No, I haven't lost my mind. I know it's not January 1st, the official New Year's Day. But for the last three years time for me has been measured by how long it's been since Eddie died. March 16th marked three years since his death, so March 17th was the beginning of a new year for me. The first year was all about survival ... remember to breathe, try to eat, put one foot in front of the other, make it from one day to the next. The second year was about restoring some order to my life ... getting back into a routine, staying busy, going back to school, beginning to make some changes around the house. The third year became more about taking care of myself ... doing things I enjoy, getting out of the house more, reconnecting with old friends, buying things I wanted whether I really needed them or not!
At some point during this past year - though I can't pinpoint just when - I began to come to terms with Eddie's suicide. I haven't fully accepted it (and I may not ever), but I know now I can live with it. I know what happened, even though I don't understand it. I know I couldn't have done anything to stop it, but I still wish I could have. I will always have questions, but I know I'll never get answers to them. What happened had a profound effect on me, and I will be a different person the rest of my life because of it.
Now as the fourth year begins, I don't have any major resolutions. Finishing my specialist's degree (which I should do in October) is at the top of my list. I plan to continue going out with my friends and spending time with my family. We'll make our yearly trip to the beach this summer - maybe I'll even find time to go more than once this year. I'm looking forward to a reunion with some of my best friends from college. I don't really need anything else for myself or the house, but if I see something I like I'll probably get it. I plan to look more towards the future and not dwell on the events of the past. I can retire from teaching in just three years, so it's not too early to start thinking about that! I don't know what the future holds, or even what it is that I want to do with my life from here, but I do know that I can do whatever I want whenever I want. I'm back to living my life one day at a time again - the difference is that now it's because I want to, not because I have to.
"I'm Movin' On" by Rascal Flatts (2001)
I've dealt with my ghosts and faced all my demons, finally content with a past I regret. I've found you find strength in your moments of weakness, for once I'm at peace with myself. I've been burdened with blame, trapped in the past for too long ... I'm movin' on ... At last I can see life has been patiently waiting for me, and I know there's no guarantees, but I'm not alone. There comes a time in everyone's life when all you can see are the years passing by, and I've made up my mind that those days are gone ... I've loved like I should but lived like I shouldn't. I had to lose everything to find out. Maybe forgiveness will find me somewhere down this road ... I'm movin' on.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Sunday, March 4, 2012
The Right Thing at the Right Time
A few days ago I posted this quote on my Facebook page - "It's funny how day by day nothing changes, but after a while when you look back - everything is different." I don't know who said or wrote this, but it is definitely true. With the exception of a few days when something specific happened during the last three years, it really doesn't seem like much changed on a day to day basis. But when I look back at the three years as a whole I realize just how much has changed and how different my life is now. Many of the people (family and friends) and the physical aspects (house and job) have stayed the same, but my feelings, attitudes, goals, and relationships have changed. I remember the past and think about the future differently now.
After Eddie's death I heard all of the usual words from well-meaning people ... it will get better with time, time heals all wounds, it will get easier, there is an end to grief ... I didn't believe or even want to hear these things. Surprisingly, though, those people were right and their words have (gradually) proven to be true. Without realizing it at some point the initial gut-wrenching pain I experienced came to an end. The days of feeling like I couldn't even breathe went away. The constant ache in my chest eased. The mornings of not wanting to open my eyes disappeared. Very slowly and over a long period of time, healing has eventually started to take place. That doesn't mean I never have feelings of pain, sorrow, or regret when I think about what happened. I still miss Eddie and think about him every day. The difference now is that the negative feelings come and go more quickly, and the bad memories are slowly being replaced by good ones. "The Lord will be your everlasting light, and your days of sorrow will end." Isaiah 60:20
I realized just how much better things were when I cleaned out "the closet" a few weeks ago. This was the closet in the guest room where my mother had moved Eddie's clothes to a few weeks after he died. I had known for a long time that I needed to do something with those clothes, but I hadn't been able to make myself take care of it. In some way knowing they were there gave me a feeling of security. I didn't do it often, but I knew that if I wanted to I could go in there and look at them or touch them. In a small way having them here was like having a part of Eddie with me. I finally decided that it would be better for someone else to benefit from them though, so I cleaned out the closet and took everything to a homeless shelter. Some of the clothes brought back specific memories that made me smile or even laugh as I took them out of the closet - the collection from his sweater-vest phase, the brown suede coat that he thought he looked so good in but that I couldn't stand, the western style shirts he was sure he wanted but then never wore, and the Carhaart overalls that really emphasized his ample "backside" (which everyone teased him about). Cleaning out the closet and loading everything into the back of my car wasn't nearly as hard as I had anticipated. I knew as I was doing it that it was the right thing at the right time. The only difficult part was leaving the clothes at the shelter. While I knew they would help someone else more than they helped me, giving them away was like losing another piece of Eddie. Thankfully, the feeling of sadness passed and was replaced with good feelings for having done something for someone else and for taking yet another step toward healing.
