Climbing

What a journey. Grief affects us all differently they say. Take it slow, give yourself grace. I’m becoming more aware of how broken my brain has been and how I slowly adjust to the loss. I look around the house and find things that need to be taken care of, things that Dan would have done. I’m making progress.

I started by making the house my own, freshened things up, removed a few painful memories. I’ve replaced most of the living room furniture and I’m having a table Dan constructed, rebuilt, a bit more upscale. It helps me to feel lighter, more in control of the situation.

I continue to tackle cleaning out drawers, closets, collections. I sort. I donate. I confirm with the boys their desire to claim anything, then ship things off. Some things sit, I can’t manage them yet, but I know I’ll be able to get to them in the future. I can feel myself getting brighter, the clouds lifting.

And then some days I just sit, I read, I watch a movie. It’s all I can do.

I get out more, I have a weekly routine. Something on the schedule every day of the week. People depend on me and it feels important. It helps. The boys check in frequently, the grandchildren are my joy and I see them often. I’m racking up miles.

Occasionally I get angry. This isn’t right. I avoid people who probe my grief, I can’t share it and I have no space to hear about their sense of loss. He was my Dan, the boy’s Dan. The three of us manage as the boys also traverse this never ending path.

There is one thing I need to think about, to plan and execute. The action will be difficult. A specific request that must be met. Dan’s desire to revisit places he loved and, finally, never leave. But that will require opening a box. Seeing the contents, separating the contents. I don’t think I’ll be able to do that very soon, but it’s something I think about more often. How to make that happen. What support I’ll need. Who should join me on that final trip. 

I’m climbing out of the darkness, my brain is healing. I’m working on it.

 

Addendum

So, I thought this blog had come to a close. Of course, life throws curve balls and we are forced to deal with them. Dan passed away on February 27. Literally dropped dead. A heart that was restarted, but sadly, too late to fully recover. Decisions that were easy, yet incredibly painful. And now, here I am with a path ahead that does not include him.

I've been blessed to be surrounded by family and friends who have managed difficult tasks, guided me through tough decisions and continue to watch out for me. This town of Safety Harbor really has been a safe harbor for me. Friends across the country have reached out to express their sympathy. I have a pile of cards filled with beautiful messages. I am so grateful for each and every person who lifted me up with kindness and care.

As I reflect on almost 46 years of marriage, and over 50 years of being together, I feel blessed. Dan was a truly amazing man who challenged me to live life in a big way. We created and raised two incredible men - my boys are everything to me. Carl has enhanced my life with a beautiful wife and granddaughter. Hunter has a wonderful partner. They have all been so supportive, checking in and providing wonderful opportunities to visit and recharge.

My life has changed considerably. I mean, cooking for one? Lonely days and nights. Waves of tears. Frustrations about daily activities, car and house stuff that Dan always happily managed. Dan's doberman Sieben, who is now my foster dog, gets me up in the morning and continues to need love, walks (always a challenge) and attention.  

One finds a way to cope. A soothing meditation of coloring books and gel pens quiets the brain. I've filled so many pages. A lovely late afternoon glass of wine with neighbors who brighten my mood. Friends who have stepped into the Dan void to help with Sieben and give me a break - I can't thank them enough. An afternoon spent in the pool with friends and a picnic of good food. The volunteer work and the incredible people I volunteer for and with - such amazing support from them as well. "Three Musketeers" Friday with my wonderful sister and brother-in-law gets me out on a weekend evening. A personal trainer who gladly fit me back into his schedule, telling me he was planning to chase me down if I didn't call soon.

Our love story should have lasted longer. I'll take every minute that we had and cherish the memories. Tell your family you love them! I miss Dan's voice saying "have I told you today how much I love you?" (That might be my second and last tattoo!?) Don't pass up that opportunity to share your heartfelt emotion with family and friends through word and action. Life continues for the living and I am learning to live with this loss. There will be no closure, just acceptance and an embrace of all the wonderful people and things I still have.

Love to you all and thank you for checking in.

Paula

Dive buddies

I’ve taken a bit of time off from the blog, not because I didn’t have anything to say, but because I didn’t know what to say. And because this time the topic isn’t about me, except that it is, as my sister wisely pointed out. Dan and I have had a lot going on. Well, Dan mostly. I’ve pictured myself as standing off to the side in a supporting role.

