My search for grace and meaning after a former care partnering life with a wife who suffered from Parkinson's disease and dementia giving her a confused and disorienting world.
I have spent a considerable amount of time thinking about death lately. I imagine that that is not unusual given the fact that the love of my life and my closest friend died just a few weeks ago.
I just finished a memoir by Sloane Crosley entitled “Grief is for People”. In it she discusses her relationship with a good friend, mentor and boss. She delves into her own feelings of grief and emotion after his death. He commits a suicide one day that no one including his partner had any hint was in the offing. She is angry and sad and writes about her life experiences with him. Her candor and vivid description of social life and office life is compelling. She had left the publisher to follow other interests and others said to her but he was just your ex-boss, why are you so upset? She examines that question from all sides. Regardless of the manner of death it is a well written discussion of emotion and friendship and loss.
I think I fell into reading it to examine my own grief for the loss of Cheryl. This is one of the few times that I have selected a book entirely based on the title and read it through. It was not what I was expecting it to be. I am always hunting for the manual that goes with certain places, stages, phases of life. I have found none, so, one might think I would quit looking for the repair manual that goes with this or that stage, phase or place in life but hope springs eternal in my mind. I will continue to search for meaningful words from someone who went down the road before me.
This book did cause me to think about Cheryl and analyze my feelings and my grief for her death. I have come to believe it is impossible to fathom death as a concept. I am not anxious for mine. Cheryl’s dementia was such that she seemed unaware of hers.
In a Louise Penny novel somewhere is the line, “Grief is love with no place to go.” This comment probably from Gamache, her main character, is succinct and directly to the point. I wrote that down in my journal a few years ago. It seems to me that I have no place to send my love for her and that is what makes it so difficult to accept.
Death is a normal and natural event. It can also be an abnormal and unnatural event. In either case it is death. Those of us left behind must find a new place for our love.
Carpe Diem.
A THOUGHT FOR TODAY: The ability of so many people to live comfortably with the idea of capital punishment is perhaps a clue to how so many Europeans were able to live with the idea of the Holocaust: Once you accept the notion that the state has the right to kill someone and the right to define what is a capital crime, aren’t you halfway there? -Roger Ebert, film critic (18 Jun 1942-2013)
On Saturday, sometimes on Friday, I look at the checking account and check the bank’s math. These days when I do this I think of Cheryl and reflect on how she was able to show me how to do the family finances. Over the past few years she showed me how to do other things too.
Cheryl and I went to Saturday afternoon mass. It was better for her schedule wise to do this on Saturday. I typically go to mass on Saturday since she has left. Mostly to think about her and to talk to her there. This day is the beginning of festival season and there are now five festivals in the combined parish. Sr. Carren used to bring communion to Cheryl and she asked me to attend the first festival with her.
It was a good time. Several other parishioners that I knew came also.
Now I am in church for the second time this weekend. The mass today is for Cheryl. So, as little time I spend praying, I am praying with her today. Some have said pray for her but I do not think that she needs prayer. I do pray with, think about, ponder, meditate about and spend time with Cheryl. I carry her in my heart. She is with me today. One of her favorite hymns was the opening song this morning.
As I quietly sat before mass earlier I thanked her for encouraging me to do all these chores that I had not done before. I found myself talking to her in the quiet of my mind. It was comforting.
Not only do I do the chores for myself now but I also make a list of what those things are so that I do not forget any. Cheryl showed me how to do that also.
I think she trained me to be on my own path without her. I had this thought as I was doing laundry for myself yesterday. Up until about 5 years ago, Cheryl did the laundry for both of us. It became hard for her to maneuver the laundry basket and use her cane or use one hand to steady herself on the wall in our new condo. I started to help her do the laundry. Separate the load into dedicates, colors, whites, etc. she would tell me. We used the bed to fold, smooth and put away.
I still do it her way even though I think of it as my way or the way.
She got me to take over other tasks of everyday living over time.
Today it is two weeks since Cheryl died. I still think of her in the present tense. I suppose to me she is. This morning as I talked to my sister on the phone, she is home now after the funeral service, I told her about my rediscovery of a couple tubs of reminiscence on the shelf in our storage area. The letter that was clearly visible, albeit, upside down in its placement in the tub attracted my attention.
After we finished chatting I took the tub down to look at it and its contents. Inside was a black and white picture of Cheryl in her wedding dress that had been submitted to the Miami Valley Press in 1970. It had been returned to Mr. & Mrs. Paul J. Weisgerber at our residence in Oxford, Ohio. It cost eleven cents to mail. It is a good memory.
I hope she never quits talking to me and directing my attention to things around me. (And smile pictures I did not know I have.)
Today’s daily mass has Cheryl as one of its intentions. So I came for her.
It is quiet. Peacefully quiet. I was okay when Fr. Pat read her name. Tears came though when she was not next to me at the “Our Father”. I could not hold her hand.
