Awe, Widowhood and 50th Birthdays…! After trying to write about it a couple of times, I decided to slack off and just make a video…!
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
Once in a while on my “Fridays” I like to stop at the Park-n-Ride halfway between work and home and have a smoke as I sit on the tailgate of my truck. It’s just nice to sit, not move, and take a breath… filled with all sorts of nasty shit… before I start my weekend. The other day I stopped, had my smoke, and when I closed the tailgate and was heading for the driver’s side door, I heard the older man who had parked not far away ask if I could help, “move a dog from one car to another?”… and being in a friendly mood I immediately said, “Sure!”.
We walked over to where two crossover/wagon type cars were parked at a 90-degree angle to each other with their rear hatches open. In the back of his car, I could see the shape of a large dog under blankets. The plan was for each of us to grab an end of the blanket and simply transfer the large canine from one car to the other. I would like to point out that at this point in time… because the gentleman just said “Dog”… I figured I was simply helping move an old dog because he was sick or couldn’t walk or something and was just too large for the older gentleman and woman to wrestle themselves!… I was wrong.
We each grabbed an end of the blankets and when we were about halfway between the two cars, I could see the blanket slipping from the man’s grip. I tried to lower my end to stay level with him while being as gentle on my end as possible, but unfortunately when he got to about 6 inches from the ground he couldn’t hold on anymore…! It was one of those slow-motion experiences where I saw the pup’s head pop out from the blanket… and then I heard it hit the asphalt with a slight thud! I felt horrible for the ol’ boy!… and man! We just dropped his sick and aging canine companion! Then… I realized something wasn’t lining up. Mind you, at the beginning of this experience I was just asked to help move a dog. Come to find out… I helped two strangers move a dog from one car to another… which had died the night before while sleeping in bed with its owner. Yup… wasn’t expecting that!
Honestly, I felt like a schmuck. As we were going through this process, it really wasn’t until the dog was in the second vehicle and I put my hand on his rib cage that I realized he wasn’t breathing, moving… or living. Before I had come to this realization, I had mentioned how we just had to do the same thing with our dog, Xander… pick him up to get him in the truck because it was too high for him to jump into! I was trying to provide some comfort by sharing my own experiences with old dogs… not dead ones! I felt like an asshole for a hot minute, but I was able to get on the same page without anyone noticing… or at the least, pointing out my faux pas…! The saving grace for myself was the gentleman saying, “Thank you”, “God bless you”, “You’re a good man”, and the such as I walked back to my truck, embarrassed by the lack of awareness I just demonstrated!
I thought about what I had just experienced during the rest of the drive home. The wide range of emotions were kind of surprising to me. I felt embarrassment for my lack of understanding of what was actually going on at first. I felt sadness for the owner(s) who just experienced this great loss in their Life. I felt for the pup… and hoped he had a wonderful Life of chasing chipmunks, playing tug-of-war with ratty ropes, or simply soaking up the summer sun while lying on the front porch. I thought of Xander… what he has given me… and how fucking much I love him. I thought about him dying, which made me love him even more. As I drove over the river and through the woods, all I wanted to do was get back to The Schoolhouse and feel his love when Amanda opens the front door so he can run to my truck in the driveway as he welcomes me… home.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
What’s “The Sourdough Stump?”, you might ask…? Well, at this moment in time… I can’t really give you a clear answer. The easiest and simplest way for me to explain it is this: Free sourdough bread for neighbors, friends, and strangers… or, as our little card says… Spreading kindness with free sourdough bread for whoever stops by… but for me, there’s a lot more that goes into it.
For the last tiny bit, Amanda, her mom, and her sister have been baking sourdough bread “together”… while spread across the country… and it got to the point where we realized we don’t eat that much bread in this household, but she didn’t want it to go to waste! So, on July 6th, 2025, Amanda grabbed some logs from the woodpile, made a sign sayin’, “Free Sourdough”, and The Sourdough Stump was born!… or created… or.. developed..?… definitely not birthed!… anyways, it was the start of what has so far been a wonderful adventure full of creativity, kindness, conversations, honest communication, and exercises in being more comfortable showing our vulnerabilities for Amanda and I…!
I’ve gotta say, it was super entertaining getting a text from her while I was at work which contained a picture of a couple of loaves of bread (in brown paper bags) sitting on top of a few stumps on the side of the dirt road in front of the Schoolhouse…! Unfortunately, no one stopped for those first two loaves sitting atop some stumps, but that just provided us with an initial goal of: Can we get at least 1… just ONE!… person to stop for a free loaf of sourdough bread!… that’s sitting next to the road… on a stump of wood…? Come to find out, the answer to that question is, “Yes, yes you can.”.
One of the things we keep going back to, the thing we really like about The Sourdough Stump and one of the objectives central to our idea is that it’s a free loaf of sourdough bread… no obligations… no expectations… no strings attached. It’s been fascinating to hear how many people say, “You should put a donation or tip jar out!” or “You should start selling it!”, but we like that it’s free, people… FREE! Of course, we’re also trying to figure out how to make a little money to offset some of the increased costs (flour, supplies, electricity… we have an old ass oven that makes the lights flicker when it kicks on!, etc.)… and we have the pipe dream of kinda making a living with it somehow in the future!… maybe..?.. but we haven’t figured that out yet considering our “Business Model” is currently one of just giving shit away as we drink coffee on the porch on Sunday mornings…! For right now though, we’ve simply loved meeting some neighbors, seeing some friends, and crossing paths with travelers visiting from strange and distant lands…!.. like Canada… and New Hampshire.
Since the moment I was sent that initial pic of some bread on a stump, Amanda and I have absolutely loved this whole little experience and personal event we’ve created in front of The Schoolhouse… currently on Sundays from 9:30am till the loaves run out…! We have no idea what we’re doing or how we want to do it… or why..?.. but that’s been the exciting part… the figurin’ it out… and seeing where it goes. Although we aren’t exactly sure of what we want The Sourdough Stump to be, there are interactions and observations each week that provide us with some guidance in forming our “Mission” and/or “Philosophy” with this little project/hobby of ours and if we wanna keep taking steps forward with it… whatever those may be.
So, if you’re out for a Sunday drive in Vermont and come across a stump of wood on the side of the road in front of a cute ass little red schoolhouse with some bread on top (of the stump, not The Schoolhouse)… stop and take one!… and a sticker! Who knows… you may also get to meet some neighbors and have a nice conversation!… unless it’s raining or really cold out… then we’ll just be creepin’ on you through The Schoolhouse windows…!
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
Yesterday would have been mine and Kateri’s 14th Wedding Anniversary… yay! Although we were together for 20ish years when she died, I was slow on the draw and waited over a decade before asking her if she wanted to get married… to me… but at least we got to call each other Husband and/or Wife for more than a few years! Of course, it’s a little weird thinking about how I’ve been a widower now almost as long as I was a Husband…! Life… sometimes it wads up your list of plans, tosses them in the trash basket, and we are forced to learn that wonderful skillset of “Adapting”.
After Kateri died, I told myself I would not work on her Death Date or on our Wedding Anniversary. Luckily, I work with some great people and so far, have been able to make that happen every year. As I’ve gotten further and further away from her Death Date, I’ve needed less and less time to recover from the emotional and psychological gymnastics routine those Anniversaries can sometimes bring. It’s also nice that as I see these Anniversaries coming up on the calendar, I’m not the emotional wreck I’ve been in the past, dreading the waves of feelings that sorta crash into you while wading through the weathering effects of Widowhood.
For the last 10 weeks Amanda and I have been doing this thing we’re calling The Sourdough Stump. Basically, Amanda has been baking more sourdough bread than we can eat and has started giving it away on Sundays… on a stump of wood… next to the dirt road. It’s something that we have both gotten really… REALLY… excited about as the weeks have gone by. We’ve met neighbors. We’ve met strangers from faraway places. We’ve waved from the porch… and have spied on peeps from the living room as they pull up next to the stump, look around as if trying to figure out what’s going on, and then wave to the house hoping someone inside see’s their gratitude. It has been such a wonderful little project for us, that even though it was my Wedding Anniversary, I still wanted to be a part of The Sourdough Stump! So I decided to spend the morning hanging on the front porch with Amanda, and then at noon I decided to go for a drive… to the camp where Kateri and I got married at.
I brought a picture with me on my little cruise across Vermont. It’s a pic of the moment we were married… arms in the air, mouths open with hoots and hollers frozen in time beneath the two perfectly placed old ass trees. I wanted go see those trees again… stand in the field… see how things have changed and what things haven’t. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen!
One of my fears on the drive over was that I would be crashing a wedding taking place there at the camp! Just driving on in like I owned the place…!.. and I didn’t want that to happen. Luckily… it didn’t. No weddings were taking place, quite the contrary… there wasn’t anyone!… couldn’t find a single person!… even tried the office and it was locked…! Now, even though I thought it would be pretty cool to revisit the place we got married and maybe get a cool pic out of it, I felt uncomfortable just parking my truck on their property and then tromping all around the fields, roads, and woods! It’s a private place, after all… and its currently foliage season here in Vermont… so I also didn’t wanna be one of THOSE people. You know, the self-absorbed-“I don’t care that this is your house, I want a picture of us and our kids in our L.L. Bean scarves and duck boots petting your cow in the field with your barn, tractor, and trees in the background” type Leaf Peepers… who will then ask you for some warm cider to take the chill off and for a cider donut just for the novelty!… (Not to be confused with the Good Leaf Peepers. You guys enjoy the show… and keep spending your money). I wanted to be respectful to this place that still holds a special spot in my heart, and to respect the people who currently hold it close to theirs… so I decided to drive home.
As I sorta said earlier, Widowhood is a great exercise in “Adapting”… “Accepting”… “Rolling with the punches”… “Going with the flow”… as we learn about ourselves, our grief, loss, and Life in a world that was never on our radar. Mine and Kateri’s Wednesday Wedding is still THE day where I feel I felt the most excitement, joy, comfort, and Love since being plopped on this earth… but that was a different Time in my Life and as the years go by, I need to recognize that there will be change in how my Past fits into my Present… and I need to adapt.
This year’s Widower Wedding Anniversary was honestly a pleasurable one. It was a nice balance between being in The Present at The Schoolhouse with Amanda, Xander, and The Sourdough Stump through the morning, while also taking the time and creating the space to provide an opportunity to stick a toe in the puddle of The Past… and not getting unexpectedly splashed by it…!
ps… It didn’t hurt that the drive was absolutely gorgeous!… we live in a beautiful place… patience helps.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
There are a few different reasons why I was looking forward to the 4th Annual Sister visit this year, besides the facts that I miss my sister and love her. (Facts?… fact?… I mean, I did list 2 facts…?) In Widowhood, things just kinda go away. Obviously, there is the loss of the spouse, but other things are lost, as well. Not necessarily “lost” I guess… but they aren’t exactly “in” your Life… or as much a part of it… as they once were… and it doesn’t help that I’ve learned I’m not a very social person. I think I was looking forward to the Comfort that Family brings along with itself when brothers and sisters… who don’t live near each other… get to hang out together… because they actually want to! So, I’m not talking about Forced Family Fun or any of the shitty reasons Family get together, I’m talkin’ the relaxin’ times of eating S’mores while sittin’ around a fire hearing about each other’s Lives… the kid(s), the dog(s), houses/homes, futures, last time they were in a movie theater, grocery shopping and meal planning, TV shows, funky plants… other people’s lives, and the such. That is what The Annual Sister Visit is about. It’s about being together, shootin’ the shit, and chillin’… while stacking wood next to the dirt road and performing hard labor up at the Fire Pit…!
I had two goals when I moved Next Winter’s Wood from the lean-to to a strip by the road a few years ago. First, it was to have it more accessible and closer to The Schoolhouse. Second, I wanted it to be visually appealing to myself and to anyone who drove by. That’s probably one of those “Taking pride in my home/work” type things but it has also kinda morphed into this therapeutic and fun experience which I get to share with my sister, brother-in-law, and Amanda once a year…!
The last couple of years, I’ve had an idea for the woodpile well before my sister got here. This year… not so much. I’ve been in a bit of a funk the past few months and with everything going on in My World along with everything going on in The World, I remembered that there are parts of Life that make it really hard to put on a smile. I remembered there are circumstances and moments in Life when we simply aren’t… Happy. As I was trying to figure out a form for this year’s pile of wood, I thought of the story of meeting my neighbor for the first time and remembered there being smiles on Kateri’s sister’s, on Scottie the Hottie’s, and on my face after he stopped by in his purple truck for introductions because “It had been long enough!”, he said… the day after Kateri died. I remembered that even in the darkest hours of losing my wife and the only future I had known… there was a smile. It may have been brief. It may have been forgotten about until now… but it was there.
This year’s woodpile is sorta speakin’ to that. The world can be a big bad place and it can be brutal, but there are moments that catch us by surprise which allow us to experience little bursts of happiness. I don’t have the power to change the world, but I can ask my sister to stack wood in a way that will hopefully be a surprise to someone putzing down the dirt road…!… which might provide them with their own little unexpected burst of happiness…!!… and maybe even a smile.
I love my woodpile. I love who was a part of creating and stacking it. I love what it means to Me… the “Inspiration(s)” and/or “Reason(s)” behind moving next year’s wood from This Pile to the more organized That Pile. I love spying on people driving by from my living room… or, preferably from the front porch… and seeing if they slow down. I love the feeling I get when I see their brake lights come on… it’s even better when I see a hand holding a phone pop out a window! I like to think it put a smile on their face(s)… and allowed them to forget about all the craziness, crappy, piles of poop Life seems to sometimes throw at us. I hope it made their day a little bit better… if even for a moment.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
Be the Hat…
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
These are the notes of things that popped into my head yesterday that I was actually gonna write or talk about… but didn’t…
I’ve gotten into this habit of falling asleep on the couch after Amanda goes to bed. We don’t have the same days off, so on Sunday and Monday Nights when she is at the beginning of her work week, I’m at the start of my weekend. Since I’m a child, I always feel the need to stay up as late as possible when I don’t have to wake up at 4:40 the next morning. Unfortunately, when Amanda goes upstairs to bed at 9:37… I’m usually snoring away on the couch by 10:02…!.. (sometimes still holding a Chewey Chips Ahoy cookie).
This particular evening was no different from the normal routine. I’m sure I had plans to stay up and watch some dystopian sci-fi-y action movie while shoveling food packed with artificial flavors and preservatives into my pie hole and to not… NOT… fall asleep on the couch!……………………… I wasn’t successful. Yup, it was just like most of the other Monday (my “Saturday”) Nights. I mean, besides being woken up by the “I’m being protective and assertive” Xander BARK! at 3:49am…! (Yes, I was still on the couch… slumped in a position that allowed my beard to keep my neck nice and toasty!… and sweaty… which was gross.)
As I kinda came to, I heard a knock on the front door. Mind you, I’m in Vermont… a lot of us who reside in old houses don’t really use the front door for this reason or that… so I knew it was someone I didn’t know who was lost, looking for some sorta help, or someone(s) who wanted to rob me. (I live in the woods with distant neighbors. When you live rurally, you learn how to protect your home/loved ones/belongings from all sorts of things… animals, the cold and snow, water, bugs, things that simply decide to break or give up on doing what they have always done!, Mother Nature, the natural deterioration over Time, and people… whose decisions and circumstances in Life lead them to make some not so great choices.) After getting off the couch with an under-the-breath groan or two, I shuffled to the front door, flipped on the outside light without saying anything for the element of SURPRISE! and saw this kid and his dyed-red hair in a hoodie holding his phone on my porch. I inquired what was up…? He mentioned a few things and that his name was… let’s just call him Cody! Codi! Code! I asked if he was ok… he said no… I realized there was some sort of mental health crisis going on so I told him I would meet him out front and we would try to figure some things out. (I said out front on the deck because I still didn’t know this kid from Adam!)
(Side Note: Guess what has two thumbs, might’ve smoked half a joint, started writing, and forgot that they put water on the stove for a Cup o’ Noodle Scooby Snack…?… THIS GUY!… winning.)
Long story short, we sat on the deck for a bit talking about the situation and it got to the point where I invited him into The Little Red Schoolhouse so that we could make some phone calls and plan the next steps. Amanda had already started to scour the interweb for information, and our options in the early morning hours were to call 911, call a 24-hour hotline for a local mental health provider, he could go back to where he was staying, or I could drive him to the ER. After calling the 24-hour hotline, in hopes of being able to get him checked in somewhere somewhat close, and learning from the “Mental Health Professional” yawning on the other end of the phone (Fuck-you, dude… do your job better) that he would need to wait until they open to be checked in… I decided to drive him the 40 minutes to the ER.
It was a pleasant drive in, and I always enjoy those commutes where the stars are twinkling all bright when you leave the house and at some point, you notice the slightest lightening in the shade of darkness you’re traveling through and realize The Day… is right around the corner. We chit-chatted about this and that, but I kept it light and non-intrusive or judgmental, considering he was saying some pretty wacky stuff. Nothing that I felt was dangerous, but things that definitely didn’t add up. As I figured, it was simply my job for the night/morning to do what I could for this young man who knocked on my door at 3:49… a.m…. asking for help. Once he was checked in and through the double doors, I gave my contact info to the nurse at the desk and asked if she could pass it along to Cody! Codi! Code!… just in case… and then I drove home… in the daylight.
Now, before you start thinking I’m this wonderful guy and wanna nominate me for various Good Samaritan Awards or a Nobel Prize for being so fucking awesome!… let me tell you about the second time Cody! Codi! Code! came by The Schoolhouse… at 12:16a.m…. three days later… straight-up and cutting to the chase of asking for a ride to the ER… again. The differences this go around were that when I opened the door this time and he started talking, I realized he simply didn’t wanna be where he was and he… more or less… thought I would simply take him wherever he wanted at any time of day or night (I know who he was staying with and am pretty sure it’s a pretty safe place). The other main difference, and one in which I have thought a lot about and have struggled with, is that I had to be up in four hours to get ready for another long day at work and my brain has been going back to the question, “Was I supportive and willing to help this kid out that first night only because it was convenient for me at the time…?”. Hmmm.
Being a part of The Good… being a Good Person… can sometimes be a struggle. Not just because there are so many differing opinions and definitions of what it actually means to be a good person or what is actually “Right”, but also because us as individuals are so different in how we receive and react to the millions of outside forces/experiences bombarding us every minute of every day… and have since our birth!… which have formed our opinions on… everything… and make us who we are Today. Being a part of The Good or being a Good Person doesn’t mean there’s Perfection… it means you Persevere through the struggles until one day you look up from the path you are on and recognize all the work you put into yourself simply made you a little bit better of a person.
In my Widowhood, I have found that thinking about and making goals pertaining to this or that has been beneficial as I am learning to live a life where I’m still sorta finding my identity… figuring out who I am… who I wanna be type shit…… we’re all a work in progress! The things I make goals for can range from big and lofty to small and mostly insignificant, but they provide me a sense of accomplishment and usually a valuable experience that allows me to take something I have put time, thought, and energy into (whether it be physical/material or experiential)… into the future. Currently, I am sitting on the side of a bed in Lubec, Maine, with my Blundstones dangling 3 inches from the tiled floor of my hotel room where I can see the ocean through the water-stained sliding glass door as I check the second coordinate off the list of my goal to visit the 4 corners of the continental U.S. Yup, I’m as far east as you can go before you need to hop on a boat!… and I have no desire to do that.
Today is the anniversary of Kateri’s Death Date… April 22nd… she died 7 years ago… and I thought a little Road Trip to the Easternmost Point in the continental U.S. would be a good adventure and could provide me with Time & Space to remember Kateri, our Time together, and to think about where I’m currently at in this gig called Life. Plus, I needed to test out the newish truck I bought 3 months ago during my Mini-Mid-Life Crisis…!
Amanda and I hit the Southernmost Point in Key West last year, but for this… I decided to do it solo… sorta. I mean… Kateri is not only with me in “spirit”, but she was nestled in a little glass jar sitting on my gloves in the center console for the drive over here… and has been pulled out for photo ops at light houses by the ocean and at the summit… well, almost the summit… of a mountain. Other than that, it’s really just me spending some time with myself as I reflect on Life in an area that is new me and one in which I find interesting.
Just to let you know, Lubec is tiny and quiet… and it’s the off-season… so it’s even more quiet..er. Although I am super happy with my Road Trip and Destination for the 7th Anniversary of Kateri’s passing because of the calmness and solitariness, it would be nice if there was at least 1… ONE!… restaurant/coffee shop/bakery/teahouse/fish house/clam or lobster shack/pizza place/burger place/Chinese restaurant open…! And I’m no coffee connoisseur, but man… I just want a decent cup of coffee that’s strong enough to defend itself…! (Thank you Tom Waits)
I’ll be honest, I got here last night… saw some sights… spent an hour and a half in the truck getting a pizza… spent another couple of hours in the truck today, finding food and seeing some other closed sights… and now I’m just chillin’ in my room as the tarps flapping from the ocean breeze are accompanied by the clanking of chains off in the distance. It’s nice here. It’s quiet… besides the tarps and chains. It’s beautiful… and the people seem nice, but it’s not Home… and I’m ready to be Home… in Vermont… at The Little Red Schoolhouse… with Amanda and Xander. I guess that’s a positive indication that I have a pretty decent Life. Well, I know I have a pretty decent Life… I think I might actually even have a pretty good Life. And honestly, I’ve always had a Good Life. Have there been bumps, challenges, and the unexpected?… of course, but that’s just a part of the gig… and why someone invented Deep Breaths… and these emojis 🤷♂️🤦♂️🤪… ❤️.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
The temperatures are warming up, the snow has mostly melted… even though it’s snowing right now…!, and with the third boiling of sap, our second Season of Sugarin’ has come to a close.
I’ve gotta say, I really enjoy winter… love it, actually… but I’m welcoming the warmth coming along with the sap this next little bit…! I think my body and brain needs it. There’s a lot going on out there in The World… on top of all the things most of us probably think/worry about on a daily basis… or are starting to think more about… like our futures n stuff. It can be a lot to deal with. It is a lot to deal with sometimes, but interspersed throughout our days are the beautiful things that happen solely because it’s Time for them to show themselves and we just happened to be there and look up…! You know, sunsets, low tide, the first crocus type shit. They’re there… even when you’re focused on other things.
Amanda and I started making our own Maple Syrup last year sorta on a whim, and it’s been a wonderfully fun and educating experience for both of us right here in our back yard. Nope, we ain’t no professionals, but that’s one thing I love about making Maple Syrup… it’s pretty basic stuff. If you’ve got fire, a pot, and Maple Sap… you can make syrup! Now, the fact that it takes 40ish gallons of sap to make 1… yes 1!… gallon of syrup… well now… that’s when “The Process” of boiling off 39 gallons of water comes into play!… and it’s a fantastic exercise in the practice of Patience.
I’m not gonna get into the progression of our “Operation” over the 6 times we’ve boiled within the last two years, how we started with a stock pot over an open fire… on a windy day!… and have now reached the “2 hotel pans on a box I made out of stainless steel from an old kitchen’s hood system that was being thrown away”, but each time we’ve boiled, we’ve learned to do it a bit more efficiently and have been able to make it a scant more comfortable..y. More importantly, we’ve had fun doing it… together. Plus, when Maple Syrup is part of the end result from an activity, it helps sweeten the blow when you realize it took you ten hours to get a quart of Ash Infused Syrup!… which I’m just gonna brand as “Raw Syrup”… and sell to the Asshole Tourists… it’s gluten free. (Not to the Good Tourists… because they’re Good People. Just the Assholes… because… well… they’re Assholes)
(Side Note: Sugarin’ Season takes place in spring… which we here in Vermont also like to refer to as Mud Season because of all the dirt roads… and there’s a lot of water run off… from all the snow n shit… which is what makes everything green for the two weeks of summer! But currently, the sump pump in my basement is going off every 17 minutes and 22 seconds…!.. yay.)
