sure that they aren't even aware that they did it.
Another thing I have noticed is that widows don't go out to dinner. Widows meet widows for lunch--never dinner. Married people invite widows to lunch--never dinner. I guess when evening comes we widows are supposed to be tucked safely away in our living rooms eating in front of our televisions. So if you know a widow or a widower, sometime when you are going out to dinner, extend an invitation to join you. I'm confident that whoever you invite would be perfectly willing to go Dutch treat and would enjoy getting out of the house in the evening.
I was surprised to read that this isolation even occurs with family, then I experienced this, too. Someone I love very much hurt my feelings badly last week. Would the same action have hurt my feelings six months or a year ago? Yes, but not to the extent that it did now. I have learned that we toggle back and forth between the five stages of grief. The stages aren't on a continuum where you neatly complete one stage and then move on to the next. This incident invoked the first stage and I was almost paralyzed emotionally for four days. Finally, I talked to Amy about it and she helped me to get it into perspective. It still hurts but I think I may have an understanding of why it happened and I am moving toward acceptance of the situation. I write this because I want people to be aware that those who are grieving may over react to some situations. Please understand how emotionally fragile they are and don't be accusatory over their reactions. I must emphasize that I am not experiencing this from all my family. Rick's family has been so caring and so many check in on me frequently. I get phone calls, emails, and Facebook and text messages almost daily. They mean so much to me. I read of incidents where the widow or widower is just dropped completely by their spouse's family. My nephew David has invited me over to spend some time with him and his family in a couple of weeks. I'm so looking forward to that and I appreciate his outreach to me. My cousin, Elaine, who has been a widow for twenty years calls me frequently from Oklahoma. Then there are the caring friends: new friends and friends of many years.
I have two Karens. Karen C has been a friend for over 30 years. When Rick was in the hospital, she and her husband came to visit, she called frequently and sent Rick and me several separate cards each week. I still get about one card a week from her. She has taken me to lunch and spent the day with me. She is vacationing in Vermont and called me from there this week. Karen B is a new friend. We met at church and are in the same Sunday School class. She is also my probate attorney. Surprisingly, we share an interest in Katherine Swynford who lived in 14th Century England. Last Sunday, she provided the alter flowers at church and she sent me home with them. They are still on my dining table and are still beautiful. What a wonderful gesture. I can't leave out Alex and Charles who have been our friends for over forty years. Through the years we have shared so much with each other. After Rick's memorial service, they said they wanted me to spend a few days with them soon. About a week later they called to set a date. I told them I couldn't. I got a couple of more calls about my coming and each time I declined. Alex told me to give her a call when I was ready. I called her this week to say I would like to come next week. We immediately set the date. I am going next Tuesday. I so appreciate that she understood. I am sure that we will cry a lot and laugh a lot as we remember Rick and our good times together. Dianna has invited me to visit her in Hot Springs to celebrate our late September birthdays. Nancy, who attended my sixth birthday party (now that's an old friend!), has invited me to visit her in our home town in October. Many others have performed acts of kindness. I appreciate them all.
The Kubler-Ross/Kessler book had a chapter about how children react to grief. Katherine and William are grieving for their grandpa. After all we have kept them since they were born. They spent more waking hours with Rick than they spent with their father. Every day, after lunch, they would climb into their grandpa's lap and the three of them would watch Tom and Jerry. I have quit turning it on for them because they both become sad even though they still sit in their grandpa's chair to watch it. Last week I was sitting on the back porch watching them play in the yard when five-year-old Katherine came to me and said, "Grandpa has been gone so long that it seems like he was never really here." We talk about how much we miss him every day. A few days later, I was cooking supper and she came to me and asked, "Grandma, do you know what I'm building with my blocks?" When I replied that I didn't, she said she was building a hospital where they fix people's hearts. Three-year-old William sleeps with me. After we went to bed on Monday night I told him that his mother was taking me to the doctor the next day for some tests. I told him that it was near "the hospital where Grandpa lived" (That is what they call St. Luke's.) He got very still and quiet. Then he said, "Me-maw, He-paw died." I assured him that I wasn't going to die and I got a huge hug from him. I need to help them as they grieve in their own way. I also need to find some alone time with each of Chris's children, Zoe, Ian and Liv, to talk with them about their grief.
Well, I have said that my goal in writing this is to share my emotions and experiences as I make this journey. I've sure done that today. I will be impressed if you have read this far. If you have, I would love to have comments on this and any of my posts. I have lots more to write and hope to get another post written today. Thanks for caring!
In some ways it was a busy week. Last Saturday I worked the farmers' markets with Amy and Ray. After we stopped by Chris's and Julie's, we went to a Mexican food restaurant to eat. Sunday was church. I reported earlier that I went to see Rick's cardiologist. He ordered a lot of tests and on Tuesday, Amy drove me to the Texas Medical Center where we spent almost the whole day. I had a nuclear stress test, doppler ultrsounds of my carotids, aorta, and legs from my groin to my toes, and an echo cardiogram. I was literally covered with that icky gel from my ears to my toes. I guess everything was okay as I didn't get a call saying to rush in to surgery or anything. After the tests Amy and I went to Pappadeaux for a wonderful meal. I love those restaurants and highly recommend their current Triple dessert that Amy and I shared. It's generous portions of creme brulee, pecan pie a la mode, and bread pudding with whipped cream. Yum, yum--my three favorite desserts on one plate!