Today is Cheryl’s birthday. Happy Birthday Cheryl! Melissa just asked me if you are having Angel Food cake today. Are you? I made your favorite Betty Crocker pound cake mix. I think I got the icing right with Nancy’s help. I followed the Quick Icing recipe in the Dinner for Two Cookbook and added a little margarine. I had some for breakfast. It is pretty good.
I also planted your flowers yesterday. Remember? The fancy purple impatiens that you told me to get on Sunday? They look good by the door. It rained last night so they are not waiting for me to water them.
Cheryl, I find myself listening to Tracy Chapman”s “Fast Car” song a lot. I have no idea why except that it talks about two young people just trying to get through life and their excitement about their engagement with the world both past and looking into the future. For whatever reason it helps me to see your smile. Are you trying to tell me something? I will keep listening.
“There are always problems to face, but it makes a difference if our minds are calm. On the surface we may get upset, but it makes a difference if we are able to stay calm in the depths of our minds.”
His Holiness the great 14th Dalai Lama
Three days later and all the life celebrations are complete. I need some time to just be quiet. Some time for me only to think about Cheryl and maybe I can distract myself from my sadness. I do not know where I am going with that thought. A dismasted ship is a good metaphor. It is still upright. It has not lost its keel in the storm but its means of propulsion is missing.
I need some time to find propulsion. This feels very weird. My life is suddenly empty of a major piece of it. It is very hard to watch someone who you love die. I am not talking about being there at the actual moment of death. A very somber moment for sure but I am thinking about the long process that Cheryl went through.
Reading through my blog, journal entries, pictures and Cheryl’s postie notes to herself, the process took about six years. It was longer than that but that is the time line that I notice as I reread those.
Charlie Brown says it all, “AAUGH! and that gives me license to scream my displeasure at the whole thing and cry a little.
We took Cheryl to her final place yesterday. Her little niche in the cemetery near her mom and dad, down the hill a bit, a place where I eventually will be too. It is an odd feeling. It’s real but not real.
Eulogy (for reading in Church) – I read this at her celebration mass. The copy that I used has many scribbles and notes to myself. I added those to this. In retrospect, I should have selected a giant font to write it with for the copy I read in church.
Thank you for coming to help us celebrate Cheryl
Cheryl and I met at a picnic. It was a blue moon in August of the summer of 1966. A completely random event in our young lives, this is a story about what we have been together since.
We were meant to be. School friends of mine put together a picnic with friends of hers. Cheryl went because they invited her. I went because my friends invited me. Fate happened that night.
Breathe!
I found myself sitting alongside of her at a picnic table in a dark picnic area in Winton Woods. Both of us were wondering how these guys were going to get the hot dogs off the grill, No tools were available to do so. I scooped the hot dogs up with a couple of paper plates quickly enough that the paper did not catch fire and put them on the table where we were sitting. Cheryl later told me that she thought that action was really clever. Cheryl likes grilled hot dogs, so, that night at least, I was a hero.
This was a night that brought us together and changed our lives forever. Had I understood that hot dogs were going to be part of it I could have been better prepared.
Our meeting was a totally random event and since that night (58 years ago) we have been together. It was meant to be – fate, God’s will, or karma it set our course in life. These past few years I have come to believe that it was my purpose in life to be here and take care of her.
After that summer of high school. She went back to Immaculate Conception Academy to the novitiate program of the Sisters of St. Francis at Oldenburg. (You heard that right, she was going to be a nun.) I went back to Purcell. I dated a couple of other girls but I was not interested in anybody else except for her. I suppose if you believe in love at first sight that was it for me. I am not sure about Cheryl (I sense she is rolling her eyes at me.)
Four years later, we got married.
I finished up school at Miami. She supported me at Miami during our first years of marriage. I supported her at University of Cincinnati Evening College and she finished her degree in Math and Computer Science.
We raised three children.
After the kids left to start their lives, we enjoyed life and living. We had two fairly well paying careers and traveled a little.
With her gone, I feel empty. There is an emptiness in my heart.
Breathe!
I do not know what is next but I do so wish there was a manual. She is still here in my heart.
I don’t really quite know how to express that any other way. We lived together for so long.
I love her and she will always be part of me. I have lots and lots of good memories.
Breathe!
These past few years have been a trial.
I choose not remember her this way.
I will remember the trips to hotels downtown. We had several of those thanks to Nativity’s festival and the Bid and Buy booth. We always bid on the trips and overnight stays – the really great date nights.
I will remember Sunday matinees at the Playhouse in the Park. And the discussions with Mom and Dad in the car and at LaRosa’s where we always stopped for lunch on the way to the play.
I will remember the cruise trips. The 4 day 3 nighter in the bow of the boat with the bed so big and the cabin so small there was no place to walk in the cabin. And then the noise of the anchor chain going out at 4 AM in the morning.
I will remember her happy face as we left Seattle for Alaska. Sitting on the veranda outside of the cabin that was so big it had a separate seating area and two bathrooms. And some guy who could make stuffed animals out of towels and my sunglasses.
I will remember the hiking trips in various parks and the looks on the boy scouts’ faces when we encountered each other five miles from the trail head in Green Bow Lake State Park in Kentucky. And how great lunch tasted when we got back to the lodge after our hike.