Amanda and I have only Mondays off together so if we wanted to boil sap together this year, we had to do it on Mondays. Sometimes, Life… and the weather… don’t care about your plans or the schedule for your little Sugarin’ Operation. Last Monday, because of an appointment/meeting/discussion that had been scheduled in the afternoon, I decided to wake up at 3:30a.m. in hopes of getting the fire going by 4:00a.m. so as to have enough time to boil our sap, jar it up, take showers, and get into town. The Oracle was calling for rain in the morning, so I even hung a tarp the night before for one less thing to do in the first few hours of the day… and so I wasn’t sitting in the rain. Just as with every previous boil… it took longer than I had anticipated (ugh… Patience… and Realistic Expectations), but I made it to my appointment…!
I actually rather enjoy getting up early, prior to The World waking up. There’s a sense of calm a couple of hours before the sun rises as the darkness is slowly replaced with the view of leaves, trees, and pastures on hillsides. I’ve had a lot on my mind as of late, and it was nice to have an opportunity to kinda be forced to sit and think. Awe… thinking. Sometimes it can be rewarding. Sometimes it provides clarity… or sometimes, it can create more questions. It can be heartwarming, sadness provoking, or profound. No matter what, we all do it!… think, that is… even if there are times we question if we were!… thinking.
One of the things I thought about in the wee hours of the morning as the sap was steaming away is that there’s a lot going on out there in The World…! Although I’m not one to get too worked up about all the bad shit in The World… (I have no control over most of the big things. I have a basic understanding of the effect money has on people, power, and politics. I get the gist on human nature.), I still pay attention and can understand the anxiety people are feeling over the current state of affairs both within The United States and outside our borders. I get it. It’s like squinting to watch a horrible reality gameshow on a 3″ screen where your retirement is someone else’s Prize Money and most of the audience members think they’re contestants on The Show, playing for a certain Team, and a piece of The Winnings. It’s whacky out there. It’s wild. It’s complicated. And… it’s on top of everything else in our Life!… gross. I’m just gonna keep truckin’ along and take advantage of opportunities to reflect on my actions, decisions, and overall Life during the quiet times… such as at 4:36a.m…. when watching sap boil.
Luckily, I was out there for a few hours and had plenty of time to think about other things besides the state of the World. Ya, I thought about some of those BIG Things like Money, Health, Jobs, My (Our) Future, My (Our) Home, and the such, but the small things were also there, like somehow, I forgot to clip my pinky finger’s nail…! I mean, that’s sorta weird… right? How did I just not clip one nail..?!… or did it happen to grow super fast..?…!.. I have questions.
I thought about how Kateri would’ve loved making Maple Syrup at Home from her own trees. I started to try to picture what that experience would have looked like but for some reason it felt… futile… pointless. Yes, she would’ve loved this… LOVED IT!… but Kateri and I didn’t have this experience… and that’s ok. We had almost two decades of being in each other’s Lives. Twenty years of which were filled with all sorts of other wonderful adventures. Sitting there, in the beat up ol’ camping chair in the dark with my coffee… on my land… at my (our) Home… I had this sense of wanting to be more in the present. I didn’t want to reminisce and feel the sadness that comes along with remembering the good times with Kateri or think about all those “If she was here…?” type questions. It just wasn’t the time for that. I wanted to think about Today and Tomorrow and This is What I Have. On this particular morning, Amanda and I were making maple syrup… because that’s something we do..!.. and I loved the feeling of excitement and anticipation I had as I pictured her with her coffee walking across the backyard to join me under the tarp so I could fill her in on the progress… and my early morning escapades. I wondered if Xander… our pup… would be by her side, but knew it was probably a good bet he wouldn’t be. Nope, he’d still be in bed… probably stretched out under the duvet… diagonally at this point. He’s not exactly what we would call a “Morning” “Dog”.
When it comes to the 6 times we’ve boiled sap, as I sat there at the start of #5 nestled in the old camping chair with my coffee mug sticking up from the armrest as the light from the fire escaped through the cracks of the fabricated metal box and stuck to the tarp and trees… I was feeling pretty good about Life. I was on schedule. The sap started boiling sooner than I expected. It was quiet… besides the sounds of The Woods, water hitting a tarp, and the crackle of burning wood. The tribulations of Life were still asleep or hangin’ somewhere off in the distance and all I had to do was keep a fire going, sap in the pans, and sit there with my thoughts. I was tired, maybe… but good.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
I planned on posting a blog today and it was either gonna be some of my views about the current state of our country… yay!… or mine and Amanda’s backyard maple sugarin’ operation… a non-sarcastic yay! I’ve started writing both. One made me kind of anxious with a hint of anger and disappointment. The other was just kinda fun to think about as we’re getting things ready… and are excited for!… the Sugarin’ Season…! This is post is something completely different.
When I walked down the driveway and opened the mailbox there were a couple of small plastic shipping bags, some junk mail, and a blue envelope addressed to… Kateri. I recognized the handwriting but flipped it over to see the return address for confirmation. Yup, it was from who I thought it was from!… and a rush of emotions and memories came flooding over me.
I’ve had a lot on my mind lately. Normal things that I’m sure we all spend too much time thinking about. None the less, the ol’ noggin’ just seems to be jumping all over the place in a mental game of Whack-a-Mole, but when I saw the writing on that blue envelope… I was filled with warmth and any type of uneasy or anxious feeling I had at that moment due to the state of The World or my own personal challenges… went away. Yes, it was somewhat shocking at first, but once that subsided… I felt the Love this experience was providing for all involved. Here is what this experience sorta means to me… a few things I thought about.
Widower Notes n Thoughts… on Kateri Got a Card Today…:
Life is everchanging as we adapt to an everchanging World… along with everything that goes into that. It’s always moving… shifting… morphing into something familiar, but which doesn’t feel the same. Life is continually updating to The Present…. and we’re forced to exist in The Now. In my Widowhood, and I think we all go through something like this, there have been Moments when I’m walking up the driveway, or driving down to town, or strolling through the woods, or snowshoeing with Amanda, or simply sitting in the Kateri/Xander Chair where I find myself taking a look around and going, “Huh… so this is what My Life looks like right now… Who’d a thunk? Wouldn’t have guessed that This or That was gonna be a part of it..!”. Today, while driving my truck home after getting windshield wipers for the cute little Jeep Renegade… the one whose front wheel had fallen off… I had one of those Moments.
On this morning’s ToDo List was the final task pertaining to my mini-Midlife crisis after the previously mentioned wheel fell off my vehicle… and I bought a new(ish) truck. This morning, a friend of mine helped me replace the fender on the cute little Jeep, which had gotten a bit crumpled when my wheel tried to smash through it! And now, I am at a point in My Timeline which feels slightly different than the one I was at just about a month and a half ago.
I’ve thought a lot about Life over the last 6 weeks… a lot about My Life. There have been some significant emotional, psychological, and financial challenges that I needed to face, to figure out, to get past and overcome so that I could move… forward. After my wheel falling off and subsequently me freaking out and buying a new(ish) truck literally the next day… then getting snow tires/bed cover/ice scraper/jump pack/etc…. after making the decision to get rid of Kateri’s Tacoma along with deciding who would remove it… and then having it removed…!,.. after going through the steps I had planned out once the dust settled from the initial runaway wheel, I’m filing this experience away in the “Memories” and/or “Remember When?!” folders because my cute little Jeep’s driver’s side front fender is fixed!… and I even got to help…!.. a little.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
The wobble in my steering wheel was rather concerning when I first felt it as I crossed over into Vermont. By the time I got to the next exit the wobble had added a wibble, so I figured I should probably play it safe and get off the interstate. At this point, although I found it concerning, I didn’t think that much about it. All I thought was there was an appointment at Mike’s in my near future… (and there was!). When I got off the interstate and started heading north, I was still at that stage where you turn down the radio and listen to all the noises your vehicle is making while trying to decipher what is an old sound… and what is a new one…!
I got to the gas station 11 miles up the road and realized that the wibble wobble had no intentions of going away. I pulled into a parking spot, gave this bar a little push, gave that bar a little pull, looked at some stuff and some things… everything seemed solid…! Considering I’m a cook and not a mechanic and didn’t really know what I was doing… I was definitely trying to look the part! I even popped the hood in hopes of seeing something obvious! Unfortunately, I didn’t learn anything from popping the hood. I was just reminded of the fact that chipmunks will squirrel away acorns in all sorts of places… like the hollow part of your hood. So, I kept on truckin’… in my cute little Jeep.
The church on top of the hill is the last point on the drive home with somewhat reliable cell service, and with the shimmy and shakes I was experiencing I decided to shoot Amanda a text letting her know something was up with my car… just in case something happened. My next text to her was sent after I pulled out of the general store 5 and a half miles up the road… and thankfully the text went through! Of course, she didn’t see it right away because she was engrossed in putting together a puzzle, but when she did see it, it said… “My wheel just fell off”… and that event set in motion an experience (that I’m currently going through) which is filled with everything from “What the fuck was that?!” to “That was pretty frickin’ cool…!” while also hitting all aspects of my life. It is providing me with the opportunity to remember Kateri, to take a couple more steps into my widowhood and find a bit more out about myself, to fulfill a midlife-crisis dream and buy a new(ish) truck… and end this experience with saying goodbye to the 2001 Tacoma that has been rusting away in my driveway for the last 3 years. I have finally become comfortable with letting go of the daily reminder of one of Kateri’s Hopes n Dreams… her own Toyota truck.
First Event in the Chain… The Wheel Fell Off.
Yup… my driver’s side front wheel fell right the fuck off. I pulled out onto the road… heard a clunk-clunk… was gonna stop to reverse back into the general store’s parking lot… but it was too late! After that second clunk the front-left side of my vehicle dropped a foot as I heard the sound of metal scraping on asphalt. I turned my head to the left and could see that I was sitting much closer to the road… and there were multiple feet of empty space between the vehicle I was sitting in and the wheel I was looking at across the road! That’s not supposed to be over there!! This is an example of one of those “What the fuck was that?!” situations.
After the initial shock wore off, my brain went to “What are the priorities in this situation?… when your vehicle is sitting at a slight angle in the middle of the road (in my lane, at least)… with only three wheels!”. So I put the hazards on, got out of the vehicle and retrieved the wheel, rolled it to the side and texted Amanda. I just wanted to let her know what was going on, that I was fine, I was gonna need to tow the car… and if she had AAA…!
Once she was on her way, I took a breath, walked back to the car… and the problem solving began! I thought about the possibility of somehow rolling it back into the parking lot…?… not likely. The “thought” that actually created the environment for me to have my first “That was pretty frickin’ cool..!” experience was, “Well, the rotor doesn’t seem to be mangled or anything, maybe if I just start jacking the car up I’ll just be able to put the wheel back on…? Now… where are the lug nuts..?..?…! LUG NUTS!!…”… I found 1… solo… lug nut. Well, maybe it’ll be enough to get my cute little Jeep out of the road..? So, I placed the car-jack where I thought looked “safe”… and started to slowly lift the driver’s side naked wheel well up off the cold asphalt.
As I was turning the “Awkward Jack Turning Thing-a-ma-Jig Tool” a vehicle pulled up beside me and a younger guy asked if I need any help. Why YES!… Yes I do need some help!… Would LOVE some help! It also felt good knowing that I could use help… and that I took the step to actually accept it from this stranger. I’m glad I did because when he returned from pulling up ahead of me, he was carrying an impact drill and socket set! This was the start of one of those perfect backwoods “Vermonty” experiences which reminds me of why I live here and love my little “neighborhood”. I mean, once getting a read on the kid, after introductions and giving the low down on the situation, I was quite confident we were gonna at least get this thing out of the road…! And God dammit… we did.
Once I reached an acceptable height to reattach the wheel, Parker (the kid) tried screwing in the lone lug nut… to no avail. When we pulled it out, we realized it was stripped to shit and was basically useless. So now what? I’ve got a wheel… but no lug nuts! Thankfully for good ol’ ingenuity, we simply took (well, not so simply) a few lug nuts from a couple of other wheels to attach the front wheel well enough to roll down the road!… at slow to moderate speeds…! Unfortunately, there were a plethora of stubborn lug nuts, so we ended up taking 2 from driver’s-side-rear and 1 from the passenger’-side-rear…but it worked!
Once I realized we were gonna be able to get the wheel on and that I was most likely gonna be able to get home… a calmness kinda fell over me. It was relieving knowing that this part of the challenge had been figured out. What started out as a somewhat fucked up, annoying, frustrating, and potentially dangerous situation ended with a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment. It was a wonderful experience!… besides the whole wheel falling off thing.
When Amanda and I got home and were talking about the situation, my priority was figuring out how to get to work… on Thursday… it was Sunday, but I had the next three days off because of my weekend and New Year’s Day. My plan was to order lug nuts off of Amazon (well, Amanda did since I don’t have Prime and wanted them shipped fast!), get them on Tuesday, put them on the Jeep so that I didn’t have any empty spots, drive it to work on Thursday and hit my friend’s shop on the way home. All of which I did… and my buddy was amazing.
Second Event in the Chain… my Mid-Life Crisis.
I’ll be honest, when my wheel started doing the wibble wobble thing my mind went straight to, “Fuck this… I’m buying a new truck…!”. I won’t get too much into it, but I feel like I’ve been sorta going through a Mid-Life Crisis with a touch of Widowhood thrown in there for good measure. For the past few years as the Jeep has been chugging along and accumulating miles, I’ve been looking at trucks. Lots of trucks. All sorts of trucks! When Kateri died and I went from a 2-income household to just my income (I’m a cook)… I basically thought I would be driving the cute little Jeep a bit longer into the future and didn’t think I would actually be able to buy a newer vehicle. It’s just kinda fun to wish for things… and to dream of owning an old truck.
For the last year, I narrowed it down to either a 1980-’88 Toyota Truck… or a newer Tacoma that would be more comfortable and reliable. The conundrum was that they are basically kinda sorta the same price (ish) so it’s really a matter of if I should be rational and responsible… or spend the money on “The Cool Factor”. I’m 49… I went the rational/responsible route. Yup, I bit the bullet and bought a new(er) Tacoma… which is red… and I love it.
It was fun buying a new vehicle even though it was nerve wracking at the same time… and always takes longer than expected, but Nick was wonderful and after some wheeling n dealing, I felt comfortable with what we had landed on. As we sat there waiting for paperwork to be finalized and the truck to come back from being filled with gas and the interior gone over one more time, I realized this was the first time in 24 years that I was buying a vehicle solely because it was the vehicle that I wanted. Kateri and I had multiple vehicles over the years but as one would come to the end of its life after hundreds of thousands of miles, we would talk about what would fit our needs, what did we want to buy, what worked best for us. This time was different. Yes, having a car payment again is rather disconcerting, but the fact that I’m paying for my truck… one that I’m excited about… one that I picked out… for me... actually feels… good. Of course, I didn’t drive it for the first week since it came with summer tires and I didn’t feel like sliding off Wild Hill and wrecking the thing before I even made the first payment!… but we’re good to go now… green license plates n all!
Third (and final) Event in the Chain… Kateri’s 2001 Toyota Tacoma.
Kateri and I bought a 2001 Tacoma in 2010. Her dream car was a Yota with a wooden bed. After she died, I had Hopes n Dreams of removing the bed (it’s super rusty) and turning it into a wooden flatbed. Unfortunately, Time, Mother Nature, and Money were working against me and once the gas tank rusted through (around the fuel pump rusted which caused the pump to fall to the bottom of the tank leaving a hole on the top!), it basically sat in its spot for the next 3-4 years as the Vermont weather slowly chipped away at the truck’s integrity. Heck, I had tow straps holding the gas tank on in the first place!
Because of the situation… and me not wanting my driveway to look like a used car lot or salvage yard… I came to the conclusion to simply let the ol’ Gold Toyota go. More importantly, I had reached that moment in Time where I was comfortable letting it go… and ready for it. It’s still amazing to me the amount of weight I put on certain things because of their attachment to Kateri and our life together, and it feels somewhat relieving when I reach these types of decisions… and accept them.
My Little Red Schoolhouse and that beat up 2001 Toyota Truck are two material things that probably hold the most attachments to Kateri for me in my Widowhood (plus her wedding ring and a bracelet)… of course, the house I have no plans to get rid of!… even though it’s rotting away, as well..! We loved it… LOVED IT!… when we got that truck. We drove all over Vermont in it. I have so many fond memories of Kateri and I camping in it, filling the back with items for our wedding, driving over the App Gap after work through snowstorms, hauling debris to the dump from the bathroom we demolished, or simply going for a drive to places where the roads get narrower and narrower as the forest gets thicker and thicker. At times, we might’ve even gotten lost… but we didn’t care… because it was all part of the adventure!
We all use and view our vehicles differently. Living rurally, cars/trucks/transportation is a huge thing… you spend a lot of time in your car simply going to the grocery store. Kateri and I were also filled with that wanderlust for a good chunk of our life together… basically, until we bought our Little Red Schoolhouse. One of Kateri’s favorite things to do was to sit in the passenger seat while The Band blared from the speakers and smoke from a joint was being whisked out the cracked window… and watch The World go by. Road trips were a common thing. We would spend a lot of days off just driving around and seeing the sights. Before we bought our house, looking at real estate was a wonderful excuse to putz around Vermont and talk about our future… talk about our Hopes n Dreams… as the ground beneath us was changing constantly as the miles piled up.
From the moment the ’01 Tacoma became inoperable, it has sat there reminding me that I don’t have the means to fix… that it has been neglected… that I have neglected it. Anytime I want to move something out of the garage, I only have one option because there’s a broken-down truck in front of one of the garage doors… and it annoys the fuck out of me. For the past three years when it comes time to move wood from the road to the garage, I get frustrated by the number of trips I need to take with the little garden trailer being pulled behind the lawn tractor… as I drive it right past the truck! Don’t even get me started on all the times I go to Home Depot and wished I had an operational truck!… instead of figuring out how many 2×4’s I can slide between the front seats and still shut the back door instead of strapping them to the roof…!
What it comes down to and where I’m at is that every day when I come home from work, the store, a neighbor’s house, etc… I see that truck sitting there… withering away… and it’s Time for me to let it go. It doesn’t mean I’m “letting go of” or “moving on from” or “getting past” the loss of Kateri… because we Live with Loss for as long as we are alive… it just changes over Time. For me, I recently went through a series of events that in the end transpired into some cool experiences, a new truck!… and an open parking space, and the removal of a rusty ol’ eyesore… that just happened to be filled with priceless memories of Life and Love.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
The Booty Found in Kateri’s Tacoma
The loss of a loved one and the grief that comes along with it never goes away… it just slowly changes as Time keeps marching on until one day you realize… it’s different. During the Holidays, it could be an obvious thing such as when you realize you’re not breaking down every time you open a Christmas Bin or with every ornament you unwrap from its tissue paper sleeping bag. Other times it’s simply a feeling you get when you look back on your Life and are able to recognize that you are much more firmly rooted in and excited about The Present and Future than you were a year ago, three years… or seven. You are able to look back fondly on The Past and merely recognize The Pile of Poop Times because memories of The Good Times have caught up to them and are starting to pull ahead and overshadow…! The shitty stuff will always be in the rearview mirror and they will sometimes feel closer than they appear … depending on which mirror to look at… but once they get far enough behind and the feeling of them chasing you goes away, you find there are long stretches where you can hit the cruise control, put on some Steely Dan, and enjoy the view ahead through the windshield of your cute little Jeep Renegade.
Today is December 19th, 2024. Seven years ago, Kateri and I were sitting in a doctor’s office as he informed us that Kateri had Stage 4 Metastatic Malignant Melanoma. This was three days after we learned she had a mass in her brain and two days before I left to spend what we thought was the last Christmas with my mom. Let me tell you… it was a fucked-up time!… one that I’m glad is in The Past. Nowadays, December 19th is actually kind of a special day for me and in a weird way… a good day.
I’ve dealt with (and am dealing with) the loss of Kateri in the only way I know how… and I feel I’ve done ok with it. I’m one of those people who feel the need to attach things to other things so that I can keep them in My Life, even though they mean something different to me now.
For the last few years, I’ve had my annual dermatology check-up with Dr. Dan on this particular anniversary… it just kinda worked out that way. Dr. Dan has been our dermatologist since we moved down here and is the one who initially found Kateri’s melanoma. Kateri loved Dr. Dan… and I know she had an impact on him. You could see the sorrow in his eyes as he tried to be supportive of her with the diagnosis, and I felt his empathy and compassion when he would check in with me over the phone or take me out for a meal and some music after she passed. He’s a good man… which helps make him an even better doctor.
The first few years of Widowhood were rough, and I know it’s a Lifelong process, but I’m glad I’ve been able to feel the healing effects of Time. I don’t exactly have any desire to see doctors or hear what they have to say about my health, but this is different. And although I’m pretty sure it’s not natural for anyone to look forward to going to the doctor, I will say I enjoy my annual visit with Dr. Dan. We schedule it to be the last appointment of the day to give ourselves a little extra time to catch up, fill each other in on our lives, and reflect on the special person Kateri was. Even though I’m sure he will remove something from my body to send off to some lab (Kateri called it her weight-loss program!), I’m mostly really going to the appointment for the conversation, to wish him and his family a Merry Christmas, and to personally say… Thank-you.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
The Christmas Tree has been around for a while. From what I understand, back in the 1500’s those festive people The Germans are credited with starting the tradition of selling dead trees for an exorbitant amount of money to overworked, overtired, over stressed parents just searching for that specific Cabbage Patch Doll and a little Hope!… who would also appreciate it if their children stopped fighting over who gets to help Mom or Dad duct tape the tree to the roof of the Tesla. It was pretty dark times back then, so they actually started setting up and decorating the Trees in September so that the children had something to look forward to for a quarter of the year. I mean, who doesn’t get excited about waking up on Christmas Morning… after waiting four months!… to open up gifts of potatoes, sticks, and lumps of coal?! Which, back in the day, I would suspect that the lumps of coal were a good thing. I mean, I’m pretty sure it was cold back then… a little coal could go a long way!
In case you didn’t notice, I don’t actually know the full history of the Christmas Tree… and I guess it doesn’t really matter to me. What I do know is that I have wonderful memories of decorating trees throughout my younger years with my parents and sister, through my twenties and thirties with my wife Kateri as we built our Life together… by myself for five years after she died… and now with Amanda as we foster new traditions and expand on our Life together. As Amanda and I decorated our tree… for the second year…!… I noticed a few cool little things that are now attached to my memories of decorating Christmas Trees over the years.
