Can’t Buy THAT Online

Back in my real world, when Ben existed, he managed all the money and did so with quite a bit of success.  He was very good at investing and made some smart moves when it came to stock picks (although it was I who insisted on purchasing Lululemon shares and I who insisted on purchasing FB shares).  When he was alive I didn’t think he was that great at sticking within a budget, but now that I have to do it I understand that it is not quite as easy as it sounds.

I have also discovered that my main vice / coping mechanism since Ben died is to try to buy myself happy.  In my mind I can hear an advertising voice asking the questions:

(Insert deep, rhythmic announcers voice here)

Are you sad because Ben isn’t here to help pull out the Christmas tree?  Well why not buy yourself some new shoes that will sit in the closet to help ease that pain? 

Are you climbing into bed alone for the six hundred and seventieth night in a row, wondering how you will cope when your practically adult children all fly the coop?  A little online shopping before falling asleep will probably make you feel better.  

Do  you find yourself less than inclined to cook because it was your husband’s job and he did it so well?   You should just go to a restaurant and buy your dinner. 

Are you worried sick about your upcoming surgery and the fact that Christmas is coming but you will be laid up with little time for shopping?  Why not just run out and spend copious amounts of money on the kids without thinking about it or looking for a good deal?

Sigh.

I wonder how many people develop addictions when their spouse dies?  When they find themselves staring at the empty chair, or wondering who in the world besides themselves  still thinks about their spouse,  how many turn to booze or drugs to ease that pain?  Or shopping.  It’s all the same, I suppose.

Christmas is coming.  Again.  I remember just before The Last Christmas I said to Ben, “What if this is our last Christmas?” and he cut me off before I finished speaking the last word and cried out “It won’t be.  It won’t be.”

But it was.

Another year has come and gone, and on countless occasions I have turned to him to tell him something and found empty air.  Empty air.  Another 365 days have passed in which he doesn’t know what is happening with the kids.  Another 365 days where I haven’t had anyone to turn to when they’ve made stupid life choices that could have serious repercussions in the future.  Another 365 days without a shoulder to lean on.

And so I have shopped.  As it turns out, it doesn’t help, but it sure does leave me broke.

I have met people who lost everything when their spouse died.  I lost my heart when Ben died, because Ben was my heart, but I didn’t lose our house, or the ability to provide life’s necessities to my kids,  send them to school, pay for their sports, or even lay hardwood floors in my home.  I lost everything that meant something to my heart, but I did not lose everything.  I know people who lost their homes, were forced to move, downsize, wonder how they would find the money to repair their vehicle or if they could even afford to keep one at all.  EVERYTHING.  So I fully understand how obnoxious it would sound to one of those people to hear me complaining about a need to control my spending when it comes to shoes, eating out and decorating my house.  I get it, but that’s not the point I’m trying to make.

I am scared.  I’m scared of the fact that I can’t seem to figure out how to fill the empty air around me.  I suppose I should be somewhat relieved that I’m not filling that empty air with booze or drugs (although Justin Trudeau says it will be legal in 8 short months), but I do need to fill it with something more than shopping. I’m not talking about filling my time … I fill my time just fine.  I mean the air.  The space.  There’s a difference.

I need an adult to talk to.  I need hugs.  I need a shoulder to lean on.  I need my person. Apparently they don’t sell that online, but I sure keep looking.

Happy Anniversary to Us

Dear Ben,

Happy Anniversary.  Twenty three years.

In hindsight we probably should have invested some money in a proper videographer.

That day was definitely not the wedding we had planned, was it?  It was hot, we were sweaty, the limo broke down on the side of the road, my hair wasn’t looking it’s best and the DJ at the reception (aka: our limo driver) used records instead of cd’s.  Records, Ben. It was like we were back in the late 80’s again!  Do you remember what you said?  You said, “It can only get better from here.”  You were right.

We had a lot of change between September 24, 1994 and September 24, 1995, didn’t we?  That may have been the most change crammed into one year that we ever experienced over the twenty to follow.  Do you remember how we planned and built our first home together?  How we stayed up late and drew it out on graph paper so we could plan out where to put the furniture we couldn’t afford.  I remember you made little couches out of graph paper so we could move them around.  Do you remember how we carved our initials in the sidewalk when it was finally finished?

Do you remember how, shortly after our house was built and we moved in, that we discovered we were having a baby?  In fact we found out the day before our first anniversary.  We had a secret as you went off to work that afternoon.

The 20 years between that video and this picture were quite the ride, weren’t they?

That was us on the plane in 2015, on September 23rd, on our way to LA to spend our 21st anniversary watching Doyle Bramhall jam on his guitar.  Your dream.  I am so fucking glad you got to experience that.  I am so fucking glad we had that time.  And I’m sorry for using the word “fucking” so emphatically, but it’s appropriate, don’t you think?  I also miss you so fucking badly.

Here you are, on our 21st anniversary:

Here you are, on our 22nd anniversary:

I am tempted to dig that up so I can refill your bottle of Kracken.  I feel like you need a fresh bottle so you can raise a glass with me, but then again, I suspect you probably have full access to all the Kracken you want up there in Heaven.  Or at least all the wine you want, for sure.

Here’s the link (click here) to some of the video from our anniversary last year, in case you want to revisit how we all finished off that bottle in your honour.  Even Dad, who was sick.

Ben, I miss you terribly.  I think you know that though.  I feel you around a lot, so I think you must know.  I wouldn’t trade a minute of our lives together.  None of it.  We didn’t really have the easiest twenty one years, but the challenges we faced certainly made us a stronger couple and I’m really grateful to have known that kind of love.  The honest kind.  The kind where we could admit that there were times we couldn’t stand each other but we pushed through and came out the other side stronger and happier.  I think we set a good example for the kids, with our marriage.  I didn’t always think that, but now I do.  They have now been taught what real love looks like in real life, not on Face Book.  And they have seen the most honest, true and profound love they ever could as they watched us navigate the last months of your life here on earth.

Thanks for being my partner.  I wish I had thirty more anniversaries with you here together, but I am grateful for the twenty one we had.  I know that’s more than most.

I know that anniversary gifts weren’t really our thing, but if you’re feeling extra generous this year then there is one thing I would really love and it won’t cost you a dime.  I want to see you in my dreams tonight.  Please.  I want to talk to you again for five minutes.  I want to see you when I tell you I love you, and I want to hear you say, “And ‘oo”.  Please.  Please.  

Happy anniversary Ben, as they say.  I will search for you today.

With everlasting, eternal love and gratitude for the time I had with you,

Your bride.

 

 

It Must Have Super Powers

On the post I wrote for Soaring Spirits this week, I put forth this question to all the widows reading that blog:

Did you ever feel so consumed by your own grief that you have forgotten that others grieve too?  That they grieve not only for the loss of your spouse, who may have been a friend to them, but possibly they grieve also for other people that you may know absolutely nothing about?  Do you find that during this time of all consuming grief, you have forgotten that other people have suffered loss too?

My reason for proposing that question was because recently, the realization that others grieve too has hit me hard.

For the last 19 months I have been consumed by my own grief and I didn’t have room to consider the possibility that anyone else in my life could be carrying around a similar, agonizing grief from their own past.  That wasn’t on my radar at all.  Lately though … lately my eyes have opened a bit to the world around me as I have slowly started to awaken from my drugged slumber (figuratively drugged, not literally), and I have been surprised to discover that others – not random strangers but actual people who are a part of my life – have suffered their own agonizing losses that I knew nothing about.  How could I have not known??

Years ago I had a colleague who became a friend.  We worked together for a brief period of time before I was transferred, and although we didn’t work together for long, she was one of those people I have always considered a friend regardless of time and distance.  She’s someone you don’t forget.

The day after Ben died I had to go into my office building to meet with the Chaplain and I walked right into her for the first time in years.  I recall that she called out my name, burst into tears and hugged me long and hard.  I was moved by how much compassion she had for my situation, although I was far too deep into my own devastation to give it much more than a passing thought.  On some vague level I recall being a little surprised by how upset she was on my behalf, but we are about the same age and have kids the same age so I guess I assumed that she could imagine on some level the difficulties I was about to face.  It never occurred to me to consider that the reason she was able to feel my pain so deeply could be due to a past significant loss of her own.  After all, her husband was alive and well, and although I knew her dad had passed away she was a middle aged adult by the time it happened and (although terribly sad and not something I want to even think about happening for many many years) it is just not quite the same thing.  Anyway, I went on to my meeting with the Chaplain and pushed the thoughts of her and everyone else out of my mind.

Fast forward 19 months and this old friend contacted me recently to see if I wanted to have coffee with her and catch up.  She came over and we visited for a couple of hours, and she let me ramble on endlessly about Ben.  Fresh ears, you know?  It was nice to talk about Ben to someone who hadn’t already heard all the stories about the nightmare we lived.  I like to tell those stories because talking about it takes away some of the power that those memories have to hurt me, and of course I just like to discuss Ben in any way, shape or form.  She was very compassionate and she was visibly moved by my loss, and I found that so touching.  I mean, naturally I think there is no greater loss in the world than that of losing Ben, but to see someone else who never met him be so touched made me feel like she cares about living in a world where Ben does not exist.  She made me feel as though she wished she knew him, and that made me feel good.

After having an emotional conversation for a couple of hours she eventually needed to leave (or escape), and as she was leaving she mentioned that her brother had been killed in an accident when they were teens.  Just like that. She said she thinks about him every day.  And in that instant I realized that not only had she lived a terrible, aching loss of her own, but she relived it through me because our conversation brought back memories of all that pain.  For the first time in a long time I was overcome with an emotion that was not my own grief.  I’m not even sure what it was.  Compassion?  Understanding? Guilt, shame or embarrassment over not having known and never having asked?  Probably a bit of all of those.  I recognized that she had lived through pain that was similar to my own.  A terrible, life altering loss.  The kind from which one never fully recovers.  A kind of loss like mine.  And although I had clearly understood on some subconscious level that there was more going on for her than just consoling an old, casual friend from the past, I had never stopped to ask her.  I had never asked her why she seemed to understand so well, or why she clearly felt my pain so deeply.  I should have asked.  It never occurred to me that she could have ever had reason to grieve like I do.

Over the last 19 months I have never paused to ask her, or any of the other unexpected and random people who showed up to help for reasons unknown, why they seemed to understand just a little bit more than everyone else.  I know why most people showed up.  It was because they loved Ben, or they love me, or both, and we have close, ongoing relationships.  But why had certain people, some almost strangers, shown up unexpectedly and knowing exactly how to help or exactly what to say?  After all, these people didn’t know me well and couldn’t possibly know a pain like mine, right?

Clearly, I was wrong.

With regards to my friend who disclosed that her brother had been killed, I could probably use the excuse that we had never had the opportunity to develop and nurture a close relationship, so how could I have been expected to ask her if she had reason to know my pain?  But the thing is … on some level I did know.  I knew because her overt sadness on my behalf was more than most others felt.  I could inherently feel that it was different, and I have felt that difference on a couple of other occasions.  I’ve felt the difference from people who were merely acquaintances in my ‘real life’ but who felt compelled to reach out to me in a way that was subtly different from the rest.  One of them, I later learned, had lost her sister when she was a teen.  Three others had lost their fathers when they were kids, and therefore knew the pain that my children would be enduring.  I had not known, but I feel like I should have.  I feel like I should have asked.

