The new me November 24 2008

November 24 2008

 

As each day has passed, new revelations have appeared. Some funny, some sad, some scary. Here is the disclaimer. I am in a much better place than I was the second week in October.

I have struggled with what to include in this email. As for me, I don’t mind looking back on it, because I know where I am now. And where I am now is some different than where I was then. I keep beating around the bush. Some of the descriptions that follow may seem unfeeling, or hurtful. I’m experiencing feelings of sorrow and resignation, that what was going on in my head and heart was abnormal for me.

I was feeling;

Fragile. Incapable. Unable.

I choose to include these feelings and thoughts because maybe somebody has felt the same, but has been afraid to say it out loud.

So to many of my friends, I say, “I’m sorry.” I can’t believe I said, did, and thought some of what you will read. But, here it is.

Many of these are pulled from a series of days in early/mid October. Here is one.


At some point humor must re-emerge. As I come to a better wholeness about what has happened, is still happening, I will probably make a few more jokes about it. I don't ever want to come across as unfeeling or cold about the death of my wife. It has been so hard.


I have been startled at the depth and breadth of emotions and the mental arrhythmia plaguing me.


But humor is one of the ways I deal with being me and all the stuff I've been through. I will add here that of all those things I have endured,  this has been the worst. I’m not naive enough to say it will be the last worst thing, but I just hope that another one doesn't happen for a while.


At least let me catch my breath.


I’ve heard it said humor brings healing…

So, to continue, I've told you about the being distractible part. Not keeping thoughts together, forgetting things.

My phone is so full of notes I think it's going to explode and I will be covered in cellular guts. I write down stuff that most mortals do instinctively; just so I don't forget,


Things like "breathe", and "blink".


OK it's not that bad, but it sure feels like it.


I was with Bethany one week in Arkansas. I was driving and I started looking for my phone. I looked on the seat in front of me (where I always keep it when I am driving, so I won't lose it),


I looked in my pocket (annoying for it to be in there when i am driving, I have to do a freaky 70's dance to get it out before it stops ringing).


I looked on the console, checked to see if it was on the charger. I looked on the seat in front of me, I looked in my pocket. (No, I did not forget that I already told you that part. I looked AGAIN). Although, yes at the time, not sure I had checked their yet.


Then it hit me. I lost my phone. That sinking feeling crept over me, like when you go to take the last bite of the banana split. The one you've been saving for the last bite. The perfect combination of banana and ice cream and nuts and chocolate, and the whipped cream you set aside for this moment.


And ... the cherry.


Then you drop it all gracefully on the floor.


THAT sinking feeling.


On my phone, I have over 500 pictures and 300 videos. Family pics, China pics, funny pics. Videos of family occasions, sports exploits of the boys, K’Leigh in concerts.


I have notes telling me what I need to do, what I need to think about, what things to bring back to people in China.


I have my currency converter. Yuan to Dollars to Baht, sheesh.


I have music (Crowder right now, healing in those lyrics). At one time I had 352 phone numbers. (I know way too many people).


I was disheartened.


I asked Bethany if she had seen it, thinking, she might have noticed it at her place.


She said, "It's on your lap."


There it was. Right thigh, right on top. Balanced safely, not going anywhere.


Wanting to convey to her my heartfelt thanks at her perspicacious discovery of an object so vital to me, I eloquently said,


"Oh."


Maybe this is the new me. I should be a ton of fun to be around. "Hey, let's go watch Kevin, this is hilarious!" (Just wait, he’ll intently listen to you for several seconds, then ask you to repeat what you said, because he couldn’t remember one SYLLABLE of what you just told him.)


Good thing is, I am laughing at me too. What a goof.


I hope most of you were eating or drinking something and you laughed so hard that now you have to go clean it up.


Thanks for laughing with me. (You weren't laughing AT me, were you?)

There have been many funny moments like that. Fortunately, I am remembering better these days. Or at least I realize I am forgetting something and can track it down. Like last week at the school when I knew there was something I was supposed to remember, and I searched for clues as to what it could be. After looking for friends on staff to talk to, I came to the conclusion that I was the only adult on the playground, or in the office, or in a classroom.

