Tag Archives: widow

Coincidences or signs?

Posted on by

2

It’s been a weird 12 hours.

First, there was the amazing sunset after the balloon launch at Ethan’s grief group. What I didn’t say in my post last night was that on my balloon’s message to my dad, I asked for a sign that I was doing things okay, and that we’d be all right. Enter the most magnificent sky ever. I’m taking that as a sign from my dad.

Then I realized that I “knew” the new guy in grief group. First, his son looked familiar, like I had seen him before. Then the daughter’s name tripped alarm bells (it is not a common name). And the timeline of his ex-wife’s life from cancer diagnosis to their divorce to her untimely death was strangely familiar. I checked an obit this morning, and sure enough, the kids’ names and his name match. He’s the ex-husband of a former co-worker who died earlier this year. (I wrote about her in a previous entry, but I made the post private because “people” were searching for terms associated with her and stumbling across my site.)

This would be odd enough, but in one of the last emails that Donna sent to me, just weeks before she died, she talked about her kids and my kids and wanting to get them all together for a play date. I guess now they’ll get to know each other, having the chance to hang out every two weeks at grief group…

Message received

Posted on by

1

grief group

Tonight at the grief group Ethan and I attend, we released balloons with messages to our deceased loved ones. Almost as soon as the balloons were released, the sky changed and the most amazing sunset appeared. I told E that it was a sign that Mike received his balloon message.

“Public intimacy”

Posted on by

0

I spend most Friday mornings at Starbucks or Panera. Drinking a latte (or a mocha, depends on the day). Eating a cinnamon bagel (or chocolate chip muffie, depends on my mood). Grading papers, or planning for next week’s classes, or catching up on emails and Facebook messages, or just procrastinating. It’s a lovely break from the everyday, and I enjoy having a few hours to myself.

Over the last few months, I’ve observed a lot. Groups of old ladies who meet to knit together (not so much talk, as just sit together and knit – really, this is a thing?). Pastors meeting members of their congregation to discuss various spiritual issues. Business people frantically working on PowerPoints or prepping for an important meeting. Friends meeting to celebrate a birthday or new baby or some other happy occasion. The single person reading a magazine or a book.

But there’s something that captures my attention every time. I’ll spend way too much time watching them, studying them, envying them.

It’s the older couple. Sitting across the table from one another. Reading the paper, sharing the sections. Drinking their coffees. Occasionally reaching across the table to hold hands for a fleeting moment. Sometimes reading excerpts from an article to one another. Talking about their day, their plans. Telling stories. Laughing. Maybe reaching across the table to brush fingertips – again, while looking into each other’s eyes.

I watch couples like this from afar, envious of this sort of “public intimacy.” It’s like the world – this coffee shop, all the customers, the noise – doesn’t exist. It’s just him and her. Enjoying each other. Together and separate, but very, very close. Physically, emotionally, mentally close.

I never had this. I want this.

Endings and Beginnings: An Update

Posted on by

1

Life has been extremely busy lately. Good busy, but busy nonetheless. So quick updates:

  • It’s the end of my semester, and I can’t believe how quickly time flew by. In the last week, I had a standing ovation from one class and incredible notes of thanks from several other students. This teaching thing, yeah I like it. Now the time-consuming part – I’ll be spending the next few weeks grading papers… (But I’m on the fall and spring schedules for next school year, which is awesome!)
  • B and I continue to talk daily. We closed the restaurant (again) on our last date, spending more than six hours talking and laughing and smiling without any concept of what time it was. (“Why does time seem to stop when I’m with you?” he asked when we realized it was 2 a.m. and the restaurant was closing.) At least one friend has asked if B and I have kissed. No, we haven’t. He continues to be a gentleman, walking me to my car, giving me a hug, kissing my cheek at the end of the evening (or early morning, in this case). I don’t know where this will lead, and while I look forward to finding out, I’m really realistic about it and taking things very slowly and cautiously.
  • Relatedly, a former coworker messaged me this week with a *demand* to get to know one of her friends who’s moving to town in a month or so. From her message: “I am going to introduce you to a friend of mine who is moving to (CITY). Not a “fix up” unless you just happen to hit it off that way but a great single dad who is extremely bright and funny and sarcastic and I think you would be friends. Oh, and just BTW, he’s exceedingly handsome and has an adorable young son. He’s an uber liberal feminist. I would consider running away with him if invited. Just a heads up. I am not giving either of you a choice in the matter.” I took a chance and messaged him yesterday. (Thank goodness I’ve had some recent practice being witty via emails…) Also, friend was right: he is ridiculously attractive.
  • The condo fell through. Someone offered full-price, all-cash, not-contingent-on-an-inspection offer, and the bank took it. It was a huge blow to my mom, and I think she’s reluctant to look anymore. I’ve shown her a few listings that are comparable, but she hasn’t taken any steps to move on anything. I think she’ll be around for a while.
  • Ethan had first communion last weekend. It’s a big deal for a second grade Catholic schoolboy. As Ethan was getting ready in my room on Saturday afternoon, I was struck with a feeling of sadness: Mike should have been there. Mike should have been helping him get ready, put on his first suit, tie his tie, comb his hair. Mike should have been sitting with E and I during mass. Mike should have seen his son reach across the aisle to hold the hand of one of his favorite (girl!) classmates during the “Our Father.” But he wasn’t there. Instead, I brought a photo of Mike to set on the empty chair, for Ethan to hold during the service. It made Ethan happy to have the image of his dad, but it was sad to watch as he held the photo close at key parts of mass. I was taken back at how empty and sad this otherwise happy occasion made me. I was glad when it was over and we could leave. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough – to get away from the happy families celebrating together: moms and dads and the first communicant and the extended families. (But it was super nice that E’s Big Brother came to mass.)

I’m looking forward to wrapping up this school year and then having the summer “free.” I’ve worked every summer and school break since I was 15 years old, so to have three months without obligations will be completely new to me. Also completely new to me: spending all day/night, every day/night with my kids – other than maternity leaves and occasional vacation days, I’ve worked since they were born. Actually, I worked through my maternity leaves and vacation days, so this will all be REALLY NEW to me.

Once I’ve submitted the final grades for the semester, I’ll be planning daily activities with the kids, a family road trip to the Gulf Coast, and visits with friends near and far. In my mind, I have lofty expectations for the summer – I hope reality lives up to it.

The too-short, too-busy weekend

Posted on by

1

Weekends like this last one make me wish for an extra day for recovery. So much to do, so much fun, so tired on Monday morning.

It started with arriving on my alma mater’s campus late on Friday. Too late to make the formal senior banquet, but that’s okay. Instead of changing into my sassy new dress (which I’m kind of disappointed about…I’ll have to find somewhere else to wear it), I walked into the ballroom, wearing jeans and a sweater, in time to hear the last 10 minutes of the “thank you” speeches.

The bar was closed, but I smiled sweetly and asked politely for two glasses of wine – it was a long drive through crazy Chicago traffic and I needed it. I was cornered by one of the college’s executives who made a weird, sort-of job pitch. I was pinned to the wall as she was trying to talk me into submitting a resume for a newly created position, and “wouldn’t you like to talk to the college president RIGHT NOW? He’s just over there…” Um, no. I just wanted to get my drink on and have a good time. Besides, I cannot relocate the kids again so soon. Would I like to work at my alma mater? Yes. But not now. Not for several years. But, um, thanks?

I was in a particularly social mood, but none of the usual suspects were planning on doing anything that night. Everyone was going back to the dorm or had other plans. Then I found two guys who graduated with me. They were deep in conversation, but after drinking those two glasses of wine in record time, I was feeling okay with interrupting their convo and finding out what they were up to.

I’ve known these two guys since freshman year. Super nice, super fun, and of course, they were eager to continue to drink. We ended up at the college bar (it’s a dry campus…with a bar). The Midwest rains left half of the bar underwater, but that didn’t stop anyone. With only one part of the bar open and the other (soggy part) blocked off with old church pews, it was crazy crowded.