Perhaps 25 years ago we began visiting Cumberland Falls every year around our wedding anniversary. The place where we honeymooned. There are some rugged hiking trails in that park. Cheryl loved hiking. Vacation did not count if there was no hike or, at least, a long walk on the beach.
I will remember pancakes with fresh maple syrup in the morning looking for the ladies room in Hocking Hills before we hiked the trail.
I will remember the joy on her face when she graduated U. C. Evening College.
I will remember the tired joy on her face after the birth of each child.
I will remember the trips to Myrtle Beach and during those trips the trips to Charleston. Cheryl loved Charleston and enjoyed walking around the seafront and through the market.
I will remember a Christmas Eve a long time ago when she insisted that I open her gift to me and all I wanted to do was go to bed and sleep after a night of celebration and maybe a little too much alcohol with family. She had made me a shirt. She was so proud of it. She was an incredible seamstress and could not wait for me to try it. (I wore that shirt out but I still have others she made.)
I will remember the trips with our friends, the Wehrmans, to Door County and the Grand Canyon.
I will remember walking to Molly Malone’s pub in Pleasant Ridge after she got home from work to enjoy dinner. Sometimes other friends we knew were there. She had a glass of wine. I had a glass or two of Guinness. And we would walk home to a quiet evening at home to our house on Cortelyou. (Ronny lives there now.)
I will remember her herding the kids to church on Sunday morning.
And cold weekend mornings alongside soccer fields.
I will remember her excitement when Anna announced that our first grandchild, Laurencia, was coming. And David’s phone call from Illinois when Luke was on the way. And Scott’s phone call that eventually turned into Gavin.
And all the other phone calls about babies and other events. Whenever we came home from anywhere she would check the phone for messages.
I will remember how she cared for her own mother, Elaine near the end of her life.
Breathe
I will remember how she cared for me and our family through life and how kindness and caring was in the forefront of any of her actions.
I will remember many things about our time together but I will not dwell on the last few weeks and months of her time here.
I love you Cheryl. (breathe)
You will always be with me.
I carry your heart in my heart. (breathe)
Breathe Again!
I will remember your smile.
…
The church was pretty full yesterday. I was gladdened that so many of her friends and family were able to come and help Anna and David and Scott and I celebrate Cheryl for a little bit.
I wrote and rewrote this tribute to Cheryl and our life together over the two weeks between her death and the date of the celebration Mass. I could feel her with me somehow when I stood at the lectern in church (which she called the ambo. Why are there so many names for the same object?)
Last night was the first night she spent in the cemetery. And I am awake thinking of her and yesterday’s evens at 4 AM.
Is what I have written to myself here and there on my remarks (eulogy) that I intend to give at Cheryl’s funeral mass on Monday. I have read them over and over and out loud. I think I do not need the paper but I will take it with me. I have read it to Cheryl. Here and there she rolls her eyes at me. (“Do you really want to say that?) Here and there I simply dissolve into tears and my voice catches (stops actually).
Breathe! (in a larger font and bold) is printed or written in hand on the page where I choke up. There are many of these.
… I love you Cheryl
BREATHE!
You will always be with me. I carry your heart in my heart.
It is possible to keep learning as one ages. I have found over the past few years that as I learned prayerful and careful concepts by taking care of Cheryl, I learned much about myself and my own motivations and along with that my own emotions. Today a new inner desire, perhaps need, has come to me.
Two days ago I received a copy of my collage of photos that I had printed on glass. I remember sitting up late two weeks ago searching for online special printing folks. Cheryl was still alive then. Why it became urgent to get that made at 12:30 AM is not important now. At the time it was an urgency for me. The following Monday morning she was gone.
In anxiety about not having it in time I found Northside Printing a local specialty printing business that specializes in specialty printing. I took my collage to them to have it printed on a big format to display at Cheryl’s service on Monday.
The more that I look at this collection of smile photos, photos of good times and family, I notice that the image of her in ill health and death fades from my memory. It is still there but what I think of first is her wonderful smile. It lights up my heart and helps me move past the Parkinson and dementia.
Often when someone dies, close friends and relatives create a memorial shrine. They do this to help them with the loss. I did not understand the importance of this action when I would see flowers and a cross along side the road but many years ago I found myself near the site of the Oklahoma City bombing and a fence filled with small stuffed animals left as a memorial to all the children killed in that tragedy. It saddened me at the time.
This morning I found myself hunting for the perfect place to assemble my thinking space to remember the good times and Cheryl’s smile.
I have started to do this on the left mirror of her dresser. That is the spot she would often stand to brush and comb her hair. She would pick up her hair spray and shake it a little. That would be my cue to get out of the room so that I did not smell like hair spray. The last step was to spray a little Chantilly into the air and walk through it. My grand daughter Virginia now has the leftover Chantilly. Cheryl likes that fact. She just told me while I was typing this story.
Carpe Diem. And carpe all of the special moments in your life. Later you will savor them as I am now.
Adjunct_Wizard 