The colored lights/white lights preference thing is really what got me thinking about my Life this Holiday Season. I’ve always put colored lights on my tree. Kateri found these cool ones that look just like the ol’ retro bulbs you picture your dad stapling to the garage while balancing on one foot halfway up a fully extended extension ladder… except tiny… and LED!… which we used for years, and I kept up with in my Widowhood. Well… now it’s not just my tree… it’s mine and Amanda’s tree… and Amanda is a White Light type Christmas Tree person! Let me tell you about the tension THAT provided us in the Little Red Schoolhouse for the weeks leading up to Decoration Day!! Actually, there wasn’t any tension because Amanda and I have a healthy relationship built on Open and Honest Communication, Respect, and an understanding that Compromise is an integral part of any decision-making process involving more than one person. There’s that… and the fact that Amanda was able to find some lights that we could change between both colored and white!… not to mention 8 other colors with varying rates of flashing from “Awe… that’s calming” to “Frank just had a seizure!”. Either way… crisis averted!
Just as it goes that everything changes over Time… my (our) Christmas Tree is different this year from last… and the year before that blah blah blah. Yes, it is filled with all sorts of familiar trinkets, decorations, and doodahs but it’s still different… even if visually just a bit. I can see the changes in the missing ornaments and the addition of new ones. When decorating the tree, it was nice taking a moment to spend on each ornament, asking myself what I had attached to it, and deciding if it made the cut or not. Amanda did the same thing with her stock of memories. We did it together, strategically hooking glass snowmen, various Santas, and pictures of Xander on tree limbs until we got to that point where you take a step back to get a good look at your work and realize… it’s done. Amanda attached her Bow. I attached the Angels and fastened the Star. We moved the step stool out of the way because we were done with it… and it’s not great for pictures, turned on the lights (white… this time), and sat on the couch with the dog to take in the beauty of this year’s Christmas Tree… perfect.
Widower Notes n Thougths… on Christmas Trees:
Merry Christmas n Shit, Everyone…!
When I was laid up due to the Smashed Asshole, I tried to take advantage of the time where I couldn’t do anything besides lay in bed, so I decided to finish a Photobook I started a couple of years after Kateri died. I actually started the Photobook on a trip to Idaho to visit my Mom when she had cancer. It was the first year of The Pandemic, so I drove cross country and slept in Rest Areas so as not to interact with The People, catch The Vid, and then infect my Mom!… because that would’ve sucked. Considering the amount of guilt I already feel about the stoopidest things and the effect the loss of her has had on my Life, it would’ve been even rougher if she died because I brought The Rona with me!… instead of dying from cancer. Ugh.
We all… or a lot of us… have a whole bunch of pictures on our phones capturing moments in Time. Sometimes we have 16 pictures… separate moments in Time, I guess… trying to capture a single moment! Awe… memories. Needless to say, in the months following Kateri’s death, all the pictures I took of her in the 4 months and 3 days of what she was calling her Dance with Cancer were right there whenever I opened up my little picture app. Let me tell you, when we go through experiences where Life decides to show you just how brutal it can be… you don’t really want to be reminded of it just because you wanted to show someone a pic of the Meatloaf & Mashed Potatoes you ordered at the Ol’ Vermont Country Inn & Tavern…! (I don’t know if that’s a place, but if it is… I hope they make meatloaf! Mmmm… meatloaf.)
I didn’t want to get rid of the pictures, but I also didn’t want to keep seeing them, so I thought about printing them out and then deleting them from my phone. Then I thought about the fact that through the magic of the interweb we have the ability to put pictures on mugs, t-shirts, ballcaps, stationary, blankets, wallets, mousepads, canvas, and… Photobooks!… which is what I was looking for.
Of course, it has now been six and a half years since the start of my Widowhood and those pictures on my phone are buried deep behind pics of woodpiles, Sister Visits, Xander the dog, my Life with Amanda and more, but I still wanted something tangible, something I could flip through… if I ever felt the need… and then simply put back on a shelf… or wherever. I actually mostly finished the Photobook quite a while ago and just kinda didn’t do anything with it. It would just show up in my little “Projects” file/tab/thingy whenever I got on Shutterfly… every 10 months or so. Knowing I was gonna be laid up with a Smashed Asshole I thought about things to fill my time with and decided it was the right time for me to finally take that step of going through it one more time and then hitting the old “Checkout” button. I may not worry so much about these pics popping up unexpectedly and at this point it’s not quite as traumatic, but for some reason this was just something I wanted to do.
Well, the Photobook I made from pictures taken when Kateri had cancer arrived on Saturday. I titled the book Kateri’s Dance with Cancer 2018 because that is how she referred to what she was going through. The Pictures cover the timeline from when she walked through the doors to the CTScan/MRI/whatever and we got the call that night that there were tumors in her brain… to the last morning of her life. There are a few others I added from over the years that I cherish because I feel they capture some of the things I love about Kateri and/or our Life together.
I’ll be honest, I don’t sit there and take too long of looks at pictures of Kateri… especially from the time of cancer… it just kinda puts me in a pretty sad spot! This was a special occasion, though. It was sort of exciting opening the orange box and seeing Kateri’s smile when I got my first glimpse of this thing that has been in the back of my mind for years! As I sat there on the couch holding this book of memories on my lap, I took a moment, took a breath… and opened it up.
For me, when I opened the Photobook for the first time on Saturday, I knew that I wouldn’t be opening it again for the foreseeable future because I was at the end of this process I’ve been working on for years. I gave myself Time to flip through the book… to remember how strong Kateri was as the cancer was chipping away at her body… and her Life. I turned the pages slowly, feeling the smoothness of the paper on my fingertips. I read the words I had captioned the pictures with… but had not fully remembered. I stared at them… one after another… and felt the Love and Pain that simultaneously comes when we remember those we’ve lost. And then… once I felt comfortable… once it was Time… once I was ready… I simply closed the book… and put it on the shelf.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
I jumped out of bed pretty quickly this morning when Amanda and I heard the power flicker since we woke up to a wind storm this morning. Well, I wouldn’t say I “jumped” out of bed, but I got up quicker than I have in the last 7 days mainly because I took MiraLAX at 4:00am and got a little worried about the ability to flush a toilet if the power went out! So, it was off to the garage to grab a red 5 Gallon Bucket to fill with water so that if the power DID go out, we would have the ability to flush the laxative assisted bowel movements that have been falling out of my backside each morning for the past week. Luckily, the trees have stayed off the power lines… and The Schoolhouse!… thus far.
It’s been a week since I voluntarily (…not happily) went to the Doc so that they could smash my asshole… and yes, they smashed it good! I’ll admit, I didn’t take the Doc’s warnings about the recovery too seriously. I’ve been a cook throughout my entire adulthood, so I’ve been conditioned to not pay too close attention to things like that because… well… you’ve got to work!… and it usually just came down to how fast I could get back to the kitchen. When you don’t have Paid Time Off or insurance and make very little money… you work. In my 20’s I broke both my legs. It was a much longer recovery, and I had support from family, but I still needed to work so as soon as I could… I did… on crutches and then a cane. When I had hernia surgery, I was working at a smokehouse in Colorado slinging cases of pork butts and brisket. I took almost a week off but had to get right back at it. That was fun considering I also had two teeth pulled the week before! No insurance for any of it… awe, the glamorous life of a professional cook/Chef.
This time around, though… it’s different. I work for a “Company”… like, one with an HR Department n shit… and not just a stand-alone Restaurant. I have insurance… good insurance… and plenty of PTO hours… because all I’ve mostly done is work for the last 5 months or so. I have a little money in savings in case something doesn’t go as planned (thank you Gobal Pandemic). The biggest difference being that I’m simply… older… and because of my Widowhood, I have a different outlook on life where I need to focus on taking care of Myself… both physically and mentally. That’s a hard thing to do considering my brain keeps telling me, “You gotta get back to work… you’re not doing your job… you’re letting people down… people think you’re a slacker… and a wimp!”, while my derriere laughs and through the stomach grumbles and anal cramping tells me, “Lay there, Bitch!”. So nowadays, I listen to it and am lying here in my adjustable bed drinking coffee on a Saturday morning… thinking about life… about work… about friends and family… about the Past, the Present, and a bit of the future… and about my Smashed Asshole.
This experience, the recovery, has been more than I expected but it is getting better. In my Widowhood, I learned that Life could get pretty uncomfortable… pretty bad actually… but as Time created space and has put distance between Right Now and the evening of April 22, 2018, I’m also able to recognize that Life has gotten… better. There is no Roadmap for Widowhood. You’re kinda just thrust out there in the world and expected to deal with it, cope with it, get past it… and you do!… but you don’t. It’s a lesson that keeps teaching you things for years… for the rest of your life. Fortunately, I have a roadmap to recovery from butt surgery.
I’ve used my Widowhood to find patience and strength to get through the uncomfortableness of this experience. My butt will heal and a few weeks/months down the road I’ll be back running around the forest with chainsaws and four wheelers… or chasing Xander as he’s chasing chipmunks. I’ll be vacuuming the stairs and bringing in cradles full of wood for the woodstove to keep us warm as the nights cool down. I’ll be throwing cases of turkey on carts and #10 cans of tomatoes on racks. I’ll be able to sit on the toilet without the fear of popping a stitch or blowing out my O-Ring! Widowhood is something where the pain of the experience never goes away… it just becomes less frequent. For me, this hemorrhoidectomy is something that takes away the chances of something getting worse. It takes away the bloody butt. It removes the Maxi Pads from my man bag, my car console, my desk drawer… and from my underwear. And!.. it takes away the anxiety of going out in public that I’ve had for the past year! The recovery is painful, but with this, the pain will simply go away over time if I take care of myself. After thinking about what she went through and then losing Kateri… I can deal with this little inconvenience. I mean, unlike my memories of Kateri and our life together that pop up whenever they feel the need, six years from now I’m not gonna be crying in the shower because I remembered that time I went to the Doc, and they sent me away with a smashed asshole…! Although……… I might.
Widower Notes n Thoughts on the Smashed Asshole Recovery… 1 week:
I kinda wanna see the video of Doc and Friends spelunking down my Exit Only. I’m pretty sure their goal was for my colon to see the light of day! I mean, that’s at least how it feels around the ol’ “O-Ring”!… sorta like Satan giving you a wedgie… 24/7. I remember the first time I went water skiing… it was on two skis… I sat down and learned about things forcing their way into other things. Doesn’t compare. Not even close. I’d much rather be water skiing right now. Well, not right now… because my ass feels smashed, and I don’t think I’m in any shape for water sports… plus, I don’t care about water skiing.
I’ve learned some things over the last couple of days. Here are a few that may help you through your own butt surgery.
Widower Notes n Thoughts… on the Smashed Asshole Recovery:
One of my favorite terms/sayings in the world is “Smashed Asshole”. Generally, I only bring it out when someone asks how I’m feeling and I’m not feeling well… at all… like total and utter crap… like smashed asshole. Yesterday, for the first time in my life I got to use the term… and it was completely appropriate for the time and space! Yesterday, I had a hemorrhoidectomy and when I came out of anesthesia Amanda asked how I was doing and my response was something to the effect of, “They weren’t very nice to my butt (the nurse agreed) and I feel a bit like smashed asshole…!”. Now I’ve gotta say that I wish I remembered having this conversation with Amanda, the Nurse, and the Doc… but I don’t. Really, I’m just glad I wasn’t a jerk to anyone after having my ass stretched, pulled, cut in multiple places with stitches inside AND outside my butt… when the original plan was just working on the inside… yay! Honestly, after the last 13 months or so, I’ll let the professionals do whatever they need to do as long as it stops the bleeding coming from by back side!
Have I told you I’ve been bleeding out my backside for over a year now? Well, I have. The annoying part is I actually tried taking care of it not toooo long after it started. I’ve seen multiple doctors who made me drink an ungodly amount of MiraLAX so that they could stick a camera up my colon. I’ve had polyps cut out and clipped and was told they thought that was the source of the bleeding. I’ve asked about the possibilities of me blowing out my “O” Ring by lifting heavy things… because I’m a little guy who likes to lift heavy things and I felt “a pop” down there when removing a concrete lid to a water well. I mentioned a sledding accident in 2023 when a small tree stump broke my sled… and my butt… and prevented me from walking normally for a month. I even asked about bleeding hemorrhoids because I read about them on the internet! Come to find out, that’s basically what was going on… except on steroids. Luckily, it never hit the emergency room state.
In August I was finally referred to a colorectal surgeon and let me tell you… they are not shy or hesitant about the things they do to you! I knew what I was getting myself into, but it’s still a little surprising when the nurse says, “You’re gonna feel A LOT of pressure.”… and oh boy… she wasn’t lying! Although I’ve never had anything to do with childbirth, I was REALLY working on my breathing exercises! The other thing I enjoyed about that appointment is that it wasn’t just one finger feeling around up there, multiple people felt the need to check it out!… more breathing exercises… and I tried not to pay attention to the fact that one of those fingers had long fancy nails. (I know gloves are involved… but c’mon! Even if it’s just for show and to put the patient at ease… maybe keep the nails short! Heck, as cooks we wear gloves and keep our nails trimmed for safety reasons… and we’re not sticking our fingers up people’s butts!) On a side note, I was told I have strong anal muscles… I’m taking that as a win.
All of that led up to yesterday… my hemorrhoidectomy… which I gotta tell you that everything they say about the procedure and recovery is not flattering… quite the horror stories, actually. I was preparing for anal cramps, burning, swelling, more bleeding, oozing, nausea, and general uncomfortableness. So far, it hasn’t been that bad. I mean, I think the biggest worry for me was really getting to… and through… that first bowel movement! Yup, between 8:58am and 9:10 this morning was probably the most nerve-racking span of time for me in this experience so far…! Don’t worry, I got through it with only a few tears.
Now it’s Recovery Time and I’m just gonna say that I don’t do well sitting around… I don’t like being idle. There’s always something to do and since Kateri died I have this continual sense of needing to stay on top of things, to fix things, to clean things, to move things, and to work on things. I’m trying to accept that I need to NOT do anything for the next week or so and to take it easy for the next 5-6… ugh. It’s a small price to pay if it means I won’t have to worry about blood seeping through my underwear and ruining my pants… again… and again.
Mentally, it’s been a long haul dealing with the bleeding butt. Yes, the actual bleeding was concerning but since it didn’t exactly hurt of cause too much discomfort, I didn’t have this sense of urgency or panic that I was gonna die or anything. For me, the most anxiety came from having to go out in public not knowing if I had bled though my pants, where people would see it and think I shit myself! FYI, I live out in the country so if I need anything, I’m driving… and sitting… for at least 20 minutes and usually longer. When you’re bleeding out your butt and worry about people seeing it… sitting is not what you wanna do for long periods of time!
Over the past year I have adapted to this situation as we were figuring out what was actually going on. I switched from wearing “checks” cook pants to straight up black. When buying jeans to replace the ones that were ruined, I would buy ones that were a little darker shade of blue. I carried around extra underwear in my Man Bag and always had an extra pair of pants at work. In July I bought Depends for Men… which I learned was a little overkill for the situation, so I traded in the diapers for Maxi Pads. Yup, nothing like shopping for Maxi Pads with your girlfriend!… but the mental relief they provided me were priceless. It’s been a tiring and trying process… and I’m hoping it’s over.
As I lay here in my adjustable bed with my bloody butt thinking about My Life… my body slanting towards the Building a Rainbow painting hanging on the wall… my legs slightly up and bent… I think about how it’s just so… different. Our lives are everchanging and as the years build up, we have the opportunity to look back and see how we’ve grown, where we’ve been, and who was there. I’ve been a widower for six and a half years. Widowhood is one of those types of events in our lives that brand a notch into the timeline. When I look back at My Life six and a half years ago, I feel like the physical things are pretty much the same (my house, car, work, etc.), but the people are different. I’m not saying this is a good or bad thing… it’s just what it is… kinda how these things go. Losing Kateri and my Mom were the biggest things that changed my life and the type of person I am. There was also a Global Pandemic which just kinda changed… everyone. I’ve lost touch with so many people. I miss them and the times we were in each other’s lives, but I’ve also met some pretty cool people, worked with some pretty cool people, and have done some pretty cool things. We all just keep plugging along on our own little paths.
When Kateri died, I made the decision not to go to the doctor for a year. I didn’t want to know if there was something gravely wrong with me. If there was… c’est la vie. I was at a different point in life. I had a different view on it… and things change. To this day it’s hard for me to look towards the future, but I’ve realized I’m starting to. There are things… and people… that make me want to stick around for a while and if I’m gonna stick around for a while… might as well try to make it as comfortable as possible. I’m lucky… I’ve got a good life… and I’m grateful. I’ve got people I love and a dog I love more than most of them. Yes, there are all sorts of physical, mental, financial, and general health challenges, but that’s just a part of Life. Sometimes you feel good. Sometimes you feel like Smashed Asshole… and that’s probably the gig for most of us.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
I woke up on the couch this morning beneath the fleece blanket that Kateri’s father had given us years ago. My head wedged in the corner padded by a pillow I stole from the guest bedroom as Xander nestled his 85 pounds into the crux of my knees. It was a much different way to for me to wake up than I did 13 years ago. Thirteen years ago, I woke up as a Husband. Today… just another day of Widowhood.
I’ve gotta be honest, for six and a half years I have tried to be super positive about… everything. I’ve overcompensated on trying to focus on the good things in life because the bad seemed to infiltrate every aspect of my day to day. Well, sometimes I have to just let the feelings do what they do and today it seems like I’m not gonna get too far past… blah.
My Wedding was absolutely wonderful… still the best day of my life. Nowadays, it’s more of an opportunity to reminisce about life, my life, what has filled it, and what has been taken away. Over the years since Kateri died, I have tried to give my Wedding Anniversary it’s time and space. I’ve tried to do things with purpose and with specific attachments to my previous life and in particular… my Wedding Day. This year… not so much. Not because I’ve “gotten past” certain aspects of my Widowhood or because I have any sorta sense of closure with this whole experience. No, this year I just happened to have this thing called Reality taking up a bunch of my time and I had to adapt to doing things I didn’t really wanna adapt to… or even have to deal with!… but like I said… that’s Life.
Although I had to incorporate The Present as I was coping with The Past, it was still a decent enough day spent in the woods around The Schoolhouse… with a chainsaw and a four-wheeler… as I thought about Kateri and our life together.
Widower Notes n Thoughts… on my Wedding Anniversary:
Well, the cheeks are feeling the warmth of the sun for the first time in about six and a half years… and the chin has been freed from the fuzz for the first time in even longer! The Beard is no longer… because I cut it! And let me tell you, you can attach A LOT!… to a beard.
Throughout my life with Kateri, I would talk about how I really, really, really wanted to have one of those long… sorta unkept and scraggly… beards that you see on the faces of Old Timers sitting on the front porches of their hundred-year-old Vermont farmhouses. Ever since I could grow it, I’ve always had facial hair. When I was younger, I would change it up quite frequently. Then I kinda settled into the goatee and the occasional Fu Manchu with a western flare… and maybe some sideburns. I always enjoyed the Half Beard, but it made me look like Beaker if it got too long. From time to time, I would let the cheeks grow in, but there always came the point where it got a little itchy and since I work in kitchens… it got hot…! Mmmmm, hot AND itchy! So, for most of my life I’ve had something on my face… just not all over it.
This post isn’t about all the fun things those of us with Functional Facial Hair can do with it, this is about how I used a beard to help me take steps into a world I was unfamiliar with and scared of as I coped with the death of my wife. In some regards, I hid behind the mask of my own face… which I did not recognize.
Unconsciously, I quit shaving partly through Kateri’s Dance with Cancer. It just wasn’t a priority and since I already had facial hair, I didn’t really think of it. For the first few weeks after she died, for some reason I couldn’t really look in the mirror. I was in this kinda haze of just going through the motions while trying to keep my head on straight. I mean, I would while brushing my teeth n shit just to kinda check in, but only little glimpses. One night after getting out of the shower, I was standing in front of the steamed-up mirror and as I wiped the water away and saw the foggy reflection, I didn’t recognize the hairy person staring back at me. It didn’t look like me. I didn’t look like myself. And I didn’t FEEL like myself… or at least who I had been for the last two decades. It was an odd feeling that reminded me that life was different now and as I look back on it… that we can have profound moments pop up in our lives at the most unsuspecting times.
Widower Notes n Thoughts… on Beards:
P.S… I’m already working really hard on growing The Beard back!… by not shaving.
Don was my neighbor… down the road… on the left. I met Don when we were coming home the night of Mary Ann’s Celebration of Life in ’22 (Kateri’s mom). Well, I actually met him after we had gotten home… were there for about 5 minutes… and then got back into the car… and drove back down the hill to his house… in the middle of the night!
Amanda and I were in separate vehicles for the final leg of returning from the Celebration of Life. When we pulled into the driveway and got out of our respective cars, I asked Amanda, “Did you see the light on, and door open at the house across from the Church?”. To which her reply was, “Ummm, I think I saw a leg…?.. kind of sticking up in the air..?.. maybe?”… and then we had a brief discussion and came to a quick consensus of what a “Good” person would do in our situation. So, we told Xander the Dog “We’ll be right back”, grabbed the keys to the Cute Little Jeep Renegade, and went to go check on a neighbor.
Once we got 2 point five miles down the road to the Church, I flipped a bitch in the little turn around there and pulled up to the front of the house. We could see from the light in the kitchen that the front door was open, but the outer glass storm door was shut and there was someone laying on their back on the concrete slab of a porch. There was a small dog in the kitchen checking out the scene through the glass door and we noticed that it was attached to a leash… which the person on the porch… flat on their back… on the other side of the door!… was holding the other end of…! It was one of those instances where that little voice in your head asks, ” what the heck are we getting ourselves into…?”
The cool night air rushed into the cab as Amanda rolled down the window and loudishly said, “Hello…?”. Through the darkness we heard the faint and somewhat gruff response of, “Hello?” come from across the front yard. “Are you OK?”, Amanda called out the window. “No.” was the response. “Do you need help?”…. “Yes.”. “Do you need us to call an ambulance?”… “No.”. So, we pulled into the driveway, stepped out into the chilly night, and jumped headfirst into a situation and experience that would have lasting effects on all three of us.
When I got to him, I tried thinking of all the emergency/CPR trainings I have gone through at various jobs to figure out the best way… and quickest… to assess the situation. When we reached the porch, I introduced myself and Amanda to the person laying on the cement, his eyes kinda glassed over along with grass, twigs, and cobwebs stuck to his fleece Patagonia jacket and pants. At that moment… we officially met Don… as he laid on his front porch.
Now Don was a good-sized man, but we were able to sit him up where he could lean against a post. We were also able to remove the leash from his wrist so that the little dog on the other side of the glass door could finally walk more than three feet away from the entrance… and maybe drink some water! At that point, I could smell alcohol pretty distinctly. I haven’t had a drink in 17 years… so it can be pretty noticeable. I started going through questions I thought an EMT… or anyone else who knew what the heck they were doing!… would ask.
“Are you hurt?”…. “No”.
“How long have you been out here?”… “Not sure.”.
“Are you on medications?”… “Yes.”.
“Have you been drinking?”…. “Yes.”.
“Do they mix?”…… “No.”…. crap.
That wasn’t really the answer I was hoping for!… but this was the situation Amanda and I had just put ourselves in and we knew we had just committed a fair amount of time to it since we were aware Don had no intentions of going to a hospital or having anyone who deals with these sorta things come and help. So, Amanda grabbed another layer from the car and the three of us simply sat on the cold concrete as Amanda and I learned a bit about the man we would wave to on the drive home when he was sitting in his rocking chair “Watching the world pass him by”… and Don learned that he has neighbors who care enough to stop.