The rest of the week was routine. I'm still working on business related to Rick's death and rearranging closets and drawers. I hate doing both things which is why everything was in such a mess to begin with. Emotionally, I'm still all over the place. The book that I ordered, On Grief and Grieving by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross and David Kessler, arrived on Wednesday and I finished it last night. It and the book Widowed by Dr. Joyce Brothers are very helpful to me. Sometimes I wonder if I am trying to intellectualize this whole experience too much but that is who I am. By nature I am a researcher so my need to validate my feelings through reading shouldn't be a surprise. I seem to be progressing normally. It is good to know that because there are times that I wonder if I'm "losing it." In my counseling career, I have worked with many individuals about the stages of grief, yet I needed the refresher course these books provided. Tears are always so near the surface and I still can't anticipate when they will begin to pour. Each book talked about the importance of crying and said that one should never repress those tears. They are part of the healing process and the healing can't be complete without them. Kubler-Ross said to cry "whenever and wherever" without being ashamed.
One of the things both books talk about is the isolation of widows. I am already experiencing this. A few weeks ago I was at an informal gathering where a meal was going to be served buffet-style. There were widows and married folks in attendance. Prior to the meal, there was good interaction. At my table, a group of eight people were visiting. When the meal was served, all the married people moved to a table with other married people even though some were at the event sans spouses. The two other widows in attendance and I ate at the table with five vacant chairs. I'm sure it was not a conscious decision of the married people to "abandon" us but none-the-less they did. I'm also sure that they aren't even aware that they did it.
Another thing I have noticed is that widows don't go out to dinner. Widows meet widows for lunch--never dinner. Married people invite widows to lunch--never dinner. I guess when evening comes we widows are supposed to be tucked safely away in our living rooms eating in front of our televisions. So if you know a widow or a widower, sometime when you are going out to dinner, extend an invitation to join you. I'm confident that whoever you invite would be perfectly willing to go Dutch treat and would enjoy getting out of the house in the evening.
I was surprised to read that this isolation even occurs with family, then I experienced this, too. Someone I love very much hurt my feelings badly last week. Would the same action have hurt my feelings six months or a year ago? Yes, but not to the extent that it did now. I have learned that we toggle back and forth between the five stages of grief. The stages aren't on a continuum where you neatly complete one stage and then move on to the next. This incident invoked the first stage and I was almost paralyzed emotionally for four days. Finally, I talked to Amy about it and she helped me to get it into perspective. It still hurts but I think I may have an understanding of why it happened and I am moving toward acceptance of the situation. I write this because I want people to be aware that those who are grieving may over react to some situations. Please understand how emotionally fragile they are and don't be accusatory over their reactions. I must emphasize that I am not experiencing this from all my family. Rick's family has been so caring and so many check in on me frequently. I get phone calls, emails, and Facebook and text messages almost daily. They mean so much to me. I read of incidents where the widow or widower is just dropped completely by their spouse's family. My nephew David has invited me over to spend some time with him and his family in a couple of weeks. I'm so looking forward to that and I appreciate his outreach to me. My cousin, Elaine, who has been a widow for twenty years calls me frequently from Oklahoma. Then there are the caring friends: new friends and friends of many years.
I have two Karens. Karen C has been a friend for over 30 years. When Rick was in the hospital, she and her husband came to visit, she called frequently and sent Rick and me several separate cards each week. I still get about one card a week from her. She has taken me to lunch and spent the day with me. She is vacationing in Vermont and called me from there this week. Karen B is a new friend. We met at church and are in the same Sunday School class. She is also my probate attorney. Surprisingly, we share an interest in Katherine Swynford who lived in 14th Century England. Last Sunday, she provided the alter flowers at church and she sent me home with them. They are still on my dining table and are still beautiful. What a wonderful gesture. I can't leave out Alex and Charles who have been our friends for over forty years. Through the years we have shared so much with each other. After Rick's memorial service, they said they wanted me to spend a few days with them soon. About a week later they called to set a date. I told them I couldn't. I got a couple of more calls about my coming and each time I declined. Alex told me to give her a call when I was ready. I called her this week to say I would like to come next week. We immediately set the date. I am going next Tuesday. I so appreciate that she understood. I am sure that we will cry a lot and laugh a lot as we remember Rick and our good times together. Dianna has invited me to visit her in Hot Springs to celebrate our late September birthdays. Nancy, who attended my sixth birthday party (now that's an old friend!), has invited me to visit her in our home town in October. Many others have performed acts of kindness. I appreciate them all.