"There's no thrill in easy sailing when the skies are clear and blue. There's no joy in merely doing things which anyone can do. But there is some satisfaction that is mighty sweet to take, when you reach a destination that you never thought you'd make." -Unknown
After Eddie's death I heard all of the usual words from well-meaning people ... it will get better with time, time heals all wounds, it will get easier, there is an end to grief ... I didn't believe or even want to hear these things. Surprisingly, though, those people were right and their words have (gradually) proven to be true. Without realizing it at some point the initial gut-wrenching pain I experienced came to an end. The days of feeling like I couldn't even breathe went away. The constant ache in my chest eased. The mornings of not wanting to open my eyes disappeared. Very slowly and over a long period of time, healing has eventually started to take place. That doesn't mean I never have feelings of pain, sorrow, or regret when I think about what happened. I still miss Eddie and think about him every day. The difference now is that the negative feelings come and go more quickly, and the bad memories are slowly being replaced by good ones. "The Lord will be your everlasting light, and your days of sorrow will end." Isaiah 60:20
I realized just how much better things were when I cleaned out "the closet" a few weeks ago. This was the closet in the guest room where my mother had moved Eddie's clothes to a few weeks after he died. I had known for a long time that I needed to do something with those clothes, but I hadn't been able to make myself take care of it. In some way knowing they were there gave me a feeling of security. I didn't do it often, but I knew that if I wanted to I could go in there and look at them or touch them. In a small way having them here was like having a part of Eddie with me. I finally decided that it would be better for someone else to benefit from them though, so I cleaned out the closet and took everything to a homeless shelter. Some of the clothes brought back specific memories that made me smile or even laugh as I took them out of the closet - the collection from his sweater-vest phase, the brown suede coat that he thought he looked so good in but that I couldn't stand, the western style shirts he was sure he wanted but then never wore, and the Carhaart overalls that really emphasized his ample "backside" (which everyone teased him about). Cleaning out the closet and loading everything into the back of my car wasn't nearly as hard as I had anticipated. I knew as I was doing it that it was the right thing at the right time. The only difficult part was leaving the clothes at the shelter. While I knew they would help someone else more than they helped me, giving them away was like losing another piece of Eddie. Thankfully, the feeling of sadness passed and was replaced with good feelings for having done something for someone else and for taking yet another step toward healing.
"There's no thrill in easy sailing when the skies are clear and blue. There's no joy in merely doing things which anyone can do. But there is some satisfaction that is mighty sweet to take, when you reach a destination that you never thought you'd make." -Unknown
Sunday, February 19, 2012
My Wish
I watched the movie Courageous this afternoon. It was a funny, sad, touching, and inspirational story that made me laugh as well as cry. It left me wanting to be not only a better parent but a better person. Although its message was aimed specifically at fathers, I believe it applies to all parents. As I watched the movie I couldn't help but think about Trey and the fact that he no longer has his father here. I know he was 25 when Eddie died, and that's older than some children are when they lose a parent, but I don't think we're ever ready no matter how old we are and certainly not in the way Trey lost his. We look to our parents for guidance, love, and acceptance. We rely on them for support and encouragement. They are supposed to be there for us, protect us, answer our questions, and make everything alright. They're supposed to take care of us when we're sick, comfort us when we're hurt, and listen to our problems. They're not supposed to be the cause of our pain.