It was a long hour and a half as the chill of the night started to creep past our coats and our butts went numb from the cold concrete. I could see Amanda’s teeth chatter here and there as she would turn away so that Don didn’t see. We were really just buying time until we felt Don was in good enough shape to make it back inside and call it a night as we filled that hour and a half talking about… well… Life. We kept it basic. We kept it light. Just three people getting to know a tiny, tiny, tiny bit about each other… when we would normally be sleeping. It was nice… given the circumstances… and thankfully ended with Don reunited with his pup inside his house and us welcoming the heat blowing from the vents of the Cute Little Jeep as we made our way back up the hill to The Schoolhouse.
We stopped by the next afternoon to make sure Don had made it through the night ok. Honestly, given the shape he was in the prior night, we weren’t sure how much he would even remember! Fortunately, he remembered most of it. Over that summer I stopped by a couple of times just to check in and shoot the shit for a bit. We learned that Don ran the food shelf for years and was very active in the community in years past. He had a PhD. and was passionate about Environmental Research and Protection. He was proud of his French and Native American heritage. He enjoyed music, and maps, and travel. He was compassionate and enjoyed stimulating conversations. He had family… but he didn’t dive too deep into those relationships… and I didn’t pry. He loved his pup and sitting on the porch. After our evening of getting to know each other, I loved waving to my neighbor as I slowed down around the bend in front of the Church and would catch him sitting in his rocking chair.
Come to find out, Don quit drinking after that initial night of introductions. We had noticed that he looked thinner and after he told me he gave up the sauce, I thought that was the cause of the weight loss… which I’m sure played a part but come to find out… he was also sick.
This spring and summer we saw less and less of Don on the commute home. Through friends and neighbors, we learned that he had gone into assisted living… and then into hospice. Many a times I thought of going and visiting him, but I got caught up in my own life and quite frankly didn’t prioritize or make the effort to let him know the impact he had on me. I wish I had gone to visit… to have one more conversation… to be there for him… even if it was only for a minute… an hour… or two. But I didn’t and sometimes that’s just the way it goes.
Don died at the end of July. I got the text from a friend down the road who sent me the obituary from the local paper. His service was gonna be on a Saturday and I knew I wasn’t gonna be able to make it. Life and Death are all around us all the time in varying degrees and proximity. Don definitely made and impact on my life, but our relationship was very brief and limited. I wish I would’ve been able to just take off work and attend the formal remembrance of a man who gathered memories and experiences over the 87 years he traveled this land until finding his final home in our little area of the world… but I couldn’t… and I was ok with that.
Don was buried in the old ass cemetery across the street from his house next to the church. When I got out of work on the day of his service, I stopped to pay my respects and to thank him for what he had given me. I was the only person there… standing before his massive tombstone. It was quiet. It was sunny, but cool. It was peaceful. I thought how wonderful it was that he didn’t have to travel far from his home to get to his final resting place. It made me think about my own life and mortality… and where I want to be when I get to the end of my own road.
Standing in the West Fairlee Center Cemetery surrounded by the lush green foliage and softness of the Vermont summer, I decided to accept the decisions I have made in the recent past, and in turn, the outcomes of those decisions. I haven’t always made the best choices, but in life, sometimes the process is the important part to reach the best possible outcome for yourself. Life is one long learning experience. The opportunity to make our lives as close to how we want it to be… who we want to be!… happens from the moment we wake up till the moment we lay our heads down to rest… but it takes work… and is everchanging. I’m sad I don’t have the option to swing by Don’s on the way home and sit uncomfortably on the bench as he shares stories involving this or that or states for the fifth time that he’s “Watching the world pass him by” and I wish I took the time to visit him towards the end, but I am grateful Amanda and I made the decision to get back in the car… in the middle of the night… to go and check on a neighbor.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
I’ve kinda been going through a thing lately. Considering the fact that when I’m flipping through Marketplace and come across an “inexpensive” sports car such as a Lotus or Lamborghini (driving an ’85 Lamborghini Countach… red… rear spoiler… has always been a dream of mine!) my brain goes, “Well, if I sold everything and took everything from savings and “retirement”… I could almost buy that!” makes me think I might be having a midlife crisis topped with the taste of Widowhood. The emotional and psychological roller coaster has been quite entertaining!… and tiring.
It hasn’t been one specific thing or another causing me stress or making my brain feel like it’s on the Spin Cycle, it’s just been one little thing after another… one more thought that piggy backs on the previous one until I realize I don’t know which station the current Train of Thought left from! I’m all for wanderlust and finding adventure in the unknown or on the unfamiliar road, but in my Widowhood I have been fighting to regain that ability to look past Today… Tomorrow… into Next Week… and maybe Next Month. It has definitely gotten better in the last 3 years or so, but man… the relentlessness of Life can simply be overwhelming at times.
On The Fourth of July, I was reminded that there are experiences in our lives… some big… some small… that have the power to pull us out of that tailspin of trying to figure out the entirety of Life and instead creates a landing pad for a brief layover in the Present to help calm the nerves… and stomach… from the recent bouts of turbulence.
In December of last year, I wrote a post about losing an earring as I was running around the woods chain sawing trees down around the fire pit. The earrings were a gift from Kateri and made by our dear friend who also made our wedding rings… not to mention married us…! I was given them about two weeks after we learned of Kateri’s cancer, which was before we truly knew the extent and severity of her diagnosis. Needless to say… I was pretty upset with myself when I realized I was rocking the single earring look from the 80’s… 30 years late! Fortunately, one of the things Widowhood gives you is the knowledge and experience that things… important things!… sometimes just go away… and you just have to accept, deal with, and adapt to it.
Well, as I felt like my life was spinning out of control last Thursday, Amanda and I were up at the fire pit grabbing the cast iron griddle for Onion Burgers we were having that evening. I was proudly showing her how I had leaf blown all the pine needles away when I noticed her bend over and pick something up. Her fingers had that pinching look to them like when you pick up something small and/or delicate… and my mind went straight to, “No… WAY!”. When she turned around, in the palm of her hand was that almost complete circle of meteorite and gold!… without a back… and we both stood there in awe for a moment stunned by what had just happened…! To have that experience… at that moment in time… sorta slapped my brain back into focusing on what I have instead of what I’ve lost or asking the questions, “Where am I going?”, and “What am I doing with?” my life. It was a moment where I saw what I had… here… and now… and the clarity it provided quelled some of those runaway thoughts and brought a bit of comfort along with it.
Although Amanda finding the earring is huge and one of those “I can’t believe you did that!” type things for which I’m super grateful, it was pretty much luck that she happened to look down while standing directly over it. I love Amanda… not because she found the earring, but because when it was lost, she bought me a metal detector for Christmas to find it! She knew how much it meant to me. She knew my attachments to it. She knew I was beating myself up over losing it. And all she wanted to do was help ease some of the sadness that particular loss had given me by inserting Hope back into the equation.
Life can get hard sometimes and it can cause us to lose sight of all of The Good we are surrounded by. We unconsciously take for granted those things we need to support and carry us as we wander through this crazy world. I’m super thankful Amanda found my earring and it’s back being part of my day to day, but I’m even more thankful that she came into my crazy world, and I get to share each of those day to days… that I get to share my Life… with Amanda.
…and Xander.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
When Kateri died, I made the conscious decision not to go to the Doctor. If there was something going horribly wrong with my body… I just didn’t wanna know! I guess it also had something to do with the fact that the one thing… person… I loved more than anything was just plucked out of my world, and I didn’t really care if The Universe had the same fate for me. I didn’t want to know if I had high blood pressure, low platelet levels, tonsillitis, or even cancer. I felt as if my future was ripped away from me and I didn’t have the ability to look towards the upcoming days, months, and years with any sort of clarity, plan, or excitement. And I’ll be honest… it’s still a challenge!, but after 6 Years of Widowhood… I’m starting to take care of some things I have been pushing off simply because I didn’t wanna deal with them. I figured, being able to actually see the world I was left to live in without Kateri would be a nice “Step” in helping change my mindset from “It is what it is and I’m just gonna roll with it…” to… “I’ve got a lot to live for… I kinda wanna stick around for a bit and see where this or that goes… maybe I should take care of my things AND Myself…!?!”. Soooo, I went to the Eye Doctor… pressed my forehead against multiple strange contraptions… saw a little red barn… and apparently needed glasses!… which I kinda knew. (On a side note, I also paid out-of-pocket to get this done because the Health Care and Insurance industries in this country suck big ol’ donkey balls.)
Widower Notes n Thoughts… on getting glasses:
One of the things I love about Vermont is it’s (our) culture and traditions. At about this time of year, when the darkness starts to lift, when the frigidness takes a break as the sun sits in the sky a bit longer than the day before and life that has been dormant for the last however many months begin to take a peek to see if it’s their time to shine, a magical thing happens in these parts which we call… Maple Sugarin’! And… well… for the first time in my life I made my own… MAPLE SYRUP!!
I know I just said that “I” made “my own” maple syrup, but that was a lie. It was actually Amanda and I that made “our own” maple syrup… which now kinda makes me want to describe the “widower” side of this experience because it’s a challenge to be fully Present when your mind is saying things such as, “I wish Kateri and I had tried to tap our trees… or boil sap… make maple syrup from resources right from our own land..!” because she would’ve absolutely, 100%, whole heartedly loved… LOVED… it. Of course, she’s not here and hasn’t been for almost 6 years, but I have been here… and have had to learn how to find happiness in my Day to Day, in this new world with new experiences… without her. I’ve had to change a lot of things about myself, how I think about things, about how I view the world with the hopes of pulling myself out of the mud pit of Loss I was trudging through and to a degree… still am.
Luckily, sometimes when you’re trudging through the mud you find things that you maybe weren’t expecting or even looking for like friendship, companionship… and Love. I might not have been able to boil sap with Kateri, but I was able to have this unique experience with someone I share my home and life with, someone who makes me laugh, someone who I always wanna spend more time with, and most notably to this conversation… someone I Love.
It started with Amanda and I walking through the woods looking for Sugar Maples to tap. This would’ve been a much easier process if we knew what Maple Trees looked like without their leaves! After checking out books with pictures and searching The Oracle for answers, we went and bought 4 taps, sap buckets, and lids to start the inaugural 2024 Little Red Schoolhouse Sugarin’ Season by tapping 3 Sugar Maples… and 1 Northern Red Oak…!.. which is no longer tapped… and we found another Maple. We also scrounged together plastic buckets (food grade) to store the sap in until we had enough to make at least a little bit of syrup… considering it takes 40 gallons of sap to make 1 gallon of syrup!
After about a week we had accumulated around 8-9 gallons of sap and we figured we should boil it off before it spoiled. Now, we’ve never done this before, so we aren’t exactly set up for endeavors like this, but as I figure, and one thing I love about this process, is that at its most basic level, all we really need to do is have enough heat (fire) to boil water/sap and enough time to reduce it down to syrup. We can do that!… We’ve got the technology! So, on the windiest day of the week, we set up our Sugarin’ Station in the most inefficient way possible and spent the day… and part of the night!… chopping down trees to fuel the fire as our sap made that magical transformation from sweet water that’ll give you the shits to that golden nectar of the Gods… filled with all sorts of ash and whatever else was floating around the woods! It was a lot of fun, but we knew we could make the experience… and Maple Syrup… better.
A week. I figured we had a week until our second chance to do this boiling thing so there was a bit of time to find a better way. Contain the fire!… control the heat flow!… that was my goal. At first, I was gonna take some old, galvanized roofing that I had found in the woods (awe… Vermont) and make a firebox out of it where two hotel pans could sit in to increase the surface area and to limit ash and junk from getting into the syrup. As I was telling someone about this adventure and my plan for the firebox, someone else offered me a couple sheets of stainless steel to make the firebox out of!… how fortuitist!! So, over a couple of evenings, I figured out how to work with stainless steel and cobbled together our first firebox… with chimney and all! I gotta say, it’s pretty fun cutting and grinding metal, but I had that constant fear of accidentally slicing the palm of my hand off (even with gloves on!) or having a shard shred my eyeball or burning down the garage from the sparks flying as the grinder screeched through the stainless steel.
The second boil was much more efficient and productive, although enclosing the fire also meant limiting access to the heat that kept us warm as we stood there in the woods watching water (sap) boil! Honestly though, it wasn’t that cold of a day and the fact that it was taking about half the time compared to the first boil warmed us with excitement and accomplishment. Besides, all we really had to do was keep the fire going, keep adding sap, and simply enjoy each other’s company as we chatted about this and that and here and there. It was a pretty darn nice way to spend a Monday afternoon. I mean, I got to spend the morning in the garage finishing something I made to hopefully make our experience better (which was a wonderful learnin’ lesson in and of itself!), I spent the day in the woods burning shit with someone I love, and when Monday was all said and done, there were four and a half Ball jars sitting on the pie board in the kitchen filled with… MAPLE…FRICKIN’… SYRUP! (fuck… yeah!)
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
I was in the shower washing all the bits, pieces, and parts when I felt my right ear lobe and noticed that the earring Jake had made for me… which was a gift I had received from Kateri not too many days after we learned of her diagnosis… was gone. It took one more slippy squeeze of the ear with the brain thinking, “Maybe I missed it…?… just wasn’t paying attention…?”, before it turned to me envisioning the mini version of myself, the one who resides in my skull… and has a full head of hair, clenching his fists and screaming, “Muuuutherrr…. FUCKER!!”.
In reality, I just stood there staring at the subway tile as the hot water massaged the top of my shaved head, shoulders, and back (…I don’t shave my shoulders… or my back). The steam cushioned my naked body from the cold sitting just on the other side of the curtain waiting for its chance to insert a little shiver to the tail end of my shower. I thought about where I might’ve lost it and when. Then I thought about how I had spent all day outside snow blowing, chain sawing, burning stuff, and running through the woods and realized it could be anywhere on my little piece of Vermont. Heck, it could’ve been shot to the property across the road after taking a ride through the snowblower!
My mind wanted to make a run for it, but I was able to calm it down. I took a deep breath and simply stood there in the shower… the outside world silenced by the white noise of water pelting the shower curtain and ceramic… thinking about my life. I knew that if I wore those earrings day in and day out, one day one or both of them may go missing. And on Monday… one did. Of course, that didn’t stop me from slowly walking around the property with my headlamp cranked up to full brightness as it beamed straight down scanning the snow, dirt, twigs, and sawdust for any sign of a silverish three-quarter hoop the size of a dime. FYI… I live on 6.5 acres and haven’t found it… yet.
This post wasn’t gonna have anything to do about an earring, I just happened to lose it as I am going through a Widower Moment brought on by the passing of someone who resided in the periphery of my world. I have been thinking quite a bit about my life as of late, of my widowhood and my relationship with it, but it was an email at work which reminded me that after 5 Years, 7 Months, and 9 Days we have the ability to remember things, people, and moments with such vividness that we could swear it just happened, we just saw them, and/or we just experienced this or that as if it was yesterday. The harder part for me was not the fact that I could remember the last Doctor’s Appointment, the last “I Love You.”, or even the Last Breath… it was the fact that the feelings I had in each of those memories… those moments… bubbled up from wherever they were hiding and decided to go back on tour. Well, maybe just a three-day engagement… or guest appearance… either way, they were annoyingly loud and played songs that I simply don’t care for anymore.
This recent experience brought up mainly some of the crappy stuff in life… cancer, loss, death and such. It was hard to go through the last few days where the memories that fill my head were mainly of when Kateri was sick, when we watched cancer wear down her body in a matter of months, when I sat next to her holding her shark bite listening to her breath, and waking up to a world where I would never get to hold her again. It took one sentence in a work email to remind me that Loss does not have an expiration date. Loss doesn’t stop existing even if you haven’t felt the pain, sorrow, and bitterness of it in a while. Loss doesn’t disappear because you’ve moved to a new apartment, house, town, or country. After 5 Years, 7 Months, and 9 Days… I was reminded that Loss doesn’t just go away because “X” number of Days, Months, or Years have passed by. But after 5 Years, 7 Months, and 9 Days I was also reminded that neither does… Love.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
Do I look worried?… cuz I wasn’t…!.. not in the slightest!… once I learned that they were gonna use sedation during my first colonoscopy. As I figured, I’m either gonna be asleep through the whole thing or I wasn’t gonna remember it, so really, the roughest part was gonna be the preparation for the procedure as it entailed a lot of pooping… and little sleep… due to the time of my appointment. Since this was my first time, I did have the added anxiety of not knowing how my body was gonna react to drinking over half a pound of MiraLAX diluted in half a gallon of Yellow Gatorade! (not Purple, Red, or Blue) Questions creeped into my brain such as, “Would I have time to get to the appropriate areas of the Schoolhouse specifically designed for the expulsion of the contents of my bowels?”… “Does the cleaning out process come on quickly? Instantly?!!”… “Would I wake up in time if the kids needed to get to the pool in the middle of the night?… or would I shit all over the new bed Amanda and I just bought as our lives are becoming more and more intertwined…?!”. Luckily, there weren’t any moments of the cleanse where Amanda and I had to look at each other and say, “Well, we’ll just look back on this one day and have a good laugh!”. Nope… as they say at Yacht Rock Radio… it was Smooooooth Sailing…!
I had the colonoscopy because… well… there has been blood coming out of my butt for a bit. You would think if someone had blood coming out of their butt for a bit that they would want to see a Doc about it… and I did!… but didn’t. Honestly, I thought it was something like I had accidently wiped with a little too much force one day… maybe… and that it would simply heal and go away on its own… but it didn’t… it just kept bleeding. So, when I went to the Doc to have her look at my knee and elbow after my little fainting spell, I informed her of how I’ve been tearing through the OxyClean trying to save underwear, chef pants, and 501 Jeans from the embarrassing stain of sporadic apathy towards my personal health… and bodily fluids. She asked me to roll over onto my left side and said, “Let the games begin!!”. OK, she didn’t actually say that. She basically just said that she thought it was a bleeding internal hemorrhoid (she was wrong) and ordered a colonoscopy.
The procedure was pretty routine and as expected I fell asleep and don’t recall any of it. After starting the process 17 hours earlier, when my head hit that pillow, I don’t think they needed much Sleepy Syrup to get the job done… I was out! All I remember is how cozy and cool that crunchy hospital pillow felt on my upper cheek and then it was much anticipated sweet dreams for me! They told me I may wake up during the procedure, but that didn’t bother me. I kind of approached it the same way I approach turbulence when flying. It could be the bumpiest most anxiety riddled ride of my life… as long as we land and I’m able to walk off the plane…?… I’m cool with it! Of course, I do remember thinking it would be weird to wake up to my colon displayed on a 45″ TV three feet from my face. Luckily, that didn’t happen. I walked away with only pictures of the trip for memories.
They found a 10mm Sessile Polyp inside my rectum which was the source of the bleeding. (Rectum?!… it nearly killed him!!) Now… I know polyps are pretty common, but there’s always gonna be a certain level of worrying about the “What if’s..?” when you hear they cut out an abnormal growth from inside your pooper, used a tiny little metal clip (…inside there!) to seal it up, and sent it off to the lab to see if it’s business as usual?… or I’m gonna hit my Out-of-Pocket Maximum real quick like! You know?… the two extremes! Either way, a couple of things I learned from going through Kateri’s Dance with Cancer and then with My Mom’s was that I can only work with the information I have, and that patience is needed until the next opportunity arises in the timeline for new information. Basically, that whole “What’s in my control?… what isn’t?”… and whether or not to worry about it type of stuff. Luckily, I also learned not to go spelunking on the internet to find information!
Honestly, in the time since losing Kateri, I don’t really worry about too much. After that experience, which is still going on, nothing seems to be that big of a deal. Sure, there have been challenges and some sucky times in the past five and a half years, but they don’t even compare to the 4 months and 3 days that led up to Widower Day 1, the morning I woke up and truly felt… alone. Jesus… that was a crappy way to wake up! Thankfully, I’m not there anymore… I’m not in that space… that feeling of singularity in the world has dissipated some with the passing of Time. Heck, a big reason I wanted to get checked out is because there IS someone I wake up next to in the morning that I love and cherish and want to spend as much time as I can with! Thankfully (again), I didn’t crap all over her thigh as she tried to get some zzz’s before waking up early on a day off to drive me to get my innards swabbed.
Now it’s just The Waiting for Results Game. I can do that… wait. I’m actually pretty good at it. I find it pretty relaxing, actually. I mean, all you gotta do is… nothing! (Kinda like growing a beard or letting a fire die out… they’ll both happen without having to lift a finger!) Of course, it seems like when I do a lot of waiting for something, it’s then followed by a big burst of… Scrambling!… I really need to learn how to balance some of this shit out. Until then… I’ll just keep enjoying the scenery as I plug away at The Great Corn Maze of Life, amending direction when my steps lead me to dead ends, finding comfort knowing that I’m not wandering the labyrinth alone, and recognizing that sometimes I’m gonna get a little lost… a little confused… a little frustrated when I realize I’m in the middle of a cornfield wishing the butter wasn’t all the way back at the barn. (I have no idea what that is supposed to mean! Take from it what you will. Sorry, that’s what happens when I’m home alone on a day off and wanna be all “poetic” n shit because I smoked some pot and my brain is like, “Ya man… that’s so deep… you should totally immortalize that thought on the internet…!)
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
Pooper Update: Test Results came back and after Googling multiple words, I’m pretty sure it’s business as usual!!
I bought the John Deere hat on the right in Kittery, Maine 5 days after Kateri died… five years, six months, and eight days ago… but who’s counting?! Well, I guess I am… but it’s not like I have been continually… I just had to look at the ol’ calendar to figure it out. I haven’t counted the days for a few years, but sometimes something pops up in my world that makes me take a look at… Time… and it provides me with a little clarity… a different perspective.
It wasn’t until I got the new John Deere hat a few days ago that I realized just how worn the old one had gotten. I mean, I could obviously see when it first started to get sweat stains and I could feel the mesh start to soften up a bit. I noticed it when the fabric began to fray along the edge of the bill and the plastic readied itself for its unveiling. I loved it when it got to the point where it just flip flopped around and only resembled the shape of my head… until I put it on. I love the wear and tear… the visible effects of its life in this world where all it is doing is holding itself together… existing… while the sands of Time slowly erode it’s exterior as the grains roll past.
I love… LOVE!… this hat and everything I have attached to it. I’ll still throw it on from time to time and here and there, but it has done its job and now it’s… tired… so I’m gonna let it rest. I’m not gonna stuff it in a closet or hide it in a cabinet… and I’ll never throw it away, but for now it’s life will consist of more time simply chilling on The Pink Box… or maybe The Bookshelf for a change of scenery. Wherever it sits… wherever it is, I know it will be there for me for whenever I need to see it, feel it, or to put it on and find comfort in all the good, bad, fun, exciting, scary, challenging, inspiring, social, and deeply personal memories I have made with it over the last five years, six months, and eight days… but who’s counting?!
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
Kateri and I always said that we thought we would’ve enjoyed going to our wedding…! It was a good one. We surrounded ourselves only with people who we wanted to be surrounded by… on that specific day. Everyone who was there were there because we asked them to participate for this reason or that. Thankfully, they all said, “Yes.”… and I can’t thank each of them enough for the memories they have provided me to look back on as I reflect on my life. I am grateful for the faded mini movies that race past the tip of my brain from time to time, with their inklings of vividness pinballing off the backs of my eyeballs. They were good times, I say… good times.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
As I was running around work this morning, it was such a pleasant surprise to get a text from my sister reminding me that today is the anniversary of when I quit drinking alcohol… 17 years ago…! I love my sister and I… wait, I was about to write “can’t believe she remembered blah, blah, blah”… but that’s not true. I CAN believe she remembered and reached out… because she is a wonderfully caring person, and it means the world to me that if I can’t get a text from my mom wishing me a “Happy Birthday!” to remind me, I was still able to have that “Oh ya, I quit drinking today” type of feeling and slow realization of a significant accomplishment in my life… followed by the feeling of being loved by someone who I admire, respect, and unconditionally love. My sister… she’s pretty frickin’ awesome. (I mean, there’s a few conditions, but I’m not too worried about any of those happening…!)