After running through the possibilities, I came to the conclusion that the weekly Friday meeting just might be meeting this day. How did I come to this amazing deduction? Well, it was Friday.

Then came the task of remembering where the weekly meeting met. Probably the same place it met each Friday of the year so far. Since my fickle friend Memory didn’t want to play along, I just looked in the northwest corner classroom on each floor. I decided to start on the ground floor instead of the 5th floor.

Because I was there, and at 6000 ft elevation, one doesn’t whimsically scale the steps to the top level.

The meeting was on the 4th floor.

I felt like I should have won a prize. Or at least a sucker.

Because I did it all by myself. Wrote that day down on the calendar. Just can’t find the calendar to show you.

Speaking of calendars. The days pass, but not in a regular sense of order. It seems like yesterday years ago. All at the same time. I am here, but I am also there, like a collage of mixed images, grouped by theme, not chronology. I laugh at things she did. Things she said. Things she hysterically laughed at. When she was 19, when she was 47, when she was 28.


During all this fall-fair grab bag of emotions, people asked how I was. Most of you really wanted to know and were patient and listened to my ramblings, disjointed as they were. Good description, out of joint. My heart and head felt that way, wrenched, tender, poor range of motion.

People can tell me all day that I was experiencing ‘normal’ feelings and thoughts during that time. That doesn’t change the regret I feel over hurting or ignoring true friends.

So when asked by one friend how I was, that day I responded,

“Weary.

Physically (my fault), and emotionally (not my fault).


Tired of telling the story of how she died, but people need to know and I am the one to tell it. But, it's like I feel dry, drier each time I tell it. It is becoming just facts and not feeling. Not good. When was the last time I cried?

It's strange how I miss different things each day. One day it's this, one day it's that. One of the recurring regrets is how 6 times I will have to walk down the aisle at a wedding. Alone.

That stinks.

She would have been a great grandmother. And a great great-grandmother.

That stinks too.

Even though I Can make chocolate chip cookies, and banana bread (better than she could), AMAZING creations with ice cream and grapes and golden grahams, and one mean bowl of cereal.

And that, my friends, covers the four major important food groups; chocolate, cereal, ice cream, and fiber.

I can still play the part of the indulgent grandfather sneaking chips ahoy and milk in the fort.

But my foil will not be there to bring balance like before.”

Later that week, things went from weary to worse.

Some of ‘the dark days’ emerged. These are so painful for me to write about because I don’t want to hurt people I have been so intimately tied to for years.

There were two days where I did not want to talk to or see anyone.

These are quotes from another email to a friend.

“Avoidance procedures. Taking evasive action.

Going to a big meeting one morning was fine. But, individual discussions have been a drag.

Of all the people we know, there are two families who are the closest. Their kids are like cousins to ours. We get together twice a year for a weekend. As the kids have grown older (there are 12 kids between us), we have spent hours talking together. On our knees talking. It has been the safest, most supportive set of relationships we have ever had.

My avoidance allergy has included them as well. All I could think was, 'please get off the phone'. I have never felt like that before. The other one emailed me after her interview on the Today Show and I haven't emailed her back. Don't even know why, I just haven't. Maybe I'm just relationally drained. I am looking for answers. Not necessarily from you, but from somewhere. If you have any insight, feel free.

I know I did this with the people who were not as close to us, but not with the closest people. It's really weird.

And I know I'm doing it. That's what makes it weirder. But I just can't be that to them right now.

And there I go again. "I can't". That phrase has almost never defined me before.

ouch.”



There it is.

Ugly.

I’m not asking permission to feel that way during that time, I just want to continue the openness and reality of what has gone on. I know it’s not uncommon to what others have felt. That doesn’t change the sorrow over directing that to my closest friends and family. And things are brighter than before.

Please remember that Hope and Healing have booked rooms now. Their stay has been refreshing, renewing. And the prospects of them moving in permanently look promising.

‘Dark’ days have given way to ‘dim’ days. And ‘good’ days have given way to ‘great’ days.

The weather here is certainly improving.

Kevin