I have a friend at church that is just about my age (she's a little more than a week older than I), and we have always shared a special bond. We laugh and tell people that we "graduated from different high schools together". She is from a town about sixty miles away, and ended up here with her (now ex) husband, who was involved in the broadcasting business and owned an interest in a couple of local radio stations. Anyway, we loved each other from the start, and were always touched by the good and bad things in each other's lives. One of our phrases got to be "don't look at me", which meant that if we made eye contact, we'd begin to cry...either from happiness or sadness.
During DH's visitation, my friend came through the line, and we said our "line" at almost the same time, but we ended up making eye contact, and crying as we hugged each other tightly. She's had her share of sorrow this year, too, since her former husband announced--after thirty-five years of marriage--that he didn't love her anymore, and needed to get on with his life. God is so good to put people in our lives who are willing to share the sorrows as well as the happinesses.
There were also other people to whom I said "don't look at me", and they understood what I meant. The first person was JD, who is a sixteen-year-old young man who loved and adored my DH. They had a special bond, and I think it grew because of the fact that DH was in his "dark years" during his own sons' teenaged years. JD was his second chance to influence a young man, and he also seemed to fill a place in JD's life. JD's father told me during the course of the past few weeks that he'd never seen anyone else that his son loved and respected as much as he did DH, and that he appreciated all the time DH had spent with him. He's a fine father in his own right, and was not threatened by DH's involvement in JD's life, and I thank him for his words. JD understood what I meant, and we didn't look at each other until he came by last Saturday to cut the grass.
Another person to whom I said those words was DH's friend WL. DH was about 5'8", and WL is about 6'4", so it was just fun to watch them stand next to each other in the church choir. They were both avid cooks, so it was fun to listen to two "manly" men talk about the best place to buy meat for the grill, what spices worked best with what foods, etc. They were also plain-spoken, which sometimes got them in trouble with their wives, who tried to encourage them NOT to say everything that came to mind in a given situation. It broke my heart to see such a wonderful friend with red eyes from crying and mourning the loss of his friend. He made the statement to people at my house that he might have other friends, but he didn't think he'd ever have another friend like DH who accepted him exactly as he was with no pretensions.
The third person to whom I said these words was JR. He and DH got to be friends when working on a couple of church projects. JR is an executive in an industrial construction company, and travels all over the Southeast supervising projects for his firm, but he's just a "plain ole country boy". He was about ten years younger than DH, but that didn't have any effect on their friendship. He went through a rather difficult divorce a few years after we met him, and he took the high road by not degrading his former wife (she didn't chose to take the same high road). DH knew the whole story, and took every opportunity to defend JR, while not sharing any tidbits of information. Because of JR's willingness to cooperate with his ex-wife so that HER children would not be moved from their home until the end of the school year, he has a commute of about 120 miles round trip every day. That didn't keep him from coming to see DH almost EVERY day that he was in the hospital (nineteen days in January and February), spending several nights WITH him in his hospital room, and calling me at least three times a day to check on his friend. When we knew that DH would be leaving us, I took JR into the intensive care unit to see him one last time. I told him to stay as long as he wanted, but that I could NOT stay in the room with him while he talked to DH. Their bond was too strong for me to bear while dealing with my own loss.
I will forever be grateful for God granting me the privilege of observing the love that men have for each other. I will also praise God that I was married to a man that inspired such deep love and affection from people in all walks of life. If I meet you and say "don't look at me", you'll understand why.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Monday, March 26, 2007
Lifting Up My Arms
Today was my first day back at work since DH died. I woke up around 4:45 a.m., and I had set the alarm for 5:10. I got up at 5:00 to give myself plenty of time to do everything I wanted to do before I had to leave the house at 7:00, and I made my deadline--with a shower, breakfast, feeding the dog and the cat, makeup and dressing, and gathering up everything I wanted to take with me. I also sat down and picked up one of my devotional Bibles--the one with the Oswald Chambers writings interspersed with the daily Bible readings. I knew I needed to read BEFORE I went to school...putting on my armor, as it were.
