Goodbye

I’m not very good at saying goodbye. And there are all sorts of goodbyes. The worst goodbye is the final one. I’ll never forget the day the Hospice nurse told me that Charles go at any time. That was the only day we couldn’t communicate. He could hear me and he tried so hard, but couldn’t. Debbie had gone home to get a shower and sleep some, and so I put my arms around him and I told him how much I loved him and that it was time for him to go. He had suffered long enough. I then went through all the things that he had worried about leaving me with. I even lied about a few of them and told him they had been taken care of. It was the hardest goodbye I ever did. I knew I would never see him alive on this earth again. All I would have would be memories, and yes, I have many good ones. I’m thankful that I did get to tell Charles goodbye. So many of my friends never had that chance. I just don’t know how that feels. Then there was a goodbye I shared last night. My youngest grandson has left for the Marines. I am so proud of him. He’s going to be the best looking Marine ever. I told him that of all the militaries, I love the Marine uniform the best. I looked at him and he is so young. Too young to drink and vote, but not too young to defend our country. I told my daughter that he will be back. I know it’s hard for his parents. The oldest just got married, and now the youngest has left for boot camp. In this life, we have so many difficult things we have to do, but I think the hardest thing we do is say goodbye. DR 1/11/15

Make a List of Everything You Want.....

When I was in junior high school, my dad told me one Christmas to make a list of what I wanted. I thought I would give him plenty of choices, so I filled an entire notebook page. When Christmas came, he had bought me everything on that list—down to the last detail. Boy, did my mother get mad, but I was overjoyed. One thing he bought me that I still have is a ring with my birthstone—a white sapphire with two diamonds in a white 14 karat gold setting. It’s still as pretty today as it was then. We didn’t have a car until I was in high school. My dad rode the bus to town every Saturday. He always bought me a book. He knew I loved mysteries and it was always a Nancy Drew or Trixie Beldon mystery. Back then they were only 50 cents, but compared to today I’m sure that was a lot of money. I had a lot of pen pals, close to a hundred, and one day he came home and told me that I would need to cut down my list a lot. Stamps had gone up to 3 cents. I’m really telling my age now. I started thinking about my dad because three years ago he died on December 21. He had a stroke on December 10 and was paralyzed on his left side, couldn’t talk, drink, or eat. He laid like that until he died. It was a terrible thing to watch him die. He had opted to not have any artificial feeding devices. Before he died, I held his hand and thanked him for always being there for me. My mother was the one who disciplined me, and my dad was my defender. I thanked him for rubbing my legs when they hurt. I thanked him for doing my “chores” when I got sick. My mother worked from 3 to 11 each day and my dad worked from 6 a.m. to 2 p.m., so I was with my dad a lot. I remember one time when I was playing outside with my tricycle and my little red wagon and my dad was sitting on the porch watching me. He was sitting in a straight backed chair leaning back against the wall. I kept begging him to take me somewhere. I can’t remember where. He finally gave in and when we came back a man had had a heart attack and his car ran into the side of the porch where he had been sitting and across the sidewalk where my tricycle and wagon were. The car had demolished everything. I guess we were supposed to keep on living. When I stood there holding his hand and talking to him, the tears rolled down his face, he couldn’t say a word. When I finished, Christi took his hand and told him some thank you’s also. I’ve been going through some videos and on them were my mother, dad, and Charles in healthier times. It was so good to see and hear them again. It just doesn’t help fill this hole I have inside of missing them. Hug your family and tell them how much you love them. Christmas isn’t all about things, it’s being with family and friends and celebrating the real reason for Christmas, the birth of Jesus. DR 12/18/14