After working for the same company for 24 ½ years, Dan has left employment. The last year and a half were challenging for him – a new manager, new expectations and what seemed to me, a constantly moving definition of success. This culminated in a conversation about how he needed to be “meaner” to his employees. Dan needed to be “meaner”. You might as well ask him to go out and shoot dogs. This is a man who for years was called “the reaper” because he’d (appropriately and respectfully) clear the dead wood out of areas he managed. He fired people, and they thanked him for doing it.

If you’ve ever had to watch the steady beat down of someone you love, at the hands of someone you have no influence over, you know painful it is, and how helpless you are. Dan came home and said, “He told me I need to be meaner to my people. My guys.”

OK, reality check, please! I called bullshit, with some authority. I work for a company that pays ME to make sure every employee gets the opportunity to answer a survey about their level of engagement with the company, the effectiveness of their leaders, opportunities for development, recognition…I could go on. In managing this program and the support that follows, never once have I encountered, in any of the research, the “mean is the new way to drive performance and retain employees” strategy. No, its just twisted bullshit.

It was time for Dan to go and I pushed for a fast decision and quick removal from the toxic environment. They came to a mutual accord and he’s done. And it’s funny, but that whole “door closes, window opens” thing is so true. Two hours before signing the severance papers he got an offer from an out of state company, and later that day, a big interview locally.

The local job is interesting—a former employee who, when asked if he could describe his ideal manager, said “I can drive you to his house.” A former employee Dan had nurtured and encouraged.  A former employee, who Dan had figuratively held his hand during a mock interview to make sure his confidence was in place for a promotion. A former employee who got fed up and left for another firm. A former coworker who, on hearing Dan was leaving, told his current management team they needed to interview him--now. That interview happens later this week.

But in the meantime, you don’t undergo that kind of mental manipulation for a year and a half without it inflicting some damage. Dan’s confidence was at an all time low and he was second-guessing every decision. Plus he needed time to mourn the loss of a 24+ year relationship. Throughout this whole process I continued to do what I could to buoy his spirits and calm his concerns, but felt I was hardly helping. I kept reaching out, but we weren’t connecting. We were both looking forward to our annual diving vacation – sitting by the pool, scuba diving daily and enjoying an all-inclusive felt needed and restorative.

The thing about diving though, is that it requires a touch of hubris and leap of faith. After a year away from the depths we signed up for the pool check. Dan accomplished all the tasks without difficulty, but I could see that he was shaky and so could the dive master. That afternoon we had two shallow dives and Dan struggled to descend on the first dive. Sitting at 30 feet I could see he and the dive master talking, then the boat came and picked him up. I decided not to ascend because I knew that would make him feel worse (I was right). 

Scott, dive master extraordinaire

The group came out of the water and I boarded the dive boat first. Dan was sitting there and I could tell by the look on his face he was done for the day. Our dive master Scott would have none of it, coming up out of the water last, he announced we would all make the second descent. This very intuitive and kind man, (who had recently left the world of banking for a more meaningful career in diving) took Dan aside and spoke to him calmly and reassuringly. They chatted for a bit and Dan prepped his gear. We jumped in again and Scott stayed with Dan as they made a slow, easy descent. He swam with him for about five minutes before Dan assured him that he was good. We all continued on the dive.

On the last dive day, Dan and I descended together. We swam along with the group and as we neared the 45-minute mark, Dan motioned that he soon be at low air. I checked my tank and had plenty. I swam over to Dan, reached out grabbing his hand, exerting energy and using my air more rapidly to ensure that we both had more bottom time. It’s what a nice dive buddy does; Dan has done this for me so many times.

I think there’s a life lesson in this. You don’t dive alone, and most people aren’t hermits. What you bring to relationships will be reflected back to you - whether in life, in love or in business. The definition of “meaner” is 1) offensive, selfish, or unaccommodating; nasty; malicious, or 2) small-minded or ignoble, or 3) penurious, stingy, or miserly, or 4) inferior in grade, quality, or character, or 5) low in status, rank, or dignity.

I’ll take nice any day. And in a dive buddy and life-long partner? Absolutely.

Music that resonates:
Through the years - Kenny Rogers

Santa's Helpers

The last few days have been heady, the boys were home. This means a house filled with noise and activity. Their friends stop by and give us great hugs. Every flat surface seems to be covered with kid debris and every bath towel in the house is in play. The dogface boys are beside themselves with joy to cuddle up on a couch with an old friend. A bonus this year was the addition of Hunter’s lovely wife Megan, and Carl’s delightful girlfriend Ashley. We haven’t had a family Christmas in far too long and when the house is full it truly feels like home.

