Category Archives: He’s Gone

Anniversary, part one

Posted on by

0

No, not the anniversary of our wedding, first date, or first meeting. Not even the anniversary of Mike’s death. There were no flowers, or fancy night out, or even a cake. It was a bittersweet day, a different kind of anniversary – it was the date marking Mike’s removal from my home.

I’ve alluded to it in past posts, but Mike was not amenable to our separation. I had to get a court order to have him removed from the house. If it were up to him, I’m sure he would have still been laying on my couch in the basement. But I couldn’t do that to the kids – or myself – anymore.

I discovered his drinking problem in May 2010. I was on maternity leave and Mike had been unemployed for about six months. It was then that I discovered he was spending his days laying on the couch in the basement, not moving, not talking, not watching TV (or helping around the house or paying bills or doing anything else productive). He was basically not functioning at all. Then, I caught him trying to hide a bottle when I came downstairs. Suddenly, the random (daily) charges at gas stations and Walgreens made sense. There was something behind the cloudy, unfocused, narrow eyes that he had been sporting for while. The falls down stairs, passing out in a bar, and five trips to the ER over the course of 12 months – there was probably more to those too. Everything pointed in one direction – drinking.

I confronted him and he denied everything. Then he promised to stop. And broke the promise. And promised again. He was kicked out of an outpatient rehab program for showing up drunk. AA made him think he didn’t have a problem (“THOSE people have problems,” he told me after attending a meeting.) On and on for more than a year. The lies, the hiding, the denial, the continued drinking.

When my job was eliminated, I told Mike that I knew he never stopped drinking and lying about it. He admitted it. And I told him that until we figured things out, until one of us was employed again, there was to be no drinking, no lies. I told him that I couldn’t handle it, that my heart couldn’t take any more.

He held me, kissed my head, and said, “I couldn’t do that to you. I love you. I understand.” He agreed no drinking until everything in our lives was back in place. He even showed me all his hiding places and threw away the half empty bottles.

His promise lasted a few weeks.

We had a fight – over something stupid. I left him alone in the basement and about four hours later, he came upstairs, smelling (reeking) of booze.

“You’ve been drinking,” I said.

“Yep, and I’m done lying about it. That’s your problem, right? The lying?” he responded.

I took off my wedding ring and kicked him out of our bedroom for the night. (Which was actually not a big deal since we hadn’t slept in the same room in months.) I cried for about 30 minutes, then stopped. There were no more tears that night. I knew what had to be done – I had prepared myself for it.

The next day, I drove to the library and sat in the parking lot. I pulled out a tattered notebook and flipped to the last page. Divorce attorneys. I had been doing research for months, just in case I needed it, and had it narrowed to three potential lawyers. I called the first one and explained my situation. He advised me to go to the courthouse and get an order of protection which would get Mike out of the house. The attorney walked me through the process, telling me where to go when I get to the courthouse.  “They’ll help you,” he said. “This is your first step.”

As I talked to the other two attorneys, I kept thinking about the order of protection. It seemed like a pretty extreme thing to do, but I knew that Mike wouldn’t leave on his own, and frankly, I was done.

When I got home that afternoon, I asked Mike to leave. At this point, he had been on a binge for more than 24 hours – no food or drink (other than drinking whatever liquor he was hiding). He called me a “fucking bitch” and said it was his house. Then, he passed out again.

I slapped him awake. (Really, he was PASSED OUT and I couldn’t wake him without doing something physical.) I wanted a confrontation. “You really need to leave,” I told him. “You can’t do this here anymore. Our kids! Me! It’s not right and it’s not fair.”

More names. He put a pillow over his face, removing it only to spout out more nasty names and tell me to get out of the basement. Then, something caught my eye by the stairs – Ethan had snuck into the basement and was watching us from around the corner. I saw the pain and confusion in his little eyes, and I knew that it was time to end this – for real.