So basically, that’s what I’ve been thinking about for the last few days.  I’ve been acknowledging that my pain is great, but there are others out there who experience it also.  (Although, as I’ve mentioned before, my pain is most certainly greater than those who lost a pet.  I will stand behind that statement forever.)  There are hurting hearts out there all over the place, and I never knew it.  Somehow, all these people managed pick up the pieces of their lives and move forward, and then use what they learned to be able to help people in need, like myself.  They understand how much it hurts to have your heart broken, but they demonstrate how to be brave enough to allow it to break all over again for someone else, just so they can help that person.

A local Mountie was killed in an accident within the last couple of weeks, and he left behind his wife and two young boys. My heart hurts because I know what is in store for her.  A mutual friend sent me a text assuring me that he and several other coworkers will take care of that family always.  When I read those words I couldn’t help but think, “I know you mean it.  I know you really, really mean it.  I believe you mean it.  But unfortunately, it’s just not true.  It’s not true because all of your lives will go on, just as they should, yet her husband will remain dead.  You may help her with the insurance paperwork, you may collect her husband’s uniform, and you may text or call her or drop in once in awhile.  And all those things are nice and so well intentioned, but every Christmas you will be with your own family.  You will not be with her on her wedding anniversary.  You will not be waking up beside her in the morning.  She has to do all those things and more on her own. ”

I sent the member’s wife a message and let her know that I know.  She has, most unfortunately, just become an unwilling member of the exclusive club that no one wants to join.  So if she needs me, if she needs someone who really knows, I will try to be the person for her that other ‘almost strangers’ have been for me.  Because they knew.  And I know too.

Recently I was reading through my blog and I came across a comment that was written by my friend two years ago in response to the pain I was suffering.  She wrote, “Oh my woman … how can a heart break so many times and still we live?  It must have superpowers.”  How true those words ring to me now, as I recognize all those hearts out there that have been shattered in the past, and still they put themselves back out there to help the next one.  To be able to not only live after heartbreak but to use that pain to help ease the suffering of others is indeed a great, great superpower.  I will not close my eyes to the pain of others any more.  I choose that superpower.

 

Bettering Myself

Humour me for a moment while you read the next two paragraphs, and trust that this post is not all gloom and doom.

Two years ago today, Ben’s world came crashing down around him.  He went to see Dr B for the results of his MRI which was supposed to determine whether or not he would need back surgery or a cortisone injection.  Instead, he received his death sentence.

He didn’t tell me about it for two days, so I lived in blissful oblivion and whistled my way through the next 48 hours doing and saying exactly what I wanted.  My most prominent memory is coming home from work on April 8th and saying “Why didn’t you empty the dishwasher while I was at work??!!”  Yes, Ben had just been given a death sentence and I was worried about the dishes. Not my proudest moment.  Granted, I still had no idea that our lives had just come to a screeching halt, but my annoyance over the dishes remains one of the things I remember and sure wish I could take back.  (Let that be a lesson to anyone reading this … shut up and stop complaining about trivial things.  Take a moment right now to stop and throw some love out to your other half.  No matter what happens, the two of you will not be together until the end of time.  One of you is going to have to live like I am currently living … without my Love and carrying regret over the fact that I bitched about the dishes.)  If you’re interested, I wrote about that day in this post.

Moving forward, I recently came across a blog post written by a fellow named Benjamin P. Hardy, titled “50 Ways (that) Happier, Healthier, And More Successful People Live On Their Own Terms.”  (For the record, the word “that” was not in the title, but I thought it should be.)  His post struck a chord with me because I happen to agree with many of the 50 points on his list for living my best life, although I currently do not adhere to them.

That is about to change.

So, on this most significant day that my brain currently recognizes as “The Day Ben Found Out He Was Dying,” I have decided to begin something that he would be most proud of. Something he would have done himself, because he was a man who spent every day of his adult life trying to become a better person than he was the day before.  And although some of his self improvement schemes were annoying, like his continual preaching “Everyone must go gluten free! You will die if you don’t go gluten free!”  (I assume you can see the irony in that one), most of his efforts could only be admired as he regularly searched for ways to expand his mind, improve his overall health and fitness, and to be a great Dad and partner.

 

With Ben as my inspiration, I have decided to use Mr. Hardy’s list to improve myself.  I’m going to challenge myself to act on one of his suggestions per week until I work my way through most of them.  I look forward to seeing how I come out the other side, and I may be able to change the name of this day to “The Day I Changed My Life In Honour Of Ben.” Or at least combine the two titles.  That’ll be a mouthful.

*Note that I said I was going to act on “most” of Mr. Hardy’s suggestions.  Not all of them. That’s because some of his suggestions are things I already do (see #5) and some are just crazy. (see #1)

Here’s the list, pared down without all the extra detail around why it is important to do each one and how it will positively effect you if you do.  If I’m moved to blog about each one I try then I will provide his detailed explanation at the top of each post.  (I say “if I’m moved” to blog about how I do because I don’t want to commit to do that and then not follow through.  Let me get some momentum going and see how I do.):

1. Stop consuming caffeine (See?  Crazy.  Not doing it. Well, maybe.  But not right away)
2. Pray or meditate morning, mid-day, and night
3. Read 1 book per week
4. Write in your journal 5 minutes per day
5. Marry the person you love (Definitely already knocked this one out of the park)
6. Make a bucket list and actively knock items off
7. Stop consuming refined sugar (ouch)
8. Fast from all food and caloric beverages 24 hours once per week
9. Fast from the internet 24 hours once per week
10. Stop consuming the news or reading the newspaper
11. Do something everyday that terrifies you
12. Do something kind for someone else daily
13. Go to bed early and rise early
14. Get 7+ hours of sleep each night
15. Replace warm showers with cold ones
16. Say “No” to people, obligations, requests, and opportunities you’re    not interested in from now on
17. Say “Thank you” every time you’re served by someone
18. Say “I love you” 3+ times a day to the most important people in your life
19. Consume 30 grams of protein within the first 30 minutes of waking up
20. Listen to audiobooks and podcasts on 1.5 or 2x speed, your brain will change faster
21. Decide where you’ll be in five years and get there in two
22. Remove all non-essentials from your life (start with your closet)
23. Consume a tablespoon of coconut oil once per day
24. Buy a juicer and juice a few times per week
25. Choose to have faith in something bigger than yourself, skepticism is easy
26. Stop obsessing about the outcome
27. Give at least one guilt-free hour to relaxation per day
28. Genuinely apologize to people you’ve mistreated
29. Make friends with five people who inspire you
30. Save 10 percent or more of your income
31. Tithe or give 10 percent of your income away
32. Drink 64–100 ounces of water per day
33. Buy a small place rather than rent (Done)
34. Check your email and social media at least 60–90 minutes after you wake up
35. Make a few radical changes to your life each year (Well, clearly I’m no slouch in this department.  Lose Ben.  Retire.  What more does he want?)
36. Define what wealth and happiness mean to you
37. Change the way you feel, think, and act about money”
38. Invest only in industries you are informed about
39. Create an automated income source that takes care of the fundamentals (Done.  But I’m going to think on this one anyway.)
40. Have multiple income streams (the more the better)  (Again, done.  But again, I’m still going to think on this one and see what else I can do.  I don’t think my current income streams are what he had in mind.)
41. Track at least one habit/behaviour you’re trying to improve
42. Have no more than 3 items on your to-do list each day
43. Make your bed first thing in the morning
44. Make one audacious request per week (what do you have to lose?)
45. Be spontaneously generous with a stranger at least once per month
46. Write and place a short, thoughtful note for someone once per day
47. Become good friends with your parents (Done.  Thank God.  I can’t imagine how I would have survived without them.  I think I will change this one to: Become good friends with your adult children.)
48. Floss your teeth
49. Eat at least one meal with your family per day
50. Spend time reflecting on your blessings at least once per day

Well, there you have it.  The List.  I think I may add some of my own that aren’t included on here, like:

1. Work out or get some type of strenuous exercise 5 times per week and
2. Spend time outside in nature every day

Those ones would be numbers 51 and 52 but I can’t seem to make the numbering work. Perhaps I should add “learn how to use numbering in a blog.” Anyway, you get the picture.  Writing this blog post today fulfills #4.  I’m exhausted.  Haha.

Now that I’ve publicly declared my intent I will begin by choosing which one of the above points I will start with.  I’m not doing them in numerical order.  My plan is to practice each one regularly for a week and see what sticks. Hopefully a week of flossing and another week of drinking lots of water will turn into habits that I can continue throughout the following weeks into forever, as I attempt the rest of the points.

Number 48 is probably a wise place to begin.

I think Sundays will be a good day to begin something new each week.  I guess that means I don’t have to floss until tomorrow.

Have a fantastic weekend and do something nice for your spouse.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Spring Has Sprung

I’ve always thought of Spring as a new beginning, and this one is no different.  In fact, as I write these words I am counting down the last of (approximately) eleven hours to another new beginning.  At midnight tonight I will be officially retired from the RCMP.  A pensioner.  HA!  You have no idea how much that word makes me laugh.  If I close my eyes for 30 seconds I can literally see, hear and feel those early days where I privately thought of the “Over 40’s” in the RCMP as “Dinosaurs.” I “tolerated” them but thought it was time for them to move over and let the new blood in.  Good grief.

When I close my eyes I can see these Training days as if they happened moments ago:

… and the first post …

It’s true that the older you get, the faster time passes.  I am now acutely aware that every day is, in some way, a “last time.”  Today it is the “last day I am a police officer.”  I’m moving over and making room for this …

Hahahahaha!

Starting this new life without Ben is not something I ever thought I’d be doing, and yet here I am.  The other day I read this:

“You are living without the person you can’t possibly have lost. The loneliness can not be captured in any word, phrase or song. It’s palpable, breathtaking and seemingly void of all reality. It’s cold, cruel and takes your heart to a level of pain you didn’t even realize existed before death laid its cold hand on your barely beating heart.”

Those words capture the way I have felt since the moment Ben took his last breath, and it will remain the way I feel on some level until the day I die.  But I am also acutely aware of the fact that I am not dead.  Ben’s body is dead.  Mine is not.  Fair or unfair, that’s just the way it is.  Sometimes I have to say the words out loud to myself to both believe them and to remind myself that my life does, indeed, go on.  And Ben would want it to.

So, in the spirit of continuing to move forward, I whisked Raegan off to New York for a week of sightseeing … just the two of us.  Unfortunately, I was super sick the whole time we were there, but I loved every second of being with her one on one.  I love that we have New York all to ourselves.

One of the highlights of the trip was visiting the 911 Memorial Museum.  We were there for several hours and I could have stayed several more.  This art covers one of the walls, and I loved it so much I now have the saying on my key chain beside the guitar pick with “The Titan” on it.

No Day Shall Erase You From The Memory Of Time.  Damn right.

Raegan and I walked across the Brooklyn Bridge and, as usual, left a little piece of Ben there until the end of time.  Or until the bridge is replaced, anyway.  This time it was Raegan who whipped out the marker before I had even thought of it …

While Raegan and I explored New York, and Zak attended classes at school (sorry Zak … that is the life of a student), Jaime explored Australia and New Zealand with her classmates.

 

She had a great time, by all accounts, and now is prepping for the big day … GRADUATION!!  (Well, first her birthday … can’t believe she’s almost 18 … and then grad).

Despite the fact that Zak didn’t travel over Spring Break, what he has done is far more inspiring.  Today my boy celebrates three years of sobriety!  I am thrilled.  Ben is thrilled for sure.  You may recall how that first sobriety anniversary was bittersweet for us.  (You can read Ben’s post about it here. )  Zak hit his one year sober-versary a mere two days before Ben received his death sentence.  Talk about sobering (pun intended).  But as Ben wrote, Zak was a source of inspiration for him, and I love that both of them got to experience it. And since I’m in a bragging mood … here is my inspirational man-child with his equally inspirational girl friend.

