TheBanyanTree: Coat on the Hook, Boots by the Door

[Margaret R. Kramer]

Thank you so much for all your notes of sympathy and support.  Each one was
tucked away in my heart.  Thank you, thank you.

Coat on the Hook, Boots by the Door

I’m still in the “he’s coming back someday” mode in my grief.  My brain
knows he’s gone forever, but my heart is still looking for him.  It jumps a
little when I see a gray haired, bearded man, and then slows down to a crawl
when it realizes it’s a stranger’s face.

Since I’m sure he’s coming back home, I keep Ray’s things almost as he left
them.  His coat is on the hook and his boots are still next mine by the back
door.  His shaver sits on top of the toilet tank, ready for a quick shave,
if needed.

He asked me to bring it to the hospital as he wanted to trim his beard and
mustache, but I always forgot it.  On the last Saturday afternoon of his
life, he asked me to trim his mustache, as the hairs were hanging over his
upper lip.  I asked the nurse for a scissors and carefully cut the fine
hairs.  I didn’t even cut his lip, which is a miracle, because I’m the
biggest klutz there is!  I brushed the hairs off of his face and kissed his
cheek.

I would give anything, everything I have to hold that moment in time, to
freeze it forever, along with a million other moments we had shared.  I want
time to spin backward and then get stuck on all our minutes together, and
play them over and over again.  I never want to get beyond that skip, to
face what life is like now, quiet and empty with a gaping hole that will
never be filled.

I sound like I’m depressed, but I’m not.  Grief is different than
depression.  Grief is an infinite sadness, an infinite emptiness, and an
infinite lack of purpose.  I get up in the morning and go to work and
exercise.  I keep my house clean.  I shovel snow.  I read the newspaper.  I
go for walks.  If I was depressed, I’d lay in bed and not get up to do
anything.  But in grief, I can do my usual routine, but it’s like walking
through molasses.  I go through the motions.  What’s behind the motions is
nothing.  There is no passion, no joy, no hope.

Yes, I know Ray is in a better place.  Well, he’s a lot luckier than I am!
I wish there was a way that people who are dying can take their loved ones
with them to that better place.  I want to be in a better place, too!  Why
am I still stuck here?!!!!

My grief group comrades told me that I’ll know when I’m ready to begin going
through Ray’s things.  His office is pretty much as he left it.  I did give
Asher his printer this week.  I had to go through his paperwork when I was
looking for his Army discharge papers.  He kept my poems in a folder.  He
kept our love emails in a folder.  He kept my cards in a folder.  What a
sweetheart.

His clothes still take up half of our closet.  There are still a couple of
24 packs of Pepsi sitting next to his desk.  He loved sugar in his coffee,
while I drink mine black, and his sugar bowl is still sitting on the counter
by the salt and pepper shakers.

I haven’t unpacked his hospital bags yet.  That’s the stuff that came home
with me after he died.  I peeked in them the other day, looking for his
wallet, and saw notes he had written to the nurses about how he was feeling.
It was gut wrenching for me to see them, so I quickly put the bags back in
the corner.

I did keep out his wallet and looked through it.  I couldn’t stop crying.  I
hugged his wallet to my heart.  All I want is for him to shove his wallet
into his back pocket.  Is that too much to ask?

I still use the words “our” and “we” and “us.”  In my mind, I’m part of a
couple, and not a widow as probably a lot of people see me now.  Maybe I’m
the black widow spider, as both my first husband who I have very little
feeling for and my Ray, who I loved as much as anyone can love,  are dead.

I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have my dogs and cat.  I sleep with
Shadow.  He keeps Ray’s side of the bed warm and used.  I have to come home
and let them outside.  I have to feed them.  I have to love them.  They keep
me focused and help me feel needed and useful.  I guess they’ll be good
enough until I get to go to that “better place” and be with Ray.

Margaret R. Kramer
margaretkramer at comcast.net
margaret.kramer at polarispublications.com

www.polarispublications.com

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in
truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
~Kahlil Gibran
No virus found in this outgoing message.
Checked by AVG.
Version: 7.5.519 / Virus Database: 269.21.8/1338 - Release Date: 03/21/2008
5:52 PM