The Kubler-Ross/Kessler book had a chapter about how children react to grief. Katherine and William are grieving for their grandpa. After all we have kept them since they were born. They spent more waking hours with Rick than they spent with their father. Every day, after lunch, they would climb into their grandpa's lap and the three of them would watch Tom and Jerry. I have quit turning it on for them because they both become sad even though they still sit in their grandpa's chair to watch it. Last week I was sitting on the back porch watching them play in the yard when five-year-old Katherine came to me and said, "Grandpa has been gone so long that it seems like he was never really here." We talk about how much we miss him every day. A few days later, I was cooking supper and she came to me and asked, "Grandma, do you know what I'm building with my blocks?" When I replied that I didn't, she said she was building a hospital where they fix people's hearts. Three-year-old William sleeps with me. After we went to bed on Monday night I told him that his mother was taking me to the doctor the next day for some tests. I told him that it was near "the hospital where Grandpa lived" (That is what they call St. Luke's.) He got very still and quiet. Then he said, "Me-maw, He-paw died." I assured him that I wasn't going to die and I got a huge hug from him. I need to help them as they grieve in their own way. I also need to find some alone time with each of Chris's children, Zoe, Ian and Liv, to talk with them about their grief.
Well, I have said that my goal in writing this is to share my emotions and experiences as I make this journey. I've sure done that today. I will be impressed if you have read this far. If you have, I would love to have comments on this and any of my posts. I have lots more to write and hope to get another post written today. Thanks for caring!
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
DREAMS
About two or three weeks after my mother died in 1984, Mark, a Studies of the Future faculty member at University of Houston-Clear Lake where I was working asked me if Mother had come to me in a dream yet. I said that she hadn't. Mark is an interesting person. He has a BS and MS in engineering and an MA and a PhD in sociology. Some of his research interests were in areas that many would call the paranormal. He told me that Mother would come to me soon and to be ready for her. Well, he was right. Within a few days I began having vivid dreams about her.
After Rick died I kept waiting for him to come to me in a dream. It took over two weeks. In the first dream he was lying on the gurney in the emergency room where he died. It was so real. I deliberately woke myself up thinking to myself, "You're not going to go through that again." It was more than a week before I dreamed of him again. That time I was in the midst of another dream when he suddenly appeared in the distance. He was walking from my right to my left through a beautiful green grassy field. He had on his blue plaid long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up, but it was tattered all over. I thought to myself, "Oh no! Birds have been pecking at his shirt. He must be going to get it fixed." At that, he turned and waved at me with a big smile on his face as he kept walking through the field.
One of the biggest regrets of my life is that Rick and my daddy never knew each other. Daddy died several months before Rick and I met. They would have liked each other so much. In the next dream, I was at my nephew David's house. We were preparing for a family gathering and I was working around his pool arranging the chairs and tables. I looked up to see an old pickup coming up the long driveway. In the next instant I was in the truck sitting between two men. I looked to my left and Daddy was behind the wheel. I looked to my right and Rick was there. It was as if they communicated to me telepathically telling me that they were together and enjoying each other as much as I thought they would. I began crying and buried my head on Rick's shoulder like I did so many times. He put his arm around me and held me while I sobbed. Then the dream was over. I hadn't dreamed of Daddy in years. When I awoke the next morning, my eyes were swollen. I think I must have cried in my sleep. I am confident that they came to comfort me.
Since then I dream of Rick fairly often. We usually are doing the ordinary things that we did frequently--preparing a meal, working in the yard, playing with the grandchildren, etc. Oh, I have had a couple of quite personal and at the same time funny dreams that shall remain censored. My thirteen-year-old granddaughter, Zoe, reads this blog.
I am a mid-night insomniac and I listen to talk radio when I wake in the night. For the past several years I have listened to Coast-to-Coast AM. Night before last, David Kassler was the guest during the 2:00 to 3:00 a.m. hour. He is a researcher on death and dying and has written two books with the late Elisabeth Kubler-Ross. The discussion turned to whether the dead come back to visit their loved ones in dreams. His response was, "Absolutely!" He wrote a book with Kubler-Ross on grieving. I ordered it from Amazon.com the first thing yesterday morning. I am eager to read it.
I have never had a strong interest in symbolism, but I do think the holes in the shirt Rick wore when he was walking through the field are very symbolic. His poor body had been poked and punctured all over for multiple dialysis shunts, main lines, insertion of heart pumps through the groin, and countless IVs. I think the holes in the shirt were symbolic of those wounds and that he was on his way to healing when he was walking through the field. I hope I continue to dream about him. May all of you have sweet dreams, too.
After Rick died I kept waiting for him to come to me in a dream. It took over two weeks. In the first dream he was lying on the gurney in the emergency room where he died. It was so real. I deliberately woke myself up thinking to myself, "You're not going to go through that again." It was more than a week before I dreamed of him again. That time I was in the midst of another dream when he suddenly appeared in the distance. He was walking from my right to my left through a beautiful green grassy field. He had on his blue plaid long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up, but it was tattered all over. I thought to myself, "Oh no! Birds have been pecking at his shirt. He must be going to get it fixed." At that, he turned and waved at me with a big smile on his face as he kept walking through the field.
