Father and Sons

I just read an article in the newspaper that talked about a prominent Omaha woman who just died...at the age of 107. While that was a feat all on its own, I think my gasp was audible when I read that she was widowed at the age of 59--AND SPENT 49 YEARS OF HER LIFE ALONE AS A WIDOW. FORTY NINE. Seriously, I think I will poke my eyes out with a stick if I stumble upon 49 years of widowhood. That's just crazy. I won't go for that. Nope. That puts a whole different spin on what my lonely nights are like. 49. N-O.

Last night was the father and sons campout. I was grateful for a good home teacher/family friend who asked to take my boys with him before I even knew about the outing. He's a smart man. He probably knew that I would've freaked out if I had heard the announcement about this campout from the pulpit instead of from him beforehand. Whew. I'm so grateful he took the boys. They had a blast. Spencer fell asleep at 6pm tonight. I think between camping (staying up late) and his last game of his soccer season today, he was very worn out.

It was fun breaking out all the camping gear so the Justin and Spencer could go. I realized that when it comes to camping, even though I don't particularly like to get dirty, I REALLY enjoy camping gadgets. It was fun to go through our collection of stuff, knowing that if Adam had been taking the boys that they'd have gone fishing, he would've taken a lot more gear with him. But relatively simple camping is a good thing. I hope to get brave enough to take the boys camping again this year. We had a good time camping last year.

I was reminiscing to myself today, trying to determine what exactly I would deem as the most difficult aspects of Adam's absence. As I heard about another potential soon to be youngish widower situation, I was thinking about all the things that I wish I could say to this person, what I wish I could do. Nothing. There's just not much I can do. That is tough. I wish I could take all the pain and hurt away, but for those of us who go through this very personal struggle, the pain and the hurt are just part of the process that leads to healing and learning. At least, I sure hope that's the purpose of all of this. If not, that whole poking myself in the eye with a stick thing comes back to mind.

So I made a mental list of the stuff that still bothers me, stuff that I miss, and stuff that I see daily that is still a physical reminder of his absence. I miss his stinky gym clothes, doing his laundry, his messy car, seeing his empty spot in the garage which housed his car--the stains from all the salt still blacken the garage floor, I miss his lips and I still put on "his" flavor chapstick when I need to be in that place with him mentally, I still miss his wallet and keys piled in the same place in the kitchen, I miss his scruffy face in the evenings. Yes, I'd forgotten about his scruffy face. And how sometimes he'd shave again in the evenings, just because his face hurt mine when he'd come home from work and kiss me. I just miss his gentleness. His thoughtfulness. I don't think it exists in any other man.

As I am considering going back to work on my old floor in the fall, I have been thinking about my approach to death and how I will view my experience helping families through their loved ones deaths. I am a changed person. Of course, the first question is CAN I handle it? I think so. And of course the obvious other question is WHY would I want to go back? I have lots of reasons. Some practical, some not. One thing I've thought about is that I will know differently now. I think I will feel more competent now. I don't say that in a snotty sort of way, but I 'get' death very differently now. I will know what things I wish I had been able to do, simple things that these families may still have the opportunity to do. And I will probably be a different sort of advocate for my patients than I once was. I'm still thinking on this. I have five months to decide. I am praying that it'll all come together. I believe the right thing will work out somehow.

I also feel very strongly that I have five months to figure some other things out for myself. To get myself in order. I think it feels good to have a timeline. I have needed that structure, I think. It's time to dig deep and get to work.