Most of the blogs that I've written have focused on how Eddie's death affected me and how I handled it. I haven't written much about how it affected Trey, and I haven't written anything about how he has handled it. As I've said before, I read every book I could find on suicide, met regularly with a preacher, went for professional counseling, and even saw a psychiatrist. I encouraged Trey to talk to someone, to get whatever help he needed, but I never pressured him to do these things. I know everyone deals with things differently, and I wanted him to handle the situation however he felt was best. But I also know that as a survivor it is a constant fight to put the pieces of our lives back together and to reestablish who we are. I hope that in his own way Trey has been able to do this. He seems to be very happy with his life right now ... he has a beautiful daughter, a good job, a house, and a steady girlfriend.
I'm sure that like me, Trey isn't "over" what happened - we may never be. In his book Suicide and Its Aftermath: Understanding and Counseling the Survivors Dr. Edward Dunne writes "Suicide destroys the original fabric of the family, forcing a reintegration of the survivors. The pace at which individual family members are ready and able to do this will vary." As he moves on with his life, I hope Trey is able to remember the good times with his father. I want him to realize that despite the circumstances he learned lessons from Eddie, both good and bad. I hope he finds positive meaning in the relationship they shared and that he carries that with him throughout his life.
"I hope the days come easy and the moments pass slow and each road leads you where you want to go. And if you're faced with the choice and you have to choose, I hope you choose the one that means the most to you. And if one door opens to another door closed I hope you keep on walkin' til you find the window ... I hope you never look back but you never forget all the ones who love you and the place you left. I hope you always forgive and you never regret and you help somebody every chance you get. Oh you'd find God's grace in every mistake and always give more than you take ... My wish for you is that this life becomes all that you want it to. Your dreams stay big, your worries stay small, you never need to carry more than you can hold. And while you're out there gettin where you're gettin to I hope you know somebody loves you and wants the same things too. Yeah this is my wish ..."
My Wish by Rascal Flatts
Most of the blogs that I've written have focused on how Eddie's death affected me and how I handled it. I haven't written much about how it affected Trey, and I haven't written anything about how he has handled it. As I've said before, I read every book I could find on suicide, met regularly with a preacher, went for professional counseling, and even saw a psychiatrist. I encouraged Trey to talk to someone, to get whatever help he needed, but I never pressured him to do these things. I know everyone deals with things differently, and I wanted him to handle the situation however he felt was best. But I also know that as a survivor it is a constant fight to put the pieces of our lives back together and to reestablish who we are. I hope that in his own way Trey has been able to do this. He seems to be very happy with his life right now ... he has a beautiful daughter, a good job, a house, and a steady girlfriend.
I'm sure that like me, Trey isn't "over" what happened - we may never be. In his book Suicide and Its Aftermath: Understanding and Counseling the Survivors Dr. Edward Dunne writes "Suicide destroys the original fabric of the family, forcing a reintegration of the survivors. The pace at which individual family members are ready and able to do this will vary." As he moves on with his life, I hope Trey is able to remember the good times with his father. I want him to realize that despite the circumstances he learned lessons from Eddie, both good and bad. I hope he finds positive meaning in the relationship they shared and that he carries that with him throughout his life.
"I hope the days come easy and the moments pass slow and each road leads you where you want to go. And if you're faced with the choice and you have to choose, I hope you choose the one that means the most to you. And if one door opens to another door closed I hope you keep on walkin' til you find the window ... I hope you never look back but you never forget all the ones who love you and the place you left. I hope you always forgive and you never regret and you help somebody every chance you get. Oh you'd find God's grace in every mistake and always give more than you take ... My wish for you is that this life becomes all that you want it to. Your dreams stay big, your worries stay small, you never need to carry more than you can hold. And while you're out there gettin where you're gettin to I hope you know somebody loves you and wants the same things too. Yeah this is my wish ..."
