I Missed You Today

Dear Cheryl,

On this anniversary of ours, the first after you died, the first after you traveled to heaven, I am thinking of you and how much I miss you. We had a great time together.

I am feeling a little sad today. Not so much about your death but more so about the fact that you went first. I know that is selfish of me but there it is. I always thought I would go first. I am sad that you went first but happy that you are not suffering anymore.

Occasionally for the rest of the time I am here I will miss you deeply and be a little sad too. I expect it to happen on special occasions for us. I promise to slow down and reflect on our relationship and our time together on those occasions. I feel stronger when I focus on your smile in pictures, many of these I keep in my heart.

Do you remember the trip to the Grand Canyon? That picture is my absolute favorite of you. When I close my eyes that is the picture I see.

The events of this day, August 29th, our wedding anniversary, are still foggy in my mind. It was HOT – I remember that. I remember how your mom had several long tables in your house covered with wedding presents. (I’m using the lamp in my office. I hope you are okay with that. ) I remember how we left the reception party that night early and went to your house to change. I remember some of your neighbors were sitting in the kitchen keeping burglars away. I remember drinking a tiny glass of beer at the reception and thinking ice water or a coke would have been better because it was HOT that evening and I was wearing a rented tuxedo that was tight.

This morning I weighed myself. I will never fit into that tux again.

It was a great day even though I remember few minute details. We stayed in a Holiday Inn overnight before we took our trip to Kentucky.

Our ceremony was at noon. We must have had dinner somewhere before the reception. I have no memory of that. It was a joyous (and anxious) day for me. It was the official beginning of us even though we met four years previously.

I am feeling a lot of love for you today and I want to talk about it. It is not fair that you are not here, so I am writing this letter.

I will put it on my blog so you can read it there if you cannot see all the words through my teary eyes. I put water on your flowers today. They seem to be blooming more and more. I miss you.

I carry your heart in my heart.

Happy Anniversary dear,

Paul.

Many Firsts Coming

Today for example is our wedding anniversary. With Cheryl not here, it just another day.

I got a card from a friend.

My date dyslexia kicked in a couple weeks ago when I made an appointment with my attorney today. I had forgotten the significance of today when I said okay to her assistant,

It seems very strange to me somehow. The house is quieter.

I will reflect on that silence.

Carpe Diem.

Happy Birthday to Me

This year marks seventy-five trips around our star for me. That single fact is, to me, remarkable. I want to say that I had not thought about my birthday and the number of years but that is not true.

The first birthday I truly cared about was my fiftieth. Several important things happened that year to remind me that all is not permanent. Cheryl was almost taken from me that year. She was in a serious car accident that year. When I first saw her car afterward I was very surprised and elated to see her alive siting on the curb at the side of the road. Her injuries were such that she felt the need to find some none impactful aerobic exercise to recover. She settled on deep water aerobics and during the fall and winter became an avid fan. The accident had occurred in the spring and as she built herself back up in the summer I found myself accompanying her to the local YMCA where I found a trainer (a kid really) to help me discover a program that was more manly than deep water aerobics for me. I had become fat and slovenly in my forty-ninth year. It was time for a change.

Cheryl on the other hand dearly loved birthdays and celebrated everyone’s birthday with a vengeance. I think her mother gave her that feeling or thought about the importance of birthdays. It was not only birthdays, any family anniversary or event was very important to Cheryl. When her family stood around and sang happy birthday to anyone the song was ended with, “… and many more!”

Cheryl bought me a card some time ago which I found some few weeks before she died. On the front: “Thank you for finding me, charming me, and loving me. Thank you for making me laugh, for being there for me in so many ways, and for always being the best friend I need.” Inside: Dear Paul, (in her hand) “Thank you for making me feel like the luckiest person alive.” Love, Cheryl (in her hand). I keep this card on my bulletin board.

I do not remember nor do I think it is a birthday card but the sentiment goes with many occasions. It merely says “Thanks”. When I found this card a few months ago, I cried a little. This card was from her favorite Dollar store and even though it was an inexpensive one, she had managed to find one with, to me, a very moving message.

So with that same sentiment, Cheryl, I am sorry in many ways that you are not here with us still to celebrate my birthday with me. I am saddened that you were not here to celebrate your birthday in May. Nevertheless I am glad to have known you in this life and I look forward to reuniting with you in the next one. I love you and I keep your heart in my heart. One day our hearts will be together again.

Happy Birthday to me! … and many more.

Carpe Diem.

What a Days I Have Been In.

Yesterday we tripped to a couple wineries to enjoy a bottle and some snacks. Today we saw waterfalls.

