Category: Valentine’s Day

A Widow Faces Some “Firsts”

My beloved husband, Les, died on June 25, 2020. I was too numb on the Fourth of July to even realize it was a “first” holiday. The flag from his military service at Ft. Logan National Cemetery lay abandoned on the bedroom hutch; the boom, boom, booms did not reach my ears.

By our 72nd anniversary on September 12, Les had been dead for 79 days. I wore my 50th wedding anniversary dress—a beautiful, filmy blue gown—and silver shoes. My daughter brought hot fudge sundaes for a short, distanced visit on the patio. She took a photo, but rather than pretty, I looked thin and wan. That evening I dug out my 1948 diary, read about our wedding day and honeymoon. Just too sad.

My 90th birthday was eighteen days later. I should have had a weekend at a fancy hotel with all four of my children and their spouses, as we had done for all the big birthdays and anniversaries, but, of course, COVID. It would have been tough to stay alone in a hotel room, anyway.

My daughter, her oldest brother, and his wife came for another patio party, again well-distanced. My family put forth a lot of energy to make the occasion memorable—a sweet mechanical kitten who meowed, kneaded, and purred; multiple tiny lights sparkling in jars, nine gifts; a beautiful white cake and ice cream; heartfelt cards and letters from everyone. It was a wonderful celebration. I cried myself to sleep that night, not only because Les was gone, but because the love of my children touched my heart so deeply.

On Thanksgiving, my daughter, her two children (in Missouri and DC), and I each prepared a dinner for ourselves which we ate together on a Zoom call. We lit candles for Les.  We chatted and reminisced for three hours that afternoon.

Many in my large family shared a Zoom Christmas meal on December 23. Ironically, the six-month anniversary of Les’ death fell on Christmas Day.

I had purchased and wrapped seven gifts for myself, because Les and I always gave one another seven gifts. When shopping became difficult for him, he asked me to buy gifts for myself as I got gifts for him. This resulted in his being totally surprised with all fourteen gifts and my not being surprised by any, but it was a lot of fun. I knew he would want me to have gifts this year, so I bought them.

My naïve plan was to get up on Christmas morning, eat the customary special breakfast, and then open my gifts by the tree. What? With an empty chair opposite mine? There was no way I could pull that off. So, I just ate my breakfast and, throughout the day, began utilizing or wearing the gifts. Somehow the day finally ended. I made it through.

And then came Valentine’s Day. I baked a white cake for myself. I took a jar of frosting from the freezer. Once thawed, I dipped a spoon into it. Rancid. Icky rancid. Oh, well, I’ll just make powdered sugar frosting. I opened the mason storage jar and tasted a smidgen. Ugh. Stale cleaning grit? I did not know that sugar could go bad, but then I realized that it had been in the cupboard at least fifteen or twenty years. Apparently, I do not use powdered sugar all that often.

I ate my white cake with ice cream instead. Valentine’s Day was the movie of choice for the evening. I loved it, but when I went to bed, tears once more dampened the soft fur of my teddy bear.

Now, there are not that many “firsts” left: Les’ 99th birthday in April, Memorial Day, and the anniversary of our first date in June. The anniversary of his death can hardly be considered a “first” since I was right there when I happened. And when I get through all the “firsts”? I guess I will begin the “seconds.”

I am surprised to find myself here. Surprised that I am physically surviving widowhood. Surprised—not in the reality that I am incredibly sad—but that I keep getting sadder. Surprised that perhaps I am braver and stronger than I had thought, even as I walk in grief. Widowhood has been its own “first” in my life.

As the impossible year of 2020 goes into history and 2021 inches forward, we are all survivors of one sort or another. My wish for all of us—courage, comfort, and joy.

 

 

I Can Breathe Again

Dear ones –

Yesterday was emotionally taxing, as well as physically draining. Not totally surprising.

Les and I got up at 4:15 a.m. (four hours earlier than usual, I’m embarrassed to say, but we are old) and readied ourselves for the trip to the hospital.

The registration and prep time seemed very much like same old, same old of prior excursions.

The surgical waiting room seemed same old, same old, too. I worked a Jumble, a Sudoku, and five crossword puzzles. Almost two and a half hours passed.

Suddenly the puzzles could no longer distract me. When the familiar fear that perhaps Les would not come out of this surgery jammed itself back into my consciousness, I grew faint and almost threw up. The physical reaction was as unexpected as it was powerful. I began pacing the floor.

Several minutes later, the doctor came out and gave us good news – although it was more difficult than he might have expected, the procedure had gone well.

I exhaled.

I spent the night on a hard chair by Les' bedside overnight and listened to the music of his breath. This afternoon we came home – he with a sore chest and I with a very relieved, but bruised heart.

Only time will tell if this newly-minted biventricular pacemaker disrupts his heart failure sufficiently for him to have a decent quality of life. We are cautiously optimistic.

But I grow ever more aware of mortality – especially his. 

Thank you for your prayers, cards, good thoughts, hugs, and other support. 

Much love, Lois

 

 

 

 

 

 

Valentine’s Day 2014

I sit in my office this afternoon, working on the promotion for my FREE eBook of This Path We Share: Reflecting on 60 Years of Marriage. There is lots to do – find places to post, make a list of tweets to tweet, write copy.

But I'm distracted. Les is having his third heart procedure tomorrow morning. We have to leave home at 5:30 (we who seldom get up before 8:00). Earlier this afternoon I made copies of his current medications, Living Will, and Power of Attorney. I reduced them in size by 50% so that they fit in our wallets. I washed up some clothes for him to wear to the hospital. I packed my overnight bag.

Les has steadily become more ill since his last surgery on November 4. We are hoping this one helps him breathe better and lessens the swelling in his feet and ankles and increases his energy. But we are only cautiously optimistic.

You can pray for us or send good thoughts.

And on February 14 or 15, you can download a FREE ebook of our marriage, even if you don't need or want to read it, in honor of my beloved Valentine. (You can also download a Kindle PC for your computer if you don't have a Kindle yet.)

Thanks for everything. Love, Lois

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BT4P0SI