If

I’ve said that word so many times. “If” I could go back in time, “if” only I had done things differently. Now, I say, “if” only I could hear his voice again or “if” I could just see him one more time. Well, I got my chance. I’m going through some old videos. I wanted to put the videos of the construction of my house on a dvd. Imagine my surprise when I suddenly saw Charles again. Charles looking like he used to. Charles talking like he used to. No, I didn’t cry. For some reason, looking at all of these old videos gave me a peace that I cannot explain. Nancy was here with me watching. I popped in a video of one of our old family reunions. Yes, there was my mother and dad. Oh, I so miss the way they were. I miss going to their house. I miss taking my mother to Hamricks. I miss seeing my dad in his recliner. I miss my mother’s cooking. There are dishes that nobody will ever be able to copy, including me. I miss Charles sitting beside me in the computer room. I still find it hard to come in here. I miss seeing Charles walking back and forth between his two workshops. The last clock he made for me was during his time on Hospice. He could barely move. I asked him why is he doing this? He looked at me and said, “I don’t want you to ever forget me.” I told him then that I could never forget him. He was an amazing man. He taught me so much. He taught me to be independent. But, he didn’t teach me how to not be lonely. Of course, I have Chloe. She takes my mind off a lot of things. We take for granted the times that we spend with the people we love. There were so many on the reunion tape who are now dead. It was so good to see them again. Well, I can’t live with the “if’s” anymore. It looks like my future is my new beginning—my starting fresh. The only thing that I hate is that I’m “alone.” But, I do think that Charles would be proud of how much he really did teach me. DR 11/17/14

Tires

I don’t know what my problem is with tires. Nails just seem to find my tires, and for some reason I lose air out of my tires. The other night I came home rather late, pulled up to my mailbox, and I got a note that told me to check my tire pressure. When one of my tires gets to 26 pounds, the light comes on. My left front tire was at 26 pounds. As a matter of fact, all of my tires were under 30 pounds each. So, at almost midnight, I’m in my garage blowing my tires up. I knew that the next day I would be heading to Dayton to attend a wedding. The next day was rainy and foggy. I was all dressed up for the wedding, went out to my garage, started my engine, and guess what? I got a note to check my tire pressure. I couldn’t believe it. When I checked it, the left front tire only had 16 pounds of air. How could a tire lose that much air in just a few hours???? The other tires were the same as the night before. I got my air pressure pump out of the trunk, and pumped my tire up again. I didn’t even put it back into the trunk. I kept the dialog screen on all the way to Dayton. My tires were perfect. They were also perfect when I got back into my car to go home. To be honest, I’m afraid to go check them today. If, they are low again, I guess NTB will be seeing me again tomorrow. Thank goodness I always insure my tires. Sometimes I think I should buy cheap tires instead of the expensive ones. DR 7/20/14

My Emotional Rollercoaster

I never thought that cleaning out my house would become so emotional for me. After all it has been over four years, and yet, it seems like only yesterday. I talked with Leon’s wife last night and she said she misses Leon more now than ever. I told her I miss him too. My emotions start as soon as I turn onto Suck Creek Road. Leon retired from the cement plant and his last job was driving a truck. I look over to my left and I can still see him, and I would always wave. Then when I stop at my mailbox, it’s so lonely now that my aunt is not there, and I look up the hill and I know that my cousins have all moved away. I have always come home and gone straight to my room. It has been my place of comfort. In there, nobody sees me when I cry—only Chloe. She is very sensitive to my crying. I’ve done good until now. Now, I’m getting into all of the things that I have so tried to avoid. I’ve had offers of help, but I really want to be alone with this new emotional rollercoaster I seemed to have gotten on. I know that I will be able to come out stronger. Everyone handles their grief differently, and I certainly never thought that I would be this way. I recorded some old Matlock programs and when the first one came on, I started thinking back to how I would hurry home so I could watch the current ones with my dad. He loved Matlock. I stayed in a little house behind theirs while Charles was in Kentucky during the week. I worked in Cleveland. My dad would turn on his police scanner as soon as he thought I was leaving work. I had to work until 7 p.m. and Matlock came on at 8. One night there was a lady in a gray sports car turned upside down at Hamilton Place. My dad was walking the floor. He just knew it was me. I drove a gray RX-7 Mazda. He was so relieved when I came through the door. Yes, I miss him. I miss my mother. I miss that I could pick up the phone and tell her something silly and we would both laugh. I played the song, Just One More Day, and if only I could have just one more day. I took so many things for granted. If you live long enough, you’ll see those closest to you die. Don’t take anything or anyone for granted. Treasure the moments you have with your family and your friends. Guess I’ll be on this emotional rollercoaster until I get out of here. I love it here. I have so many memories, but I need to move on and make new ones. DR 7/2/14