I didn’t talk to Mike the next day, other than to tell him I calling his parents because he wasn’t eating or drinking anything. That announcement was met with more name calling. The next day, his parents arrived and stayed in the basement with him for the next several days.

 — TO BE CONTINUED. coming up: I go to court, the ambulance arrives, Mike leaves (not willingly)–

Moving out (well, thinking about it anyway)

Posted on by

2

“I think I’ll find a duplex or condo soon,” my mom said at dinner last night.

I almost spit out my food – in shock.

My mom has lived with us since October 2010, moving in after my dad died and she sold their property in Tennessee. Lauren has never known life without Grandma RIGHT THERE, and Ethan loves having her close.

Of course, the original intent was never to have my mom live with us full-time forever. She was going to get her own house, close by, when we were in St. Louis. Then, things were bad with Mike, and she didn’t want to leave me (and the kids) alone to deal with his drinking and lying. She moved with me and the kids to Wisconsin and fully intended to get her own place there, but then Mike died and she thought the kids and I needed her close (we did/do).

But now, hearing that she’s actually LOOKING at places and has called an agent to help her search, it’s kind of a shock.

Yes, it’s tough sometimes having my mom live with me, like how she sets hot pans directly on my countertops (pet peeve) or how she doesn’t keep the pantry organized the same way I do (pet peeve). But, hell! She does the kids’ laundry, makes dinner, walks the dog, runs errands for us, keeps the house clean and running smoothly.

It would be nice to actually settle down in my house – my office is currently my mom’s bedroom and the guest room is PACKED with my mom’s “stuff.” Right now, my desk is in the dining room and office supplies are scattered in closets and the basement. And I don’t even know where the guest room furniture is… And three-quarters of my garage is filled with her furniture and boxes.

It would be nice to figure out how to be a single mom on my own. Besides, my mom will still be close – she watches Lauren three days a week. And it would probably be good for her to have her own space (and her stuff – which has been in storage or my garage for nearly two years). She needs to figure out how to deal with her own widow-hood.

I know I’m very fortunate to be in this situation with a mom who cares and wants to help (despite her own health and other issues). And a mom whom I can tolerate living under my roof.

It’s just bittersweet to think she’ll get her own place soon.

His Death is Real

Posted on by

2

Know what makes death real?

Reviewing the computer-generated image of the tombstone, or as they call it “cemetery memorial.”

The cemetery gave me a choice of two memorial companies for Mike’s tombstone. I went with the local one – they do everything in same small town as the cemetery. Seemed nice to support a local business that keeps jobs in the community and has been around for 60+ years.

The woman who answered the phone was very nice. I explained what I wanted – simple, cost-effective, not flowery or over designed. Just his name and dates. No chiseled angels or flowers. No fancy shape. No “best dad and husband ever!” Just tombstone-y. Basic.

We settled on a grey stone (cheapest option) with no special carving. Since it was a single grave (meaning, I didn’t buy plots next to him), it was actually much less than I anticipated. Of course, like everything in this death business, there’s a hidden fee. In this case, a $300 cost for  the “foundation” – it’s a cemetery requirement, not even sure what it is, but it’s not negotiable. The sketchy thing is that unlike paying for the grave plot (paid to the city) or the tombstone (paid to the mom-and-pop company), the foundation payment is due to some dude – not a corporation, just a dude.

This whole thing can be done by email and snail mail. Crazy. The company just sent the image by email. Of course, there’s a mistake. Mike’s date of birth is wrong. My fault. Thank goodness for seeing the proof!

Still, even with the wrong date, there’s something final about it. Something more than going to his showing or the funeral mass or burying him. Seeing the image of a grave marker with his name and his dates makes this very, very real. And final.

Searched

Posted on by

2

I was Googled.

I was talking to a new colleague today and she told me that 1) I nailed my interview a month ago, just nailed it, and 2) immediately following the interview, the search team Googled me. One of the first entries: Mike’s obituary.