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
As I was driving home from work one day a couple of weeks ago, I noticed the leaves have started their annual metamorphosis and I realized I haven’t posted anything this summer… even though there have been a few big things that have happened in my life and in my Widowhood over the last threeish months. Ok, there was really one main big thing that happened followed by a few other fun things, but that one big thing took up some time and space in my everyday life. Luckily, I kinda had an episode yesterday where I sorta fainted, hit my face on the Jelly Cupboard, and woke up on my dining room floor in a puddle of water with a knee that… well… just doesn’t feel very good… and Amanda crouching over me with the look of worry in her eyes… yay! (Don’t worry… I’m fine. Everything’s fine.) So today I’m taking it easy… not moving cinder blocks and slate up to the firepit for our wood-fired hot tub… and am gonna catch up on getting some things down on paper…!
So… the big news on the widower front… my girlfriend Amanda and I made the decision to move in together and have her shimmy on up to The Little Red Schoolhouse…! Let me tell you, as a widower… as for me… having to go through the process of the two of us talking about it, coming up with timeframes, contemplating challenges for each of us, feeling the excitement about unknown possibilities ahead while reminiscing on memories from the past and how I would deal with combining the two… well… it was a lot…! I will say though, after the five plus years since Kateri died and having spent the bulk of that time with Amanda, it’s nice to have that feeling of sharing my life with someone I love again. I haven’t been able to look into the future very far since Kateri passed, but I’m at a point where that is changing… slowly… but it’s changing…!
Preparing for Change…!
The Little Red Schoolhouse… my Home… is filled with my life and over the last 5 years and 4 months it has provided me with a space that I could use to feel grounded in a world that was completely new to me… a world without Kateri. Although Kateri was no longer by my side, I needed to hold onto some of those things that provided me with a certain level of closeness to her. Even as mine and Amanda’s relationship grew, The Schoolhouse was still my space and I set it up in a way that I felt was best for me to deal with this stoopid life of Widowhood. In some ways… I was nesting.
As Amanda and I slowly got to the decision of her moving in, I thought about her and how to initially make The Schoolhouse a little less like a shrine to my memories and more of a starting point to setting up our Home… which basically came down to moving some “Kateri Centric” items that had helped me cope in the past and which I felt I could live without seeing everyday if it meant it made the space more comfortable for Amanda. For this post, I decided to simply upload some pics and give a little blurb about each of them. There are about 1,372 other pics I could’ve used to illustrate the experiences this widower went through while preparing for a significant change in life… but you’ll get the idea.
Good Morning
I am sorry I am not here, but I love you more than anything… and I’ve got my rock. Enjoy the morning with some coffee…. I miss you already.
Love
Darren
Kateri and I got this box while living in Colorado. We used it for a variety of things, but since we bought The Schoolhouse, it has lived in the mudroom where we would stage recycling before it made its way to the garage. I never understood why we didn’t just take recycling to the garage so after Kateri died it became basically just a flat surface for me to put things on… and for a memory. Some might simply see an old yellow box, but for me it reminds me of when I got so frustrated with the situation that I put my boot through the front/right side of it… and I have had to live with the fact that I did that as Maria and I were trying to get Kateri to the Cute Little Jeep so that we could take her to the ER… and that this was the last time Kateri was… home. Yup, that’s been a hard one to live with.
Iris’s and Poppies. Kateri was a flower farmer and I love that she made beds and planted plants at our home that come to life year after year. Sometimes when I go out in the evening and the sun is setting, I’m taken aback by the beauty that the natural world provides us in our lives and the ability Kateri had to capture it.
The Last Night…!
Once Amanda and I made the decision to live together, the countdown started. For five plus years I learned to become comfortable with being alone and actually cherished certain aspects of it. One of those things is that ever since Xander came into our life just under two years ago, it was me and him at The Schoolhouse. I can’t even begin to tell you how much of an impact he has had on my life. We both lost Our People to the “unfairness” in the world, but somehow came into each other’s life. I like to call him “The Roommate”… but he’s so much more that. He’s my companion… my buddy. He came into my life at the perfect time… even though it meant that Amanda and I lost a friend. I’m honored that Judy entrusted us to take care of the love of her life. Although she was looking for someone to take care of Xander, I think she was also thinking of who he could help take care of, as well.
As the days went by… as they do… it finally came to The Last Night…! The last night where Xander and I live alone. The last night of this being My Space. The last night of texting Amanda “Goodnight”… which we have done almost every night since we’ve met. The last night of going upstairs, crawling into bed, and Xander jumping over me as he assumes his position at the foot of the bed… then pushing his paws against my legs as if I’m the one taking up all the space! I miss that. Of course, now it means that I get to lean over and kiss Amanda goodnight… instead of texting her… which is much better!
For my Last Night, I ate Flatbread, smoked some pot to honor mine and Kateri’s past (and because I like pot), and put together a Lego… because I have found putting together Legos is fun and helps me relax… and I might be addicted. The pic of Xander is the last night he had free range to half the bed.
The Move In…!
I’m finding it kinda funny that I don’t really have much to say about the actual moving in! Luckily, Amanda didn’t have a bunch of furniture or a large Beanie Baby collection that she felt the need to have on display. Nope, it was pretty much smooth sailing!
Amanda and I have always communicated well, and I think that it worked in our favor as we maneuvered through this new endeavor. Once the time came, we really just tried to enjoy it!… and not freak out. For both of us, the excitement far overshadowed any trepidation we had with the decision. For me… it was a welcomed change and seems to be the right time. Although there are still some things in boxes, we’ve settled in nicely…!
I absolutely LOVE how we decided to store our cookbooks! Old boxes… Good Housekeeping would be proud.
The Second Annual Sister Visit…!
I have another post started about this new little annual event the four of us seem to have started so I’m not gonna get into it here, but it was wonderful time filled with BBQ, Duck Races in downpours, cooking hot dogs at the fire-pit, and nightly friendly games of Uno with family. (Sorry, that’s a lie… there’s no friends in Uno!)
The Wood Pile…!
Another part of the Annual Sister Visit I’ve come to love is the stacking of the wood pile! It’s been fun coming up with different configurations the last few years and it tickles me pink that my Sis and Bro-in-Law truly enjoy doing it!
After seeing how his wood was stacked, I was all ready to claim victory over my neighbor who isn’t aware of the competition we are in together, but then I saw that he’s chopping more wood… I’m gonna have to check the rule book.
Amanda’s nephew came to Vermont to visit us at The Schoolhouse before he starts his first year of college at Alabama… the Roll Tide one… pretty sure. It was fun hanging with him talking about life while hiking up Bald Top or chillin’ by the fire or playing Bananagrams as a Don Toliver playlist makes its way through the speakers. He’s a good kid… young adult… and I look forward to hearing about and seeing where his choices take him. (I’m refraining from making any cracks about Alabama… it’s a beautiful state… with lots of billboards… which seem to be for local lawyers, politicians, mattress stores… or telling you to Go to Church or The Devil Will Get You!!..!)
The Wood-Fired Hot Tub…!
I’ve been talking about making a wood-fired hot tub for years now. Whenever we could, depending on where we were living, Kateri and I always tried to make an outdoor shower. Once in a while we were even able to have a HOT outdoor shower!… but we never had a tub. We talked a lot about making one, especially after we sat in the wood-fired clawfoot tub in the bath house Chichi and John built in the woods of Vermont during the early 2000’s. There was a parlor stove, window, tile and everything!… it was magical.
One of the things I love about Amanda is that she is supportive and can be motivating! She’s been listening to me talk about this wood-fired water trough thing for a while now and one day she was like, “Ok, let’s go get what we need!”… so, we did! We’re actually still in the building stage. I mean, we tested it out in the back yard just to see if it would work… and because we could fill it from the garden hose, but the plan is to have it up at the fire-pit… which we’ve already started to piece together.
The building of the Water Trough Hot Tub has been a wonderful experience for me on both the Widower Side of things (…those things I still do that remind me of Kateri, our life, what she taught me about myself, about what’s important, and how to live without her…) and my present life. On the Present Side, I’ve loved everything about doing this project with Amanda. We’ve definitely had a few hiccups and head scratches followed by a few laughs, but we’ve certainly had fun throughout all of it…! On the Widower Side, it’s just one of those activities that I know Kateri would’ve really enjoyed doing and it simply reminds me of her and how wonderful she was.
There’s an old well at the edge of the woods in my back yard which I figured we could use to fill the tub up with water. The water in the well is crystal clear, but we tested it anyways… it’s an old frickin’ well for goodness sakes!… who knows what type of bacteria, microbes, or other tiny ass little buggers are living in there?! Would I drink it?… No. Would I fill up a water trough with it and sit in it?… yes. Will I buy some sort of chlorine tablet/liquid/goop and learn the appropriate ratio/amount to kill everything that may pose a threat to my future bowel movements if they happen to get in my mouth or enter my body through some other opening?… (like my ears or my nose!)… Definitely. Now we just need to figure out how to pump the water out of the well, up a hill, and into the trough!
A Widower’s Thought On: Opening an old ass well for the first time in “Who Knows How Long?” without having any knowledge, information, or idea of what to expect…
Xander Turned 9…!!
He was super excited to get to wear his little glittery gold top hat again this year and eat the Peanut Butter-Pumpkin with Peanut Butter and Greek Yogurt Frosting Birthday Cake that Amanda made him. Fun times!
Down to the Last Smartie…
Well, here we are… down to the last Smartie.
I had bought a bag of them in June when a couple of my Sister-in-Laws came over to go through Kateri’s clothes before Amanda moved in. I figured the timing would create a more comfortable environment for everyone involved for an event such as that. I used a wooden bowl to hold them for easy access, but we didn’t eat the entire package. So, over the next couple of evenings I made my way through them until I got to the last one… just sitting there… all alone… in an almost empty bowl. I decided to save it for my last evening alone in The Schoolhouse… but it’s currently still sitting on the stool I use as a nightstand next to the bed. I’m sure I’ll be trying to unwrap them with the stealthiness of a Candy Ninja, so as not to wake up Amanda, in the middle of the night at some point… it just hasn’t happened yet.
Kateri would call Smarties her “Pills”. For her Celebration of Life, we had bought a ton of them and there were quite a few left over, which I was able to finish off over the course of a few months… and then my buddy started sending me a bag of them every time I ran out!
Smarties remind me not just of Kateri, but also of my life in the months/year just after she died and what that time was like for me. It was confusing, scary, sad, traumatic, relentless, fucked up and kinda just generally sucked. But it wasn’t all doom and gloom every second of the day. Some days it took something smaller than a dime to remind me of that. When I had Smarties… life got better! I mean, life didn’t get better since the passing of Kateri solely because of those little stacks of fruity sugar heaven wrapped in cellophane memories, it’s because Time has a way of healing the wounds life offers us as payment for the experience of giving, receiving, and feeling… Love.
Xander and I had taken our walk around the loop after I had gotten home from work and I had made him do his three tricks for me before I gave him his Greenie when I was finally able to plop down in the Kateri/Xander Chair and relish in the fact that I didn’t have to wake up to an alarm in the morning and was already at the start of my weekend… hooray! As Xander crunched away and added another layer of foamy drool to the carpet, it was nice to just sit, relax, reflect on the day/week, and just breath for a minute. After a moment of quiet and calm, I did like most people in those situations and started flipping through my phone to pass a little time.
I had made a few notes on the ol’ iPhone 8 earlier that I knew I was just gonna delete. So, as I sat there wondering how many gallons of Canine Saliva the rug has soaked up over the last year and a half, I took advantage of where I was at, opened the app and deleted the notes. I then proceeded to scroll through older notes to see if I could get rid of anymore! Yay for iPhone Storage Maintenance! Now, I would like to say that I am organized and can effectively use technology to help me stay organized, but I’m one of those people who would much rather jot something down on a piece of scrap paper or document important things in multiple spiral notebooks than use “this app “or “that software” to keep my life in order. Regardless, once in a Blue Moon I’ll dictate something into my phone while driving so as to remember whatever random thought I felt I needed to remember, or I’ll type something in the moment because I felt whatever information I just heard needed to be immortalized in some cloud for the rest of human civilization… all to feel like I’m hip and not falling behind The Times!
As I was scrolling through keeping this note or deleting that one, I came across one from last year that kinda stopped me dead in my tracks. It said, “Feb. 18/19, 2022… My mom and I just put Legos together until 1:12 in the morning.” Yup… that brought back a flood of memories! Not to mention that I had made the decision to set the world aside for a tiny bit the evening I was going through old notes and was gonna put a Lego together while in comfy clothes as I watched something informative and educational on The Boob Tube such as The History of the Combover for my Friday Night and found the Lego thing to be a nice little coincidence!… and then I cried as Xander stared at me from his spot on the couch across the room. (He doesn’t have “a spot”… the couch is his.)
After allowing myself to just “Go with the flow of the moment”, I felt the need to breath normally instead of the hiccupy gaspy breathing pattern crying forces us to do! So, as my breathing slowed my mind was able to shift from memories of my mom and some of the experiences we had back to present day life. It felt good to take some deep breaths as I massaged my forehead and pressed my fingers into my eye sockets. The room was blurry from the wall of tears still resting under my eyes and it felt good to rub them away. I sat there for a moment…with my eyes closed… going between rubbing the eyeballs to wiping the salty water on my pant leg as my brain began to apply the brakes and I started to think about what I could take away from this experience. Before I decided to open my eyes, I gave my shaved head one more squeeze… my face one more wipe as I stretched my eyelids and eyebrows to my temples… and slowly watched as life came back into focus. As my hand was retreating from my face and when it got to about ten inches from my chin, I saw the various scars of Kitchen Life on my weathered fingers while another part of Present-Day Life came into focus as it was making its way around my knuckle…………. A TICK!!!… and yes, I FREAKED!!!
Let me tell you… and “Sorry” Mom… but my mind pushed EVERYTHING aside and went straight into SURVIVAL MODE! I didn’t know what to do! I can’t just flick it!… I’d only be flicking it to another position IN my house! Could I make it outside?!… before it latches on?! Maybe?! Maybe not!! As I jumped out of the chair (in a controlled manner so as not to set it free in my home) I saw the woodstove and my brain instantly went, “Flick it in there!”. So I lifted the lid, strategically positioned my hand in the opening, and plinked the little bastard with 127 pounds of pressure from my fingernail somewhere into the two square feet of ashy prison I had decided was the best place for it to go! I feel like my plan would’ve been good… if I had a fire going… but I didn’t. Now I’m worried it’s gonna somehow get out of the stove, back into the house, and latch onto my back somewhere… just out of reach…! So, I do the logical thing and start catching pieces of newspaper and junk mail on fire and then quickly opening the lid to throw them into The Tick’s own little personal crematorium! I mean, I’m not gonna put paper in the stove and then put my hand in there to light it… there’s a tick in there! After about a Sunday’s Edition of the New York Times worth of paper, I felt safe enough to say, “Crisis averted.”.
As I stood there in my living room with my hands on my hips… Xander staring at me quizzically from his couch… I laughed at myself and simply went on with the start of my weekend.
Yup, I can over-analyze just about anything…! I was trying to figure out what to title this little post and thought about whether Kateri should be the in first part or should “The Widower” stuff start it off…? I decided to begin with “The Widower” stuff because that is kinda what April 22, 2023 was about for me. Yes, Kateri was Up Front and Center in my brain on Saturday because it was the five-year anniversary of her passing, but it was also a chance for me to take a day at The Schoolhouse to not worry about the world beyond the trees, to relax, putz & ponder, and to reflect on these last five years without her by my side as I live My Widowed Life.
After five years, these types of dates and anniversaries still bring up memories of pain, uncertainty, cancer, and loss… but as I move further and further away from Kateri’s Last Breath, those types of memories have dissipated in intensity and frequency to the point where I am able to get up and enjoy the day instead of putting on one of her hoodies as I watch Seinfeld in bed while eating Ben & Jerry’s Americone Dreams… trying not to get ice cream on the photo albums…! Widowhood is an all-encompassing and relentless experience. It touches every aspect of my life and is something I will live with until the day I die, but after five years I have realized it is getting to be simply (not so simply) a part of my life which happens to also be filled with a whole bunch of other things that are much more fun to focus on than… death…!
So, how did I spend the day? Well… to be honest… my goal was to just relax, do some things that I thought Kateri would enjoy which would also provide me with a sense of accomplishment, and learn how to make a little “movie” to document it…? Let me tell you, if you have never made a “clip” or smashed a bunch of videos together and are using a four-year-old iPhone 8 at home in Vermont with horrible internet… it takes a while…!.. but it was pretty fun to learn. Now I need to learn how to add music..! There is nothing special about the video… no deep insights… no fireworks… it’s just 20 minutes out of the1,440 Saturday gave me to reflect on life… with a minute or two at the end from New Year’s Eve 2018 that I’m glad I will always have.
It was quite the beautiful view outside the airplane window yesterday morning. Amanda and I were flying home after spending the last five days in her old stomping grounds to celebrate her parent’s 50th Wedding Anniversary (Woohoo!… 50!… that’s pretty cool!… but I’ll get more into that). After spending the night trying to get comfy in the one square foot that airlines give you these days, the warmth of that sunrise was the perfect way to be welcomed home to the East Coast. Unfortunately, there was still another flight… and then an hour and a half drive back to The Schoolhouse before the traveling was done, but that sunrise was a nice way to start the day… which hadn’t really ended from the day before.
We got home late morning so I took advantage of the time, unpacked, and did laundry so that I could start the work week feeling settled. After being up for what we figured was around 30 hours I wasn’t exactly doing anything quickly, but the sun was out so I felt the need to do something… and then sit… do something else… and sit again. It hit me during one of my little breaks, as I sat in Kateri’s/Xander’s Chair and thought about this trip, that I am kinda dealing with another sort of loss from my life that is simply collateral damage from the loss of Kateri. She came from a big family… she had 7 siblings… and each of them were a huge part of Kateri’s and my life. It’s sorta The Nature of the Beast, but when Kateri died the frequency of Damato Interactions went the way of the dodo simply because she isn’t here. I love my In-Laws just as much now as I did when Kateri was alive, and I know they still love me, but life has changed for all of us. As I was staring out the big ol’ Schoolhouse window decompressing in the chair, I thought about how much I miss having them in my life… because they’re pretty awesome. Being widowed is technically the loss of a spouse, but in widowhood… you learn that you lose so much more. (Ok, that’s sounds a little dramatic. Kateri’s death is the big “loss” here… everything else is really just… different.)
Intermission
(I needed to eat dinner… then I ate a pint of Ben & Jerry’s… and then fell asleep on the couch. I’m back.)
The reason for this trip to Oregon was to celebrate Amanda’s parent’s 50th Wedding Anniversary. Amanda and her sister were asked to help with the party planning and to create a program (speech) which they would present to the guests. This was also quite a fairly good-sized shindig… 126 or so people!… so, we thought it would be a good idea to get there a few days early in case there were any party planning crisis..es. Amanda doesn’t get home much, so it was also a nice opportunity for her to catch up with family and a few friends. For me, I was excited to learn more about a woman who since the day I met her, I’ve just kinda wanted to know… more. I was looking forward to meeting people whom I’ve only seen in video, or heard stories about, or hadn’t met at all. I was thrilled to play my part in this little adventure… The Boyfriend!
For the most part, I just didn’t want to embarrass Amanda, disrespect anyone, or make an ass of myself…! In hindsight, I think I did ok. Also in hindsight, I don’t think I was expecting to receive as much as I did from this trip… even if no one knew they were giving me anything or I didn’t recognize it at the time. This trip allowed me to once again feel what it is like to be part of… how do I say this… someone else’s family… one that is sizeable and substantial… one that has history and stories and made up of all walks of life. I got to spend time with a family that loves one another. Yes, family is family and anyone reading this probably understands what that means (…eye roll, eyebrow raise, little head nod…) and can give examples of their own challenging experiences with Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, Moms & Dads and annoying little brothers, but again… I’m The Boyfriend… just along for the ride with helping hands when needed…! I might’ve heard some tales about this person or that, but from my experience… they were all fascinating, delightful, and warmhearted people… mostly… 98.7%.
Intermission…#2
(Once again, I had to eat dinner… and then something came up… got distracted… went to bed. Now, take 3.)
People at work have asked me about the trip… How was it? How’d it go? and all that jazz… and I’ve gotta say that I’ve really enjoyed sharing some of the things I dug about our little excursion. It was nice to actually see where Amanda grew up and has spent most of her life. I think that where we live and the people who come in and out of our lives adds a uniqueness to each of our stories. The more we know, the better we can try to understand… well… “Where this person is coming from”… what makes them tick… what makes them… “them”.
Considering this being my first time visiting… and meeting a bunch of Amanda’s family, being “The Boyfriend” also afforded me the opportunity to sorta… observe… and there was something that kinda touched me on a couple of different fronts (Widowhood, Kateri, Amanda, relationships, marriage, anniversaries… love). When it comes down to it, we were there to celebrate the life of two people whose relationship as Husband and Wife started 50 years ago. As I tagged along here and there, as I hung out at their house watching and listening to 8 people simply doing what they do in a world I’ve only peeked into, I saw a beautiful thing… this thing called Love. I’m not talking the Love parents have for their children, grandchildren, or vice versa n such. And I’m not talking about the Love I saw between friends who haven’t been in the same space in way too long. No, I’m talking about the Love that has endured the ups and downs of building a life together for over half a century. It wasn’t the hundred and twenty whatever guests at the party or the beautiful slide show their Son-in-Law put together of their life that showed it to me. Nor was it the number of cards I saw in the basket congratulating them on this milestone. It actually had nothing to do with anything except for how Amanda’s parents interacted with… each other. They were comfortable together in that best friend kinda way. They were happy and excited to be sharing this experience with people in their life. They were proud. And when they danced to an audience at their 50th Wedding Anniversary, they were the perfect picture of two people who can take a moment away from the world as they get swept up in each other’s arms and in their love for one another… just the two of them… Husband & Wife.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
I’ve decided to use my sledding experience… the one last week, where my ass had an unwelcomed interaction with the stump of a tree…!… as my first piece as a Performance Artist… who takes pictures awkwardly in the bathroom using an iPhone 8, his girlfriend’s tripod, and late wife’s mirror. I call this piece……… Three Days of The Moon: Left Behind.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
I just had to utter those famous last words… “One… More……… Time.”… (that was stoopid)
Don’t ever let anyone tell you that you’re too old to go sledding. I mean, it may take you a little longer to walk up the hill… and it may take a little longer to get up out of the snow pile you just plowed through when you went off course… but c’mon!… it’s still fun!! Of course, statistics show that it’s almost a guarantee that 72% of most of the time someone… SOMEONE!… will get hurt. Yesterday… that person was me, all because I had to utter those words, “One… More……. Time.”. Now, I realize that it isn’t really because of some words I uttered that my future held this meeting between nature and my body… but I found it ironic that I literally said those words maybe six minutes before… The Encounter…!