Emotional Rollercoaster

I never thought that cleaning out my house would become so emotional for me. After all it has been over four years, and yet, it seems like only yesterday. I talked with Leon’s wife last night and she said she misses Leon more now than ever. I told her I miss him too. My emotions start as soon as I turn onto Suck Creek Road. Leon retired from the cement plant and his last job was driving a truck. I look over to my left and I can still see him, and I would always wave. Then when I stop at my mailbox, it’s so lonely now that my aunt is not there, and I look up the hill and I know that my cousins have all moved away. I have always come home and gone straight to my room. It has been my place of comfort. In there, nobody sees me when I cry—only Chloe. She is very sensitive to my crying. I’ve done good until now. Now, I’m getting into all of the things that I have so tried to avoid. I’ve had offers of help, but I really want to be alone with this new emotional rollercoaster I seemed to have gotten on. I know that I will be able to come out stronger. Everyone handles their grief differently, and I certainly never thought that I would be this way. I recorded some old Matlock programs and when the first one came on, I started thinking back to how I would hurry home so I could watch the current ones with my dad. He loved Matlock. I stayed in a little house behind theirs while Charles was in Kentucky during the week. I worked in Cleveland. My dad would turn on his police scanner as soon as he thought I was leaving work. I had to work until 7 p.m. and Matlock came on at 8. One night there was a lady in a gray sports car turned upside down at Hamilton Place. My dad was walking the floor. He just knew it was me. I drove a gray RX-7 Mazda. He was so relieved when I came through the door. Yes, I miss him. I miss my mother. I miss that I could pick up the phone and tell her something silly and we would both laugh. I played the song, Just One More Day, and if only I could have just one more day. I took so many things for granted. If you live long enough, you’ll see those closest to you die. Don’t take anything or anyone for granted. Treasure the moments you have with your family and your friends. Guess I’ll be on this emotional rollercoaster until I get out of here. I love it here. I have so many memories, but I need to move on and make new ones. DR 7/2/14

Moving On

Today Charles’ tools and equipment started being moved out. I thought I could handle it, because it has been over four years since he died. For the first two years, I couldn’t even enter either of his two workshops. He spent so much time in both of them. Even now I can see him walking from one workshop to the other one. He finished his last clock for me in January before he died in March. I don’t know how he did it. I asked him why was he working so hard on another clock, and his response to me was, “I don’t want you to ever forget me.” How could I ever forget him. This is the man that before we got married, I told him there are two things I didn’t want in her marriage vows. He asked me what? I told him I would never be submissive and I would never obey. He looked at me and said, “I want you to learn to be independent and do things on your own.” Not only did he give me my freedom, but he did teach me how to be independent. Plus, it was easy to be submissive and obey, because we both took our marriage as 50/50. Toward the end of his last days, it felt like Christmas almost everyday. As long as he could order online, the Fed Ex and UPS trucks kept our driveway hot. He tried to get me everything that I had ever mentioned. The one thing that I did not want was the convertible. My Honda Accord was almost new. I didn’t want another car. But he insisted. He wanted me to have a “fun car.” I can tell you it wasn’t fun for me until two years after he died. I heard the song, “Man I feel Like a Woman” by Shania Twain and it made me feel happy. I had not had that feeling in a long, long time. I got my cousin next door and we made many trips with the top down, and each time we came home, I would say, “Thank you Charles for my fun car.” I know he must be smiling and saying, “Finally she’s getting her act together and getting out of that house.” He so wanted me to sell this house that we built together. Well, all I can say is that it is still emotionally hard for me to still say goodbye. Today I felt like part of my life was going down that driveway. But I have started moving on. DR 6/18/14