One of the biggest regrets of my life is that Rick and my daddy never knew each other. Daddy died several months before Rick and I met. They would have liked each other so much. In the next dream, I was at my nephew David's house. We were preparing for a family gathering and I was working around his pool arranging the chairs and tables. I looked up to see an old pickup coming up the long driveway. In the next instant I was in the truck sitting between two men. I looked to my left and Daddy was behind the wheel. I looked to my right and Rick was there. It was as if they communicated to me telepathically telling me that they were together and enjoying each other as much as I thought they would. I began crying and buried my head on Rick's shoulder like I did so many times. He put his arm around me and held me while I sobbed. Then the dream was over. I hadn't dreamed of Daddy in years. When I awoke the next morning, my eyes were swollen. I think I must have cried in my sleep. I am confident that they came to comfort me.
Since then I dream of Rick fairly often. We usually are doing the ordinary things that we did frequently--preparing a meal, working in the yard, playing with the grandchildren, etc. Oh, I have had a couple of quite personal and at the same time funny dreams that shall remain censored. My thirteen-year-old granddaughter, Zoe, reads this blog.
I am a mid-night insomniac and I listen to talk radio when I wake in the night. For the past several years I have listened to Coast-to-Coast AM. Night before last, David Kassler was the guest during the 2:00 to 3:00 a.m. hour. He is a researcher on death and dying and has written two books with the late Elisabeth Kubler-Ross. The discussion turned to whether the dead come back to visit their loved ones in dreams. His response was, "Absolutely!" He wrote a book with Kubler-Ross on grieving. I ordered it from Amazon.com the first thing yesterday morning. I am eager to read it.
I have never had a strong interest in symbolism, but I do think the holes in the shirt Rick wore when he was walking through the field are very symbolic. His poor body had been poked and punctured all over for multiple dialysis shunts, main lines, insertion of heart pumps through the groin, and countless IVs. I think the holes in the shirt were symbolic of those wounds and that he was on his way to healing when he was walking through the field. I hope I continue to dream about him. May all of you have sweet dreams, too.
HANGING IN THERE
I got a call from my good friend Charlie this afternoon. Those calls from friends mean so much to me. Anyway, he was not the first to suggest that I should blog more frequently. I did start this blog with the idea of sharing my emotions as I adjust to widowhood. So here is a new blog. It is difficult for me to find time to write during the day with Katherine and William here. They and their parents are still living with me. I keep them all day most days including Saturdays. Their daddy, Ray, takes advantage of the long days to work on his ranch. Hence, we don't eat dinner until late. By the time the children get their baths in my bathroom and are ready for bed, this old grandma is ready for bed, too.
I get up early most mornings and could write then but I find that I need some quiet time alone before the hustle and bustle of the day begins. I have my coffee on the back porch, listen to Tex and watch the world wake up. The past few days I have started my yard work quite early before the heat becomes too oppressive to work. I remain on an emotional roller coaster but the peaks and valleys seem to be smoothing out somewhat. I am conflicted about whether having Amy and her family living with me is a good thing or not. Of course, there is lots of activity with the children here, and the house has been a mess for days and days now. I have been sorting through a lifetime of papers (tax returns, insurance policies, etc.) and will write more about all the paperwork in a later. Right now the dining room table and other areas are littered with papers that I am sorting and filing. I am also emptying closets and drawers of Rick's clothing and shifting contents of my drawers and closet to make room for their things. All of that creates a mess, too. So it seems that I am living in a constant mess with constant activity. Amy, Ray and the children contribute to the mess, BUT how lonely would I be if they weren't here? Would the loneliness be unbearable? Probably so.
I switched from my cardiologist who I didn't particularly like to Rick's about three weeks ago. It was a wonderful experience. He liked Rick so much. He gave me hugs and told me he was going to take good care of me because he knew that is what Rick would want him to do. On the drive home, I finally realized that the situation I'm currently in isn't temporary. Rick is never coming back, and Amy and Ray may live here for quite some time. At that point I knew that I need to work on ACCEPTANCE. I must accept his death. I must accept that my children and grandchildren need me. I must accept that my life has totally changed. I must accept responsibilities that have never been mine before.
In her sermon on Sunday, Pastor Gail talked about patience. She told a story of how when she was in college her minister preached a sermon about how we should all be patient. She took it to heart and prayed for patience daily. She said one thing after another began happening to her. Finally she went to her minister to discuss the chaos in her life. He asked her if she had been praying for patience. She replied in the affirmative. His response was, "DONT!" He told her the more she prayed for patience, the more God sent to test her patience. As we were leaving the church, I thanked her profusely. Many times a day I have been praying quite earnestly, "Dear God, please give me patience." I will say that he has really been testing me recently. I have changed my prayer to "Dear God, please give me the strength to cope with this situation." I think things are getting a bit better.
Speaking of things being better, I am doing better on Fridays now. The last two or three were fairly normal days. I must admit, however, that in spite of what I reported in the previous two paragraphs, I had a complete meltdown on the 4th of July. I sobbed for over an hour and was still at it when Chris and his family arrived to celebrate his birthday. I was feeling trapped in this unwanted situation that I am in and overwhelmed and stressed by all the paper work that must be done. It is the only time that I have cried like that since Rick first got sick and it was probably needed. My college suite mate, Jane, was widowed a number of year ago. She recommended the book Widowed by Dr. Joyce Brothers written about a year after she was widowed. Jane then got in touch again to make sure I had bought it. I had and although I have never been a huge fan of Dr. Brothers, I found this book very helpful. I even used my highlighter on sections I found particularly relevant. I really think that I am coping better than she (Dr. Brothers) did. She said that women who have suffered a lot of losses in their lives seem to adjust faster than those who haven't. I have lost so many people that I loved--a five-year-old nephew when I was eight, my father when I was 20, my mother in 1984, and more recently both my brothers, both sisters-in-law who were like second mothers to me, four of Rick's sisters and several dear, dear friends. Maybe all that loss toughened me up for this. I must strongly state that none of those losses compare to the loss of Rick.