My Wish by Rascal Flatts
Friday, February 10, 2012
The Need for Control
My family and close friends love to tease me about having Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I'll admit that I do have some of the behaviors associated with OCD: spending a lot of time washing or cleaning, ordering or arranging things "just so," feeling that everything must be lined up "just right". Yes, my shoes are arranged by color in boxes on shelves in my closet. My clothes are grouped by short sleeved shirts, long sleeved shirts, pants, sweaters, and dresses. The pictures on my refrigerator are in magnetic pockets lined up evenly across both doors. The cans and boxes in my cabinet are lined up by height with the labels facing forward. I constantly straighten pictures on the wall and move things an inch this way or that on shelves and tables. Before I leave my classroom each day I put everything on my desk in neat stacks and straighten all of the student desks and chairs back into rows. I have what some might consider an unnatural need to control everything around me. (Now that I've written it down - maybe I'm worse than I thought!)
I wasn't always this extreme with my need to control everything though. It started during the last few years of my marriage and intensified following Eddie's death. After several years of living with Eddie's drinking, I had to accept that I didn't have any control over what he was doing. Eventually I reached a point where I didn't feel like I had control over much of anything in my life, so I found something I could control - the order of "stuff" around me. When I got upset with Eddie or was worried about him or wondering where he was, I would clean, straighten, or rearrange things around the house to occupy and calm myself. After his suicide, which was another thing I had to accept that I didn't have any control over, I found myself becoming more "obsessed" with keeping the things around me in order. The events of my life over the past years have been so chaotic, I 've had to restore order in whatever ways I can find. As a result, I have a need to "fix" things now - to have everything correct or perfect in order to feel comfortable, safe, and in control of my life.
My need for order and perfection may make some people uncomfortable, and if it does I apologize, but it has helped me to relieve some of the frustration at being powerless over the events in my life. I will never "get over" everything that has happened, but I am getting through it. Maybe my need to be in total control will lessen with time. Maybe I will eventually be able to relax and let go. But for now the order I've restored to my life is making it possible for me to move forward. Maybe a little OCD isn't such a bad thing after all.
"The closest to being in control we will ever be is in that moment that we realize we're not." Brian Kessler
"Control is never achieved when sought after directly. It is the surprising outcome of letting go." James Arthur Ray
I wasn't always this extreme with my need to control everything though. It started during the last few years of my marriage and intensified following Eddie's death. After several years of living with Eddie's drinking, I had to accept that I didn't have any control over what he was doing. Eventually I reached a point where I didn't feel like I had control over much of anything in my life, so I found something I could control - the order of "stuff" around me. When I got upset with Eddie or was worried about him or wondering where he was, I would clean, straighten, or rearrange things around the house to occupy and calm myself. After his suicide, which was another thing I had to accept that I didn't have any control over, I found myself becoming more "obsessed" with keeping the things around me in order. The events of my life over the past years have been so chaotic, I 've had to restore order in whatever ways I can find. As a result, I have a need to "fix" things now - to have everything correct or perfect in order to feel comfortable, safe, and in control of my life.
My need for order and perfection may make some people uncomfortable, and if it does I apologize, but it has helped me to relieve some of the frustration at being powerless over the events in my life. I will never "get over" everything that has happened, but I am getting through it. Maybe my need to be in total control will lessen with time. Maybe I will eventually be able to relax and let go. But for now the order I've restored to my life is making it possible for me to move forward. Maybe a little OCD isn't such a bad thing after all.
"The closest to being in control we will ever be is in that moment that we realize we're not." Brian Kessler
"Control is never achieved when sought after directly. It is the surprising outcome of letting go." James Arthur Ray
Friday, February 3, 2012
Learning to Live Again: The Healing Power of Friendship and Laughter
During the first year following Eddie's death, I struggled to find ways to enjoy myself or things to be happy about. There were times when I laughed briefly or felt a little happiness for short periods, but nothing that lasted. I was surviving but not really living. Things took a definite turn for the better however one weekend in June 2010. That was when I made a big step on my road to recovery by taking a trip with three of my good friends, Janie, Peggy, and Susie. Janie had bid on and won a discount package to a resort in Panama City. I was reluctant when she first asked me to go because it meant leaving on Father's Day, and I wasn't sure about not being with Trey that day. When I told him about it, though, he insisted that he would be okay and I should go, so I finally agreed.