Ahhhhh …. my pride cup runneth over.

And so, despite the fact that my grief continues to haunt me every moment, it now does so at a lower volume.  Low enough between waves that I find I can enjoy some of what life has to offer again.

One last thing … while I was going through some photos I rediscovered these two.  The one of Ben was taken in Hollywood on our honeymoon in 1994.  The one of the girls was taken in the exact same spot just weeks shy of 22 years later.  Funny how life works.  I sometimes imagine it as this continual reel of film where you can see all the things that happen in one spot over the years.  Perhaps our grandchildren will visit this same spot one day.

Happy April 6th.  Happy Spring.  Happy birthday, Lelita.  Happy sober-versary, Zak. Happy retirement, me.

Forever missing you Ben. #BenTheTitan

This One Is For Robert K.

So, apparently I lied on February 5th when I said I was done posting on this blog. Although, in my defense I did say that I was going to stay non committal …  I left myself a little opening incase I felt moved to blog, and I happen to feel moved to blog.

Recently I decided to sell Ben’s Apple Extreme Something-Or-Other.  I didn’t really know what it was and had to google it in order to find out, but I did know that it wasn’t being used and hadn’t been used for the entire year.  Like everything else Ben bought it was essentially brand new with the box and everything it came with originally.

I put an ad on Craigslist and had several texts back and forth with some guy who wanted to buy it but he wanted me to drive it out to Pacific Center for him.  I may get a thrill from collecting a dollar or two by selling off unused items, but certainly not enough to drive into Vancouver to pass it on.  No thanks.  If you can’t come here to pick it up then you’d best find another one elsewhere.  (Silly guy, because it was a great deal.)  Anyway, the guy was a bit of a goof and kept texting me at all hours of the night over the course of last weekend until he finally believed me that I wouldn’t be bringing it to him.  He said he’d think about it, and then on Monday he texted me a photo of an Apple Extreme Something-Or-Other he had bought from someone else.  Really?  Not sure what the point of that was.  The conversation that followed went something like this:

Me: “and?”

Him:”I bought one from someone else so I don’t need to buy yours.”

Me: “good thing I didn’t drive to Vancouver then.”

Him: “well I would have bought yours if you had brought it to me.”

Me: “I am not that desperate for a  buck.”

So that was that and I was kind of chuckling over the fact that he seemed to think I would be shattered that he would not be making the purchase, when my phone went ‘ding’ and I looked at my email.  Lo and behold, right at that moment another gentleman was asking me if it was still for sale, and there began another conversation that made me smile:

Him: “Still have the Apple Extreme?”

Me: “Ironic that I should receive this email today (long story) but as it turns out I do have it.”

Him: “Perfect.  Tomorrow evening for pickup work for you?”

Me: “Well, apparently I will not be out on some wildly romantic Valentines excursion so it seems that tomorrow will in fact be a good time for pickup.”

Him: “I totally forgot about VDay being tomorrow!! How about Wednesday as my lovely wife expects me around!?”

Me: “Ha!  I’d suggest you pretend that it didn’t take an anonymous craigslist seller to remind you about Valentine’s Day.  Wednesday is fine.”

Him: “I pretend real well because at my age I forget real easy.”

I got a laugh and a sale at the same time.

Wednesday night rolled around and my craigslist buyer arrived at my front door.  I opened the door and was greeted by Robert.  Robert-With-The-Friendly-Smile and cash in hand which I happily traded him for the Apple Extreme Something-Or-Other.  And then, surprise surprise, he handed me a gift bag containing a bottle of wine, a box of chocolate and a Starbucks card.  I was so puzzled until this lovely man explained.  He told me that he and his wife had read my blog.  So had their daughters.  And he told me he thought I was wonderful.  Then he gave me a hug and away he went, leaving me with tears in my eyes, a smile on my face and a reminder of how amazing people are.

I don’t know how to reach Robert K.  I sent him a FB message but we all know how those work when you aren’t “friends” with someone.  He’ll probably discover it in a few years. So I wanted to write another post that I hope he sees just to say …

You made my one-day-after-Valentines-Day-alone a little sweeter.  And you reminded me about all the lovely people out there who are not Craigslist Killers (yes, that thought always crosses my mind before I sell something) but instead just want to bring a little light into someone else’s day.  I’m not amazing, but you are.  You are amazing, Robert and Robert’s wife.  Amazing.  Thank you.

You would think that for someone who suggested she may not blog again, that would be the end of this unexpected post. But it’s not. I have one more story about selling off Ben’s unused items that also made me laugh the day after I met The Amazing Robert.

Recently Raegan and I discovered a brand new OtterBox for an iPhone 6 plus (Ben’s) that was still in it’s package.  Neither of us could imagine why he hadn’t used it considering how expensive they are, but I have no need for it so I priced it for a quick sale on the local FB site.  It sold immediately and a lady came by to pick it up.  Sale over and I did not expect to hear from her again.  But I did.  I received a private FB message from her that read:

“Hi Wendy. I had a look at the case when I got home tonight and I realized that it is not a Otter box you sold me. It is called a crseology case. A cheap Chinese import. I would like to know if this was a mistake.”

OMG.  I could feel my face turn red and there wasn’t even anyone around to see.  I quickly looked at the photos I had taken of the case (kept in the original Otterbox) and discovered that she was right.  The word “Crseology” was stamped right on it and I had never noticed. How completely humiliating.  I had to convince a complete stranger that I had not intentionally ripped her off and that in fact it was all Ben’s fault.  Lol. I felt like I was stammering with embarrassment as I wrote back to her.

Needless to say I returned her money with my head hanging in shame (metaphorically, since I actually eTransferred it back to her).  I have no idea how that phone case made it into an Otterbox case, but here is my best guess.  I suspect that my sweet Ben who always liked to save a buck ordered an Otterbox online by someone who was advertising them for cheap.  Not one to pass up a bargain, I suspect he made that purchase from an unreliable seller and got ripped off but didn’t want to tell me about it because he thought I would tease and torment him relentlessly.  Which I would have, to be honest.

Now you may ask yourself why Ben wouldn’t have just thrown the case and the box in the garbage so that I would never find out, right?  That would have been the reasonable thing to do, but this is Ben we’re talking about.  Ben The Hoarder who never threw anything away.  Ben The Hoarder who kept every box from everything he ever purchased, “just incase.”  (Admittedly though, his need to save boxes has earned me some extra money over this last year when I have been able to advertise items that still have their original packaging. So I guess it might not have been the worst habit ever.)  I suspect that he just couldn’t bring himself to get rid of it.  “Just incase.”

I imagine he is laughing his head off over my awkward moment, since he knows I would have laughed at him if I had known what happened at the time.

That’s all for today, folks.  I’ll see if the mood hits me again.

Hug your families.

Fart Stories Are Funnier, But You Get My Heart

I finally took the leap and called someone in to fix my computers. They have all been quite a mess since Ben died. Anyway, he had to haul them away and it is hard to use my phone to write blog posts … hence my silence.

Today, as usual, I was flipping through my calendar and the blog to see what I was doing this day last year. It’s how I keep Ben close and trick myself into thinking he’s still here. (I live in this weird place somewhere in the middle of reality and wishful thinking.) I found this post from last year. I remember my fingers on the keyboard as I typed it out. Chris had also been recently diagnosed and Ben was suffering through that heartbreak too.

I wrote out my hope that Ben and I would be living in the moment together 50 years in the future, but I knew it wasn’t true. Like every other day that passed, I knew that Thanksgiving 2015 was to be our last Thanksgiving together. I embraced it at that moment but I wasn’t able to hang onto it. Thanksgiving has always been my favourite holiday and last year was no different. Our family was together and Ben was still reasonably strong, but I knew our last moments were ticking away.

I’m so sorry that I couldn’t save you, Ben. I think that thought every day. I’m just so sorry.

Yesterday we gathered together as a family once again – this year with one new boyfriend and one new girlfriend in the mix. Neither of them had the pleasure of knowing The Titan, but they joined us in a shot of Kracken to remember him.

Here’s hoping everyone enjoyed the day and gave their family a little extra love. Here’s to Ben.

Mom is a widow

As Dan pointed out in my previous post, fart stories are funnier then my musings about watching Ben suffer.  I agree … they are.  I laughed when I read Ben’s post too.

I do want to tell funny stories of how we are getting through this, and in fact there are some.  Our life is not all doom and gloom and I don’t want anyone to think it is.  I smile and laugh with Ben every day (mostly when he farts, ironically), and although we tend to avoid actual discussions about “living in the moment” and “mindfulness” it is clear that is where we both are.  Thats a good thing, I think.  Everyone talks about doing it but then gets carried away with life and the years pass without anyone knowing where they went.  Well, we are really doing it.  We are living and loving in the moment.  Hopefully we will…

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And So Completes The Circle

Yesterday was our anniversary.  Sept 24th.  We would have been married for 22 years.

On our wedding day in 1994 the weather was sunny and hot, and our limo broke down on the side of the Mary Hill Bypass in Port Coquitlam.  As we stood on the side of the road with sweat running down our faces I recall saying that things could only go up from there. I was right, and in the end we had 21 years, 3 months and 20 days together.  Far too short, but I’m grateful for every moment of it.

Twenty one years ago we celebrated our first anniversary.  We gave each other Ironman watches that we couldn’t really afford but needed for work. Ben still has his.  Well, I suppose I have it now.

Every year afterwards for several anniversaries we would spend the day wandering Granville Island together.  We continued the tradition even after we had kids – we would drop them at Mom and Dad’s and head down there for the day.  One year we saw David Hasselhoff wearing sparkly gold pants.  I’m not sure when we abandoned that tradition – likely when the kids started playing soccer – but we started a new tradition and went out for dinner every year, usually trying some type of new cuisine.  I remember once we went to a pub which was very unusual for us.  I can recall what I was wearing and how Ben took picture of me and kept it as the home page on his phone for a long time.

For our 20th anniversary Ben surprised me by letting me know that he had been secretly saving money and had saved enough for us to go to New York.  Unfortunately, Ben was also really suffering with back pain and we had just decided to get him a hot tub.  We got the hot tub for free but had to spend the anniversary money installing a patio slab that would support it.  (Surprise!  No trip to New York!) I can still see Ben looking at me and saying, “It’s the thought that counts, right?”  Yes Ben, it is most certainly the thought that counts.

For our 21st anniversary we flew to LA to watch Doyle Bramhall II in concert.  A dream come true for Ben, especially when we ended up meeting him and also running into Bryan Callen too.  I knew at the time that it was to be our last anniversary together.

For our 22nd anniversary, I buried Ben in the little cemetery near our house.

We stood at Ben’s grave site and released the Kracken until the bottle was empty, while we listened to a song that would have made Ben laugh and say “Hell yeah!” Take a listen and imagine Ben downing a shot every time Lukas Graham says “everyone better be wasted.”

 

Zak also played a song that is near to his heart.  Take a moment to listen.

When the bottle was empty we placed it inside the grave alongside Ben’s shot glass.  I hope he’s drinking himself silly in Heaven.

We took turns shoveling.

Who could have ever imagined as I walked into the church to meet my best friend that it would all be over 22 years later to the exact day?

 

Our wedding day has now become the day I buried my husband.  And so completes the circle.

Just for fun, I’ll show you how my sister and niece ended the day.  Make sure you have your speakers on:

 

 

So It Begins

The first day of school.  This is the first time Ben has ever missed the first day of school. Yes, that’s the kind of Dad he was …. always present on that first day, even if it meant leaving for work late when they were a bit older, or zipping home quickly when they were younger just for photos.