Dr. Brothers also pointed out that tears have a positive physiological effect. They secrete/eliminate a hormone that is created by stress. I have certainly more than my share of stress since September 2008 when Hurricane Ike hit. One good side effect of all that stress. I now weigh almost forty pounds less than I did when Hurricane Ike struck. I was feeling downright skinny thinking that I only need to lose another 10 or 15 pounds. Then I saw a video of me when I was leading the music at Vacation Bible School at our church the last week in June. Maybe I need to lose another 25 pounds. One other positive thing is happening. Last Friday was eight weeks since Rick's death and thirteen weeks since his heart attack. July 9th was three months since the heart attack and the 14th will be two months since his death. I think I am in a transition from counting in days and weeks to counting in months. I realize that eventually I'll count in years rather than months. I think that is good. Time is a wonderful healer.
I get up early most mornings and could write then but I find that I need some quiet time alone before the hustle and bustle of the day begins. I have my coffee on the back porch, listen to Tex and watch the world wake up. The past few days I have started my yard work quite early before the heat becomes too oppressive to work. I remain on an emotional roller coaster but the peaks and valleys seem to be smoothing out somewhat. I am conflicted about whether having Amy and her family living with me is a good thing or not. Of course, there is lots of activity with the children here, and the house has been a mess for days and days now. I have been sorting through a lifetime of papers (tax returns, insurance policies, etc.) and will write more about all the paperwork in a later. Right now the dining room table and other areas are littered with papers that I am sorting and filing. I am also emptying closets and drawers of Rick's clothing and shifting contents of my drawers and closet to make room for their things. All of that creates a mess, too. So it seems that I am living in a constant mess with constant activity. Amy, Ray and the children contribute to the mess, BUT how lonely would I be if they weren't here? Would the loneliness be unbearable? Probably so.
I switched from my cardiologist who I didn't particularly like to Rick's about three weeks ago. It was a wonderful experience. He liked Rick so much. He gave me hugs and told me he was going to take good care of me because he knew that is what Rick would want him to do. On the drive home, I finally realized that the situation I'm currently in isn't temporary. Rick is never coming back, and Amy and Ray may live here for quite some time. At that point I knew that I need to work on ACCEPTANCE. I must accept his death. I must accept that my children and grandchildren need me. I must accept that my life has totally changed. I must accept responsibilities that have never been mine before.
In her sermon on Sunday, Pastor Gail talked about patience. She told a story of how when she was in college her minister preached a sermon about how we should all be patient. She took it to heart and prayed for patience daily. She said one thing after another began happening to her. Finally she went to her minister to discuss the chaos in her life. He asked her if she had been praying for patience. She replied in the affirmative. His response was, "DONT!" He told her the more she prayed for patience, the more God sent to test her patience. As we were leaving the church, I thanked her profusely. Many times a day I have been praying quite earnestly, "Dear God, please give me patience." I will say that he has really been testing me recently. I have changed my prayer to "Dear God, please give me the strength to cope with this situation." I think things are getting a bit better.
Speaking of things being better, I am doing better on Fridays now. The last two or three were fairly normal days. I must admit, however, that in spite of what I reported in the previous two paragraphs, I had a complete meltdown on the 4th of July. I sobbed for over an hour and was still at it when Chris and his family arrived to celebrate his birthday. I was feeling trapped in this unwanted situation that I am in and overwhelmed and stressed by all the paper work that must be done. It is the only time that I have cried like that since Rick first got sick and it was probably needed. My college suite mate, Jane, was widowed a number of year ago. She recommended the book Widowed by Dr. Joyce Brothers written about a year after she was widowed. Jane then got in touch again to make sure I had bought it. I had and although I have never been a huge fan of Dr. Brothers, I found this book very helpful. I even used my highlighter on sections I found particularly relevant. I really think that I am coping better than she (Dr. Brothers) did. She said that women who have suffered a lot of losses in their lives seem to adjust faster than those who haven't. I have lost so many people that I loved--a five-year-old nephew when I was eight, my father when I was 20, my mother in 1984, and more recently both my brothers, both sisters-in-law who were like second mothers to me, four of Rick's sisters and several dear, dear friends. Maybe all that loss toughened me up for this. I must strongly state that none of those losses compare to the loss of Rick.
