Dear Roy,
A year has passed since that awful day on March 17 when we found out you had cancer. One month from diagnosis until death, still unbelievable! I cannot say that I have moved very far on the journey the universe has laid out. There are many roads to travel and bridges to cross before I find my way without you. I feel as if I crossed one bridge but now I see a steep mountain before me. I am in the foothills rambling around without you by my side. My heart continues to ache at the thought of never seeing you again and tears flow many days a week when I think about our 43 years together. Intellectually I know that you have died, but I do have thoughts sometimes that I will wake and find your death has been a horrible dream.
I now feel the loss of you deep in my core. The numbness has dissipated and I spend many moments feeling sad and heartbroken. Most people tell me that I am handling your death well; I know that I have managed to keep working, but much activity beyond my daily work routine has me worn out. Still, I imagine that you would approve and be proud of the way that I have gone on with life. I see you smiling at me in that knowing way with the twinkle in your eyes, communicating without words. “Good girl” you would say to me when I accomplished something that I did not think I could do, like paddle a canoe across the lake, or transverse some endless series of switchbacks on a steep hiking trail. Speaking of hiking trails, I saw a movie called “Wild” a few weeks ago. A young woman whose mother died decided to hike the Pacific Coast Trail. Her trail name was Cheryl Strayed. I connected with her story in the way that grief directed her to seek a monumental challenge and of course one of your unfulfilled dreams was to hike the PCT.
My monumental challenge has been sorting through the 43 years of stuff we had accumulated over our life together. I have been working on it for months reliving our life through old cancelled checks, twenty-five year-old tax returns, receipts, notes haphazardly written, the children’s drawings and old report cards; life on paper that seemed insignificant and ordinary but I am thankful that we kept all of that stuff because it has provided me with sweet memories, laughter and joy. I even found a few things that you must have moved from your mother’s storage like your Boy Scout badges, a 1958 version of Wind in the Willows, your childhood coin collection, and a trophy cup your dad received. Kailani and I created a memory keepsake box from all periods of your life. I am still undecided about your Hawaiian shirt collection. We gave Austin your Brompton folding bicycle. A few more weekends, and I hope to have things properly sorted and organized.
I am tackling another big life project. I decided not to sell the house right away. I looked around a bit and the cost of property has sky rocketed. I am planning to work a few more years and it seemed like our house was the best place to continue life until retirement. The major repair on the house to stop the flooding in the basement is completed. The drip in the garage turned into a crisis in the fall when the whole basement flooded after several days of torrential rain. I used it as an opportunity to fix everything that was not right when the house was built. I now have a workout room in the newly finished basement; the real estate agent assured me the finished basement has increased the cost of the house if I decide to sell in a few years. Now when the rain falls as it did last night I can lie in bed and enjoy the sounds only a northwest native can appreciate. The sound of the rain on the roof brings me comfort. I remember other rain incidents like the night we were camping in a tent and I rolled over into a puddle of water.
I decided to completely remodel the kitchen and master bathroom. You spent many hours in the kitchen grinding your flour and baking bread. I am hoping a new look will inspire me to keep some traditions and reconnect with my joy of cooking and baking. Both rooms are now stripped down to the studs and I am basically living in the laundry room with a microwave and take out; a minor inconvenience compared to what I have faced in the past year. Remodeling feels like a metaphor for my current life situation; your death has stripped me down to my studs. I am getting ready for the new design and reconfiguration of my life. I am finding the balance between letting go and remembering…
Love,
Deb
Deb, Thank you for sharing. It is wonderful that you are enjoying the memories as you sort. I’m in awe that you have done so much in this year. With deep respect, Patti
Deborah, I love that metaphor of being stripped down to the studs, and I love you.