The guys and I found a table just outside the bar and drank until almost 3 a.m. when the bar closed. It was fun. I don’t usually get to spend time with these two, so siting with them and talking and laughing was awesome.

Side note: If I know you IRL from college, I need to get your perspective on one of these guys. The single one. Who graduated with me. Who was looking particularly amazing with some scruffy facial hair and a well-tailored suit. Specifically, why is this guy still single? Why has he always been single? Am I missing something?

It was a rough Saturday morning, since the board meeting started at 8 a.m. I may have fallen out of bed at one point. That sucked. But I was feeling pretty good that morning. Until the beer and brat tent. After the meeting, the board was staffing the beer and brat tent for the annual spring festivities (a go cart race for alumni and one for students). Standing over vats of grilled meat soaking in boiling beer was nauseating, given my activities the night before. I was not sad when I was told I could leave an hour early.

I left campus and went to a local florist. I knew exactly what I wanted. Finding a single sunflower, I set off for the cemetery. Mike’s grave is in such a pretty spot. It’s off a walking trail, near the river. I knelt at his grave, my knees getting soaked and grass stained from the muddy earth. It was the first time I saw the headstone. I smiled as I placed the sunflower. We had a running joke about sunflowers: I once decorated our bedroom in blue and yellow with sunflower accents. He was not amused. I tried justifying the sunflowers as “manly” flowers – they’re tall, they grow food (seeds), they’re not a girly color like pink. It became something we laughed and joked until the end. It felt playful to place the sunflower on his grave. It felt good, it felt right. (My mom was appalled when I told her that I put a sunflower out. She thought it was “awful” and mean. I disagree.)

B and I exchanged a few texts Friday and Saturday – he had a crazy work weekend, and he knew I was on campus. It was nice. I didn’t tell him about visiting the cemetery. That’s still too weird to talk about with someone I’m casually getting to know. I’m not sure when we’ll see each other next – we both have ridiculous weekend schedules through mid-May, and our weekdays are just as crazy. Boo.

Sunday was another busy day. I had brunch with two good friends from my previous employer. I miss them and the wonderful team there, but I don’t miss the hours or the work or the politics of that place. But the people – they’re awesome. We had a good visit, and I hope we can do it again soon.

Quick stop at home to get Ethan and we were off to the craft store. He has his first communion this weekend, and prep for that important event has been a major pain. It’s become focused on parent-driven arts-and-crafts. No where in the Bible do I remember anyone writing about how important it is to design banners, cut religious symbols out of felt, decorate candles, or bedazzle crosses. Yet, for the last three months, it’s been one project after another. I’ve spent at least $100 on art supplies and countless hours “helping” Ethan to decorate all this stuff. I believe the kid should do his/her own work, and I really work in a supervisory role, helping him think it out and making sure images are appropriate for the religious ceremony. But after submitting our banners a few months ago, I learned that I am almost alone in this belief. Many moms took the lead on their kids’ banners (and admitted it to the rest of us) and you’d think they were competing for an award in elaborate felt design. It was nuts. For this month, we had to decorate a nine-inch white pillar candle. And get decorations to stick on it. And make sure all images were compatible with the child’s “spiritual journey” so far. I bought some scrap-book crosses and peace doves, and used sticky dots to adhere to the candle with the words “love” and “faith” Sharpied across the top and bottom of the candle. I’m not an artsy, crafty person. I hated these projects – glad the candle was the last one. It better be the last one.

The rest of the day was filled with some outside work (yay, nice weather) and playing with the kids. Then grading. Oh my goodness, the end of the semester grading. I did not plan this well and I’m way behind.

I was already tired from the amount of activity this weekend, when at 1 a.m., Lauren got sick. Change the sheets, wash her and change her, then put her in bed with me where she played for an hour before falling asleep. Every cough and sound she made, I was on high alert so she wouldn’t puke in my bed (she didn’t, thank goodness). She was super tired this morning, as was I and Ethan, who woke up when she was crying and calling for me.

One more day would have been nice. One more day for recovery. How many more days until the next weekend? I hope it comes soon… Wait, I’m completely booked next weekend, too. Ugh!