It was a snow day. The storm was finishing up on Monday (our day off) and Amanda and I had made it a plan to hang out in the woods, snowshoe the path over and over to pack down the snow to make walking Xander a bit easier, and to make a sledding run somewhere on my hill… which may or may not also have a whole bunch of trees providing excitement, danger, and the possibility of a concussion. We decided to focus on making one sledding run. That way we could spend more time on making a longer… and funner! (yes, that’s a word) sledding run.
As we made loops around the property packing down Xander’s path (Xander now has ownership of the couch, the chair, his bed… my bed, the two corners of the rug, right in front of the woodstove, and the path in the woods..!) we would try to find lines through the trees that would dump us into the back yard because it seemed safer than ending in the road, at my wood pile, the garage, or a rock wall. We decided on a line that would take us from the upper path, down around the fire pit, bank to the left, thread the trees, pop out just below the old water well which sits beneath the rock ledge, and safely drift to a stop in the spacious back yard. After an afternoon of cutting branches, blazing a path, shoveling snow to create walls, banks, and a starting point… after trudging up the hill just to let gravity tell us where to improve, strengthen, or avoid time and time again… I’ve gotta say, we have a pretty good start to a pretty awesome sledding run… that I don’t know when I’ll be able to enjoy again.
It took quite a few tries to figure it out… the path the sledding run would actually take. It wasn’t until the second shift… after chips and queso… that we really started getting some distance. Thats when it becomes dangerous. With each run, we would make it further and further… but we never actually made it all the way down without either needing to push a little bit to get around a corner or simply starting over from a dead stop. We were so close!!… but we also needed to make/eat dinner at some point! So, we decided on one more run each and then it would be time for pork chops and potatoes. Of course, I’m a child and I was sooooo close to making it all the way down that when I got to the bottom and looked up to where Amanda was standing and filming the words just fell out of my mouth… “That was so close!… I gotta try just One… More…….Time!”
I was fully expecting to stay in the sled the entire run, to have it be my best run of the day, to split the trees at the bottom and pop out of the woods and into my back yard where the snow was a giant snowy crash pad and where I would jump up in ecstatic victory! In reality, I made it maybe a fifth of the way down before… well… nature’s booby trap changed the course of not only my sled, but of my immediate future, as well. I hadn’t realized it, but we had worn down the run (and I might’ve shoveled a little too much… maybe) to where a tiny stump was sitting… waiting… just below the surface. As I took off from the top with that little kid excitement and dreams of greatness, I could hear the plastic sled gaining speed as it slid over the frozen ramp when I zipped between the trees, anticipated the first turn, and then BAM!… booby trap. I didn’t go flying, per se. I didn’t land 10 feet away or anything. I was simply stopped in my tracks by my tail bone playing bumper cars with a tree stump that decided it had had enough of our shenanigans. (Yes, I’m putting the blame on the tree stump. It knows what it did!) Let me tell you… I instantly knew what had happened… and it didn’t feel good. I had to lay there a moment… groaning… wondering if I was gonna be able to get up and walk, or if blood was squirting out of my ass, or if I even had an ass anymore! After a few minutes of assessing the situation, I noticed I didn’t feel blood pooling in the crotch of my long johns or running down my leg or anything… YAY!… so it was probably time for me to get up, gather our tools, snowshoes, and sleds… hobble back to The Schoolhouse… and call it a day.
One… More…….Time. I’m glad I said those words. I’m glad I wanted to try to make it all the way down before we called it quits. I may have bruised my butt and am now forced to tell friends and coworkers why I’m walking funny, but it was worth it. I’ve always enjoyed sledding. Before I got the snow blower, shoveling provided nice big piles of snow and I used to love making the sledding run that lined the driveway from The Schoolhouse down to the road. To this day, the video I have of Kateri and I sledding down it under the cover of darkness and hearing her laugh… it still hits me everywhere. I’m glad I still get to go sledding on my property. I’m also glad to have the opportunity to hear the laughter of someone I love as we share the experience of playing in the snow. It simply warms my heart… and has taught me that “One, More, Time” can sometimes lead to more than you were expecting.
The first video is one of Amanda on a run where she almost made it all the way down. I just wanted to show what the run is shaping up to be. In the second video, the thump is when the stump decided to break the sled and say hello to my asshole. I’m thrilled we have it on video so I can relive the trauma over and over again…!
Update: Day 2… the bruising is coming in nicely.
I was standing in the garage the other night doing the ol’ routine of chopping kindling and looking around wondering how I could rearrange all the crap I’ve accumulated over the years when the thought “I Live Alone in a Life Built for Two” popped into my head. It was one of those moments that just kinda creeped into the brain. As I thought about it, I realized it wasn’t exactly accurate or really even how I feel about my widowhood and life these days, although I vividly remember the times when “alone” was the feeling I had from the time I woke up in the morning to the time I went to sleep… sometimes also in the early morning hours. I’m glad I had that sorta sad thought cross my mind… it reminded me of how life isn’t stagnated… that we have our own unique ebbs and flows… and that I’m not alone. It made me bring back into focus the people who are still in my life, those who have come into my life, and although there are those whom I can no longer hold in my arms… I carry them with me as I flub through my day to day in a reality, which for decades… I could not have imagined.
I don’t know how I found it or what I was looking for when it showed up on the computer screen, but I came across an article and snippet of an interview where Steven Colbert asks, “What do you think happens when we die, Keanu Reeves?”. The selfless simplicity of Keanu’s answer, knowing he’s had significant losses in his life, just kinda hit me when his response was, “I know that the ones that love us, will miss us.”. Thank you, Mr. Reeves, for focusing on life… even when asked about your thoughts on death. (That was totally profound, Ted… super deep. You’ve come a long way from, “All we are is dust in the wind, dude”…!)
Yesterday, it caught me by surprise… the feelings that come along when you live with loss in your life. I do what I call “Huddles” with the crew at work every morning to check in, relay information, and give the team a platform to share things they may have questions about… or simply want to share. For a long time it was mostly just me talking to blank stares, which is why I started asking the question, “What is one good thing that has happened to you today?”. For a long time I would get the ol’, “It’s eight o’clock in the morning… I’ve got nothing.” type of responses… so I started forcing them to give me something… anything. It doesn’t need to be earth shattering or life changing, but I think we can all recognize something … at any point in our day… that we can view as good, positive, and sometimes even… beautiful. Well, yesterday, as we were getting ready for a busy Saturday and finishing up our Huddle I got to witness a quick interaction that pulled at the ol’ heartstrings…!
We were going around the kitchen sharing our “good things” when one person said how they were able to have a cup of coffee and give their mom a hug before she went to work. What hit me was when another crew member basically told them to cherish those moments with their mom. I think the reason it hit me was because I know the person who gave that little piece of adivce has experienced loss… and specifically in this case, the loss of his mom. When he gave that advice, he didn’t go into any big story or expand on his thoughts, it was simply “Cherish those moments.”. Right at that moment, the love I have for my mom and the pain that her loss created in my life came rushing back… when I wasn’t expecting it. I literally felt my throat get choked up and my eyes widen as I kept the tears from forming in the corners before they could slide down my cheeks and nestle into my beard. The intensity at which the loss of my mom came rushing back was staggering to me, as well as my ability to stop it and push it to the side so that I could get on with the day… and then deal with it later.
My widowed life seems to have hit a point where it’s just kinda humming along. The peaks and valleys have flattened out a bit to rolling hills… and smaller valleys. Although I am happy and there are things/people I’m excited about, for the most part it’s just one foot in front of the other. So when moments like these pop up… I actually kinda love them. They remind me of what’s important in life. They remind me of my priorities. They remind me of the love I have in my heart for the people who are no longer by my side or in my physical world. This specific experience, a quick little Huddle with no real discernable difference from any other Huddle, reminded me that loss is something I simply live with… and that the love I have for my Mom, for Kateri, for Mary Ann, and for friends who are no longer here is just as strong and powerful as the day they died.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
I live a life enveloped in loss. After four years, two months, and 18 days I feel like Life is using bubble wrap to soften the loss as I ping pong against the walls of my day to day… I’m just surprised on how much packing tape Life used to keep my loss safe and secure!
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
The red and rotting picnic table was strategically placed over a stump at The Little Red Schoolhouse when Kateri and I bought it. Our only plan with it was to take an evening and simply torch it in the back yard, but with the move and excitement of owning our first home we never really got around to it in that first fall/winter/spring, which proved to be a good thing. My whole fam damily came that first summer we were in The Schoolhouse and as Kateri and I were preparing for their arrival we realized we didn’t exactly have enough table space… or chairs… for everyone! So, Kateri got some of that picnic table themed vinyl stuff and we wrapped the benches and table top with it, I screwed a 2×4 to one of the deteriorating legs so that it would make contact with the ground, and Voila!… table for 8!… or 9… maybe 10. We figured we would use it for that week and do something with it after they left. Well… it’s been seven years and even though it proved to be useful in the years since it was used as a stump cover… the plasticky vinyl covering is destroyed, the wood has just kept rotting as it sat in the rain and snow, and frankly…. I just got sick of thinking about how and when I would get rid of it…! So as I thought about how I wanted to spend my 5th Wedding Anniversary as a Widower, the picnic table came to mind and I decided to do something about it.
My widowed life has taken a little to get used to. Things pop up that kinda catch me by surprise such as the fact that I have lived longer in our Little Red Schoolhouse by myself than with Kateri, yet I’m surrounded by twenty years of life I shared with her as I move forward through time without her. I’m still learning how to accept the “Instant Independence” that death handed me while also experimenting on ways to make Our Little Red Schoolhouse… Our Home… into My Home. The Picnic Table was one of those things that has a strong attachment to Kateri for me, as well as a strong attachment to my Widowed Life every time I walk past it and think about how much I just don’t want to see it anymore. So I thought tearing it apart would be a wonderful way to remember some fun moments Kateri and I had with it, it would be another step (albeit small) into “My Life”, and it would give me an opportunity to use power tools!… and maybe light something on fire.
A table can mean all sorts of things and we can put all sorts of significance on gathering around one for a meal, a celebration, for a serious talk, or those times we sit there by ourselves with nothing but our thoughts. Sometimes a table is a “Catch-all” for those things we carry around in our pockets all day or it can simply be a flat surface for us to put something on that we plan to deal with later. Going through the experience of celebrating my 5th Wedding Anniversary (would’ve been our 11th Wedding Anniversary/twenty-thirdish year together) without my wife… spending time cutting that picnic table into little chunks and hauling it up to the fire pit and then sitting and staring at the flames as they gradually illuminated the trees while the Autumn Sun slowly set behind the Green Mountains, I realized that a table… even an old, rotting, and weathered one… has the ability and strength to hold so much more than I expected it to.
Random Widower Thoughts:
On September 24, 2021 Xander came to the schoolhouse for a temporary stay… and never left. Sometimes when we live a life touched by loss, some of those losses teach us lessons when we look for them and gives us things when we… weren’t. Xander came into my life four days before my 4th Wedding Anniversary without Kateri. He was by my side as I went through that anniversary crying in my bed, sitting on my deck pondering life, or doing whatever. I thought about how he was in a new space… with a new person… and not with Judy (even though at that point his stay was still just a temporary thing and we thought they would be reunited). I wondered what he was thinking about. I hoped he wasn’t sad, but felt he knew something was up. For almost a year now, all I’ve wanted to do was make sure he has the best life I can give him. I want him to have the easiest life I can provide for him. I want him to be himself. I want him to be a dog being a dog. I want him to be happy and feel like he’s home in a life which is so different from what he knew on September 23, 2021. I want him to feel loved… because I’ve got so much frickin’ love for the guy that I don’t even care about his love strings (hair) being all over the couch!… and the stairs… and the chair… and my bed… my fleece pants… and… and… you get the idea… it’s a lot of love… and love strings.
The dude that turned The Schoolhouse into a house in the 60’s also made a little path through the 6.5 acres so that he could harvest lumber for the woodstove n such. When Kateri and I bought the place, I cleaned up the paths since they had started to get overgrown by the lack of use. Since Xander has come to The Schoolhouse, we have walked the path almost every day. Well, nowadays I feel like our afternoon walk is more like me walking the path… and Xander walking, running, sniffing, digging the other 6.49 acres! It was on one of these walks that I recently realized that Xander has taught me a few things as we have gotten to know each other over the last year. Lessons and exercises that I learned while running up hills in the dark yelling, “Xander!” and “Come here, Bud!”… or standing for ten minutes while getting eaten by mosquitos as he tears apart a rotting stump… or simply walking behind him hearing nothing but the pitter patter of his paws on the pine needle padded path surrounded by the sounds of the woods. I realized I have learned a lot… staring at an 83 pound Pitbull’s butt as he trots along on the hunt for chipmunks. These are a few of those things.
Patience
Responsibility
Unconditional Love
Ever since I got back to my Little Red Schoolhouse in Vermont from Idaho in March after spending the last month of my mom’s life with her, I’ve kinda just been focused on getting through the day to day of my own life. It’s a strange feeling losing both Kateri and my mom. It’s uncomfortable not having the option of reaching out to them… and them being there. My world got subsequently smaller with the passing of each of them. My universe contracted. I felt isolated and alone as the living started moving on from the losses I was reminded of every morning as I sipped my first cup of coffee and that which blanketed me every evening when I crawled into what used to be Kateri’s bed. Living a life with loss is challenging on all sorts of fronts, but luckily… I’ve still got a whole bunch of people in this world that I love dearly, and who dearly love me. My sister is one of those at the top of the list. Although we weren’t exactly close for the first 20 years of adulthood due to distances and drinkin’, life has provided us the opportunity to reconnect with each other and reminded us that we do not have to do this alone. I have friends. I have family. I am thankful to have my sister… and it was awesome having her and my brother-in-law visit for a week for the first time… without their children!!
One of the intentions Dina and Tom had on their vacation was to help me out with things around the house. Leading up to their arrival, I had started a list of projects that the four of us could maybe do while also setting some time aside to simply chill. Now, you can fit a lot into a week and since this is a blog post and not a book, I’m just gonna go through a few of the projects that Dina and Tom helped me out with at the ol’ Schoolhouse and some of the adventures that the four of us had (Sis, Bro-in-Law, Girlfriend Amanda, and I)… in chronological order.
Unplanned Lawn Mower Maintenance
I wanted the Schoolhouse to look as “put together” as I could before they arrived so I tried to mow the yard as close to their arrival as possible. Unfortunately, the drive belt on the riding lawnmower decided to snap in half with only a few more passes left needed to finish the job! Amanda and I went into town and got a belt on Monday, Dina and Tom arrived Tuesday night, and the four of us learned how to replace a V-Drive Belt using milk crates and manuals in the back yard!
Pizza!
Last year my mom wanted to buy me automatic garage doors for my birthday… which would’ve been fantastic! Unfortunately, I have an old ass garage with old ass garage doors… that is (are) kinda falling apart… and I don’t have room for the garage door motor things. So I asked my mom, “How about an Ooni Pizza Oven instead..?!”. Let me tell you, Amanda and I love breaking that thing out! (It doesn’t hurt that Amanda is a baker and will just “throw together” pizza dough!)
The Wood Pile Competition
Although the stacking of wood really only covered Wednesday and Thursday, it took just about the whole week to actually “finish” the project. Stacking wood is part of our culture here in Vermont and I wanted Dina and Tom to share in that experience! I asked my wood guy if he could deliver it the week they got here and he actually delivered it a couple of weeks prior… just enough time for a few critters to set up shop before we started moving it!
Before Kateri died, we would stack next year’s wood in neat cubes behind the potting shed under the lean-to and talk about how the guy down the road would put metal rings in his and make cool designs. After Kateri died I guess I was looking for a little creative outlet and decided to try my hand at making next year’s wood look a bit more interesting. Not to mention stacking it not so far away from The Schoolhouse!
Vermonty Things…!
Friday we decided to take it easy and do a little sight seeing and junk shopping, so we loaded up in the cute little Renegade and headed south. Our destination was Hillbilly Recycling in Bridgewater and even though I don’t care for Woodstock… it was on the way and an idyllic little New England/Vermont town for them to experience with it’s covered bridges, shops, and town green. It was a nice day of looking at other people’s crap, eating sammies in parking lots, staring through the car windows at the sea of green blanketing the mountains as we drove the winding rural roads… and stopping for creemees before heading home!
The Beach!
When Kateri and I first bought our house in 2015 my family drove cross country to deliver some furniture… and a piano. On that trip we tried to hit Wingaersheek Beach in Gloucester. It was Kateri’s and my favorite beach to sit on ever since Randy and Vicky introduced it to us. Kateri and I would wake up around 4:00am after loading beach chairs, our umbrella, the beach bag, and her pop’s army blanket into the Jeep the night before so that we could get to Gloucester and grab breakfast at George’s… and still get to the beach when the sand was cool and there wasn’t a sea of colorful nylon domes. Unfortunately, when my family visited they had a dog with them and we couldn’t bring Lucy (the dog) into the park… so we adapted and went to another spot.
This year I wanted to give my sister and Tom a nice East Coast Beach Going Experience and thought we would hit Wingaersheek this time around! I thought we had everything lined up. There were only the four of us. A friend was gonna swing by The Schoolhouse before and after work to let Xander out. The weather was gonna be beautiful… and we had bought an extra beach umbrella for the added security of shade!… a necessity for the beach. So Friday night we got everything ready to go, hit the road early Saturday morning, drove the three hours down to the Massachusetts coast, and got to Wingaersheek before 8:45am! Everything was going as planned until we turned onto the road that leads to the beach. As we made the right turn we noticed a big sign saying “Advanced Reservation Parking Only”…!!!… something the city of Gloucester had implemented in May… and something we had not looked into! So once again we adapted… and Dina and Tom got to see the same beach we went to six years ago! The four of us made the most of it and still had a wonderful time simply sitting in the sand… people watching.
The other plan that day was to hit a clam shack so that Dina could get a lobster roll and we could test to see if Tom had gotten over his bad experience the last time we went to the beach together. When they visited six years ago and we had gone to the beach, we had also gone to Woodman’s so that they could have that Clam Shack experience. Well, the seafood didn’t sit too well in Tommy’s stomach (we think the sun was the actual culprit) and let’s just say we left a soggy brand new baseball cap in a compromised paper bag on the side of the road somewhere in New Hampshire… maybe… and I was thankful our 2004 Volvo XC70 had leather seats! I’m happy to inform you that this trip to the clam shack was far more successful than the previous one!… fried shrimp and all!
Once we made the trek home from the ocean another little unanticipated thing happened… COVID. As we putzed along across New Hampshire, Amanda was feeling a little stuffy and had a scratch in her throat… uh oh! Once back at The Schoolhouse she decided to be safe and took a COVID test. Let me tell you, for not having children and not having had COVID yet, when that first little line showed up (pretty much instantly) we were kinda like, “Ummm… now what?!”. Luckily my sister is a mom and has already had to deal with The Rona in her house… plus she already had it… so we decided it would be best for Amanda to stay at The Schoolhouse and quarantine in my bedroom, I would sleep on the couch (it’s like camping… with TV!), and she would be able to come out and hang with us (socially distanced!) when she felt up to it as we worked on the next project… The Fire Pit. We were fortunate that besides a splitting headache for a day or two, she had a pretty mild case… and I anxiously waited for the symptoms to make their way to me.
The Fire Pit
Sunday was all about The Fire Pit… (and making sure Amanda was doing OK!). When Kateri and I first bought The Schoolhouse we found a little spot in the woods that we thought would make a decent area for a fire pit. I dropped a few trees to open up the view to the sky and we foraged rocks to make a ring and kind of left it at that. When my family visited in 2016, they actually flattened out the area around the fire pit and encircled the sitting area with various stones from the hillside. It looked amazing! Unfortunately, if you were sitting in a camp chair next to the fire there wasn’t enough room for someone to walk past and/or your knees would be on fire because you’d be sitting 2 feet away from some good sized flames! (I think it’s illegal to have a fire less than four feet tall in Vermont..?!) We had always wanted to widen the ol’ hang out area, but we figured it was already a hundred times nicer than before and there were plenty of other projects to get to. Once Kateri died and I was left to my own devices, the fire pit moved pretty far down the priority list… until my sister said she was coming to visit! So on Sunday afternoon after a lazy Sunday morning, the three of us made our way up to the fire pit with shovels, rakes, and gloves to start Fire Pit 2.0.
In the years leading up to my sister’s visit, I always felt weird about wanting to change the fire pit. I mean, my family put a ton of time, energy, and love into providing Kateri and I with a cool little place to hang out and I never wanted them to feel as though we didn’t appreciate it. I love the fact that they were able to come back, experience the old pit, agree that a bit more space could be nice… and then simply made an afternoon of creating a wonderful and beautiful space with nothing but a few tools, time, and some good old fashioned effort.
Trail Maintenance Monday
We decided to stick around the ol’ homestead for the last few days of Dina and Tom’s visit and on Monday Tom and I played in the woods while Dina tackled the flower beds in front of the deck. When we first bought the house, there were overgrown paths that the previous owner had used to gather wood for the winter. I spent weeks walking the path, cutting brush, and making little piles of limbs along the trail that I figured we could take to the fire pit and burn… which never happened! So now I have little piles of limbs which are slightly hidden from leaves that have fallen over the years. This year, Tom started off making little piles on the path and we figured we could do the same thing… pick them up and burn them in the new fire pit! Now, I haven’t really done much trail maintenance recently so there happened to be quite a bit of crap (branches/fallen trees/etc.) on the path. Enough so that by the time Tom got to the back 9 it was less about making little piles and more about simply clearing the path… which involved switching to just hucking the shwag off to the side and into the forest! Either way… the paths are clear… and I have plenty of wood to enjoy in the fire pit… because I live in the woods.
Man… it was hot on Monday… and I decided to break out the chainsaw. Personally, I love the smell of gasoline and burning oil with the sound of a two stroke engine echoing through the forest. If I can be all sweaty and dusty while wearing layers of protective gear… even better! Of course, I’ve also kinda beat up the chain to the chainsaw over the last year so I was able to make one pass around the walking path, started on the fallen tree by the fire pit, and then stopped after it took way too much effort to slice three chunks off the end of it. Chainsawing is fun… but not with a beat up chain!
COVID
Yup. It was Tuesday evening, our last night together in Vermont and we were eating dinner on the front porch when I sorta sucked some food down the wrong tube which made my eyes water and nose plug up. At first I didn’t think much of it even though I was very aware about the possibility of getting COVID considering I was in close contact with Amanda leading up to… and when… she tested positive. Then, after a bit of hanging out… my nose never cleared up! The plan was for me to drive Dina and Tom to Boston in the morning so they could catch their flight home and I started worrying about how that would go if I tested positive for COVID! Once I mentioned my nose was all plugged up, we had decided the best course of action was to take a test so that we knew what was going on… and then take it from there. So, I grabbed a test from the bathroom, brought it out to the deck, swabbed the ol’ nostrils, did all the stuff, and three drops of the snotty solution on a pregnancy test later… two lines!… Balls.