Don’t go chasing waterfalls, please stick to the rivers and the lakes that you are used to. I know that you want to have it your way or nothing at all but you are moving too fast. – TLC

This song often pops up in my head. It has a good cadence for bike riding and as a result it is on my playlist from Spotify. It has a metaphorical meaning that I interpret as look around and understand where you are before you dash off looking for something better. Another phrase is – the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. Maybe it is maybe it is not. I suppose that we always want the thing that we do not have. We want what the other guy has rather than merely celebrating with him that he has it and enjoying what we have.

When I would take mom to dinner at a restaurant which has not happened for some time, she would ask me what I was having. This a different form of the same thing. Why would Mom want to be interested in what I was about to order from the menu if she did not believe in some way that it was going to be better than what she was intending to select for herself? Is there something I am missing here? Once I protested telling her what I was thinking about having and made that argument to her. She responded with – I might want to change and get what you are getting. That is a reasonable response.(After we ordered and the food came, often she would take her fork and get a bite of my whatever it was. I loved Mom but that always annoyed me.)

We all have had experiences like this. We all have a fear of missing out (FOMO). We are not missing out on anything. We may be unsure of our decision but that specificity does not imply that the particular decision that we have made for ourselves is the wrong one. That cannot be known or understood until it has been executed. The decision may morph into a learning experience. That is a good thing.

These days as I wonder what purpose this portion of my life is for, thinking about and pondering big changes to my life, I look for the waterfalls.

In the background while I am doing the day-to-day activities of life, various chores, duties near to and necessary for the little part time job I have with a local community college, I think about making larger changes in my situation. Cheryl was all of my day before she moved to memory care. She was a huge part of my day when she moved and had full time care not from me. Now that she is gone there is a vast empty time.

I have thought about continuing with volunteer work or activities of some sort at the memory care facility where she had been. I just do not think I can do that. The memories are too raw. My heart sinks when I think about it. I feel that I am letting them (the patients there) down. I do not know where that feeling comes from within me.

For now, I have filled it partially with bike trips. These trips of 12 or 15 miles at a stretch let me get much needed exercise. They provide solace and distraction. It is easier to imagine the times when she was not sick.

This week I am filling my time with visiting with my sister. We have a commonality in that she became a widow a few months before I became a widower. We support each other in that respect. She was not expecting to lose her husband and I was not expecting to lose Cheryl. Even though it was right in front of me I refused to believe Cheryl would be gone. I have come to grips with that now. (I still do not like it but there it is.) I notice myself talking about Cheryl and trips we made. It is easier as time continues.

Where do I go from here? Should I look for a new waterfall? The pool below the fall is close to the ground but still agitated. Often the stream below is swift moving. When the water joins the river it is moving slower and calmer.

Carpe Diem.

Patience, Persistence, Empathy, Enthusiasm

These thoughts keep coming to me when I ride along the Little Miami Trail. Often I think of Cheryl and our life together. The end of it was less pleasant but I am glad for the grace that she taught me. I am glad to the life skills she taught me. I am glad for the short time that I had her in my life.

I am often impatient with myself. I suppose that is a common trait for a man. But when I put my mind in “bicycle” mode I have a calmness that enters my thoughts. It seems to appear as I load my bike onto the rack behind my car and as I attach and tighten all the carrier straps. It is funny in a way. It is like putting a small child into the car seat and checking to be sure all is secure. I squeeze its tires to see if more pressure is required. regardless of the squeeze test I attach my little battery powered air pump. Three different bikes need three different pressures. Each has different tires. Regardless of my thumb test, the gauge tells the tale, the air pump awakens and runs for a little bit every time.

On my way to the trailhead that I have picked for that day, I am okay with the anxious drivers wanting to get to their destination 30 seconds quicker. Their life may depend on it. I do not know nor am I concerned about their urgency. I find the parking lot and it is blissfully unattended. I assemble my kit to myself and remove my bike from the rack and ride off. A deep calm descends as I settle into the rhythm of the music I selected.

Persistence is keeping the drum beat going until the end. I listen to jazz these days. some old some new some new age. I like it all. It is not the music of my youth. It takes me away from the nostalgic sadness that dwells in my heart for Cheryl. It helps me to enjoy the surrounding nature. If I want to go fast there is a steady rhythm to help pedal along. Music helps the zen.

The zen feeling of lost in my own thoughts sends my mind elsewhere. Walking in someone else’s shoes for awhile and understanding their needs or trying to understand those needs is empathy. As I ride along I think more about Cheryl. I think of how much she would have enjoyed walking on this shady tree lined trail or the view of the river where I stop to look myself. I am riding a bike now but with her I would have been walking. I cover more ground on a bike by myself but we used to cover a lot of ground on foot.

Excitement about what your are going to do or what you are doing is enthusiasm. These days, without her, I am enthusiastic about bike riding. There is a peacefulness.

Cheryl

Apologies to you fast riders keeping your pace as I am lost in my thoughts.

Carpe Diem.