Today was the first day of Jaime’s grad year, and Ben is not here to see it.  Such a loss for Jaime, but oh how my heart breaks for Ben.  How thrilled he would have been to help her navigate through scholarship applications this year.  He would have loved going to University open houses, and he even would have loved the search for a grad dress because that’s just the kind of Dad he was.  Present and involved.  How cruel life is that he will never have those experiences that he so deserved …. that he had earned the right to enjoy.

And so begins this school year, where every day is a day closer to Jaime’s grad without her Dad.

                                                 Jaime and Jonah – Grade 1, Grade 7, Grade 12.

                                             Raegan and Jaime – Grade 10 and Grade 12

My goal this year is to do everything I can to try to be everything the girls need.  To be present for them as their ever patient Dad was, and as I promised him I would be.  I’m not entirely certain that I’m up for that task – Ben was the homework helper, the driver, the motivator and the pep talker.  (One might read this and wonder exactly what I did, since Ben did so much.  I don’t blame you really.  Since Ben died I have wondered that too.  At this point in my life I cannot remember exactly how I fit into my daughter’s lives while Ben was alive, because his absence has left such an overwhelming void that it feels as though he must have taken care of everything.  I know that’s not true.  I know I’ve been involved because the girls insist I smother them.  So the good news is that I obviously participated in some fashion, but I just can’t remember how.)

As I write this, Jaime has just come upstairs to ask me how to hook up the speakers to the television so that she can watch tv with her boyfriend.  (Remember the boyfriend?  The one Ben never got to meet?)  The speakers were unhooked because of the painting, and I don’t know how to hook them up again.  Ben would know.

Clearly it seems as though I cannot in fact be everything for the girls after all.  But I hope I can be enough.

 

It’s Been Awhile – Part II

On August 31, 2015, Ben posted on this blog.  It had been awhile since he had written, hence the title of his post which was “It’s Been Awhile.”  (Clever man thinking up that title all by himself).  That day was one of the few times he acknowledged his pending death in a forum that he knew I could access.  He wrote “My visits to the BC Cancer Agency only serve to re-enforce my suspicions that by this time next year I’ll be nothing but a memory to everyone. A fond one perhaps, but only a memory.”

How could a year have passed since that day? How is it that he has been gone 7 1/2 months?  He has been gone now for almost as long as he suffered with the knowledge that he had cancer.  I still cannot believe it is true.  I still wait for him to come home.  I have read that for some people, the waiting never ends.

In any case, other than that one post on this day last year, he never spoke of himself dying to the kids and I until the very end.  I know he thought he was protecting us all those months.  Even last December when we discussed what we wanted Christmas 2015 to be about I cried, “If this is our last Christmas together….” and he cut me off and said, “It won’t be. It won’t be.”  I know now he said it more for me than himself.

All year I thought he didn’t know what the ending would be.  I thought this post he wrote (click here) was a one off.  I honestly thought he forgot he wrote it.  But over the course of the past few months since his death I have read things Ben wrote where it is clear he knew what was happening.  And he was so sad.   My heart shatters all over again every time I think of him suffering emotionally in silence, with a smile on his face whenever he could manage it.

While it was all happening I consoled myself with the fact that he believed there would be a happy ending, so he didn’t have to live with the emotional torture in addition to the physical torture.  I thought it was better for that to be my burden, that it was better for me to carry that for him since he was already in so much physical pain.  I didn’t want him to carry the emotional pain of wondering if each day was his last.

Now sometimes I physically feel I may vomit when I think about the anguish he must have felt as he watched the rest of us sleep, because he knew.  Sometimes I love him for trying to protect the kids and I, and sometimes I hate that he never sat me down and told me what to do after he died. But mostly I am tortured by the fact that he carried that knowledge, and I pray every day that he really did forget because of all the meds.  I think sometimes at least, that may have been true.

Now one year has flown by and I find myself celebrating my Dad’s retirement from teaching.  I’m so proud of my Dad.  I’m also very lucky that I’m his favourite child.  (That’s right, Lisa and Barb.  As Dr. B once said when Ben was in a drug induced state and asked me if I had confessed to my crimes …. “the truth shall set you free.”)  I’m very happy that I was able to celebrate with my family tonight, despite my somewhat melancholy and a tad angry mood (which I do try daily to shake off, but some days are just harder than others). We raised a glass to Ben tonight …. he would have had a good laugh teasing my Dad about retirement.  There would have been a lot of digs about “How does one retire from a job they only went to for an hour a day?”  I think Ben was probably there drinking right along with us.

September 24th would have been our 22nd wedding anniversary.  We will inter his ashes that day.  The ending to our story, on the same day it began.  

I miss you Ben.  The world just isn’t the same without you.

 

Half A Road Trip In One Post

I’ve been absent for awhile, as you may or may not have noticed.  I suppose that depends on how (un) interested you may be in this blog.  In any case, the road trip with the girls was fun, as long as I pretended that Ben was back at home with Zak having a Boys Vacay.  A “Big Hairy Guy Weekend” as Ben always called them when Zak was young.  When I thought too hard about the fact that Zak was actually going to work every day (and also a bit lonely it seemed, from his messages) and that Ben was never coming home again, it got a bit too much to bear.

We arrived home after 16 days(ish) on the road feeling not too shabby, but when I walked back in our home I felt like my world collapsed around me all over again.  I was transported right back into the shit storm of pain I have been somehow tolerating since the day Ben cried out “I have cancer.”  (April 10, 2015 around 5:20 pm, to be exact.)  I’m not exactly sure why that happened to me.  Maybe because the renos that were supposed to be completed were not done, or maybe just because Ben did not greet me at the door.  I don’t know.  But in that split second that I walked through the door I truly felt like I just couldn’t stand the thought of trying to get through another moment on my own. The pain was raw and fresh and agonizing and unbearable.  I saw this and thought that it pretty much summed up how I felt:

(As an aside, and since this was brought up recently, let me be very clear for all who read this blog that I write these posts when the mood hits me.  That mood is usually sad because (a) my husband died and (b) quite frankly there aren’t a lot of moments in my life where I feel like jumping for joy right now.  I hardly think that is a surprise.  This blog is my outlet for my grief, not a contemplation of my own death and most certainly not by my own hand.  If you choose to read it, please keep your imagination in check.  I am still reasonably sane, I’m just sad. Really, really fucking sad.  I’m also really, really fucking strong.)

Anyway…

For the last eleven days I have just been trying to cope and trying to keep on keepin’ on. Which brings me to today, and I have decided show the world (or my twelve readers) a little bit of what took place on our Peace-Pilgrimage-That-Didn’t-Bring-Ben-Back.  I’ll do most of it in pictures which will allow me to not have to be witty or clever (have I ever been witty or clever in this blog?) and which will ensure you don’t have to read endless amounts of my drivel.

One of the things we did was leave Ben’s mark wherever we went.  I want Ben to be remembered and I feel like anyone who didn’t know him would wish they did.  So I “shouted” out his name at every opportunity.  This is what that looked like:

Astoria

Cannon Beach

San Francisco

Santa Monica Pier

Venice Beach

Runyon Canyon Park, LA

Hollywood

If you click on each picture you can see where it was taken.  Not long after we arrived home, someone (I won’t say who) sent me this:

I love that.  Thank you.

We tried to have as much fun as we could while we driving from place to place, so we stopped randomly and did things like this:

We stopped at the Tillamook Cheese Factory for a tour (who doesn’t want to tour a cheese factory?) and the girls convinced me that Ben would have bought them some fudge if he was there.  They were right, so we ate fudge.

We drove a bit further and found ourselves discombobulated when we saw a sign telling us that we were right back home.  We pulled over and took a picture:

From there we went on to the Sea Lion Caves (the pictures down below in the caves didn’t turn out) and then onward to take a wild ride in the sand dunes.  I thought we may die out in mountains of sand, but luckily we made it back safely. The three of us were washing sand out of unmentionable places for days:

Sometimes we just pulled over to look at the scenery as we drove south…

And then finally we arrived …

We saw the Redwood Forest (we opted out of actually driving through the tree ourselves because there was a 30 minute wait) and drove on to San Francisco where we hit all the local tourist traps including Lombard Street (most crooked street in the world) where Jaime took a time lapse video as we drove down.  Unfortunately I can’t quite figure out how to post it, but you can see it on my Facebook page.  We did have a bit of a scene at the top of the street when some street security tried to make me drive down it without Jaime. Seriously?  That didn’t end up well …. for them.  Jaime ended up back in the car and on we went.  Click on each picture for details on where we were …

Redwood Forest

Golden Gate

Fisherman’s Wharf

View from the top of Lombard St

Jimi Hendrix

Hippy area

Haight / Ashbury

The clock permanently stopped at 4:20 in the hippy area

Alcatraz

In front of the real “Full House” house

While we were in San Francisco we found ourselves driving behind none other than the Titan himself.  Look closely, bottom left …

We also discovered the wonderful world of Uber drivers because I absolutely hated driving in that city.  I was pretty pleased with myself for using Uber, actually.  That isn’t something I would have ever done before without Ben.

I’m going to end this post here and finish the trip off in a second post at a later date.  I’m exhausted and today we brought this fella on the left to his forever home with us:

His name is Marley.  Not directly named after the movie per se,  but we did name him after Bob Marley.  Ben would have loved that.

Before I sign off I want to skip ahead and show you this one thing:

The picture on the left is Ben and I on the Santa Monica Pier, Sept 24, 2015.  Our 21st anniversary.  The picture on the right is the girls and I standing in the exact same spot.  It was strange to think of all that has transpired in such a short time.

And then there was this:

I took the picture on the left when I was standing beside Ben last year, and I remember thinking at the time how ironic the sign was because the end of our trail was approaching rapidly, and I knew it. When I saw the girls standing beside the same sign 11 months later I realized that in fact it was not the end of the entire trail, just the end of part of it.

Ben sat in that chair last year.  This year we left it empty.

Peace Pilgrimage

Well, here we are, day 3 of our peace quest. Maybe it’s just my peace quest – the girls both insist they are fine so I suppose we’ll all find out in about a decade if this trip was helpful to them or “just a trip.” Either way, we are all having a good time. Even the one who hated me for it.

Due to a need to keep costs down, I have managed to get (I think) pretty good deals on hotels so far. Much lower rates than advertised on the hotel sites themselves. Much lower than Trip Advisor too. I call bullshit that they get the lowest rates, by the way.

For fun we have been getting our kicks out of doing silly things like claiming it is Jaime’s birthday at The Cheesecake Factory, just to hear them sing to her.  I tried to post the video clip but for some reason I can’t make it work.  It made Jaime laugh, but there was no free cheesecake!

Speaking of free, we have yet to actually purchase lunches. No, I’m not starving the kids, but our hotels come with breakfast and so we take a little extra breakfast which morphs into lunch a little later in the day. Don’t judge me.

We have left a little bit of Ben in a couple of places:

This picture was taken in Astoria. We hiked for two and a half hours in total, much of it straight up hill! Walking the streets here is like walking in San Francisco, and we started from our hotel which was the lowest point. We climbed straight up for a mile to reach the tower, and then climbed to the top of that. Awesome views and worth the climb!

We also did a river stroll. Good for the soul.

The next day we made it to Cannon Beach which was amazing. I want to come back for an entire weekend. I wish I’d known about this place when Ben was around. This is a prettier beach than Hawaii, I kid you not. The people are lovely, except for the woman who lost her mind and screamed “YOU CAN’T PARK THERRRRRREEE!!!” Twice. Yes, we get it.

And we left Ben’s mark there too…

Today we are off to ride the sand dunes in Florence (hopefully) and then on to California. Livin’ life the way it was meant to be lived, I think.