Dr. Brothers also pointed out that tears have a positive physiological effect. They secrete/eliminate a hormone that is created by stress. I have certainly more than my share of stress since September 2008 when Hurricane Ike hit. One good side effect of all that stress. I now weigh almost forty pounds less than I did when Hurricane Ike struck. I was feeling downright skinny thinking that I only need to lose another 10 or 15 pounds. Then I saw a video of me when I was leading the music at Vacation Bible School at our church the last week in June. Maybe I need to lose another 25 pounds. One other positive thing is happening. Last Friday was eight weeks since Rick's death and thirteen weeks since his heart attack. July 9th was three months since the heart attack and the 14th will be two months since his death. I think I am in a transition from counting in days and weeks to counting in months. I realize that eventually I'll count in years rather than months. I think that is good. Time is a wonderful healer.
Monday, June 28, 2010
A MOCKINGBIRD NAMED TEX
When we lived in Burleson, we began to feed the wild birds and got great pleasure watching them. Rick was an avid porch-sitter and kept a small galvanized "garbage can" for this bird seed on the back porch near his chair. I was the one with the binoculars and the bird books identifying newcomers and making lists. Rick just sat in his chair and enjoyed watching them.
Sometime along in there, a Northern Mockingbird decided to make our yard his home. The first year his song was pretty but not very complex. We thought he might move on when winter came, but he stayed. The following spring, his song had become a bit more complex and he began to get friendly with us. We named him Tex since the Northern Mockingbird is the state bird of Texas. When Rick would mow on his riding mower, Tex would follow him flying from fencepost to fencepost, swooping down to gobble up insects stirred up by the mower blades. He wintered over with us again that winter.
By the third spring, he became quite the entertainer serenading us with a much longer song. I did some research and learned that you can tell a male mockingbird's age by the complexity and length of his song. Each year he will add more bird calls and songs. This makes him more attractive to the females as they know that he is a strong, long-lived bird. Tex was rewarded that summer with a fine mate. They nested in a tall, thick hedge at the back of our lot and Tex was quite proud when his brood fledged.
As the years went by, Tex became friendlier and friendlier. When Rick would do his woodworking in the garage, Tex would fly in and light on the wood he was so carefully measuring and hop from board to board chirping and giving advice. There was once that I thought Tex was going to follow Rick into the house. Tex changed his mind at the last minute, but Rick would have happily let him in.
The spring that we sold the house to make the move back to the Houston area, we estimated that Tex was seven years old and near the end of his lifespan. We hated to leave him but hoped that he would serenade the new owners and give them the pleasure he had given us over the years.
Once we were settled in our new home in Crosby, we again erected all our bird feeders and were rewarded with a large variety of birds in our big back yard, especially during spring and fall migration. We lamented the fact, however, that we didn't have a regular Northern Mockingbird to serenade us and we frequently talked about Tex and how we missed him. Oh, we'd have an occasional mockingbird but none were regulars.
The morning after Rick died, I took my morning coffee to the back porch. There had been a violent, but glorious, thunderstorm the night before. It had cleared overnight and the air was clean and the droplets of water left by the storm were sparkling in the early morning sun. It was then that I heard him. A Northern Mockingbird lit in the tall crape myrtle and began to serenade me. Remembering Tex and times gone by, I cried.
I don't think it was a coincidence that the mockingbird came that morning. I believe that he was sent to cheer me and remind me to continue to see and hear all the beauty that is in this world. He comes every morning and sings while I have my morning coffee. I have named him Tex.
Sometime along in there, a Northern Mockingbird decided to make our yard his home. The first year his song was pretty but not very complex. We thought he might move on when winter came, but he stayed. The following spring, his song had become a bit more complex and he began to get friendly with us. We named him Tex since the Northern Mockingbird is the state bird of Texas. When Rick would mow on his riding mower, Tex would follow him flying from fencepost to fencepost, swooping down to gobble up insects stirred up by the mower blades. He wintered over with us again that winter.
By the third spring, he became quite the entertainer serenading us with a much longer song. I did some research and learned that you can tell a male mockingbird's age by the complexity and length of his song. Each year he will add more bird calls and songs. This makes him more attractive to the females as they know that he is a strong, long-lived bird. Tex was rewarded that summer with a fine mate. They nested in a tall, thick hedge at the back of our lot and Tex was quite proud when his brood fledged.
As the years went by, Tex became friendlier and friendlier. When Rick would do his woodworking in the garage, Tex would fly in and light on the wood he was so carefully measuring and hop from board to board chirping and giving advice. There was once that I thought Tex was going to follow Rick into the house. Tex changed his mind at the last minute, but Rick would have happily let him in.
The spring that we sold the house to make the move back to the Houston area, we estimated that Tex was seven years old and near the end of his lifespan. We hated to leave him but hoped that he would serenade the new owners and give them the pleasure he had given us over the years.
Once we were settled in our new home in Crosby, we again erected all our bird feeders and were rewarded with a large variety of birds in our big back yard, especially during spring and fall migration. We lamented the fact, however, that we didn't have a regular Northern Mockingbird to serenade us and we frequently talked about Tex and how we missed him. Oh, we'd have an occasional mockingbird but none were regulars.
The morning after Rick died, I took my morning coffee to the back porch. There had been a violent, but glorious, thunderstorm the night before. It had cleared overnight and the air was clean and the droplets of water left by the storm were sparkling in the early morning sun. It was then that I heard him. A Northern Mockingbird lit in the tall crape myrtle and began to serenade me. Remembering Tex and times gone by, I cried.