Towels

Cheryl was not a big spender. If anything she was a frugal spender and a diligent saver. When I was looking into financing a stay in some facility that could take care of her needs better than I thought I could, the price tag always took my breath away. I learned this from her but I had always felt that we had saved all our life for this very reason. Ultimately with help from my sister it worked out.

But when she did decide to spend, stand back! She had very strong opinions about what, where and how much. On shirts in the spring and summer seasons she was fond of flowers and patterns both had to be light and bright. In the fall and winter season her taste was stripes and solids. Both of those had to be darker and more subdued. I am taking all of this into account as I put together a memory quilt of her shirts with my daughter’s help.

Cheryl had two favorite stores; Kohl’s and J. C. Penney. Of the two she liked Penney’s the best. When J. C. Penney closed their mall stores in favor of stand alone buildings or mostly separate buildings this merely made it easier in her mind. And when she quit driving and I became the pilot these occasional trips became excursions. The particular location that we traveled to several times a year eventually did not keep up with profit margin expectations of the corporate office and it was closed.

The next closest Penney’s store was twice as far away driving time. Earlier I used the term excursion, so, this fact was okay, maybe more so. Kohl’s could never become an excursion because four minutes driving time on surface streets can never qualify as an excursion. In addition the type of shirts she might be inclined to buy were located barely into the four-minute-drive store, so, a Kohl’s visit was a pop-in visit. As if parkies can pop in anywhere.

On a cool day in late fall almost two years ago now, she announced one morning, “we need some new towels!” I responded with sure, do you want to go now? Today? She said no but soon. Soon became that afternoon and we went to Penney’s for towels and afterwards somewhere for dinner. An excursion was afoot.

This morning with her no longer here I was using these towels and wash cloths and thinking about that excursion and other excursions. Bath towels came from a department store like Penney’s. Kitchen towels (rags) came from Target, K-Mart, Kohl’s or the like. Pop-in stores. I was thinking about the source of things later as I was putting away the towels and disposing of other items that I had laundered the previous evening.

When we went to Penney that day looking for towels we stopped to look at earrings. None where to her liking so we moved off into the back where bath and bedding items are located but additionally there is a restroom. After the earrings she needed that facility and we were still in the stage of care where I did not need to go with her to help. Afterwards, it was on to the bath towels finally. I was the excursion driver but I was still working on patience. Often looking back on our life with Parkinson I notice how I readily agreed to some outing to somewhere but often when I got to the end point I became impatient to get the program over with.

There are many different aspects to shopping in a store for something specific. There is a wide selection of manufacturers, qualities, colors of bath towels. Cheryl would get stuck trying to decide. This was her term for it. Trying-to-decide, I think her brain got stuck on too many selections and internally she was thinking, what about this color?, this feels nice, is this a good brand? I could find my patience back when I detected this coming on her. I could not always see this happening. She was closer to death before I came to understand that I should make suggestions and help steer her thinking a little. A menu in a restaurant, a recipe, directions in a sewing pattern, a smart phone, a dumb phone, TV remote control, a fork, all of these over time became very hard if not impossible for her to understand and operate. This woman used to write software, analyze business data, taught in grade school, balanced the checking account without a calculator.

I suggested that since our overall theme of our condo was a light true green, that perhaps, we should look for towels that can go with that color. Perhaps mustard yellow was out and maybe also pumpkin orange, although browns and deep reds, fall colors would work. “This is a nice deep green…” And this cream color would provide a nice contrast. I like this deep red. We could put it out at Christmas. On the conversation went but she was no longer stuck.

We bought two of each color selected. We bought matching hand towels and wash cloths. I was particularly proud of the fact that even though two of each item was not available in the store, I was able to fill out the pairs buying them online. When UPS brought them a few days later she said, good I thought we had left them at the store. We should wash them first before using them. Sure I said as I carried them to the washer and assembled a bulky items load in it.

I wash a lot of items together and call it a mixed load.

Using the towels always reminds me of Cheryl. The towels I use most often for myself were actually purchased at Macy’s after we shop lifted them on the way to Dillard’s a few years previous. It is a similar story except that she wanted to go to the mall to look for towels – I think it was for towels. I may have just talked her into going to this particular mall because it was inside and had easy access elevators to get to each level. Nevertheless we found a couple towels and I put them onto her walker and she wanted to keep shopping so we walked right out of Macy’s to Dillard’s. It was not until she could not find what she wanted at Dillard’s that I realized we had shoplifted the towels from Macy’s.

We paid for them on the way back through Macy’s to our car.

Whenever we went to Target for anything she would announce that we needed some new wash cloths. We bought several times the inexpensive ten-for-a-dollar packs of wash cloths. These would fray easily in the washing machine. Cheryl would sit in the evening and trim off the edges so they could fray faster.

I have lots of memories from these towels and wash cloths. The cheap ones I pitched out. They were clogging the lint trap in the washer and the screen in the dryer.

Carpe Diem.