That Damn Toothbrush

One learns interesting things about themselves when they lose one fifth of their world. I have discovered that I have three predominant ways of coping.

1. Purging
2. Shopping / Spending Money
3. Keeping Busy By Renovating

Ben’s Olympic Hoarding habit drove me to the edge of sanity.  I actually feel a little shudder go down my spine when I look around my home office where I sit to write this post and recall a short time ago when I actually had to cover the glass door and never cross the threshold lest I disappear into the abyss that was “Ben’s space.”  Looking into this office gave me a physical reaction that mimicked a heart attack.

Since Ben died I think it would be safe to say that I have emptied this residence of at least 50% of the “stuff” it contained.  My home is not small so that is a lot of “stuff.” Much of it had zero sentimental value to myself or the kids (if everything has sentimental value, doesn’t that contradict the actual intended meaning behind “sentimental value“??) and so I sold it for cold hard cash.  I’m nothing if not practical.   The kids and I quite easily filtered through the piles of impedimenta, accoutrement, paraphernalia – also known as crap – and quickly found what meant the most to us.  The rest went buh bye.  How many guitars is it reasonable for one to keep when it is not their own passion?  I know the answer to that question … TWO!!!  That’s right.  The one that started it all about a dozen years before this picture was taken …

and the last one before it all ended …

Almost everything else in here was history and I moved at a frenzied pace with the sole goal of being able to breathe.  I don’t regret any of it.  I found most things very easy to get rid of,  but I continue to be surprised at the small things I can not let go.

Our entire closet was emptied of all Ben’s clothes within days of him dying because practicality kicked in and I needed the space.  What girl doesn’t want more closet space, right?  I saw no practical point in waiting what some might consider to be a “decent” amount of time when it was clear that no one in this home would ever wear those clothes. What difference would it make if I left the closet stuffed full and overflowing with clothing that would never again be worn by anyone here?  Ben certainly wasn’t coming back to wear them or complain about them being gone.  So I purged, and yet I found myself needing to keep his t-shirts.  I tucked away about 40 of his “favorite” t-shirts to be transformed into something awesome when the time is right.  I also have every single one of his ties hanging neatly in a row, which is odd considering he rarely wore a tie.  His hot tubbing flip flops remain by our back door, waiting for him to step right back into them despite the fact that I am re-homing our hot tub.  His tooth brush remained on our bathroom counter.

I commented to a friend the other day about my ruthlessness in clearing out our house and how I found it odd that I couldn’t bring myself to throw out his damn toothbrush.  It just sat there and stared at me and taunted me, day after day.  Many times I picked it up to toss it out and then I put it back down.  The very next day after having the toothbrush talk, my cleaning lady was over and she asked “do you have an old toothbrush I could use to get some of this grime out of the sink?”  Without hesitation I walked straight over and handed her Ben’s toothbrush.  Apparently cleanliness wins.

Most things I got rid of had monetary value, and being the ever practical one I sold them for money to support coping mechanism #2 – Shopping.  First it was clothing and some shoes.  Since I had the room in the closet now I figured I’d fill it back up in ways that made me happy. One of my friends walked in one day and took a look into my newly filled closet and said “Stop.”  I stopped.  (Thanks, Lisa).  Some of the clothes still hang in there with the tags on, but mostly I don’t regret those purchases.

I have also done some redecorating courtesy of the sale of Ben’s truck.  I know that Ben would have a fit over the money I have spent on the house because he would have much rather had the truck, but I guess that’s my choice now since he is not here to drive said truck.  I like to think that Ben would be happy that I spent somewhat responsibly and have not gone outside the budget I set out for myself, and also because coping mechanism #2 (Shopping) which kind of morphed into coping mechanism #3 (Keeping busy by renovating) has helped keep me sane.  After all, he rudely left my world and clearly refuses to come back, so he has to expect that I must find something to do to occupy my time.

I do know for certain that Ben would be 100% supportive of the travel we’ve done and the travel we plan to do.  One of his regrets that he voiced quite clearly before he died (how it hurts to know he had regrets) was that he wished we had spent more money on travelling and less on the house.  So you see, he’d support half of what I’m doing.  I’ll take that as a win.  I don’t mind being a bit defiant of his wishes, since he was assholish enough to go and die on me.

I know not everyone agrees with my methods of coping, but in the words of Rhett Butler …

At least I haven’t started drinking.  Well, at least I haven’t started drinking heavily.  I will admit to having had to walk home last night after a few glasses of wine in the company of friends who make me very happy because they meet both of my current friendship requirements

1. they talk about Ben and
2. they don’t judge my coping mechanisms.  (They also take care of my dog when I’m away and they always have wine).

(I suppose they also meet requirement #3 – they invite me.)

This week the girls and I are going to make Ben very happy by taking off on a healing journey.  We hope it involves hiking and exploring and being with nature.  Maybe it will end up involving Universal Studios and Alcatraz.  We’ll see.  We’re flying by the seat of our pants.  One of the girls is thrilled beyond words that we are doing this, and one of them hates me for it.  I’ll let you figure out which is which.  (Zak is staying home and working. Someone has to.  lol).  I am very pleased with myself for committing to taking this trip for multiple reasons that I can’t explain.  Considering the way I was feeling this time last year, I feel like I’ve come a long way.

Speaking of travel, here are a few pictures of Hawaii that I haven’t shown off yet.

And then there was this:

One year ago I felt like this (click here) and I was desperate.  I cannot adequately explain what living in a constant state of fear, helplessness and desperation does to a person.  But one year later I feel like I’m ready to head off and seek some healing, and I think that is probably a good thing.  I feel like I’ve come a long way.  And so we are off.

We Are All A Year Older

The other day I was cleaning up and  I stopped for a moment to watch our digital photo album as it flipped through some photos.  I saw a few birthday pics flash by and I had to sit down and catch my breath as I suddenly realized that all four remaining Saint-Onge’s have had a birthday since Ben died.  I mean, obviously I knew this, but it really hit me hard at that moment.  The rest of us are all one year older.  And then I really thought about the fact that Ben will never know me at 46, Zak at 20, Jaime at 17, or Raegan at 15. Never.  How could he already have been gone long enough that we are all one year older and he wasn’t here to see it happen?  Time is stealing him further away from me.

It has occurred to me in the past that Ben and I are now officially the same age (he died at 46, I just turned 46), but I don’t recall really thinking hard about the fact that in a mere 6 1/2 months, all of us have changed ages and Ben doesn’t even know it.  Two of my kids have begun new romances since Ben died, and those new boyfriend / girlfriends don’t ever get to know Ben.  They don’t know the super cool dad of their current crush.  My kids have turned into the “girl/boyfriend-who’s-dad-died.”  Which is now the way it will always be, unless they are to date and marry someone from their early youth, which is unlikely. That means that my kids don’t get to reminisce about their Dad with their significant other, because that significant other will never have known him. (Well, of course they can reminisce, but the other person won’t have had that shared experience. You know what I mean.) How could that happen in such a short amount of time?

As life has moved along I find myself discovering that being a single parent is not fun. Before Ben and I ever had kids, we talked about how we saw our lives going as far as career vs kids.  We both felt very strongly that having a parental presence at home as much as possible was a priority, and so I have spent the majority of my career working part time.  (Don’t make the assumption here that it was a no brainer back in 2000 that I would be the one to reduce my hours – in fact, at one point in time we came very close to doing just the opposite.  Ben was very supportive of my career and was fully prepared to take on the role of primary care giver, but due to various things that happened around the time of making that decision we ultimately decided it would be me to spend more time at home.  So we ran with it and both of us have been reasonably satisfied with the way that worked out, except for the recent shitty ending to our story. Pretty sure I can speak for Ben here when I say that he was less than impressed with how everything turned out in the end.  But I digress….)

Back to single parenting … not so much fun.  There have been a few instances of late where Ben would have simply walked out of the home office and into the family room and given “the look.”  That usually solved whatever the problem of the moment was.  And if the “offence” was great enough and say, a phone or car was taken away, he would never, ever give in or renege on the original consequence.  Never.  And no one would dare to try to wear him down.

I’m discovering that even when a parent has died, teens still manage to be teens and there is no one I can fall back on for a break.  No one to step in with “the look.”  No one to say to the other parent “hold onto those car keys and don’t give them back for a week.  It’s the right thing to do.” Instead it’s just me, second guessing myself and getting worn out and run over at times. The last two days haven’t been the best, to put it mildly.  And amidst all the drama poor Raegan was hit with the worst migraine ever.  Nothing stopped this bad boy.  The poor girl vomited for hours until she was spitting up blood, holding her head and telling me how much it hurt.  It was horrible and I really needed Ben, but alas… well, you know.

Raegan is feeling better now and tomorrow night she goes for her MRI to see what, if anything, is going on in there.  I hope they find something very tiny, non life threatening and super easy to resolve.  I suspect that they will find nothing, which is good but frustrating because that doesn’t really help her pain.  Knowing you are “OK” doesn’t make the pain go away.

In other news in the Saint-Onge household, we were unable to secure our first pick of burial plot for Ben but we did get our second choice.  In hindsight, when Raegan and I went back to look at it, we actually preferred our second choice so I suppose it all worked out. The purchase of the plot etc is now being dealt with directly between the City of Surrey and the RCMP, so for once I just get to sit back and wait until it is all done.  Then I will start thinking about when is a good time to say that final farewell.  I’m not ready yet.

I had intended on writing about our recent trip to Hawaii, but since the girls and I are going on a further adventure down south in a few days, I think I’ll wait.  This pretty much sums up our next trip:

OK, the truth is that I actually don’t feel like writing about Hawaii right now, because as I was putzing around here on Ben’s computer I found a post he wrote on a guitar forum about ten months ago.  I have read it before but I had forgotten about it, and now that I’ve read it again I don’t feel much like talking about sunshine and travel.  Instead I’m going to link the post he made.  Hopefully it works.  Hopefully I didn’t already post it sometime earlier.

In any case, reading his words made me both sad and proud.  What a man he was.  Click on the link below to read:

Bens post on guitar forum

An Honest Love Letter … Saint-Onge Style

This is my first attempt at reblogging. Not even quite sure what will happen when I hit “reblogging post.”  I originally wrote this post on September 8, 2015 and I re-read it this morning.  It reminded me that I told Ben that we would be OK. I said “Whatever may come, we will be Ok.” So I need to be Ok.

Mom is a widow

To my Groom,

I am sorry that you are in so much pain.  It truly, physically hurts my heart to watch you suffer.  I wish I could take all that pain away.

(I bet this is the face you are making right now as you read this)

I know what you’re thinking.  You’re thinking, “LIAR!  You would not agree to taking all the pain!”  Fine.  You caught me. You’re right.  That was, in fact, a lie … you know me too well.  But I would definitely agree to take half of it.  I would totally take half. Or at least 35%.  But probably half.  Asking me to take it all on would be a little much, don’t you think?  That would just be mean, to want me to take it all.  But I would agree to a solid 50%.

My Dear Ben … you know I have loved you almost from…

View original post 2,365 more words

Sometimes It’s All Just A Little Too Much

I am writing this post from Hawaii.  To be a little more exact, I am writing it from the bathtub in the condo in Hawaii, where I am hiding and trying to breathe.  It’s one of those moments.

Sometimes it’s all a little too much and I couldn’t explain why if I tried. I don’t even know.

The trip has been beautiful and peaceful for the most part. We have swam and kayaked (Lisa paddled, I sat there), relaxed in the sun, drank wine, gone down a water slide and even swam in the ocean with dolphins. I have also enjoyed 100% Kona coffee.  That’s a big deal for me.