The Old Testament reading for today (I started where the bookmark was from the last time I used this particular devotional Bible) had the story about the men holding up Moses's arms during a particular battle. As long as they held up his arms, the children of Israel were winning, but if they let down his arms, the battle began to turn against them. I sometimes laugh at the messages God sends to us, and this was one of those times. God knew I needed to be reminded that I have a lot of people holding up my arms during this battle with my grief and heartache--I have friends, family, coworkers, and even people I've "met" on various Internet message boards. They are all holding up my arms, and if I start to depend on my own strength, the battle will begin to turn against me.
I went by Hobby Lobby today and stocked up--again--on albums since they are half-price this week. I bought a lot of mini-albums the last time to make gift albums with the baby's pictures. The ones I bought this time are to make albums for DH's brothers, parents, and aunts. I have larger albums already started for his sons with full-sized pictures; I'll use wallet-sized prints for the other albums. I took hundreds (no, I am not exaggerating...I come from a long line of photographers) of pictures of DH while we were married, and I have a good assortment from his "good years" to share with his family. I was weak--I bought just one more batch of alphabet stickers...when will THAT madness end?
Thought for today: Does a Christian really NEED a radar detector?
The Old Testament reading for today (I started where the bookmark was from the last time I used this particular devotional Bible) had the story about the men holding up Moses's arms during a particular battle. As long as they held up his arms, the children of Israel were winning, but if they let down his arms, the battle began to turn against them. I sometimes laugh at the messages God sends to us, and this was one of those times. God knew I needed to be reminded that I have a lot of people holding up my arms during this battle with my grief and heartache--I have friends, family, coworkers, and even people I've "met" on various Internet message boards. They are all holding up my arms, and if I start to depend on my own strength, the battle will begin to turn against me.
I went by Hobby Lobby today and stocked up--again--on albums since they are half-price this week. I bought a lot of mini-albums the last time to make gift albums with the baby's pictures. The ones I bought this time are to make albums for DH's brothers, parents, and aunts. I have larger albums already started for his sons with full-sized pictures; I'll use wallet-sized prints for the other albums. I took hundreds (no, I am not exaggerating...I come from a long line of photographers) of pictures of DH while we were married, and I have a good assortment from his "good years" to share with his family. I was weak--I bought just one more batch of alphabet stickers...when will THAT madness end?
Thought for today: Does a Christian really NEED a radar detector?
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Just Looking...
DH used to tell his family that he didn't want a visitation when he died. In one of his other "lives", he was a car salesman, and he said he got tired of people coming through the carlot saying that they were "just looking", and he thought that would be what they'd be doing at his visitation...just looking.
He came from a family of four sons, and he was the oldest. He probably ended up having the closest relationship with the third son, because that was the brother that was around through DH's "dark times", and did the most to support and encourage DH in his journey to what he wanted to become. He was the brother who, along with his wonderful wife, stayed with me at the hospital all night long until DH finally left us. He came back in all during the evening to check on me, and he and I laughed about the "just looking" remark. I told him that I had told DH a long time ago that I certainly was having a visitation because I had to give all his friends a chance to come by and tell me what a good old s*** he was.
I had originally planned to do only one visitation for two hours prior to the funeral service, and then have private graveside services. I thought about it all day and all night, and decided that what I needed to do was not necessarily what I wanted to do. I needed to have two visitation opportunities--one for two hours on the afternoon before his service, and again for about an hour or so before the service--so that's what I ended up doing, and DH would have been pleased. We did NOT let people look at him (except for immediate family), because he would have had a fit--they shaved off about half his hair and ALL of his mustache (I never knew him without his mustache). Almost four hundred people came by during the two days, and he would have been pleased...and yes, they all told me what a good old s*** he was!
DH went from being someone who abused prescription drugs and alcohol to being someone who sang in the church choir, coordinated a men's Bible study group, cooked for any church group that asked, and taught a Sunday School class at a drug treatment facility, and he never hesitated to tell people what he was and what he became through God's help. I miss him...
He came from a family of four sons, and he was the oldest. He probably ended up having the closest relationship with the third son, because that was the brother that was around through DH's "dark times", and did the most to support and encourage DH in his journey to what he wanted to become. He was the brother who, along with his wonderful wife, stayed with me at the hospital all night long until DH finally left us. He came back in all during the evening to check on me, and he and I laughed about the "just looking" remark. I told him that I had told DH a long time ago that I certainly was having a visitation because I had to give all his friends a chance to come by and tell me what a good old s*** he was.