Of course, we’ve redefined “home” since the boys moved out and on to their adult lives. They walk in the door expecting nothing to have changed and anything different is amplified for them. Mostly they just comment on the changes. Sometimes they struggle mightily to return things to normalcy; they made a big effort to do that during this last visit.

We’ve had the same refrigerator for years, a standard freezer on top model. It’s in a corner of the kitchen and for years the door handle was on the right hand side, opening into the kitchen. The spacing of the corner did not allow for the door to swing wide open to the left, so one of the crisper drawers wouldn’t open all the way. At some point Dan determined that the access situation would be improved by moving the door handles from the right side to the left side. Voila, the door now swung all the way open, both crisper drawers opened fully and Dan was happy; me, not so much. I found the left hand access awkward as this required maneuvering the corner when putting groceries away or getting out ingredients for food prep. When the boys would visit they commented on the ergonomically incorrect placement of the handle. Dad’s “fix” confused (and annoyed) them.

At some point during the night of December 22, Christmas elves snuck into our house and made some ergonomic adjustments to the refrigerator. A cryptic note was left on the chalkboard about corrections that were needed. Apparently these were “cookie” elves, because my kitchen was returned to “code” and I was given permission to start baking. Dan saw the note first but could not make sense of it. When I got up he pointed to it and asked me if I knew what it meant. Having not baked a Christmas cookies in about, oh, 25 years I too was confused. Megan, up early, said she noticed something was different. I looked around again, saw the fridge handles back on the right and exclaimed “they fixed it!”

This is the magic and madness that happens when the whole family is together. The entire house is filled with a different kind of energy. We renegotiate our relationships in new and fun ways as we come to grips with these wonderful adults in our lives. Yes, something like the refrigerator can be “fixed”, but we can never return the boys to childhood. I appreciate the confident and competent men they have become, so confident that they can push their dad’s buttons and just laugh about it. I love the wonderful women they love so much. And when I think about relocating I know that no matter where we live, the love will follow.

Happy New Year everyone!

Mystery Date

It’s almost Valentines Day. What woman in a relationship doesn’t wonder what special Valentine will be bestowed upon her? And what woman hoping for a relationship doesn’t yearn for that secret Valentine and acknowledgement of her adoration? I’m no exception, I never was.

As a pre-teen I had a game called “Mystery Date”, an unrealistic flight of fancy for a girl dreaming of the perfect romance. The purpose of the game was to collect cards, representing the appropriate event accoutrements, in preparation for the perfect date with your mystery man. There was the Beach Date, the Formal Dance, the Ski Date, and the Picnic. Once you had all the cards for a particular date you could open the door at the center of the game – if your cards matched the dream man, it was happily ever after. Of course, you might not get a date at all. You might get the “dud” guy and then you had to start over.

On a Saturday morning, about 10-years into our marriage, Dan came in from working on the cars. Somehow, we got to talking about childhood games. Dan especially enjoyed games with a pop-o-matic. I recalled Mystery Date. As I explained the game and described the “dud” guy I realized that he was standing before me, covered in dirt and grease, morning pre-shower hair, work clothes and the odor of a hardworking man. We laughed pretty hard about that.

The Mystery Date game implied that we both needed to get ready somehow, have all the right gear for the perfect date. Any kind of a mismatch was a loss. Well it turns out that was completely false. The “dud” had the ultimate advantage. He was undefined, so he could be anyone, and remake himself at any time. Dan, by no means a “dud”, does not fit neatly into any category. He’s just…Dan.

My Mystery Date came with no “accoutrements.” Instead he has enough self-confidence to get dirty and fix things. He’s a wonderful father. He’s not afraid of hard work and doing the right thing. He brings me a rose, on a Tuesday, because he knows it will make me smile. He’s remodeled most of three houses, kept an odd assortment of vehicles safe and on the road, and has introduced me to a life of fun and adventure. He calls me during the day because he misses the sound of my voice.

Marriage is a Mystery Date. After you open the door you need time and patience to discover the person standing in front of you. I am loved and I know it. I’m looking forward with optimism and excitement to more adventures with my perfect date. And that’s the best Valentine ever. 


Music that resonates:
You're the Inspiration - Chicago