All that beauty is not lost on me, and yet here I am hiding in the tub remembering Ben saying “I think I pulled a muscle” while I nurse my own extremely sore lower back and think about how Ben’s “pulled muscle” turned out.  And cry.

Yes, I know, I know, most muscle aches do not turn out to be cancer. But apparently sometimes they do.  If I could turn off the shitty thoughts I would. Sometimes I can. Occasionally I can’t. This seems to be one of those moments.

You know what I wish for more than anything at this moment?  I wish that all of my kids be gifted the ability to live in the moment and not in the “what ifs.”  I hope that when terrorists commit atrocities and innocent people are killed, and when men and women who protect our communities go to work one night but don’t come again because some asshole figured that they wore a uniform so they should die for that, and when another student or their mom’s aunt is given another sad cancer prognosis…..that they find a way to cope and understand that those are not their stories.  I hope that they can understand that no one knows what life holds for them, but at that particular moment that is not their story. And that if it ever becomes their story in any way, they will cope.

I hope they emulate their Dad.  I hope they don’t crawl into a bathtub to cry. Or, if they do, they only do it for ten minutes and then they remind themselves of all the beauty in the world, get up, towel off and move on.

How I miss Ben right now.

It’s time to get out of the tub.

Ben, Let Me Sleep!

Today is my sweet Raegan’s 15th birthday and we will be celebrating here in Hawaii. Not a bad birthday present, am I right?

We arrived two days ago to beautiful weather and beautiful accommodations. We have already swam beside a massive turtle and watched the Dolphins swim. I have sipped a little bit of Heaven in the 100% Kona coffee at Starbucks  (although I did accidently drop the first one all over my sister after only having had about three sips) and we have plans today to go paddle boarding.  There is nothing for us to do for the next week or so except enjoy the sunshine and each other’s company. Life is good, right?

So why am I wide awake at 3:32 in the morning, feeling like I just sat through a three hour movie of Ben being tortured by the fear of dying and feeling like he had no one to share that fear with? I am exhausted.

Ben, please, get out of my dreams. I’m tired and the dreams like that hurt me.  Come back  to my dreams when they can be happy, not this way.

I want to enjoy Raegan’s birthday and our vacation. I know it has been six months without you. I know today marks the day. Believe me, I know. And it’s ok for you to live in my head but not like that. Please stop making me suffer through those memories time after time. I just want to remember you laughing.

Two Reasons

Full preparations are under way for Hawaii.  I am looking forward to the time with my kids in the place Ben loved best.

The days keep passing by and I find myself remaining exhaustingly busy.  Lately I have taken to wondering why I am so busy, especially since I’m not working right now. I thought it was because Ben left so much unfinished business behind, but that’s no longer really applicable. I have pretty much straightened everything out.

So I asked myself what I have been doing with my time.  Well, I have been getting the floors re-done (they look spectacular) and arranging for the cabinets to be sprayed, redoing my bedroom, planning our holidays, working out a lot … the list goes on.  But when I put it all down in writing I realize that none of those “must do’s” have anything to do with Ben. It all has to do with me.  Just me.  But why?

The working out part is a no brainer. The kids need me healthy and I also need myself healthy.  But why the rest of it?  Why am I in such a hurry to take on so much, so quickly, especially when I often find myself overwhelmed and exhausted by the end of the day? And why am I in such a hurry to change so many things around here?

I have come to the conclusion that there are two reasons.  Here they are:

Reason Numero Uno is because I love my home which also happens to be filled with memories of Ben.  Really great memories for the most part.  But in addition to all the years of great memories, I am now haunted by 9 months of horrifying memories which seem to have taken over everything. I want to stay in this house and hold onto the good memories, but the ones from Ben’s diagnosis to death are indescribably unbearable.  They hurt so much that I desperately want to erase them from my brain, but I have found that impossible to do.

I can’t walk into our ensuite without seeing Ben fall and hit his head and cry out for me while he was unable to move or get up.  I can’t stand in my kitchen without hearing him cry out “I have cancer.  It’s in my kidney and my bones.”  I can’t enter the house without seeing him sitting on the seat of his walker, completely dejected and exhausted from trying desperately to get to the front door so he could drive his truck just one more time.  (Which led me to think … when exactly was the last time he drove his truck?  Did I know it was the last time?  Did he?)  I can’t walk into the family room without seeing him sitting in his chair, feet horribly swollen and asking Dr B “am I going to die?”  and seeing Dr B’s sad face as he said “Yes Ben. You are going to die.“  You get the picture. (I want that chair out of here.  I know that is such a waste of money but I hate it.  I can’t stand sitting in it.  Too bad Mom already bought the same one – she could have taken Ben’s.)

So basically, I need change without selling my house because I no longer want to remember the tears and desperation.  I want to be able to envision Ben playing guitar, or cooking in the kitchen, or laying beside me in bed in better times.  (Strangely, our bed is the only thing I don’t want to sell. I find that odd, because I think many people wouldn’t want to sleep in the same bed where their spouse died. But I do.  It’s the only way I can hold on.)

Reason Deux for doing so much around the house is because when I’m overwhelmingly busy I don’t have much time to dwell on all that I have lost. And much like the first reason, it allows my mind to stay off of the horrifying memories that torment me.  I’m not sure what I’ll do when there are no longer any new things to fix or change around here.  Anyone need help?

Raegan’s birthday is fast approaching, and it is not lost on any of us that her 15th birthday will also mark exactly six months since Ben died.  And only six short months before that, this was happening:

That picture was taken July 13, 2015.  Look how wonderful and happy Ben looked!  Ben was presenting her with a very special necklace.  I remember how he thought about waiting until her 16th birthday to give it to her (which was when he gave Jaime her necklace), and I held my breath because all I could think was “you won’t be alive on Raegan’s 16th birthday.”

At the moment I clicked the camera to take this picture I was thinking how it would be the last birthday where Raegan would sit beside her Dad opening gifts.  I remember really, really appreciating that moment, and knowing that even though I knew it was the last time, I still wouldn’t be able to adequately prepare myself for how unbearable it would be for her next one.  How quickly time passes.

I miss his voice, and his smile, and his steady, calm strength, and the knowledge that he always seemed to know the right thing to do.  I sure do miss having him around to calm me as I freak out as per usual in the pre-travel days.

However, we have in fact found some laughter in our lives again.

The picture in the back yard was from when we were toasting Ben on Canada Day.  The others are the girls and I out for brunch, and all of the kids mooching off of me in the mall.  (Who doesn’t need a new pair of flip flops for the beach? Am I right?)  And speaking of the beach …

My nails are Hawaii ready!  So are the girls’ nails …. we made a day of it but I don’t have any other pictures because I was too enthralled with my own.

Speaking of nails … Jaime had to pay a visit to the doctor the other day and he told her that her chipped toe nails were disgusting.  Hahaha.  I knew better than to go there with a bad pedi, so I wore shoes.  While I was there we had a discussion about why my foot keeps randomly swelling up, and he decided I should donate some blood just to rule out a blood clot since my calf was fairly tender too.  I donated the blood and left the office, and then it occurred to me that there would be a problem with me flying to Hawaii if I had any signs of a clot.  So I sent this:

 OK, that’s good.  I wouldn’t want to have to cancel.

By the time I went to reply again, I happened to be standing in front of my microwave which always messes with my texts for some unexplainable reason.  My phone literally develops a mind of it’s own, and “I” replied with this:

Whaaaat????  I SCOTT u?  What the heck is that?  So I quickly moved away from the microwave and sent this:

And good ol’ Dr B, ever with the quick sense of humour sent this:

So you see …. laughs.

And one other thing that made me smile was an Instagram chat with guess who ….

He remembered me.  And I still love his hair.

A little further chatting and he told me he is coming to Seattle in November and likely Vancouver.  Anyone want to join me?  That is one concert I do not want to miss!

Hug your people.

Mary Mary, Quite Contrary …

… How does your garden grow?

Like this…

And this…

And this …

Ben would have loved all those veggies growing.  I wish he were here to enjoy them.

About Ben or Not About Ben?

I’m going to start with “Not About Ben.”

First of all, I’m on summer holidays.  Yay.  Not to return to work until after Labour Day. An entire summer to devote to myself and my kidlets.  That has not happened since I was 17, so I’m pretty excited about it.  I’m hoping for some relaxation, some healing and a lot of hiking.  Nothing like being in nature to help one’s self heal.  I may have to buy new shoes … is there such a thing as fashionable hiking boots?  Apparently there is.

I may have to give those a bit of thought.  They could be a bit hard to walk in.  And speaking of walking, which involves the ground, which also could involve flooring (see how I segued smoothly into a conversation about my floors?) …. after ELEVEN WEEKS and three days…. wait for it … wait for it … my floors are NOT finished.  DA DA daaa!  Sorry for the letdown there.  However, trying to look on the bright side, they are almost done.  All the flooring is in and the baseboards mostly went back on today.  The railings are finished but not yet installed, and the fireplace mantle still needs to be stained.  Despite all that, they look fantastic.  Here’s a taste:

 

Gorgeous, right?  I know.  They actually look way better in person than they do in the pictures.

Besides being busy trying to live life around a strange man who has pretty much moved into my home while he does his work, I have also been starting to read up on what to do in Hawaii.  (Now here is the segue into “About Ben.”)  I do wish very much that Ben was here to enjoy the trip with us, but I am still looking forward to being in his favourite place with the kids and Lisa.  I have been toying with the idea of taking some of his ashes with us to spread some place pretty and peaceful, but at the same time I haven’t yet gotten off my butt to make the inquiry with the airline.  Or to actually get some of his ashes separated.

I’ll bet you didn’t know that you weren’t just allowed to bring ashes in your carry on luggage, did you?  I was tempted to try, but I don’t relish the thought of  the airline seizing them and then having part of Ben living eternally at YVR.  (Although, if he lived there long enough he may eventually get a discount on flights.  But I digress…)  I’m not even positive that I want to separate any of his ashes at all and I don’t want to rush into making that decision. If we find ourselves flying out without his ashes, I’ll wait until the next trip.

The kids and I visited two cemeteries this week and we made the final decision about where to have Ben’s ashes interred.  Turns out that there is quite a competition for burial plots.  Who knew?  The cemetery we decided to go with only has three remaining plots available right now.  Yes, you read that correctly.  Three.

Technically they have eight remaining plots, but five of them are already spoken for.  I missed four of them by one day.  Apparently you can “hold” a spot for 30 days while you try decide if that is the perfect spot for your loved one to spend eternity.  Of those five spots that are currently held, the holder of one of them has a mere four more days to make their final decision or come up with the money, or figure out whatever it is that is holding them back from committing.  (Maybe they haven’t died yet?  That would put a wrench in their plans.)  Anyway, that happens to be the specific plot that we actually want, so we in turn put a hold on our second favourite plot while we wait to see what happens with the first one. Will the holder pay, or won’t they?  It feels a bit like a game of poker which I’m not very good at, as my friends can attest to.  Hopefully I play this hand better than I did last Friday night.

Cross your fingers for us that we get what we want.  Not that Ben would actually care – he wouldn’t.  He would say “give the bag a shake and let my ashes blow away in the wind, because it’s cheaper.”  He would actually say that.  But he would also say that everything that takes place after death is for the survivors, so I’m going to do what’s best for the four of us. Therefore, cross your fingers for us that we get what we want, because it is important to us.