I don't think it was a coincidence that the mockingbird came that morning. I believe that he was sent to cheer me and remind me to continue to see and hear all the beauty that is in this world. He comes every morning and sings while I have my morning coffee. I have named him Tex.
Monday, June 14, 2010
The Race
Chris wrote this for our pastor to read during Rick's memorial service. There have been so many positive comments and requests for it that I decided I should post it here.
THE RACE
Chris Ulrickson
May 16, 2010
There are many stories I could tell about my dad. I have known him as long as I can remember and I can remember quite a ways back. When my did first went into the hospital after his heart attack and his prognosis was uncertain, one memory of him stood out from the rest. I knew he would be okay. I knew he would survive the surgery.
It was a late fall evening in the early- to mid-80s when I was in my early teens, I recall. My mom, my dad, my sister and I were sitting around talking. I cannot now remember what the conversation was, but my dad told me if I did something (I cannot remember what that would have been now.), he would "whoop" me. Being that I was young, cocky and stupid, I told my dad, "You would have to catch me first."
The challenge was on. My boast stirred my dad up and he asked me if I actually thought I could out run him. "Who was he kidding?" I thought. Here I was young, running in P.E. at my school every day, climbing trees and riding my bicycle around Seabrook all the time. My dad was overweight and I could not recall ever seeing him run anywhere. He didn't even own a pair of sneakers. I didn't have to think about it, or maybe I should say I DIDN'T think about what I was going to say. I told him, "Yes, I can out run you."
Quietly, my dad got up and grabbed his loafer shoes. He had a cigarette dangling from his lips as he slipped on his shoes and said, "Let's go." I put on my shoes and we went outside to the street. It was dark out and the street was illuminated by the porch lights from the houses. We lined up and my dad let me say, "Go." The race was on. We were racing to the end of the street. I knew I was going to beat him.
I started off strong--or so I thought--until in the light I could see the silhouette of my dad running ahead of me. I could hear the sound of his loafers hitting the concrete in a steady cadence as he left me behind. Dad won. It wasn't that I was a slow runner or I let my dad win. It was none of these things. My dad won because he had the drive to prove to me that I should never make outrageous boasts. When I got to the end of the street, we were both out of breath and breathing hard. Neither of us spoke. There was nothing to say. Silently we both walked back to the house worn out from the full-out sprint.
I realized a lot of things about my dad in that moment. I realized if my dad wanted to "whoop" me he was going to and I couldn't out run him. I also realized that I was stupid to be so boastful. Mainly, I realized you should never, under any circumstances, underestimate my dad because he will prove you wrong. We went inside and never talked about that race ever again. I never made a stupid boast or challenge to my dad again.
Over the years, I saw my dad in many acts of courage, strength and kindness. In later years and over time, I realized I never had a chance that night. My dad had been through many situations and experiences I couldn't have competed with that night.
I knew as he lay there in the Cooley 6A Intensive Care Unit that he was going to make it through the surgery and be back home with Mom sooner than later. I never ever had a doubt about my dad's strength and courage.
In my memory, I can still see my dad's silhouette running off to my right beating me badly in that race. It is a memory I have held all these years and a lesson I will never forget.
I told my mom this story when dad was still in the hospital. She told me that Dad had also talked to her about that race very recently. He told her he didn't think he could beat me in a race now. I wouldn't even try because the way I see it, he already won.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Sorrow
"The pain was not gone, he doubted it would ever go, but it had changed from violent grief to sorrow. The tears no longer came in torrents." These thoughts were attributed to John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, following the death of his first wife, Blanche, of the plague in 1369. (Carol Sargeant, Love, Honour and Royal Blood, 2009, p74). I am not quite to that point 100 percent of the time yet, but I can tell I am getting there. Tears seem to be so near the surface at all times and I never seem to know when they are going to start flowing, but they have come in torrents only once in the past week. The ache is becoming a bit duller as time passes.
Perhaps I should say a word about John of Gaunt who has been my favorite character in history for over four decades. The third and oldest surviving son of Edward III of England, he was one of the most powerful men of 14th Century England. He was a close friend of both Geoffrey Chaucer and John Wycliff. I have studied his life and the life of his third wife, Katherine Swynford, for years. In 2000, while doing research on my family history, I was astounded and delighted to learn that I am a descendant of John and Katherine. They are my grandparents seventeen generations back.
It is hard for me to realize that yesterday marked the ninth week since Rick's heart attack and the fourth week since his death. Most of the time it doesn't seem that long. Last night was the easiest Friday evening I have had since his passing. I was sure to keep myself busy and avoided looking at the clock so that I wouldn't mark the events of April 9 and May 14 as I have on previous Fridays. I'm sure that I will always recall special memories on Fridays. After all, we met on a Friday evening in 1962. I can still visualize the way he looked the first time I saw him. I was standing on the second floor exterior walkway of the apartment house I had just moved into, and he was standing on the ground looking up at me when my new roommate introduced us.