I had originally planned to do only one visitation for two hours prior to the funeral service, and then have private graveside services. I thought about it all day and all night, and decided that what I needed to do was not necessarily what I wanted to do. I needed to have two visitation opportunities--one for two hours on the afternoon before his service, and again for about an hour or so before the service--so that's what I ended up doing, and DH would have been pleased. We did NOT let people look at him (except for immediate family), because he would have had a fit--they shaved off about half his hair and ALL of his mustache (I never knew him without his mustache). Almost four hundred people came by during the two days, and he would have been pleased...and yes, they all told me what a good old s*** he was!
DH went from being someone who abused prescription drugs and alcohol to being someone who sang in the church choir, coordinated a men's Bible study group, cooked for any church group that asked, and taught a Sunday School class at a drug treatment facility, and he never hesitated to tell people what he was and what he became through God's help. I miss him...
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
The Day the Music Died
DH started playing the guitar when he was about nine years old, and probably started singing about the same time. His parents both sang, and his mother played the piano. For several years, DH played professionally in a band--playing in various bars and clubs on the weekends, while keeping up a full-time job during the week. He gave up the band when his first son was born, but he never gave up the music.
He had a stroke in 1993, and that affected his fine motor skills, which meant that he could no longer play the guitar. His brain could remember how to make the chords, but his fingers couldn't get into the right positions on the neck of the guitar, but he never gave up the music. When we met, he was attending his childhood church and singing with his brother and another friend. I had kept a prayer journal for several years, and when I described my requirements for a husband, a love of music was near the top of the list.
After our marriage, DH began attending my church, and we had a large adult choir. He sang baritone, with great enjoyment and enthusiasm. We used to do a large theatrical-type production every year at Easter, and DH was onstage for each of those performances from 1999 until 2004.
Our house was always full of music. He sang from the time he got up in the morning until he went to bed at night. I could tell when he didn't feel well because he didn't sing. My singing voice was NOTHING to compare with his, and I took a lot of teasing from him because I wanted to sing, too. He made up words to songs; he said he'd gotten in the habit of doing that when singing in bars because the patrons were too drunk to know if the words were correct. His dad had once said that DH had a better voice than his brother, but that DH sang in bars and brother sang in church. That all changed when DH changed, and his music became part of his testimony and his witness.
When I knew that DH was going to leave us, I came home for a couple of hours. I charged up my cell phone, changed clothes, and charged up my MP-3 player. I had loaded it with a lot of songs from the groups Acapella and Glad, and I wanted to have that music with me while I sat with DH in the intensive care unit. When I got back to the hospital, I took my place again with DH and put on my music. I talked to him and prayed, and the last song I listened to was "We Will Glorify the Lamb" by Acapella. His brother came back in to be with me as DH left, and I know that DH's first words in heaven were songs. His left hand is working perfectly again, and he's playing the guitar again.
The music died in our house, but it will come back. I'm not sure I can ever sing out loud again without DH to make fun of my voice, but my heart will always sing. I'll sing because I had the opportunity to be married to DH, who was an answer to my prayers, and I'll sing because I have the assurance that I'll sing with him in heaven some day.
I miss him...it's too quiet here. He filled up a room when he came in, and he filled up my heart when he came in.
He had a stroke in 1993, and that affected his fine motor skills, which meant that he could no longer play the guitar. His brain could remember how to make the chords, but his fingers couldn't get into the right positions on the neck of the guitar, but he never gave up the music. When we met, he was attending his childhood church and singing with his brother and another friend. I had kept a prayer journal for several years, and when I described my requirements for a husband, a love of music was near the top of the list.
After our marriage, DH began attending my church, and we had a large adult choir. He sang baritone, with great enjoyment and enthusiasm. We used to do a large theatrical-type production every year at Easter, and DH was onstage for each of those performances from 1999 until 2004.
Our house was always full of music. He sang from the time he got up in the morning until he went to bed at night. I could tell when he didn't feel well because he didn't sing. My singing voice was NOTHING to compare with his, and I took a lot of teasing from him because I wanted to sing, too. He made up words to songs; he said he'd gotten in the habit of doing that when singing in bars because the patrons were too drunk to know if the words were correct. His dad had once said that DH had a better voice than his brother, but that DH sang in bars and brother sang in church. That all changed when DH changed, and his music became part of his testimony and his witness.