I would cross my own fingers but I can’t because my stupid finger is still broken.  Here’s how part of that little chat with my doctor went today, after he received my xray results:

Hmmm … well, good thing it’s in a good position I suppose, but where exactly does that leave me? So I tried again …

 

    That’s right, I took it off against the doctor’s advice because I was sick of it and I thought it might be healed, even though he had told me it wouldn’t be.  What does he really know?  He answered with this:

WHAAAAT????  I don’t want to wear that stupid splint anymore.  So that answer made me mad and I thought I would really show him who’s boss by letting him know just how mad I was:

That’s right.  I sent an angry emoticon.  I wasn’t fooling around.  All he sent back was this:

Damn him and his answers that are not what I want to hear.  Who does he think he is anyway?  What makes him so smart?  So what that he went to med school. Pfffft…. big deal. He texted all tough, but I have a pretty good feeling that he was crying and shaking in fear over that angry emoticon I sent him.  Anyway, I sure showed him because I took the stupid splint off to type this post.  So there.

While I happily type away without my splint, Raegan has left with her friend Jenn on a lovely overnighter in the good ol’ U.S of A.  Raegan was thrilled to leave the Vancouver drizzle behind for a night.  Here’s the picture of them that Jenn’s mom sent me tonight as they were headed out on a hike.

Hahahahahaha!  Apparently it’s pouring there.  Raegan doesn’t look thrilled that she is wearing a plastic bag.  Seeing that picture actually made me laugh out loud.  I was reminded of the time that my grade 2 teacher insisted we all bring one of our Dad’s old shirts to school to use as a paint smock the next day.  When I asked for an old shirt, my mom said that dad didn’t have any shirts to spare that they could afford to have ruined by paint.  Instead, she made me wear a big black garbage bag with holes cut for my head and arms.  All day the other kids called me the “Big Black Banana.”  I was traumatized for life, so now I’m happy to pass that same trauma onto my own kid.

Sometimes I just love parenthood.  🙂

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Five Months

This beautiful man breathed his first breath in Heaven exactly five months ago.

Last year we posted this.  Click here.  I think that post is fitting for today, too.

Oh, how you are missed.

Ben and Dad

Ben and his girls

Psych-ick

I have a confession to make.  But first I need to give you a little background info.

This is Theresa Caputo. aka: The Long Island Medium

She’s had a “reality” show for five years, and cameras follow her big blonde life as she is “spontaneously” forced by spirits to stop and pass messages onto strangers from their dearly departed loved ones.  I used to watch it quite a bit while Ben sat in the office and yelled out things like, “I can’t believe you watch that crap!”  He wasn’t a fan of “reality” tv unless it involved cooking.

But many times over the years when I would watch her and Ben would freak out, I would say, “Listen, if you were to die I would hunt that woman down and you had better come through loud and clear!!”  Seriously.  We actually did have those conversations long before Ben ever got sick.

Anyway, a few weeks after he passed away I was scrolling through Facebook and there she was – coming to Abbotsford.  (Here’s where my confession comes in).  I actually looked around the room guiltily while I contemplated buying tickets.  I knew what Ben thought of “psychics” while he was alive, but maybe this was a sign?  (I will also admit to hearing Ben say “It’s not a sign.  You are finding meaning where there is none, because you desperately want there to be some meaning.”  Sigh.  I know him so well, and he was so damn practical.)  Anyway, I shoved that little voice out of my head and bought two tickets before I could change my mind.  I think I heard him weeping quietly when I entered my credit card information.

Since that moment I have been waiting anxiously for June 5th.  I constantly told Ben to make sure he mentioned the burned out spotlight in the back yard, because that was the only thing I could think of that I haven’t mentioned on social media.

Please, please come through to Theresa Caputo and tell me you are ok.

Well, June 5th finally rolled around and I tucked one of Ben’s Titan guitar picks in my bra (just incase he preferred to have her mention that) and off I went with high hopes to see The Long Island Medium.  Out loud I said I was just going for the entertainment, but deep down I hoped….

Anyway, as you can tell from the title of this post, it was not all that it was cracked up to be.  Not even close.  It wasn’t even entertaining because my heart broke when I saw all the desperate people (much like myself, I suppose) who were there holding their breath for any type of sign from the person they had lost.

Within about 90 seconds of the start of her “readings” I could feel the embarrassment creeping up the back of my neck for having spent money to watch a woman who can only be referred to as a complete and utter fraud.  I can’t even be bothered to relay the ridiculousness of her “readings” but I will say that I could have done a way better job than she did.  She merely utilized basic interview techniques and and the knowledge that people want to believe.  Every person she “read” handed her everything she needed.

I think I could have tolerated it a bit better if I believed that she believed what she was saying.  But she doesn’t.  Anyone with any  any skill at all in eliciting information from people would agree that she is not hearing spirit voices.  She isn’t hearing anything except the “ka-ching” of the register as she spends all the cash she sucks out of sad people on bling and Louboutin shoes.

If I had five minutes with her I would be interested in asking her if she has lied to her own children all their lives, or if she has forced them to be complicit in her fraud.  Either way, she’s a shitty person and Ben is saying “I told you so.”

Sigh.  I really wanted it to be real.

Shortly after that incident I did a little grocery shopping, and while I was in the store I tripped over my own feet and broke my finger.  Of course I did.  I had to breathe deeply for about 10 minutes while I struggled not to toss my cookies all over the floor.  I knew my finger was broken, but since I’d been wrong about The Long Island Fraud I thought that maybe I was wrong about this too, so I didn’t go to the doctor.  Instead I went to work the next morning and fought back tears anytime someone so much as glanced in the direction of my finger.  Just the ripple of air caused by their eye moment made my finger hurt.  I swear.

By 10:30 it was too much and off I went to the hospital for an xray.  While I was there the nurse decided she needed to review every medication that I had ever taken.  It was a long list that she had extracted from the computer and I didn’t even remember ever having taken most of them.  Finally she got to the end of the list and said, “Mirena?”  Mirena?  Mirena?!  I looked at her and said, “A Mirena is an IUD.  I did not break my vagina, I broke my finger, so I doubt it matters if I still have a Mirena.”  I swear I said that.  Not even making it up.

The xray results came back.  Broken.  What a surprise.  I was right.  (Did I ever mention that I recently asked Dr B to just give me a prescription pad so I can write my own prescriptions, since I always diagnose myself anyway?  He didn’t give me one.  No idea why.)

Anyway, the nurse went to splint my finger, and as she cut the tape straight across and wrapped it around the splint she smiled and chuckled.  I asked her what she was chuckling over and she told me to look.  So I did, and this is what I saw:

See that perfect little heart sitting right on top?  I swear she did not do that.  She just peeled the roll of tape back and cut it straight across.  I was watching the whole time.

Theresa Caputo be damned.  I’ll take that as a sign from Ben.

My tattoos are healing nicely …

… and I broke every proper parenting rule and allowed Jaime to do this …

That is her very fresh tattoo.  Do NOT tell my parents!  Lol.  It has healed nicely since this picture was taken and looks really good, especially the “Love Dad” part.  That is Ben’s signature transposed forever on Jaime.

And now we await Father’s Day. Last year we were here.  I wish I could have that day back again, despite how sick Ben was.  And now we await Father’s Day.

Raegan turned me onto this song.  

We miss you Ben.  We love you.  The house is empty without the sound of your guitar.  xoxoxo

Post script …. I just realized that I broke my finger before the psych-ick show.  Wierd how I have lost all track of time and can’t keep these things straight

Dear Ben

Dear Ben,

Yesterday was our son’s 20th birthday.  It seems like just yesterday that he was born, and we were young, and life was wide open before us.  In a million years I did not ever imagine that 20 short years later you would not be beside me to celebrate his day.

Over the last four-ish months various significant days have passed (your birthday, Jaime’s birthday, my birthday etc), and I have been able to remember exactly where you and I were on that day any number of years ago. As each event has passed I have found myself thinking “if I had known how much time was left, would I have done anything different?”

I have mulled that thought over countless times, and I have finally come to the conclusion that the answer lies somewhere in between a “yes” and a “no.” 

I wish that I was emphatically able to answer “No!  I would change nothing!  I was perfect. I loved you every minute of every day, and I treated you with gentleness, kindness and love at all times, and vice versa.”  But that isn’t the answer, because that isn’t the truth.  We did not do those things at all times, but we did do them most of the time.  (Some of the time?  No … over the span of 23 years I think we did them most of the time.)

The answer is also not an emphatic “Yes!  I would change everything! I would have loved you more and been kinder and more considerate at all times.  I would not have ever argued with you, and I would not have insisted on having my way, ever.  I would have given you exactly what you wanted every time you asked, I would have swallowed my frustrations and I would have spent every day telling you how perfect you were.”  That’s not the truth either, and I don’t wish I had done that.  I doubt you would wish that of me either. If I was the perfect partner it would have made your life easier for a short while, but it also would have bored you silly.  I know you were never looking for a partner who was just a “yes” person. Neither was I.

The truth is that I loved you fiercely, most of the time, and I know you did the same.  And I know you appreciated the ferocity with which I loved you, which sometimes meant I ferociously disliked you too.  But I always loved you.  And vice versa.  Some years were harder than others, but I always hung on and loved you when others may have let go. The same goes for you – you always hung on. That’s why we worked.

I do now know that most of our disagreements were a waste of time (life is just too short – you taught me that) and I do wish I could have a do-over and take some of them back, but not all of them. Because sometimes you were very wrong, and we both knew it.  🙂

(You would have laughed at that.  I’m smiling now as I think of you laughing.)

If I had known on the day that our son was born that we would only get to celebrate 19 of his birthdays together, I would have cried and said “how will I be able to do this without you?” And you would have said, “You won’t have to. I will be by your side for 19 years and then you will continue on.”  You were very practical like that.

So I suppose that in the end, there is not a lot I would have done differently.  Who would have wanted to risk the possibility of doing things differently and ending up not having our kids?  Not you.  Not I.  There is no point in living with regret (as you were fond of saying), and truthfully we really had very little to regret and so much to appreciate.

I’m glad we did it our way.  I know you were too.

I do wish we had managed to travel more together.  I will never forget you saying that to me towards the end – that you wished we had travelled more.  Ben, I hope you have travelled the world by now and marvelled at all the wonders.  I promise you I will encourage the kids to do so. Carpe Diem, baby.  Carpe diem.

I miss you Ben.  Sometimes, like right now as I write you this letter, my whole body aches from missing you.  I miss your laugh so much. You had a great laugh.  Today someone from Ottawa emailed me to say they missed you (oh how I loved reading that), and they talked about what an infectious laugh you had.  You did. I hope you laugh every day now.

I am learning how to do some things around the house that I never had to do before, although I am constantly pissed off that I have to do it at all.  You’re in the dog house for that.  The computers frustrate me to no end. I still don’t have Netflix, although I pay for it every month.  That would piss you off!  Today the door on the dishwasher refused to close so now I have to wash by hand (whaaaat??), one of the kitchen drawers is broken, and those damn latches on both gates still don’t work. I’m pretty choked that you didn’t fix them.  Procrastination was not your best trait.

The kids are managing as well as any teenager could. They miss you, and truth be told, it hurts them to talk about you out loud.  I know this because I have asked, and I watch the quick flash of pain across their faces when I say I miss you. But you also taught them to laugh, and so that is what they try to do.

  

I bought him the same obscenely expensive frying pan that I bought you a year ago.  I figured you would think that was a good choice.

Raegan has been sick and was at home for several days last week. It turns out that she used her down time to google you, and she found our blog. I was a little anxious about that when she told me.  I did not ask her to stop reading it, although I was tempted (and she told me she wouldn’t read it any more if I didn’t want her to), but I did tell her that she might want to think about it first.  I told her it’s painful sometimes, but that’s because we loved you so much. Later on that day she sent me this text, which contained an excerpt from one of your blog posts last year:

She was looking for reminders of how you loved her.  