The colleague couldn’t have been nicer. She didn’t press for information, didn’t ask questions. She just expressed her condolences and offered that this new position should make things easier, scheduling-wise, with the kids. Still, I wasn’t expecting that the loss of my husband would be something discoverable.

I’ve said before that I prefer to establish myself before people get all weird about it. People just don’t know what to say – and there really isn’t anything to say. People can make snap judgements, right or wrong. People assume things, good and bad. I don’t want pity; I don’t want to be a “poor thing.” I just want to be…me.

Again, this colleague was very nice about it, but I wonder how many other colleagues and students will search my name and stumble across his obit (how can they NOT – it’s one of the first entries!). I know that I’m guilty of Googling new people (often), so I have to assume others will search for me. I know that a few students in the department in which I will be teaching have already checked my LinkedIn page – did they see that obituary, too?

And, as my life moves on and I contemplate dating again, I need to prepare myself to be searched. (Afterall, I will be searching, too.)

It’s just a weird feeling that an obit can be found so easily and rank so high. Mike’s death doesn’t define me, but it ranks higher than my Facebook page. It doesn’t tell the whole story – heck, it doesn’t tell much of a story other than he lived and died and left a wife and kids.

But if I want others to get to know the real me, I need to do the same for them. Google only tells part of the tale. The rest is written by each of us.

Updates and Stuff

Posted on by

0

Things have been crazy for the last few weeks. Quick snapshot – I may elaborate on some of these things later:

  • Mom’s health: still a mystery. Another trip to Mayo, another frustrating round of no answers. She’s on a super antibiotic now (just in case it’s an infection), and she’s made an appointment to see an OB/GYN (just in case it’s a female issue). She’s moody, short-tempered, and not a lot of fun right now. All of which is understandable, given the intense pain she’s been experiencing for nearly six months now.
  • Lauren’s speech: She has a handful of words that are clear and understandable to non-family. It’s an interesting mix of vocab that she’s using now. And some words, we’re not sure where she heard them (like, “b0ob” which is not a word we use in the house but she can use it and point to the appropriate place on her body).
  • Ethan: He’s looking forward to starting school next week. He’s finished with camp – the last week at camp was not a good experience. He had to change locations (all summer he attended camp at his school, which is now being cleaned so it’s not a viable camp location for the last few weeks). This brought about a whole new mix of kids and counselors – including one super mean kid named Pete. First day of camp, I arrived just in time to see Pete THROW Ethan into a steel pole. Ethan’s forehead and cheek hit the pole hard, leaving red marks and bruises for days. Pete’s an older, bigger kid – probably 11 years old, so it’s a little suspicious that he’s playing with the 7 year olds. (I expect it’s because kids his own age would kick his ass since he’s obviously not a nice kid.)
  • Mike: His ashes are finally buried. I didn’t invite his parents – it was just the kids and me (and my mom). We had a few minutes with one of the priests from my alma mater. Ethan struggled a bit with saying goodbye. He had some private time at the gravesite, and from the car, I could see him crying, holding his hands to heaven, and talking (but couldn’t hear the words). He spent about 10 minutes at the site, I sat with him for another 10, then he had another few minutes alone before deciding it was time to go. E seems to be in a good place since then. Hoping he found closure and peace, too.
  • Work: Started a new job yesterday. From agency to corporate to academia – lots of changes, but hoping that THIS is exactly what we all need. I’ll have a lot of flexibility, which I’ve NEVER had. I have a lot of work to do in the next two weeks before classes start, but I’m looking forward to it. I really think this will be the answer we all need.
  • Life insurance: Related to making the new work situation possible, the final life insurance check arrived. Now I just need to find a financial planner to help me sort through what to do with it. It definitely eases the financial hit of this new job, but I also need to be responsible and invest a substantial portion of it. Figuring out the money stuff remains on the to-do list (but now there’s hope that I can actually DO my to-dos!).