Janie and Susie rode together and left Sunday morning. I waited until Peggy got out of church and rode with her so she wouldn't have to make the trip alone. Normally when I go to the beach, I'm on a mission to get there as quickly as possible. I only stop when absolutely necessary and have occasionally made the trip without stopping at all. It never occurred to me that anyone did it any differently ... until I rode with Peggy. We made frequent stops along the way - stops to get something to drink, then stops to go "potty" because we had stopped to get something to drink. We also took the "scenic" route to Panama City - I saw small, out-of-the-way places in Florida that I never even knew existed. This included an outlet mall where we stopped to shop for tennis shoes and to browse in a paper store for things we didn't need but that might be on sale. I have to admit that after about five hours I began to wonder if we were really going to the beach! I really enjoyed the time with Peggy though and wouldn't have traded the experience for anything. We did a lot of talking and even more laughing which I soon realized was going to be the norm for the next couple of days.
When we got close to Panama City we called Janie and Susie to let them know we were almost there. They were shopping and asked if we wanted them to pick up anything for us. I told them I would like a bottle of White Zinfindel wine if they didn't mind getting it. They stayed on the phone while they walked around the store looking for it. After a few minutes they told us they were looking at some wine that said White Zinfindel on the bottle but they didn't think that could be what I wanted because it was pink! Needless to say that brought quite a bit of laughter from both Peggy and me, and we didn't let them live it down anytime soon. We hadn't even arrived at the resort and I had already laughed more that day than I had laughed in an entire year. I decided agreeing to this trip had definitely been the right decision.
The talking, fun, and laughter continued throughout the trip. It didn't matter where we were - in the room, by the pool, in the car, at a restaurant - we constantly found something to laugh about. On our second day, Susie and I took a ferry to Shell Island while Janie and Peggy went shopping. We looked like the typical tourists lugging our chairs, beach bags, and coolers across the bridge to the beach side of the island. We set up right on the edge of the water, sat in our chairs, talked, ate, drank, read, and relaxed. We totally lost track of time. After a while Susie and I both looked around and realized we were the only ones on the beach. Everyone who had ridden over on the ferry with us was gone! There was a second of panic thinking we might actually be stranded before we saw the next load of people from the boat coming across the bridge. Of course Janie and Peggy got a big kick out of that story when we got back to the hotel.
That night after dinner I decided to take a walk down the pier. No one else really wanted to go, so I went by myself. By this point doing things alone definitely didn't bother me, but (thankfully) my friends cared about my safety. Before I left they made sure I had my cell phone with me and made me promise to get back to the hotel before it got dark. Of course I didn't get back "on time" and as soon as it started to get dark my phone rang - it was Janie, standing on the balcony of our room, checking to make sure I was alright. If it had been my mother checking on me I probably would have been aggravated, but because it was a friend it was somehow okay.
I took my share of "ribbing" on the trip, especially from Susie. I've never been one who was able to get ready quickly and Susie enjoyed making an issue of this. She teased me every time we had to get ready to go somewhere. She claimed she could shower, dry her hair, iron her clothes, and get dressed before I ever got out of the shower. I had to agree that I would stop getting ready when everyone else was finished, even it meant I only had make-up on half of my face! I told them if it didn't bother them it wouldn't bother me (yeah - right).
The trip was over way too quickly. For the first time in over a year I had genuinely relaxed and enjoyed myself. If I had a "bucket list" I could have easily marked off one thing - to laugh until I cry. I learned something very important during those three days and nights ... I didn't just want to survive, I wanted to live again. Thank you Janie, Peggy, and Susie - I love you!
"Heart Gifts" by Helen Steiner Rice
It's not the things that can be bought
That are life's richest treasures,
It's just the little "heart gifts"
That money cannot measure.
A cheerful smile, a friendly word,
A sympathetic nod,
Are priceless little treasures
From the storehouse of our God.
They are the things that can't be bought
With silver or with gold,
For thoughtfulness and kindness
And love are never sold.
They are the priceless things in life
For which no one can pay,
And the giver finds rich recompense
In giving them away.