When I knew that DH was going to leave us, I came home for a couple of hours. I charged up my cell phone, changed clothes, and charged up my MP-3 player. I had loaded it with a lot of songs from the groups Acapella and Glad, and I wanted to have that music with me while I sat with DH in the intensive care unit. When I got back to the hospital, I took my place again with DH and put on my music. I talked to him and prayed, and the last song I listened to was "We Will Glorify the Lamb" by Acapella. His brother came back in to be with me as DH left, and I know that DH's first words in heaven were songs. His left hand is working perfectly again, and he's playing the guitar again.
The music died in our house, but it will come back. I'm not sure I can ever sing out loud again without DH to make fun of my voice, but my heart will always sing. I'll sing because I had the opportunity to be married to DH, who was an answer to my prayers, and I'll sing because I have the assurance that I'll sing with him in heaven some day.
I miss him...it's too quiet here. He filled up a room when he came in, and he filled up my heart when he came in.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
I Don't Know How...
to be a widow. I am almost 54 years old. I met DH when I was 44 and he was 47. We married when I was 45 and he was 48. He had two sons from a previous marriage; I had never been married. The only child we have together is a seven-year-old Jack Russell/Fox Terrier named Jill. We've had her since she was fifteen months old, and she's grieving just as much as I am, but in her dog-child way. I don't fit any of the stereotypes of widows--I'm not young with children, I'm not older with children and grandchildren. I'm just in the middle, and don't know what to do.
God's hand has been on us for our entire marriage, and I know it will stay on me through all of this. He kept us going when DH had to resign from his job, and worked it out for the disability claim to be approved. He worked it out for my lawsuit to be settled so that we could move to this house, in a safer neighborhood, and close to friends, family, and church. He worked it out for Mother's insurance claims to settle in a timely manner so that I will have adequate resources until DH's insurance claim is settled and the other house sells. He worked it out for me to decide to keep working when DH wanted me to retire, so now I have my job to occupy my time and the income to keep going in the style to which we've become accustomed--eating regularly, paying the utility bills, keeping fuel in the car, etc. He worked it out when my uncle refused to let me bury DH in my maternal family's lots. He hasn't settled my pain over that situation, but it will happen in His time and in His way.
I lived alone for a long time before I married DH. I knew how to take care of myself, but it was so wonderful having him to be with me. He used to laugh at me and say that I didn't know how to be married, but I think I learned to be married...and we took wonderful care of each other. Now I have a new skill to learn...how to be a widow.
God's hand has been on us for our entire marriage, and I know it will stay on me through all of this. He kept us going when DH had to resign from his job, and worked it out for the disability claim to be approved. He worked it out for my lawsuit to be settled so that we could move to this house, in a safer neighborhood, and close to friends, family, and church. He worked it out for Mother's insurance claims to settle in a timely manner so that I will have adequate resources until DH's insurance claim is settled and the other house sells. He worked it out for me to decide to keep working when DH wanted me to retire, so now I have my job to occupy my time and the income to keep going in the style to which we've become accustomed--eating regularly, paying the utility bills, keeping fuel in the car, etc. He worked it out when my uncle refused to let me bury DH in my maternal family's lots. He hasn't settled my pain over that situation, but it will happen in His time and in His way.
I lived alone for a long time before I married DH. I knew how to take care of myself, but it was so wonderful having him to be with me. He used to laugh at me and say that I didn't know how to be married, but I think I learned to be married...and we took wonderful care of each other. Now I have a new skill to learn...how to be a widow.
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
Emptying the Dishwasher
Who knew what a blessing emptying the dishwasher could be? I certainly didn't...until God brought it to my mind this morning as I emptied ours. I noticed that I had a lot more dishes to wash since DH is home from the hospital and his appetite is increasing. That's a blessing, since that will make him stronger and get him to a place physically where he may be able to cut back or even stop the dialysis treatments.