Last week was good. On Monday we learned that our niece, Joan, was in town from Kansas. On Wednesday she came over with her daughter who lives here and four of her grandchildren. Amy and Ray stayed home and Chris came with his three children so we had a mini family reunion. It was so good to see Joan, Shelly and the children. Joan reminds me so much of her mother, Rick's late sister, Rose Mary.
On Thursday my long-time friend, Karen Carter, came over to take me to lunch. We had a nice, long (and delicious) lunch at the Teapot Depot and then went "junking." She's a great one for thrift stores. Maybe together, she and Donna can convert me. We came back to the house and just visited. It was a near perfect day. Thanks, Karen.
I am feeling a need to get in touch with old friends. I guess it's because I now realize how tenuous life is. I realized that Rick's and my time together was growing shorter each year, but I thought we'd have at least another 10 or 15 years. Shortly after he died, I realized that if I live to be the age my mother was when she died, I will live 17 years without Rick. It seems almost unbearable but I know I can make it. I just pray that I make intelligent decisions about my future.
It's Saturday and Amy and Ray are selling at two farmers' markets today. Katherine and William are up and so my day has started. Yard work, here I come.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Time is passing
Well, I don't seem to be too good at posting on this blog spot. I start thinking about things that I want to write and then start editing them in my head thinking they're not worthy of writing. So I don't write anything. Ten days have past since my first post.
People still want to know how I'm doing. I still don't know for sure. The people who never ask that are other widows. I find their advice to be the most helpful, too. Consistently, they say take your time. I'm not going to make any major decisions about my future for at least six months and maybe a year. It has occurred to me, however, that I can make little decisions without consulting anyone--like painting a wall purple or even fuchsia if I choose. Of course, I don't choose to do that, but I did see some wall paper that I love in a Victoria magazine today. It's not that Rick was dictatorial about stuff like that. I almost always did what I wanted, but I felt it was only polite to confer with him.
Does that sound trivial? Perhaps so, but the random thoughts I have are kind of weird. I hope that's normal. I do go though a range of emotions with at least one crying spell each day. I've learned that Friday afternoons are the hardest times for me. I look at the clock and think of what was happening at that time on Rick's last Friday. I think I'll plan something for future Fridays.
The day that Rick died, Amy came to the home to tell us that she and her family were moving in with me. They had been living with her father-in-law who is a cranky old man and it just didn't work out. That afternoon, she, her husband Ray, five-year-old Katherine and three-year-old William moved in. I think it is probably a good thing. I have lived alone for only three months in my whole life. Katherine sleeps with Little Bit (my calico cat) and me. It is nice to feel her there when I reach out for Rick in the night. And, of course, the house is rarely quiet with a three- and five-year-old in it.
Today I did some work in the yard. I think I should have done that days and days ago. Not just because it desperately needs it, but because of the satisfaction it gives. I may be going into my first anger phase of grief, however. I let the fish pond get away from me during the seven weeks since Rick went into the hospital. It is overtaken with algae. Ray vacuumed the pond bottom. I fertilized the water lilies, added some bacteria to kill the algae and cleaned the filters today, Since then, the pump is barely working. Just a trickle is going over the waterfall. I have turned the pump off and put a sump pump in to oxygenate the water so the fish won't die. Now I'm mad at myself and Rick for not teaching me more about the workings of the whole pond and it's mechanical and electrical equipment. I'm sure this is only the first of many similar problems I will experience.
I have gotten quite a bit of the "business" involved with death completed. Thank you notes are written, death certificates picked up, and I have an appointment with our attorney on Wednesday to start working on all the legal aspects.
Well, I don't seem to have a good way to end this so I'll just quit for now. I have more to write but will wait until tomorrow.
Friday, May 21, 2010
First Steps
Rick, my husband of 47 years. died a week ago tonight. I have always found solace in writing so I decided to start a blog to record my journey into widowhood. It took me longer than I expected to set up this blog spot, so I'll keep my entry short tonight.
Last Wednesday morning (the morning following the memorial service), I took my cup of coffee and went to the back porch to drink it. Others were stirring in the house, but I was alone. Oh, I felt so alone. The phrase, "This is the first day of the rest of your life," jumped into my mind and I realized how truly fitting those words were. The rest of my life is ahead of me and it is going to be so different without Rick. I can't imagine that I will spend the rest of my tomorrows without him.
People ask me how I'm doing. I don't know. How am I doing? I do know that I would probably be doing a lot better if I weren't battling a case of acute bronchitis. Surely, it will start to get better soon. I did have one real rough spot this afternoon. Rick had been in the hospital since April 9. For the last six weeks, I did only those domestic tasks that were absolutely necessary for survival so that I could spend most of my time at the hospital with him. Today I started sorting piles of laundry. I was in the midst of doing his laundry when he had his heart attack. His unwashed clothes were returned to the laundry basket and put into the closet until today. I came across them this afternoon--his dirty laundry. The shirts and trousers smelled of him. They held the essence of him. I can't wash them yet. It's like I'll be washing him away forever and never again will smell his special smell.
There is so much more I want to say, but I am going to close and try to get a good night's sleep. Busy day tomorrow. Granddaughter's orchestra concert followed by grandson's birthday party. Life is moving on and I'll be moving along with it.
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