Dear Roy,
How many times have I started a letter or email like this over the past 43 years? Today marks the three-month anniversary of your death. It feels like yesterday in so many ways as I have not come to grips with the fact that you are no longer here. At times I think I am coping well, but then the permanence of your absence sinks in again, and I get a knot wrenching pain in my gut and the fear, anxiety, and tears over come me. I cannot make sense of the turn in my life.
I have managed to go through a few of your things and boxed them up for charity. They are mostly the clothes that did not define you, but you had to wear like dress shirts and slacks. I cannot bear to give away certain items like those awful Hawaiian shirts you loved to wear with the shorts that did not match or those orange and green REI shirts. They were your favorites and when I picture you in my mind you are sitting in your comfy chair staring at your laptop computer wearing one of those shirts. Most of your books line the shelves and I recently found a box of your shoes under the downstairs bedroom along with a fat roll of the many maps you collected.
I went with Andrew and the girls to the Spacelabs annual picnic. It was held on the back patio of the building. Funny! I was most often introduced as Andrew’s mother, which felt strange. I still consider myself your wife. Wendy and Nicholas were there and I sat with them in the cafeteria to stay cool. We had one of those rare 90-degree days and you know me, I cannot stand weather that hot. Everyone I talked to at the picnic misses you terribly. Nicholas said he hears your voice in his head, which was comforting and reassuring as you constantly talk to me too. You warn me to be careful carrying the laundry down the steps, remind me that everything will be okay, and advised me to contact your mother’s attorney for help with the 401K rollover. Most of the business stuff is under control, I think, though I am waiting for the attorney to get back to me on a couple of issues with estate matters.
Purging and cleaning to prepare for selling the house keeps me busy on the weekends. I am still not sure if I want to buy a smaller house or move into condo. I am leaning toward the condo though, so that I do not have to be bothered with the upkeep. A few people have suggested that I rent the house out. I will ponder the idea, but will not likely do that.
I had the interview for the Director of Cultural Competence right after you died. I have no idea how I managed an interview given that staying focused is still quite difficult. I got the new position and though challenging, I love going to work most days.
Yesterday was the first time I have flown on a plane since you died. I am at the Jefferson family reunion with my mom, Majestik and cousin Pam. Packing for the trip brought up unexpected feelings. I could barely do it. I think it had to do with leaving your spirit alone in the house and remembering all the times I packed my suitcase for one of our adventures. I finally bought a new suitcase as a way to start my traveling life without you; a nice red lightweight one with wheels that rotate 360 degrees. Even though I have logged many air miles alone over the years we had so many traditions associated with our independent travel. I reached for my cell phone to text you, “ made it through security,” “on board,” “landed” etc. I have a painful emptiness realizing there is no one tracking me as I travel, and no one for me to track.
The kids all seem to be coping in their way. I realize how much of your quietness is in the boys. Tim has accompanied me to many of the appointments with our financial advisor and attorney. The RV now sits at his house. We decided to keep it as a family vehicle for a while. Andy has been helpful with the communications between Spacelabs. He returned your computer and phone and carried many papers back and forth for signatures. He is driving your Prius. Sakara made most of the plans for your memorial and put together a slide show you would have loved. She loves to organize pictures and we have found many stashes all over the house. I do not want to say that life goes on, I feel more like I am standing at a window watching it go by and occasionally joining in. They say grief is like that! I miss you Roy.
Love,
Deborah