I will say, when I saw I was positive with The Vid… I had an initial little internal freakout. I mean… I smoked a lot… A LOT… of things in my life and this is one virus I just didn’t wanna get even though I knew it was just a matter of time. Luckily, Amanda’s experience had been pretty mild so far and that’s what I was hoping for. The pressing matter was how to get Dina and Tom to the airport! Ah… problem solving. Fortunately, there is a bus that runs from Hanover/Lebanon, New Hampshire to Logan. All we had to do was figure out how to get them to the bus. So we had Dina and Tom drive my car to the station while Amanda and I drove and “isolated” in her car. Once at the station, Dina and Tom were able to get on the bus… and Amanda and I drove our separate cars home… safe! It was weird not giving Tom a hug goodbye, but we know the times we live in… and we don’t need a hug to know we love each other… even though it would’ve been nice.
The Schoolhouse is Once Again… quiet.
It’s now Monday morning, Dina and Tom are back at home in Idaho, Amanda is back at her place, and I’m here with Xander in The Schoolhouse listening to the hum of fans and air conditioners as I reflect on the past two weeks. Four and a quarter years ago I was taught the lesson that nothing in life is guaranteed. I was taught the lesson that the amount of love we have for someone or something does not have a direct correlation to the amount of time we have to spend with them. I was taught the lesson… and forced… to live in the present and to make the most out of whatever experience I was currently going through, both the good ones and the bad. I have a good life. I have a good job. I have good friends. I have memories of a beautiful life with my wife, Kateri… who I will cherish and love till the day I die. I love my sister, Dina. I love my brother-in-law, Tom. I love my girlfriend, Amanda. I love that they were all here with me at The Little Red Schoolhouse in the woods of Vermont for last two weeks… and I currently miss them all.
I knew I didn’t have the time to write about Thursday night because… well… I’ve just got a lot to do before my sister comes to visit! So, I decided to simply tell the story of when I found a snake… IN MY UPSTAIRS BATHROOM…! The video is 23 minutes. The actual ordeal took much much longer… and the trauma will last a lifetime.
A couple of notes:
If you’re not a “successful”, white, man… Political “Christians” have been oppressing and suppressing your Human Rights since the birth of our nation. On their own… demonstrations, rallies, and social media memes don’t change laws. Your choices for change are using the current system in which we live in to organize, engage, and vote… or start a revolution.
(…I’ll take my answer off the air while watching from the cheap seats.)
Now, that doesn’t really seem like a noteworthy thing to write about, but I haven’t written a blog in a while and thought I just needed to start with something… so the store it is! I’ve kinda just been whittling down the provisions that have been taking up space in my cupboards, freezers, and cabinets… some of which have been hanging out for longer than I would currently like to share with you! Don’t worry, I will share that I didn’t feel the need to be adventurous with the four and a half year old chicken stock or the Hoisin sauce from 2019… so luckily, there haven’t been any late nights sitting on the toilet wondering if it’s better to just barf in the tub than to risk the swing around considering what’s been coming out the other end! Nope… none of that… I played it safe. Instead, I used my “Cheffing” abilities and had coursed out dinners for the last three nights!
Wednesday’s Dinner
First Course
Dr. McDougall’s Miso Ramen Soup made with Wild Hill Water and served in it’s own recyclable paper cup… which you can also burn
Second Course
Two poached Beef Hot Dogs served on artisanally purchased buns topped with non-organic Ketchup, Yellow Mustard, and a Sweet Pickle Relish
Third Course
A refreshing bowl of Flaked Corn, Granola, and Almonds (Honey Bunches of Oats) served in a bath of 41 degree Cow Juice
Served with a 2022 Orange Fanta
Thursday’s Dinner
Only Course
Freezer Cured French Fries topped with Provolone and Cabot Cheddar Cheese served with a side of Freshly Squeezed Hidden Valley Ranch Dressing and a dollop of Preservative Infused Ketchup
Served with a 2022 Orange Fanta
Friday’s Dinner
First Course
Can Cured and Sous Chef Selected Homestyle Chicken Noodle Soup simmered for way too long over electric heat in an Emeril Lagasse sauce pot… which is also the serving vessel after being nestled in a Sister Made Bowl Holder
Intermezzo
2022 Orange Fanta
Second Course
An Axeless Mountain Dwarf’s Handful of Roasted & Salted Cashews… so a small handful..!
Served with a 2022 Orange Fanta
The lack of food in my house is really of my own doing. Since I’ve gotten back from Idaho to be with my mom for the last month of her life, my life has just been… busy. After four years of widowhood, I’m still learning how to get everything done… or to do everything I would like to… on my own. Since last September, when Xander (Judy’s dog) came to live with me, my routine has been wake up, let him out, go to work for 8 to 9.5 hours, and then boogie home to let him out again since he’s been cooped up for 10ish plus hours by that time. With the responsibility of taking care of Xander for the rest of his or my life, my priorities… and routine… have changed… and I’m learning to adapt. In regards to food, it really just comes down to the fact that once I am home and Xander and I go for our walk around property… I simply don’t wanna leave the schoolhouse to go to the store! Instead… I’ve been making do… and I’ve been ok with that. (Everything’s fine!!)
Life has it’s challenges. Some we have no control over and we’re forced to adapt. Some can be persistent and they take us a few tries to figure out. Some can be physical. Some can be emotional. Some can be psychological. Some are big, like when your life gets turned upside down with the death of the center of your world and the visions of the future you thought you were gonna have for the next 40 years. Others are small and simple, like getting out of a cozy bed on a cool Sunday morning… or playing jungle rules for dinner.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
I took today off from work. I’ve taken the last three Earth Days off… well, I guess technically the last four. Although I love the ol’ Earth… I’m kind of attached to it!… it’s not the actual reason that I have taken the day off… and plan to not work on another Earth Day for the rest of my life. Nope, I took the day off because four years ago today was the last day I woke up to Kateri by my side. Four years ago today… was the last day I touched Kateri’s warm skin, ran my fingers through her hair, or could listen to her breath as she slept. Four years ago today… was the last day I could lean over and whisper, “I love you.” in Kateri’s ear and kiss her on the cheek. Four years ago today… I was holding Kateri’s forearm, I could feel the scar and indentation from her “shark bite”… and I heard her take her last breath. Four years ago today… is the worst day of my life. Four years ago today… Kateri died. Four years ago today, I didn’t know how I was gonna wake up and face… Tomorrow.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
April 1st, 2022… Mary Ann Damato… a beautifully loving woman with moments of Double Pump Flip Offs… Kateri’s Mom (Mom to 7 others… Grandmother or Abuela to 8ish more)… my Mother-in-Law… passed away on Friday morning. Stoopid cancer.
Mary Ann was a wonderful person in my life. I loved watching… and experiencing… Kateri’s relationship with her mom over the years. I loved getting to know Mary Ann… and her getting to know me. I love that we became family through the moments and time we spent together. I love that she considered me a son long before Kateri became my wife. When it comes right down to it… Mary Ann was part of “The Good” in the world. From here in the Northeast and across this country, to the villages of South and Central America, to the streets of Mexico where she would teach art to the kids on the sidewalk… she has friends and family from all walks of life who will feel the loss of this loving and compassionate woman. Take care, Missy… I love you… tons.
My mom died… and for the second time in my life… I feel like I woke up to a different world.
Now, I don’t really have much experience with death. I don’t come from a large family. I wasn’t close to grandparents, cousins, or anything. I’ve been fortunate that a vast majority of my friends are still around. And I live in a country where we don’t talk about death in a positive manner much… which may sound weird… but it’s something that we all experience, from one point of view or another, at some point in the timeline of life. Although I don’t have much experience with it, I kinda feel like the lessons I’ve learned on the topic were taught (and being taught) in an expediated night class that I’m court ordered to go to!
Being here with my Mom for the last three weeks is a completely different experience than being there with Kateri as I watched cancer destroy her body and take away her breath. I’m in a different role here in Idaho. I’m playing a different part… in a different scene… of a different movie. The subject may be the same, but it’s a version that I don’t quite have a handle on. Even though I already know how the movie is gonna end… it’s the final scene that’s still being written… and I’m having a pretty hard time with the writer. In all honesty, I kinda wish I could fire the writer… but I think they unionized a long time ago and have obtained… what’s that called?… tenure.
I am currently in the process of losing the most important person in my life. When Kateri died, that distinction shifted to my Mom. (Sorry… there’s a hierarchy and we’ve all got favorites.) In the last three weeks, I’ve learned a few things. One of the lessons I’ve learned is that losing Kateri sorta prepared me for the time when I will lose my mom. It kinda sucks to draw upon the memories of that time in my life, but it showed me just how rough life could get… and subsequently, that I would make it through. I mean, at the least… I’ve made it until today!… which is good enough.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
It took me a second to process what he said, but then my brain figured out that the meth addict looking Idaho asshole driving his shitbox ’92 maroon Toyota Corolla was leaning out his window yelling, “GO HOME!” as he passed me going the opposite direction when I pulled onto my parent’s street. It caught me by surprise as I was simply driving home after grabbing a mocha for me and a latte for my mom… which I know she won’t drink. It pissed me off. It upset me to the point where I flipped a bitch with the intention of catching up to the self-absorbed and small minded dickhead at the traffic light to inquire about his thoughts on hometowns, state pride, and what the words “One Nation” in our country’s Pledge of Allegiance means to him. Well, that and if he knew I was raised here in the city of Boise which fostered a deep love for the mountains, wildlife, and wilderness in me from the vast amount of time I’ve spent in them… and that I’m only here visiting because my mom is currently laying in a hospital bed in her bedroom dying from cancer. Fuck you… you fucking fuck… who can’t even grow a proper beard…!
Luckily, he wasn’t at the light when I got to it, which meant I didn’t have to figure out what it was I was actually gonna do when I got there! To be clear… I wasn’t looking for a fight… I’m not a fighter… I’m like three feet tall! I mean, I have no problem with scrappin’ if circumstances lead to it and it’s justified, but I generally don’t like the feeling of getting punched in the face and I don’t believe there are really that many circumstances that justify escalating to the point of violence. I may have been 100% comfortable with the possibility of confrontation at the time, but I’m glad it didn’t happen. No… instead I used this individual’s last three brain cell’s reaction to the color of my license plate (on my cute little Jeep) as an exercise in prioritizing what is important in my life, what is the immediate need, and who are the people… and types of people… I wanna surround myself with as I keep marching on day after day.
Yup, this douchebag might’ve put me in a foul mood and made me lose a tiny bit of faith in humanity (and reinforced why I live in the woods of Vermont!), but he’s just one person… whom I will most likely never see again… and I’m ok with that.
With that being said… below was gonna be my post yesterday morning. It was kinda nice for me to see that I could come up with a whole bunch of people who I care about a million times more than the inbred who screamed out his window at a license plate.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
Dear Mom, Kateri, Dad, Dina, Tommy, Josh, Jacob, Addison Rose, Sadie, Amanda, Matty, Les, Keith & Michelle, Maria, Pookie, Pocker, Cassie, Trilla, Moose, Jeanette, Amelia, Cisco, Chichi, Mary Ann, Todd, Tony, Scotty (The Hottie), MPH, Jake, Kristen, Sarah, Eric, Teri, Diane, Jay, Jason, Greg, Luna, Amanda, Casey, Raph, Mike, Michael, Justin, Juice (sorry I haven’t called!), Lea Jae, Becky, Cindy, Cristina, Jeff, Jeff, Jessica, Kate, Phil, Phillip, Philip, Mark, Sue, Other Mark, Other Sue, Sandra, Bill, Shannon, Tamzen, Hannah, Gen & Jake, Luke & Brady, Michelle, Tim, Carrie, Jeremy, John, Nick, John… and another John with an “H”, Ruslan, Margot (I’m so happy for you guys!), Will, Will (More Black Sabbath…!), Sarah, Jeanie, Keri, Mike, Franny, Gardner, Abby, Michelle, Cindy, Rosie (you can take the rest of the day off!), Davin, Lil’ Eric, Corey, Orrin, Ann, Cindy, Frank, Jaime, Jamie, Tara, Tara (pronounced Tara), Lucy (Little Lion Dog), Bridget, Maggie, Lauren, Nancy… and Nancy, Paul, Rob, Wilson, Tracy, Paulie, Charles, Kate, Will, Holly, Jenny, Wendy, Brad, Maura, Luanne, Carol, Dennis, Tom, Mike, Bob, Jim, John, Susan, Lucas, Greg, Didi, Sean, Angela, Angela & Sean (even though I haven’t met Sean!), Lisa, Uncle Ron (you’re an impressively strong man… fuck cancer), Kris, Rhonda, Sarah, Ian, Martha, Matt, Chad, Julie, Laurie, Laura, Chris, Gil, Leslie, Luke, MaryJane, Vickie (not Michelle’s alter-ego), Frank & Marnie (congrats on the new place!), Dan, Marc, Nadia, Andy, Brian, Nate, aaaaaaand Xander (even though you’re a dog and won’t be reading this),
Thank you.
Love,
Darren
ps… And to those who aren’t listed… I thank and send ya some love, too.
I went for a drive on Friday. I’ve been in Idaho for two weeks and a day now to be with my mom and on Friday I just needed to get out of Dodge. Well, it’s not so much that I needed to get out of Dodge… I just needed to cover some ground, get into the mountains and away from the lights and sounds of suburbia and the city, so that I could feel a bit more comfortable and be in a space that would allow me to… think. Of course, I’m pretty sure it also started the process of me having a mid-life crisis… sorta. I just happen to need more money so that I can have a mid-life crisis in style. You know, like the ones you used to be able to have in the 80’s with sports cars and cocaine! (ummm… FYI… neither of which I’m actually interested in) I guess it’s not so much that I’m having a mid-life crisis… it’s more me trying to make sense of living a life without being able to give my mom a hug, being able to tell her about my day, being able to share my life with her, being able to lean on her for support and guidance, being able to tell her… I love her. After losing Kateri to Metastatic Malignant Melanoma… with mutations… my mom was there for me. She even made the trip to Kateri’s Kick-Ass Party… oxygen tank in tow, needed because of the cancer… saying she was gonna make it there one way or another and wouldn’t have missed it for anything. My mom is a strong woman. My mom is an independent woman. My mom is a caring and compassionate woman who loved me no matter what bad decisions I made throughout my life… while also celebrating the good ones. And my mom is currently in her bedroom, laying in a hospital bed resting as Joan Baez radio fills the air… dying from cancer. No, I guess it’s not so much that I’m having a mid-life crisis… I’m just really sad… I’m just feeling kinda lost… and being here watching my mom live with cancer for the last little bit of her life is just… hard.
When Kateri died, everything I thought I knew about who I was and what I wanted my life to look like simply vanished. It was cloaked with some sort of haze… a fog… this lack of direction in the world and my place in it. Being a widower… to put it bluntly… sucks balls. To be a widower in my mid-forties, to lose Kateri at a time when we were at the best spot in our lives and we were so excited about the future, our home, our history, and growing old together… honestly, threw me for a loop. But in the last almost four years, it also taught me that as long as I’m upright and on this side of the earth… I’ve gotta keep putting pants on and taking those steps to try and figure out how to keep living in a world without something that I thought I was gonna live with forever. It taught me that sometimes in life we have to adapt to scenarios that we never could’ve imagined… that never crossed our minds. It taught me that life could be hard… and living could be even harder.
Kateri’s death showed me that I could endure quite a bit while also clarifying… and simplifying… a couple of my priorities in life. My priority right now is to be with my mom because this is one of those things that’s only gonna happen once in my life. When I leave Idaho, my life and priorities will be different than when I arrived. I’ve accepted that and I know I will be ok… and I’ll continue to search for ways to make life better. Unfortunately, part of being here with my mom is seeing her frustration… seeing her discomfort… seeing her lose her mobility… her independence… seeing her in and out of lucidity… seeing her so… tired. Losing ones we love is hard, but sometimes I think seeing them having to endure the process as cancer attacks their bodies and we witness strength turn into frailty… well… sometimes I feel like that part of life is the hardest.
I’m actually gonna get back to writing in the next couple of days, but as of late I just haven’t found the time. I’m currently in Idaho after driving cross country to visit my mom because on January 19th she/we got the news that the Docs are out of options for treating her cancer. Don’t worry, another… longer… video that I made at the rest area right before Boise will be coming of me babbling about why I just drove 2697.1 miles… and of the shift my thoughts took after being in the “Cute Little Jeep” for two and a half days with nothing but my thoughts. (That’s a lie… I had music, a sleeping bag, instant coffee, phone calls and Facetime with friends and family, my guitar, my camp stove… and Squishy.) For today though, I thought I would start with when I was doing laundry as I was getting ready for the road trip. Who knows, maybe someone will find my “Housekeeping Tips for Widowers” helpful…?! (Martha would probably be appalled by my directions and fitted sheet folding abilities, but Snoop would probably be in the same frame of mind as I was in and realize… it’s just a fitted sheet.)
So… I’m sitting in front of the woodstove on the little green rocking chair with the wicker seat as I get a fire going and figure out what it is I wanna write about. It’s been something like a month and a half since my last post and quite frankly… I just haven’t set aside the time to get on here…! (Stoopid Time!… Why are you so god damn fleeting?!) I mean, I’ve had plenty of experiences in the past month and a half that I would consider significant enough for me to sit and think upon… and then half hazardly try to capture in words, but I didn’t.
For the last month and a half, I just kinda feel like I haven’t been able to “balance” everything. One thing takes up time and energy, so the other thing gets pushed off. I’m not just talkin’ about the whole work/life balance thing, it’s more of a work/life/life/shitty life stuff/emotions/mental shit/awesome life shit/life balance thing. As of today… I feel like I’m getting a little bit more… “balanced”… and have decided to cut out sleeping from my life, which should free up some of that oh so precious Time. Think of all the things I’ll be able to get to and do!… and all of the space I’ll gain since I won’t need to have beds in bedrooms! (Before anyone mentions how A. I can’t possibly just choose to not sleep, and B. There are other things that beds can be useful for other than just sleeping… such as eating ice cream, jumping on, and pillow fights… don’t take it so literally! (And yes… whoopee. Beds are useful when making whoopee.))
Well, after that introduction, I realized the amount of time it’ll take for me to write about my 46th Birthday, Thanksgiving, visiting my mom and family in Idaho… and my girlfriend going with me, Christmas Time attachments and Cancer Anniversaries I have with Kateri (Dec. 19th… when they found the mass in her brain.), Christmas Time in my “New Life”, the New Year and New Year’s Day… when my girlfriend met a few of my in-laws, or about the past week with it’s ups and downs and range of emotions instigated by the actions of other people. Nope… no time to get into any of that! Instead, I’m simply gonna wish you a “Happy New Year!” and hope that you are stepping into 2022 with good intentions and an understanding heart. I pray that you and your loved ones are well (sorry, I don’t actually pray… it just sounded good… but I still hope you’re well and I’ll think about ya if that helps!). I’ll tell those friends and family of mine who read this that I love them, miss them, and wish I was better at getting in touch and letting them know how much they mean to me. And I’ll post this little video I made of me “playing” the guitar last night (On Insurrection Eve… fucking assholes.) when I had the intentions of it being the only part of this post! Word.
ps… Not to toot my own horn, but I think I’m still kicking my neighbor’s ass in the ol’ One-Sided Woodpile Decorating Contest…!
I just posted a blog about Xander… my friend’s dog who Amanda and I recently adopted after she died… and I just kinda didn’t like the post. Maybe it’s because I started it weeks ago and tried to finish it when I was in a different state of mind or different place in life, or it might be that I feel it doesn’t capture the impact Xander has had on me and my life…? So I thought I would briefly expand on this experience… up to this point in time.
Xander just lost “His Person”. His life just got thrown for a loop. I know a little something about that. Because of my Widowhood experience, I feel I have a responsibility to Xander to make this shift in his life as easy on him as possible. For example, Kateri and I were always those “No animals on couches or beds” type people, but that was a different time in my life. As I see it, for seven years Xander has had his couch. It’s where he spent a lot of his time. It was comfortable for him. I can’t… in good conscience… force him to the floor by “training” him not to get on the couch by speaking to him sternly or reprimanding him. Again, he just lost His Person… I can handle sharing the couch with him… and his hair.
In some ways, he’s the perfect dog for me. I mean, it’s kinda like we’re two widowers sharing The Schoolhouse as we get accustomed to the lives we weren’t planning on living when we lost the ones we love. I’m glad I could be there for him. I’m glad I had the chance to tell Judy I would give him the best life I possibly could… and I intend to fulfill that obligation and responsibility.
Just as I would much rather be sitting and talking with Kateri than remembering her and our life together, I would much rather be visiting with Judy and Xander than seeing him jump around and do that funny, excited, under his breath bark thing he does when I get home from work, but there are some things in life that just… happen. I am thankful to Judy for entrusting Amanda and I to give Xander a good life. And simply… I am thankful to Xander for coming into mine.
It’s nice having new life in The Little Red Schoolhouse.
First off, I’m just gonna say that I’m not really worried about my new roommate shitting on the floor. I mean, I’m pretty sure he just won’t, but if he does..?… I guess it would be my own damn fault… because he’s a dog… whom I never want to put in the position of needing to make a decision such as, “Should I just shit on the floor?!”. He’s a very well behaved four legged animal whose actually been staying with me for the last seven and a half weeks. The first half of his stay was more of a temporary thing with us spending the second half really gettin’ to know each other to see if a more permanent stay was the best decision for everyone involved. The quick is, a few Mondays ago, after he had been up here a week or so, my girlfriend Amanda and I were asked by our friend to adopt her dog Xander when she dies… because her love for Amanda is simply immense, she thought the world of her, and knew that Amanda would love him and take care of him. Basically, we said yes and thought Xander could/would stay up here with me… since I live in the woods and he would have space to run around… because he’s a dog. Yesterday morning, in her sleep, our friend Judy peacefully passed away. At that moment, the moment in which death drew that definitive line in our life, The Little Red Schoolhouse became Xander’s… home.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
Being a cook in the time of a Global Pandemic doesn’t really afford me the opportunity to take much time off of work. Heck, in June I took two days off to go see my mom… and still got overtime! Luckily, I work with some amazing people who picked up my slack so that I could celebrate my Wedding Anniversary the way I wanted to… by taking four days off (six in total!)… and going through mine and Kateri’s shit! The one thing I absolutely knew that I wanted to do was to go through all the bins of Kateri’s clothes on the day of our Anniversary… September 28th. I know… such the romantic!
It was a productive time off. I had a plan. There was an order in which I was gonna do things to hopefully get to a place of feeling accomplished in reaching my goal of sorta getting my house and garage to a starting point… a point where I could feel a little more rooted in “My Life” while still holding onto the things that I loved about Kateri and “Our Life”… which I guess is still “My Life”… ugh… you know what I’m talkin’ about. I simply came to a place in time where my life felt cluttered with these two different chapters of existence and I’m simply learning how to combine the two in a way that is… healthy… for me. Today is day six of my time off and once I’m done with this little blog thing… it’ll be Mission Accomplished!… for at least another month or two.
Saturday was all about the garage and going to the dump. I had originally thought about getting a dumpster, but after realizing I didn’t actually have that much stuff to throw away… and finding out it would’ve cost me $650!… I decided against it. Since the town dump (not my town’s dump… shhh) is only open on Saturdays and Wednesdays, it provided me with a little guidance in the order to do things. So I woke up, walked around with coffee looking at things in bathrooms, mudrooms (I’ve only got one), kitchens (still only one of those, too), the garage, and potting shed to assess the situation. I’m sure there was a bit of procrastination there, as well, but I finally just started pulling things down and out and began creating piles. Two runs to the dump later and my home and garage no longer had old humidifiers and air purifiers hanging out, or broken DVD players, little TVs we had in lofts 17 years ago, fans, toaster ovens, huge metal lazy Susan discs from cabinets we tore down 6 years ago, lotion bottles, bottles with stuff in them for hair… or the adult diapers from when Kateri was sick. It was a purge… and it felt great!