I have a wonderful kitchen window near my dishwasher, and I can look at my street from that window and see my "new" neighborhood. It is a blessing to live in such a quiet, peaceful place, in a house with enough room for DH and me, with all my "stuff". It is a blessing to live in a neighborhood so near so many of our friends who have been so wonderful to help DH and me during his illness and recovery at home. It is a blessing to have enough money to be able to afford this house, and to be able to pay the power bill to run that wonderful dishwasher.
It is a blessing to have enough food to eat, and people with whom we can share that food. Thank you, God, for the opportunity to empty my dishwasher.
I have a wonderful kitchen window near my dishwasher, and I can look at my street from that window and see my "new" neighborhood. It is a blessing to live in such a quiet, peaceful place, in a house with enough room for DH and me, with all my "stuff". It is a blessing to live in a neighborhood so near so many of our friends who have been so wonderful to help DH and me during his illness and recovery at home. It is a blessing to have enough money to be able to afford this house, and to be able to pay the power bill to run that wonderful dishwasher.
It is a blessing to have enough food to eat, and people with whom we can share that food. Thank you, God, for the opportunity to empty my dishwasher.
Thursday, March 1, 2007
The Power of a Nap
Because of the expected storms, we got out of school today at 1:00, and I was home by 1:20. DH had dialysis this morning; they called him to come in early because of the weather, so he was also home when I arrived. I had been concerned about him since he was sick this morning for the first time in two weeks. However, he seemed much better and decided that we should have macaroni and cheese, black-eyed peas, and ham for lunch...so we did.
We watched television for a while, and then I took a nap in my recliner. In fact, I took several naps, which might add up to one long nap. When I woke up from one of my naps, I noticed that DH was gone from his recliner. He and the dog decided to move their napping to the bed, but I was too content in the recliner to move.
I needed that nap. I've not caught up on sleep since DH got sick. I didn't sleep well while he was gone, and I'm still waking up whenever he moves or gets up, usually just to go to the bathroom. The dog has decided that I can be the one to let her out at 2:30 in the morning (I hope she gets over that when she decides that her pop is better), so that interrupts my sleep as well. I've tried to take a "power nap" most afternoons, but my "second shift" starts when I get home from school--getting dinner, emptying the dishwasher (thank you, God, for a dishwasher), doing a load of laundry (thank you, God, for a washer and dryer and an inside laundry room), folding or putting up the laundry from the day before...you get the idea. Then I try to fit in a walk most days, which takes another chunk of my time. I think I'll do my grocery shopping tomorrow afternoon so that I have all four hours of DH's dialysis time to myself Saturday morning. I bought three large letters at Hobby Lobby, and I want to put collages on them to hang on the walls of my studio. If they turn out well, I think I'll get a couple of letters and do them for my sister--get her granddaughter's initials and use wallet-sized pictures of that darling baby. Be a good late birthday present, even though I already bought her a present (gaudy, clunky jewelry, which she loved) and I've ordered her some bread mix from Tastefully Simple.
We watched television for a while, and then I took a nap in my recliner. In fact, I took several naps, which might add up to one long nap. When I woke up from one of my naps, I noticed that DH was gone from his recliner. He and the dog decided to move their napping to the bed, but I was too content in the recliner to move.
I needed that nap. I've not caught up on sleep since DH got sick. I didn't sleep well while he was gone, and I'm still waking up whenever he moves or gets up, usually just to go to the bathroom. The dog has decided that I can be the one to let her out at 2:30 in the morning (I hope she gets over that when she decides that her pop is better), so that interrupts my sleep as well. I've tried to take a "power nap" most afternoons, but my "second shift" starts when I get home from school--getting dinner, emptying the dishwasher (thank you, God, for a dishwasher), doing a load of laundry (thank you, God, for a washer and dryer and an inside laundry room), folding or putting up the laundry from the day before...you get the idea. Then I try to fit in a walk most days, which takes another chunk of my time. I think I'll do my grocery shopping tomorrow afternoon so that I have all four hours of DH's dialysis time to myself Saturday morning. I bought three large letters at Hobby Lobby, and I want to put collages on them to hang on the walls of my studio. If they turn out well, I think I'll get a couple of letters and do them for my sister--get her granddaughter's initials and use wallet-sized pictures of that darling baby. Be a good late birthday present, even though I already bought her a present (gaudy, clunky jewelry, which she loved) and I've ordered her some bread mix from Tastefully Simple.
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