Lonesome Dove

Its been said that there are several events in one's life that create a great deal of stress.  Death of a spouse would certainly rank at the top of the list.....check
Losing a job......check
Change in financial situation....check. 
Children leaving home.....check.
Relocating.....check.

Yep, the house is sold.  And it is breaking my heart.  This home has so very much of Wade in it, everywhere I look I see his handy work.  I remember every single project that we did together.  I've looked at the pictures and relived each and every upgrade and improvement.  I have rifled through all the receipts and clearly remember the debates we had over color selections or material choices. 

And now this home that has been my cocoon for almost two years since he died will be handed over to a new family in a few short weeks. 

When the buyers scheduled their second viewing, I was out of town and thankfully was sitting in my car in a parking lot.  I cried uncontrollably.  Then a few weeks later when an offer was submitted, again I cried.  The other day when the final acceptance was completed, I broke down and cried hysterically.

Our youngest daughter moved out in December to her own place.  I'm so very proud of her taking the leap, but honestly it broke my heart to see her go.  And now my sister is moving out this weekend to her own place.  That leaves me here all alone until April 16 to pack the PODS with stuff.  I don't want the stuff.  I want him back and I want the life back we had together.  I'd give up all the stuff in a heartbeat just to have him back.

Sadly, I don't have a plan on where I am going.  Haven't a clue.  So the stuff will go to storage and I will go.......hell, I don't know where I'll go.  But I have a dog and two cats that need a home as well.  So I better figure something out, and quickly, too.  If only Wade were here; we would be having a great time planning out our future.  Instead, I spend my time lost in memories as I pack them away in boxes.

The first holiday is over and there are only two more before this year becomes a bad memory. I did cook the traditional dinner for Thanksgiving, attended by my mother-in-law, my sister-in-law, my sister and two of my daughters. A girl's event, if you will. I only cried three times during the whole event. The first time was while I was peeling eggs; Wade would always sneak up behind me while I had my hands in the sink and sneak a grope, or snuggle my ear or maybe a little tickle. It was a tradition of sorts. It made me sad to think he will never do that again. Perhaps one day I will smile at the memory, but right now, it makes me cry. Even now as I type this. The next time I cried was after I was trying to "teach" my youngest daughter (age 20) about the proper handling of poultry. She and I seem to miscommunicate during these exchanges and they end up in a fight. That made me cry. Then later that night while everyone was watching a movie, I stepped outside by myself and had a good cry just because I missed him so very, very much.

All in all, it was a good time by all. No one got sick, so I guess I cooked the turkey correctly. But as for carving the bird, I wish I had paid more attention over the years. I swear I heard him laughing.

Now onto Christmas. I'm thinking a cruise is in order. And if I can pull it off, it just might cover New Years Eve as well.

I have been reading blogs by other widows and now I am scared shitless! I have come to the realization today that I have been in shock and denial for the last 3 months, while I honestly believed I was recovering nicely and thinking I was ready to venture out. Out to get a job, out to meet new people, out to find myself. Then came reality, and it is so unbearably painful. Physically, emotionally, sickeningly painful. The tears that I thought I had packed away safely for just me now are pouring out uncontrollably. Even when I am not crying the guttural wailing that takes over, they continue to flow freely, like a leaky faucet. I ache; my physical being is knotted and tense with so much pain that I can hardly breathe.

My rational self believes that death is inevitable and a few months off to reflect, cry, plan was all that would be needed to 'move on' without my best friend, lover, soul mate, definitely the better half. Then I started reading other blogs of widows who are many more months, sometimes years advanced in the grieving process and that is when the true reality set in for me. My emotional self has been locked up and is now screaming to come out.

Then the life insurance statement arrived and the shock that I can't go on this way much longer has caused panic. How can I "sell" myself to an employer in my current state of mind? Our youngest daughter is still living at home and entering her junior year of college. We had been paying as we go, now she is forced to seek financial aid and that has yet to be finalized. The business we ran together was suffering through the economic crisis and I opted to shut it down. Without him as an active participant, it was not feasible to continue. Because we had no will, I cannot sell the house or the excess vehicles until probate is complete.

We had the house on the market when he died. We had made our plans for our last move and were still deciding on the layout of our new home and workshop. Back to his ancestral hometown, the one he longed to return to and be the patriarch of his remaining family. The one he at his most peaceful, enjoying the work, the land, the history and a promise for the future. His father had passed away suddenly in 1996, his mother now a widow; his older brother ailing from a rare form a leukemia; his only sister had lost her only son in 1998 in a fiery car crash. It was time to go home to roost and I was more than happy to make the move and be part of the support team. And time to slow down, enjoy more time together, and be the glue to reclaim the family center that seemed to have waned over the past few years. Now everything is in limbo. The dream is shattered. Hearts are broken.

So I try to find answers and I try to stay busy. No, that's a lie. I don't stay busy and I don't try. It is a struggle every day to do the most mundane things. I haven't cleaned house since the service three months ago. I don't remember the last time I showered. I did strip off the sheets a few weeks ago and then slept on the bed wrapped in the comforter. A few days ago, I washed the comforter, so now the bed is totally bare. I now sleep on the couch. I've lost weight without trying. I don't answer the phone very much and I rarely initiate a call.

But Thanksgiving is next week, so I'll have to make an effort. An effort to put on a brave face, an effort to put on a smile. But I'm not cooking an elaborate meal. We are going to have a steak cookout, drink some, play cards, watch movies and just be together. And he will be with us, perched in the center of the room on the mantle.

It was John Lennon who said "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans." While that may be true, I've come to believe that death is what happens while we're busy making life's plans.