Janie and Susie rode together and left Sunday morning. I waited until Peggy got out of church and rode with her so she wouldn't have to make the trip alone. Normally when I go to the beach, I'm on a mission to get there as quickly as possible. I only stop when absolutely necessary and have occasionally made the trip without stopping at all. It never occurred to me that anyone did it any differently ... until I rode with Peggy. We made frequent stops along the way - stops to get something to drink, then stops to go "potty" because we had stopped to get something to drink. We also took the "scenic" route to Panama City - I saw small, out-of-the-way places in Florida that I never even knew existed. This included an outlet mall where we stopped to shop for tennis shoes and to browse in a paper store for things we didn't need but that might be on sale. I have to admit that after about five hours I began to wonder if we were really going to the beach! I really enjoyed the time with Peggy though and wouldn't have traded the experience for anything. We did a lot of talking and even more laughing which I soon realized was going to be the norm for the next couple of days.
When we got close to Panama City we called Janie and Susie to let them know we were almost there. They were shopping and asked if we wanted them to pick up anything for us. I told them I would like a bottle of White Zinfindel wine if they didn't mind getting it. They stayed on the phone while they walked around the store looking for it. After a few minutes they told us they were looking at some wine that said White Zinfindel on the bottle but they didn't think that could be what I wanted because it was pink! Needless to say that brought quite a bit of laughter from both Peggy and me, and we didn't let them live it down anytime soon. We hadn't even arrived at the resort and I had already laughed more that day than I had laughed in an entire year. I decided agreeing to this trip had definitely been the right decision.
The talking, fun, and laughter continued throughout the trip. It didn't matter where we were - in the room, by the pool, in the car, at a restaurant - we constantly found something to laugh about. On our second day, Susie and I took a ferry to Shell Island while Janie and Peggy went shopping. We looked like the typical tourists lugging our chairs, beach bags, and coolers across the bridge to the beach side of the island. We set up right on the edge of the water, sat in our chairs, talked, ate, drank, read, and relaxed. We totally lost track of time. After a while Susie and I both looked around and realized we were the only ones on the beach. Everyone who had ridden over on the ferry with us was gone! There was a second of panic thinking we might actually be stranded before we saw the next load of people from the boat coming across the bridge. Of course Janie and Peggy got a big kick out of that story when we got back to the hotel.
That night after dinner I decided to take a walk down the pier. No one else really wanted to go, so I went by myself. By this point doing things alone definitely didn't bother me, but (thankfully) my friends cared about my safety. Before I left they made sure I had my cell phone with me and made me promise to get back to the hotel before it got dark. Of course I didn't get back "on time" and as soon as it started to get dark my phone rang - it was Janie, standing on the balcony of our room, checking to make sure I was alright. If it had been my mother checking on me I probably would have been aggravated, but because it was a friend it was somehow okay.
I took my share of "ribbing" on the trip, especially from Susie. I've never been one who was able to get ready quickly and Susie enjoyed making an issue of this. She teased me every time we had to get ready to go somewhere. She claimed she could shower, dry her hair, iron her clothes, and get dressed before I ever got out of the shower. I had to agree that I would stop getting ready when everyone else was finished, even it meant I only had make-up on half of my face! I told them if it didn't bother them it wouldn't bother me (yeah - right).
The trip was over way too quickly. For the first time in over a year I had genuinely relaxed and enjoyed myself. If I had a "bucket list" I could have easily marked off one thing - to laugh until I cry. I learned something very important during those three days and nights ... I didn't just want to survive, I wanted to live again. Thank you Janie, Peggy, and Susie - I love you!
"Heart Gifts" by Helen Steiner Rice
It's not the things that can be bought
That are life's richest treasures,
It's just the little "heart gifts"
That money cannot measure.
A cheerful smile, a friendly word,
A sympathetic nod,
Are priceless little treasures
From the storehouse of our God.
They are the things that can't be bought
With silver or with gold,
For thoughtfulness and kindness
And love are never sold.
They are the priceless things in life
For which no one can pay,
And the giver finds rich recompense
In giving them away.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Making a House a Home
About a year after Eddie's death, I decided it was time to make some changes to the house. Up until then, I had left everything exactly as it was when Eddie was alive. We built the house in 1989 and it had been our home for 20 years. During the first year after his death I didn't feel right about changing anything - it seemed like I would have been betraying him in some way. In time though I realized that if I was going to stay in the house I had to make it more mine and less ours. It wasn't that I wanted to get rid of memories of Eddie or to do away with things that he liked. I just needed to change things so the house would reflect me instead of us.