Jaime has been suffering with the same stomach problems she has always had, although they are worse now.  I have tried to explain “gluten free” to her as I know you would want me to, but she is stubborn. I think she got that from you.

She has been concerned about telling her new boss that we are leaving for several weeks this summer.  She was afraid he wouldn’t understand.  Today she got to see once again that people are good, as he not only told her that she could go and there are more important things than work, but he let her know that he lost his own wife three years ago. He told her he understood.

She is managing better most nights now, but there is a hole in her heart like the rest of us have. You can take pride in the fact that you meant so much to all of us, but because we loved you so much it is hard to move through the pain.  One day at a time is all we can do. Sometimes one moment.

Last night I broke my finger. (I am writing this from Emergency at Surrey Memorial.  I didn’t go last night because I hoped it would fix itself.  That didn’t work out.) I saw the xray today – it doesn’t look pretty.  If you have any pull in the afterlife, could you please help me out with some quick healing?  I am particularly annoyed that I can now only get 9 fingers done when I get my manicure.

You are still the first person I want to tell when anything happens, so I was particularly unhappy to break my finger and find myself unable to commiserate with you.  I still reach for my phone daily to call you or text you.  What’s the deal with THAT?!  Sometimes I cave in and send you a text anyway.  You never answer, but on the upside I have yet to receive an angry text from whomever may now have your number, telling me I should stop texting him / her and go talk to a shrink instead. So that’s good.

I often wish I hadn’t been so quick to delete your online presence, even though I know you would have wanted that and quite frankly, I know you would think that’s part of what made me an awesome wife. Because I remembered stuff like that!  Still, it would be nice to go back through your accounts sometimes, I think, even though you weren’t much of a poster.  I’m glad I screen shot(ted) many of your texts.  

*********break while I talk to the doctor**********

Well, I have just walked out of the hospital with my finger nicely splinted, so I should sign off.  I want to get away from this place.  I hate being in the hospital because I see you everywhere, and I remember the shitty news we got in every room.

I remember all the beds you layed in at Surrey Memorial while I tried to find that balance between getting pain relief for you but not being too assertive incase I pissed off the only people who could help.  (I still laugh when I recall you telling the nurse with pink lipstick that she talked too much and needed to learn to listen more.  Lol). 

The nurse who helped out today remembered me.  That was nice, and sad at the same time.  When I walked out of the hospital just now I refused to use the hand sanitizer in an act of defiance.  Not sure who I was defying, really, but as I walked past it I thought of the zillion times I stopped at that pump over the last year so that I wouldn’t make you sick.  Well, now my stubbornness means I can’t touch anything until I get home and wash my hands. I guess I didn’t teach anyone a lesson, did I? 

I miss you, Ben.  Your name is always on the tip of my tongue and at the forefront of my thoughts.  But I am managing, just like I promised, so you don’t need to worry.  One day at a time.

Someone put this online:

Today, I’ll have a day.

Love,

Your bride

xoxox

Awkward Moments

Me. Today.  At the Gynocologist’s office.

Dr. Handsome Gyno:  enters the room with his handsome smile, sits his whole handsome body down in front of me and with his handsome mouth he asks “how are you?”

Me:  thinks to self “how the Hell do you think I am, you handsome man?  What kind of a stupid assed question is that to spew out of your handsome mouth? You are really handsome.”

In reality, my eyes spontaneously filled with tears like a two year old who had her soother ripped out of her hands.

Dr. Handsome Gyno:  “you look upset.  Is something bothering you?”

Me:  “Well … my husband died.  So there’s that.”

That’s actually what I said.

Dr. Handsome Gyno looked equal parts horrified and embarrassed as that little piece of information hung out there awkwardly between myself and his handsome self.

Apparently I can’t just shut my mouth, smile and say “All is well with me, Dr. Handsome Gyno.  How are YOU?”  Nope.  I’ve just got to open my mouth and vomit out whatever comes to mind.  And since The Love Of My Life is always on my mind, that is what tends to come out.

This is the continually awkward story of my life.  One minute I’m fine and the next I am sad, frustrated, angry, annoyed, short tempered or fine again.  Pick one.  If you pick the wrong one you can rest assured that within two or three minutes you will be right.  The emotions are random, unplanned and embarrassing.  And awkward.

Here’s one of Wendy’s truths … when someone passes me in the hall at work, smiles happily and says “Hey, how’re ya doin’?!” I want to punch them in the face.  Hard. Sometimes I feel badly about those nasty innermost feelings of mine, and I try to remind myself that not everyone else’s world permanently imploded on January 13, 2016.  But most of the time I don’t bother reminding myself that they are good people trying to be nice, and that they don’t really understand. That they couldn’t possibly understand, and that I’m actually glad they haven’t personally experienced this Hell themselves.  Usually I just choose to go with the moment and secretly hate them. I’m a terrible person at times. It’s not you, it’s me.

I do my best to shake it off, but sometimes (like now) that just isn’t happening.  However, on the ‘shake it off’ note,  I did again stumble across this text from early January where Ben was carrying on a very serious conversation and still managed to have a sense of humour.  I cut out the majority of the private conversation, but left in the funny part.  (I’m not actually sure that he meant to be funny, but he was.  Ben’s part is in blue.)  Read on:

Lol.  “Shake it off like Taylor Swift does” he says.  Haha.  If only Taylor Swift knew how the Big Bad Titan loved her!  If only he could have shaken off that fucking cancer.  With a small fucking ‘c’.

After my visit with Dr. Handsome Gyno I found myself thinking of fifty things that needed doing, but was completely unable to decide which one to do.  I can’t make a decision to save my life. Lets hope I don’t really need to any time soon.  I think I made enough decisions trying to save Ben’s life, and since we all know how that turned out, my mind has apparently decided ‘no more’ since it didn’t work anyway.

One of the items on my “To Do” list was to go buy new vent covers to go with my new hardwood floors.  I stopped at Rona on the way home and wandered.  And wandered.  And mulled over sprinkler timers for some reason.  And wandered.  And glanced at the pendant lights which I also need.  And wandered.  You get the picture.  I bought nothing.  At this rate my home reno will never be done.  I am relying on my friends with good taste and decision making abilities to choose for me.  The other day I brought a throw rug home and then returned it.

Today I made an appointment for Friday with the people who will show me the map of the cemetery where we will have Ben’s ashes interred.  WTF.  Last year I was just barely getting used to the most recent diagnosis, and now I sit here typing about having My Sweetheart’s ashes interred?  No wonder I’m fucking cranky.

I want this again.  I want my hideous beast back again.

I will update after I have information about where Ben’s ashes will be spending the rest of eternity.  Or at least most of them.  I plan on keeping some myself, as I believe I mentioned in an earlier post.  (And speaking of indecisive …. the funeral director did ask me several times back in January if I wanted to keep some ashes aside and I said “no, no, never, absolutely not, stop asking me.”  Now I have changed my mind.  Naturally.)  Apparently I will also be deciding where my own ashes will be interred, because otherwise I will buy a single plot and then change my mind down the road.  Likely I would then try to buy out the owner of the plot next to Ben, and when they say “No” I would have to resort to grave robbing.  Not good for the career.  So I’ll buy my own resting place at the same time and save our kids the trouble down the road.

Besides, where else would I want my ashes to be for all eternity but snuggled beside Ben?

The other night I dreamed that Ben was walking beside me and laughing.  It was so sweet to be beside him again, until my twisted brain then turned that pleasant moment into a nightmare where he had a heart attack walking alongside me.  Again … WTF?  While I was screaming “Call 911” he turned his head towards me and gave me a mischievous smile. Not even kidding.  Then I woke up.

After all these months of silently begging him to come back, that’s what he does? Undoubtedly his idea of a joke, since his sense of humour was “unique,” to put it delicately.

This song is our song.  I always thought we’d dance on the beach to this song in our old age.

I love you Ben.  I miss you every minute.  I wish you had told me how I was supposed to manage life without you.

PS.  Raegan made dinner tonight.  Potato soup.  From scratch.  So that was nice.  Thanks for teaching her how to cook

 

One Lucky Mother

I think I may be the luckiest mother in the world, a lot of which has to do with Ben’s years of dedication to our kids and what he taught them as he led by example.  Resilience is the word of the day, and we all learned it from him.

I had a very easy childhood.  Ben did not.  But Ben learned resilience and I never needed to until I became an adult and, well, adult things happened.  Thank God I had Ben to learn from.  I draw on his lessons constantly now, and often think “What would Ben do?”  I usually know the answer.

On Mother’s Day last year I was deeply suffering.  You can read about it here.  I am still suffering, but on this Mother’s Day there was some laughter and a lot of love.

Last year around this time the girls were in the Volleyball Provincials, and neither they nor I (nor Ben) were able to enjoy it.  This year, however, I spent the day today watching Raegan play in the finals, and I was able to focus and actually see her and finally, after sitting silently on the sidelines for a year, I was able to actually cheer.  Out loud.  Her team took first place in their tier.

From there we went over to Mom and Dad’s and had the traditional Insley Family Bar-b-que.  And we smiled.  And laughed.

You may notice there are people missing from the pictures.  Jaime was working, although I did manage to get 5 minutes with her before she ran off to bed …

… and Lisa, Brett and the kids couldn’t make it over.  Dad bought an ice cream cake (with gluten.  Sorry, Ben, but I have a feeling you are pigging out on gluten in Heaven anyway) and had it decorated like this…

… but since Lisa failed to make it to the party, I redecorated it …

Tough luck, sister.  That’s what you get!  (Not that it matters … I was always the favourite child anyway.)

The kids wrote me a beautiful card …

… and bought me some flowers and hand cream I had been wanting for about a month.  I love it.  Everyone else thinks it smells horrible.  Oh well.

One final note about the weekend … I woke up with a migraine on Saturday.  As in, I opened my eyes and two seconds later I realized a migraine was coming on strong.  I’m probably the only person in the world who can get a migraine before her day even begins. In any case, I am sick of the migraines and the medications, none of which work.  So I took a spontaneous step and drove myself to the local tattoo and piercing parlour where they stabbed me by hand (it hurt something fierce) through the part of the ear that is said to be an acupuncture point to prevent migraines.  So here is my new teenager-looking ear:

The top piercing I did actually get as a teenager.  The middle one is the one to prevent migraines.  I’m not so sure how well that will go over at work, but if it stops the migraines then everyone should be grateful.  And if you’re wondering what is on my head, that is a turbie towel.  I just got out of the shower.  Funny side note – I told Jaime that one of the coolest things about her Dad was that he never, ever tried to voice his opinion on anything I did regarding piercings or tattoos, even though it wasn’t until the very end of his life that he became “ok” with tattoos and got his own.  When I got my first tattoo he drove me to the parlour.  When I pierced my nose, he just smiled.  When I came home from Vegas with my second tattoo he said he liked it.  So I know he’s just nodding and smiling right now and saying “It’s your body Wendy.  You get to decide.”  How I loved that about him.

All in all it was a decent weekend.  Another “first” without Ben.  I talked to him a lot this weekend, and I’m so glad that bluetooth is a “thing” now because the other people driving by me likely assume I’m on the phone.  I’m not.  I just like to talk to Ben while I drive.  For some reason talking to him in my head just doesn’t do it for me.  I need to speak the words out loud.

I miss you very much tonight, Ben.  We all do.  Thank you for teaching us resilience by example.  We really wish you were here, but we are managing.  And we are keeping your memory alive.  xo

Happy Mother’s Day to all the mothers out there.  And to the best one – my own.