The original wallpaper in the kitchen and both bathrooms came down and was replaced with brown and green paint. I changed throw rugs throughout the house, rearranged furniture, and put up new curtains. I bought new wall pictures for every room and put out lots of flower arrangements and candles. I think I personally kept Pier I, Kirklands, and Kohls in business for a few months! I felt a little twinge of regret each time I removed something old, but I also felt a sense of hope when I added something new. I became a little more comfortable in the house with every change. In time it began to feel like a home again - my home.
I've continued to make changes over the past two years. I gave Eddie's big leather recliner to Trey and replaced it with a smaller one more suited to me. The deer head that hung over our fireplace for 20 years is now proudly displayed in Trey's home. I've replaced the stove and dishwasher in the kitchen and the television in the living room. I have a dinette set in the kitchen and a living room table that my grandmother gave me, and I kept an antique secretary and grandfather clock that belonged to Eddie's grandparents.
Now I have a good mixture of items that represent both the past and the present. My home is a combination of what was his, what was ours, and what is now mine. I replaced material things, but the memories will always be here. The big difference is that I have something I can be comfortable with. What was just a house for the first year after Eddie died is once again a home.
"Memories are treasures that time cannot destroy. They are the happy pathway to yesterday's bright joy."
-Helen Steiner Rice
The original wallpaper in the kitchen and both bathrooms came down and was replaced with brown and green paint. I changed throw rugs throughout the house, rearranged furniture, and put up new curtains. I bought new wall pictures for every room and put out lots of flower arrangements and candles. I think I personally kept Pier I, Kirklands, and Kohls in business for a few months! I felt a little twinge of regret each time I removed something old, but I also felt a sense of hope when I added something new. I became a little more comfortable in the house with every change. In time it began to feel like a home again - my home.
I've continued to make changes over the past two years. I gave Eddie's big leather recliner to Trey and replaced it with a smaller one more suited to me. The deer head that hung over our fireplace for 20 years is now proudly displayed in Trey's home. I've replaced the stove and dishwasher in the kitchen and the television in the living room. I have a dinette set in the kitchen and a living room table that my grandmother gave me, and I kept an antique secretary and grandfather clock that belonged to Eddie's grandparents.
Now I have a good mixture of items that represent both the past and the present. My home is a combination of what was his, what was ours, and what is now mine. I replaced material things, but the memories will always be here. The big difference is that I have something I can be comfortable with. What was just a house for the first year after Eddie died is once again a home.
"Memories are treasures that time cannot destroy. They are the happy pathway to yesterday's bright joy."
-Helen Steiner Rice
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Christmas Changes
It's hard to believe, but another Christmas has come and gone. This was the third one without Eddie, and each has been different. I expected the first one to be hard, hoped the second one would be a little easier, and didn't know what to expect this year. Of course I was right about the first year - it was a very difficult, emotional time. I didn't want to decorate, shop, bake, or do any of the things I had done in the past. I managed a scaled back version of all of these things because of Trey and Emily. If it hadn't been for them I probably would have skipped Christmas altogether. We had a lot of company on Christmas Eve that year which helped. Then Trey, Emily, Mama, and Daddy all spent the night. Emily had her Santa Claus Christmas morning, and that kept us all busy. As the day went on though everyone gradually left, and I spent Christmas night alone for the first time in my life. It was then that I gave in to a little period of self pity, which I think is okay as long as you don't do it too often or for too long.
I had read and heard from others that the second year after a loss is sometimes harder than the first, so I tried to prepare for that. I wouldn't say the second Christmas was any harder, but it wasn't easier either - it was just different. This time we were having Emily's Santa Claus and all of our company on Christmas day, so no one spent the night on Christmas Eve (though Mama did offer). Again I did something for the first time in my life - I woke up alone on Christmas morning. I know there are plenty of people who do that every year, but when it happens for the first time in 49 years it's a very lonely, empty feeling. Of course, once everyone arrived the rest of the day was very busy so there wasn't time for self pity, which was a good thing.
No one ever says anything about the third year after a loss, so I was on my own to find out what this Christmas would be like. I took it as a good sign that I wanted to decorate more than in the past two years, and I certainly didn't scale back my shopping this year! I also made a decision to do something special for Trey, which ended up helping me a great deal in the process. I put together a photo album of Eddie starting with our wedding day. I spent hours going through old pictures deciding which ones to include. This was the first time since his death that I had really looked at pictures of him (other than the ones around the house), and I actually found myself smiling and even laughing at some of the memories. I didn't want the album to be depressing for Trey, so I wrote a lot of funny captions and added some silly stickers to the pictures. Once I finished, I looked at the album from beginning to end several times before I wrapped it. The memories brought tears to my eyes but made me feel good at the same time. I gave the album to Trey on Christmas Eve while Eddie's dad was here so they could look at it together. Of course it made them cry, but they also shared some laughter, which I think was good for both of them.
The big difference in this Christmas was that we spent Christmas morning at Trey's house. Another first for me since we'd had Christmas at our house from the time Trey was born 27 years ago. It was a good change though because it gave us the chance to start making new memories in a new place. Sometimes traditions need to be changed after a loss, and I think it made Trey proud to have us in his home Christmas morning. There was a lot to be thankful for with my 96 year old grandmother, my mother, my father, Trey, and Emily all there - five generations together at the same time isn't something that many people get to experience. I know these are new, happy Christmas memories that we will all cherish for the rest of our lives.
"Every day we live is a priceless gift of God, loaded with possibilities to learn something new, to gain fresh insights." Dale Evans Rogers
"This is the day the Lord has made; we will rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 112:24
"Today is unique. It has never occurred before and it will never be repeated. At midnight it will end, quietly, suddenly, totally. Forever. But the hours between now and then are opportunities with eternal possibilities." Charles Swindoll
I had read and heard from others that the second year after a loss is sometimes harder than the first, so I tried to prepare for that. I wouldn't say the second Christmas was any harder, but it wasn't easier either - it was just different. This time we were having Emily's Santa Claus and all of our company on Christmas day, so no one spent the night on Christmas Eve (though Mama did offer). Again I did something for the first time in my life - I woke up alone on Christmas morning. I know there are plenty of people who do that every year, but when it happens for the first time in 49 years it's a very lonely, empty feeling. Of course, once everyone arrived the rest of the day was very busy so there wasn't time for self pity, which was a good thing.
No one ever says anything about the third year after a loss, so I was on my own to find out what this Christmas would be like. I took it as a good sign that I wanted to decorate more than in the past two years, and I certainly didn't scale back my shopping this year! I also made a decision to do something special for Trey, which ended up helping me a great deal in the process. I put together a photo album of Eddie starting with our wedding day. I spent hours going through old pictures deciding which ones to include. This was the first time since his death that I had really looked at pictures of him (other than the ones around the house), and I actually found myself smiling and even laughing at some of the memories. I didn't want the album to be depressing for Trey, so I wrote a lot of funny captions and added some silly stickers to the pictures. Once I finished, I looked at the album from beginning to end several times before I wrapped it. The memories brought tears to my eyes but made me feel good at the same time. I gave the album to Trey on Christmas Eve while Eddie's dad was here so they could look at it together. Of course it made them cry, but they also shared some laughter, which I think was good for both of them.
The big difference in this Christmas was that we spent Christmas morning at Trey's house. Another first for me since we'd had Christmas at our house from the time Trey was born 27 years ago. It was a good change though because it gave us the chance to start making new memories in a new place. Sometimes traditions need to be changed after a loss, and I think it made Trey proud to have us in his home Christmas morning. There was a lot to be thankful for with my 96 year old grandmother, my mother, my father, Trey, and Emily all there - five generations together at the same time isn't something that many people get to experience. I know these are new, happy Christmas memories that we will all cherish for the rest of our lives.
"Every day we live is a priceless gift of God, loaded with possibilities to learn something new, to gain fresh insights." Dale Evans Rogers
"This is the day the Lord has made; we will rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 112:24
"Today is unique. It has never occurred before and it will never be repeated. At midnight it will end, quietly, suddenly, totally. Forever. But the hours between now and then are opportunities with eternal possibilities." Charles Swindoll
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