Sunday and Monday was time for going through boxes that were hidden in closets and to go through our art. Kateri and I loved picking up little pieces from our travels to remember them by. We loved it even more when they were given to us by friends and family and I just wanted to have them out to remember the people… the stories… and the memories. So after rummaging through a few boxes, going out and buying frames… and then figuring out how to fit paintings and pics in frames!… I hung our art on Monday night. On a side note, Amanda (my Lady Friend…!) went with me on Monday to donate a few things and to get the frames, but wasn’t there to help with the hanging of art that night. Although it would’ve been helpful to have someone else there, she is an amazingly wonderful and supportive person who understood that I kinda wanted to wake up alone on Tuesday… my anniversary… so she went home after dinner… and I kept sending her pics of how I hung shit.
Tuesday, September 28… it would’ve been our 10th Wedding Anniversary… 20th year together… 23rd year with Kateri in my life… 3 years 5 months without her by my side… and I woke up crying. I haven’t been very emotional about my widowhood as of late… we widowers kinda learn to live with the loss… but the emotions had been building up as Tuesday approached and they simply needed out. It felt good to release a little. I mean, the crushing sense of loss and the thought of Kateri being dealt the cancer card… with mutations… didn’t feel good, but it felt nice to have the time and space to let them flow out of me. In a strange way, it felt good to feel that pain once again. It reminds me of how wonderful of a person she was. It reminds me of how much I love her. (Now I’m crying again… that wasn’t part of the plan!)
I didn’t know what I would feel, how I would react once I started opening all of those green bins (I thought Kateri would enjoy the bins being a bright green!), especially after the first hour and a half of my morning, but I needed… and wanted… to get the ball rolling. So, I went into the spare bedroom, stood there for a few moments, pulled a bin down… and opened it. The process was actually a lot less emotional than I expected. I think it’s because I was a bit more mission/task driven and I was ready… READY… to do it. I was tired of living in this state of, “I’ll get to it… one day.”. Well, today was the day! (two days ago). As I got further into it, I just kept looking at shirts, t-shirts (which I kept all of them), sweaters, pants, comfy clothes, swimsuits, the blouses still in bags from when Kateri practiced a little “Retail Therapy”, scarves, hats, and thin hoodies (I kept all of the hoodie hoodies) thinking to myself, “They’re just clothes.”. But I also realized that they’re not “just clothes”… they are how I picture Kateri. I mean, we don’t just remember our significant others naked all the time! We remember them wearing this t-shirt or that dress or those overalls. Our clothes are an extension of our personality. They tell stories of our life… which I think is why I kept all of her t-shirts with shit on them advertising friends’ businesses, trips to NY, or to the Shakespeare Festival in Boise where we ran into one of Kateri’s childhood friend… from Vermont!
It was a process… and took longer than I expected, but it felt good once it was all said and done. It was fun looking at the little pile of things I placed on her grandma’s dresser of things I found in pockets. She would carry a little blue flashlight around that was smaller than a book of matches she had gotten in Wyoming… I think… which had come in useful when looking for particular keys that fit particular doorknobs… in the dark. There were only two articles of clothing that sorta hit me. One was a pajama top that has been in my entire life with Kateri. And the other one was a short sleeved V-neck shirt with no real particular story behind it. I just thought about how nice she looked in it. It was soooo her… and it simply made me miss her.
Love Strings…. ya. I guess that was one other moment where I had to pause… when I noticed a strand of Kateri’s hair… which she called her Love Strings. Damn Love Strings! They get you every time!
When all said and done, on Wednesday I had one more trip to Listen with eight bags of clothes to donate and one more trip to the dump with two bags of ratty and worn clothing… along with two bags of concrete mix that had turned into 160 pounds of… concrete. Wednesday evening I finished tidying the garage, brought up art that is gonna hang in the spare bedroom, and… well… cleaned the house. I was exhausted. It was five days of being fully immersed in my personal life. Past, Present, and Future. It was definitely daunting at first, but being on the other side of it feels pretty darn good. It was a task, a process, an experience that has been taking up mental… and physical… space for years now. This was the time… these six days were the time… to remember Kateri, to remember my wedding and my wife, and to take new steps towards the rest of my life.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
I made a video so that I wouldn’t have to write anything!… but now I’m writing something because there are things I just can’t leave well enough alone…. things that nag at my brain that I feel I need to explain… for some reason. Like in the video when I say, ” I still love Kateri more than anything.”. I just need to say that widowhood is a daily conundrum… but we need to live in the present and with what we have. We can’t allow loss to cripple our future. Whether that be in our relationships with other people or in our day to day existence. We can’t allow loss to take away our lives. Otherwise, we might miss out on some wonderful opportunities and experiences.
There are a few things that I just absolutely love about living in Vermont… things that are simply a part of living in New England such as seeing steam pour out of sugar shacks in the spring or the hills turning so green throughout the summer that it makes you thirsty. The leaves changing in the fall creating a sea of reds, yellows, and everything in between. And the piles of wood you see in yards on daily commutes as you think to yourself, “They better get a stackin’ before the center of that pile rots and a plethora of woodland creatures decide to move in!”.
Kateri and I always loved having a wood stove. There’s just something to be said about having a hot spot to stand next to when it’s 17 below outside and the snow is piling up. We lived in just two places without a wood stove and I’ve gotta say… life just wasn’t the same! I mean, it was still pretty frickin’ good… just colder.
I’ve always enjoyed stacking wood… for my own place. As we like to say, “It warms you twice!”. Of course, I’ve come to the conclusion that it actually warms me like 4 times with the amount of times I move it… stack it here, then unstack and restack there, then move it inside… and then finally light that shit up and get the stove a crankin’!
When we bought our Little Red Schoolhouse, it was in the fall so one of the first things we had to do was find a few cord of wood. I was so excited because for the first time we actually had a covered spot to store it, out behind Kateri’s Potting Shed under the lean-to… and I stacked it there for a couple of years. When Kateri died and I was left here alone, I was forced to figure out how to make things a little easier on myself when it came to all sorts of things. The lean-to was great… and I loved seeing three cord neatly stacked and settled in for the winter between those red posts and under the galvanized roof, but it was also the furthest possible point away from the house that we could stack it! So last year I decided to simply make a couple of long rows above the lower rock wall since it would be much…MUCH… more accessible in case I needed to access it. (Current year’s wood is in the garage). Plus, it’s basically where my wood guy drops it so I thought it would make it easier to stack! That, coupled with the fact that I’m in a personal competition with my neighbor… who doesn’t know it, but is also my inspiration… on who can create the coolest stack of wood made me think about how I could take this “chore” and make it into something that would provide me with a little joy and give a sense of accomplishment more than just having my wood stacked. So this year I decided to add… lights!
As a widower, I thought about how could I take this event that happens every year and insert a little bit of Kateri into it. I guess you could actually say Kateri was my inspiration for the theme of this year’s stacking. She had bought a few iron balls which had little battery powered LED lights that you wrap around them to spruce up your garden/yard/home/whatever and they’ve just been hangin’ out in her shed for three years now. When I thought about my one sided competition with my neighbor… those globes came to mind. Yes, my neighbor has iron rings with flowers hangin’ in them and little whoop de doos n shit… but you can see mine IN THE DARK! Mwah ha ha!!
Yes, some may simply think of stacking wood as a chore and something that just needs to get done… which it does… but more so this year than in any years past I have found it is warming more than just my Little Red Schoolhouse. This year, every time I look at those tidy rolling rows and see the light shining out over the dirt road of Wild Hill… it warms my heart with the memory of my wife… and the life she gave me.
One thing always leads to another. Years and years ago, my parents were going through their stuff and were looking to get rid of the piano that they had been carting around… for at least all of my life… and wondered if I was interested in having it. I had told them that I would love to have the piano that I remember taking Yamaha Piano Lessons on when I was just knee high to a grasshopper (I’m not much taller now!), so my mom said that whenever Kateri and I buy our first home they would drive it out to us… and they did… five years ago… with my sister and her family (which I guess is also my family!). It was a wonderful visit filled with sitting on the porch, swimming holes, BBQ’s, fire pit building, going to the beach, eating seafood… and then one of those family members puking up that seafood into a brand new hat while sitting in the back seat of our Volvo on the drive home… it was a pretty special time. But that’s not the point. The point is… my family lugged this piano (that none of us know how to play) from Idaho to Vermont, unloaded it into the garage, and then there it sat… for five years… getting more and more swollen as the layer of sawdust (from cutting two inches of wood off of each log I burnt for two years after I got my new wood stove) got thicker and thicker. From the day Kateri and I acquired the piano we talked about how to get it into the house!… and we never did.
In the three years since Kateri died, I kept telling myself that I need to get the piano into the house, but it seemed like such a big endeavor for one person and there have just been a million other things I’ve been needing to deal with, learning to deal with, and simply… dealing with… so it hasn’t happened. That was until a couple of weeks ago when my brother in-law informed me that they were moving from one corner of Vermont to the other and asked if I was still interested in the stove (and a couple of other things) that my Father In-law had given to Kateri and myself. Like the piano, we didn’t have a home to store it at… or to install it in! So Moose said he could hold onto it for us in his garage!… where it sat for years and years!… until last Sunday.
Although I was super excited to be in possession of the stove for the first time… (it’s pretty frickin’ awesome)… I realized I didn’t have anywhere to really store it in the garage… unless I moved the piano! You know, swap one big ass heavy object that’s been sitting stationary for years… for another! As I was hemming and hawing on what to do about the situation, my Lady Friend suggested that we… WE!… simply move the piano into the house! Yup, so after buying a furniture dolly from The Home Depot we removed a door, built some ramps, disconnected and moved a washer so that we could shimmy the dryer… and the two of us got the piano into the dining room!… which coincidently made the dining room a whole bunch smaller. (funny how that works!) It was an awesome feeling!… and one of those times where you’re standing there with a piano in the middle of your dining room thinking to yourself, “Well, that went much smoother than I expected!”.
I can’t tell you the sense of accomplishment it provided me… and us. I have some pretty strong attachments and memories of Kateri with that piano. I learned the one song I sorta know how to play on that piano. The song that I got to play for Kateri at the hospital when we went for her first immunotherapy treatment. It felt good to finally get it into the house so that it could start it’s own healing process after being neglected for years as it weathered the summer heat and humidity, the winter’s brutal cold, and the continual mist of… sawdust. For now… it’s resting. It’s slowly acclimating to it’s new environment. I’ve given it a once over, did an initial cleaning, but there’s still some sawdust in the cracks and crannies that I’ll get to in time. For now… I’ll just keep hitting a key or two every time I walk past it (because you can’t help yourself!) to see if they are still sticky or not… and wait for the time I can play the one song I learned… again.
Once the piano was in the house, the next step was getting the stove! I rented a U-Haul because Kateri’s truck is no longer running and kinda just rotting away in my driveway. I figured I could use the U-Haul to move the stove, along with a chest and sink that was at Moose’s, and then use it to move my firewood from across the driveway to the garage! Unfortunately it was getting late and raining like the dickens when I finally got back to The Schoolhouse, so this year’s wood is still sitting where next year’s wood is supposed go, but I’ve decided not to worry too much about that… yet. For the time being, I’m just gonna enjoy the fact that whenever I get the money and time to sorta remodel the kitchen… I’ve got a 1940’s (?) stove to make meals on and to remember all those Hopes n Dreams Kateri and I had… when we bought our first home. (Man… she was soooo excited about that stove! We… were so excited about our future.)
Widower Notes n Thought:
It’s raining. It’s a little windy. It’s Sunday. It’s nice…. cuz I’m comfy n cozy and still in bed… with coffee.
I’ve been pretty busy the last few months, but last weekend I took some time and replanted Kateri’s aloe plant, a couple of brugmansia cuttings which had been living on the window sill in the kitchen, and some leafy thing living in bark that I had been watering without knowing what the heck it was… but figured the leaves were still green so they would probably enjoy some agua. (I’ve been told that those leaves are actually an orchid. Soooooo… I guess I have an orchid. Yup… I’m tropical!) I’ve also had this piece of Christmas Cactus hanging out in a small old timey glass bottle for the last three years… haven’t done anything with it in those last three years… no dirt, no direct sun, not even a lick of water… but threw that in a new pot with some soil and placed it in one of the big ol’ schoolhouse windows to see if it would catch. The fact that it is still a… shade of green…… gives me hope! And why not?! What’s the worse that could happen?… all those people who come hang out at my house (which is pretty much just one other person… My Lady friend) would see that I planted a dead cactus thing?!… I can live with that.
To cut to the chase… repotting Kateri’s plants is an extremely personal experience for me in terms of the attachments I have put on them in relation to her, to my memories of her, my love for her, and to the last twenty years where I got to see how much joy plants… these plants… gave my Wife. To do it with my Lady Friend was a wonderful exercise for me as I learn to live in this state where I feel as though I’m living… in-between lives. Yay!… widowhood.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
I’m just gonna say it… I’m tired. Rather exhausted, really. Physically… psychologically… and emotionally……. tired. For weeks now, all I’ve really wanted to do was lay in bed on a Sunday morning with my coffee and some weed and write a little blog post since I haven’t for a bit, but I’m in foodservice during a time when it’s difficult to find help and the entire country has decided that the Pandemic is over…. and they want to come… here… yay. It’s actually not that bad… it’s just a lot when you feel like you’re behind before you punch the clock in the morning… or after working 11 eleven hours running your ass off while peeling beets, pickling red onions, panning up and cooking 40#’s of bacon, or trying to find product because the big food purveyors cut our order due to their staffing levels…. more “yay!”. (Although I do not work for a little independent restaurant, I do feel the Pandemic is showing the public some of the cracks in our food system, how fragile and challenging our industry is, and how the little guys are strugglin’… if still around… while the big players will do just fine. It doesn’t help that customers have no problem telling the high school kid working behind the counter that they are worthless and bitch at them about the fact that they had to wait longer than expected for their muffin! Yup…. my wife died and turned my life into a game of Pick-Up Sticks. Sorry you had to wait… for a muffin… grow up… and fuck off.) Ok, that’s all I’ll say about that for now because I’d rather relax as I lay in bed and write this… and I can already feel myself getting worked up!
More than a few things have happened since my last post that I wanted to write down… that I wanted to sorta process and share. There was working Memorial Day Weekend and then Fourth of July shenanigans… which I prefer to call Independence Day. There was learning from a good friend that an old friend had decided to jump off of the Golden Gate Bridge. My lady friend and I went to Mystic for a weekend… and yes, had the pizza. I flew for the first time in a while to spend a couple of days with my mom… which was wonderful. (Seeing my mom was wonderful… the whole flying experience was mostly just an entertaining necessity. Luckily no one got into fisticuffs and the only plane I saw on fire was for training purposes as we were landing in Texas. Yup… Texas.) But for today, I’m going to write about yesterday… when I went to go see my Mother In-Law, Mary Ann… at the hospital.
Considering the fact that Mary Ann has been a part of my life for decades… I don’t really know where to start or what to write so I’m just gonna start with the immediate and set the scene. The Friday after I got back from Idaho to see my mom, I got a text from my sister in-law telling me she resigned from her teaching gig and was flying to Mexico (where my mother in-law has been living for the last couple of years) because she was having health issues and couldn’t take care of herself. After rain storms, rental cars, Mexican hospitals that only took cash due to said rain storms, four airplanes… morphine… and a wheelchair later… Mary Ann was back in the states where we learned she has cancer in her bones, liver, and lungs with a blood clot in her pulmonary artery for the cherry on top. Once again… fuck.
On the widower side of things, it’s a strange experience to go through. It brings up all sorts of things. It brings my life with Kateri right back to the forefront of my thoughts, memories, and emotions. Kateri’s family was mostly here in the East while mine are on the left side of the country, so I’ve spent more time with them than I have my own family over the last 20 years. Since Kateri died, I haven’t spent much time with any of them but I think we all still consider each other family. (Now we’re all considered Out-laws!) When I heard Mary Ann was sick and coming home, I didn’t think of her in terms of someone from a previous life whom I didn’t have any attachments to anymore… I simply thought of her as my Mother In-Law… as Mary Ann… as Mom… as someone I love very much because of the time and space we shared over the years coupled with the stories Kateri shared with me about her life with her mom. I love her… and it sucks to see people you love get hit with a big pile of poop.
Loss… it doesn’t help that I’ve been thinking a lot about loss lately and how we are forced to live with it. It’s a balancing act. This year I’ve already had two friends die and both my Mom and Mother In-Law are now living with cancer. When Kateri was in Palliative Care/Hospice, it was made apparent to me that the world doesn’t stop just because your life is complicated or even falling apart. It’s a challenge to find time to deal with everything. Sometimes, it’s a challenge to be there for someone. Sometimes…. it’s a challenge to be there for yourself. When Kateri was dying, I took the approach of, “How can I make this/these memories something I can look back on and be proud of as a person, as a friend, as a man, and as a husband… even if those memories are gonna suck to remember?”. I’ve tried to keep that approach to life since. Because of that approach… and after I was told of something that Mary Ann had said… I knew I was gonna miss another Sunday morning of drinking coffee in bed, smoking weed, and blabbing on about my little world because my priorities for the weekend had… changed.
“I want to be with Kateri.” Without knowing the context in which they were said, those are the words that made my plans for Sunday clear. I knew exactly what it was I needed to do. Sunday was the first chance I had to drive the three to four hours down to Connecticut to see Mary Ann in person… so I did… and then drove back. A couple of years ago, a friend of Kateri’s and mine who is a glass blower brought me down to the floor of the shop he works at and started the process of putting Kateri in glass so that I could give her to her family. For about a year and a half, Mary Ann’s piece has been sitting on my kitchen counter in a little purple velvet bag because I wanted to give it to her in person since she was living in Mexico. Basically, I didn’t want to risk mailing it to her and then Kateri getting lost in Mexico. Even though… to be clear… Kateri would’ve been 100% fine being lost in Mexico!… but the priority was to give her to her mom. When I heard her mom had said those words… it crushed me… and my priorities became clear. I thought, “Mary Ann is not with Kateri (thankfully)… but I can bring Kateri to her.” Looking at the situation, I would’ve had a hard time if something had happened to Mary Ann in the last few days and I had decided to simply lay in bed on a Sunday morning, smoke weed, write a blog, and live my little life instead of doing what I thought was the right thing to do for me… and her… at the time. I needed to have an experience I could look back on without regret. I’m glad I took the time. I’m glad I got to see Mary Ann’s face as I handed her her daughter. I’m glad we were able to hug each other, cry, and feel the love and energy that Kateri still brings to this world. I’m glad I was able to say, “I love you”… while holding her hand… and hear her say, “I love you more!”.
Priorities… we’ve all got our own. Decisions… we’ve all got to make them… and live with the consequences. Make the ones that are the best for you at the time.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
So, today is the third anniversary of Kateri’s last breath. I had a few ideas of what I wanted to do today to remember her, but when this morning came around… I was kind of at a loss. Yesterday, I knew I wanted to make a conscious effort to focus on the beautiful parts of my life with Kateri so I started taking notes of some ideas for a blog post… because I knew I wanted to do one (they help me process some things). I was gonna do one yesterday so that I could just take today as it comes, but I’ve been procrastinating a lot lately and… well… I guess I’m doing one today…! For some reason, I didn’t want to just sit in bed and write, so I dictated notes into my phone throughout the day and have decided to simply copy and paste them onto here. Since I was dictating… and I apparently don’t annunciate… there are words or phrases that don’t exactly add up!… or make sense!… and at some points I don’t even know what it was I was trying to say! But anyways… this is what I did and thought about throughout the day today… the anniversary of the day my plans for my future and life… changed.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
I’m not angry. I’m not disgruntled. I’m not mad. I’m not better (“bitter”-I’m definitely better than I was three years ago!)… most the time. I’m not weak. I’m not vulnerable.
I am grateful. I am thankful. I’m honored. I am strong. I’m confident. I’m capable. I’m curious. I’m determined. I am loved.
I’m also…. tired. But since I don’t drink anymore… meaning the worse I’m gonna feel in the morning is tired and not hungover… well, I can handle that…!
Well, I’m laying in bed on a Sunday morning… drinking coffee… smoking a little somethin’ somethin’… and trying not to be annoyed that it just took a half hour for my computer to connect to the internet… errrr!! I’ve been pretty excited about getting to today. It’s my first day off since Easter and my first “weekend” since the end of March. Luckily, I enjoy working and I enjoy my job, but I also really enjoy my time off…!
Currently, I’m in the midst of memories of the shittiest time in my life. Last Sunday, April 11th, was the anniversary of Kateri going into Palliative care. It’s weird, things seem to be coming back… memories… that sorta kinda just pop into the brain. Things that are rough to remember. For example, like when I just typed “April 11th”, the memory of talking to Kateri’s Cancer Doc in a hallway of the main hospital as he told me the option(s) going forward popped up… which was the option of drilling a hole in the side of her skull to relieve some of the pressure that the tumors were putting on her brain. For a seven days now I’ve known I’ve been in the anniversary of the last two weeks of Kateri’s life, yet today was the first time that that memory came back… and it’s just kinda hard to deal with. It’s really fucking hard to deal with, actually. It’s a challenge, which was actually the topic that started my thought process for this blog post… dealing with everyday challenges as a widower… but since I started thinking about that over a week ago… challenges… it has snowballed in my brain to the point where I simply have a mish mash of heavy thoughts (because one thing always leads to another!) swirling around and I can’t seem to grab any specific one to focus on. Yay!!
Last Wednesday is when I first started to feel some relief from my workload and as I was standing on my porch that evening, I thought about how my life as a cook has instilled this attitude of doing whatever it is I need to do to get the job done… to get through service… to get through the day. The last four months have not been easy for me at my gig… there have been all sorts of challenges… but I fell back on my work ethic and my new approach and attitude towards everything in life since Kateri died to get through… to keep going… to get to today… with the hope of getting to tomorrow mostly unscathed. When Wednesday hit… I felt good… I felt proud of facing that immediate challenge of needing to focus on work shit until I had a moment to focus on myself. Although I had to pay more attention to this and less attention to that, I was able to get to a point where I could lay in bed… drink coffee… smoke a doobie… and take some time to face the emotional and psychological shit storm that comes along in my life that starts the end of December, picks up in intensity on April 11th, and then hits the crescendo on April 22nd… the day I heard Kateri’s last breath. On the work side of things… I’m glad I got to this point. On the life side of things… this point kinda sucks… but I’m glad I’m here and going through it.
Last Thursday I woke up ballin’. No, I wasn’t having dreams of dunking on Lebron as we battled on the court in a game of One on One… I literally woke up sobbing. I had dreamt that I had cancer in my brain. The last image I can remember was me in my back yard checking to see if my sump pump had spewed any water out from the bulk head. There were people around, but I don’t recall anyone specific… except for my father… for some reason. I was crying in my dream because I felt alone… because in my dream, Kateri had already died. I felt lost without her there… and the loss of her in my life was unbearable as I was faced with the uncertainty of some not so fun information. It was intense… hence the waking up with a wet pillow and puffy eyes. It was one of those odd feeling moments when you recognize you are coming out of sleep and start to separate dream from reality. After I wiped and rubbed my early morning eyeballs, I was able to temper my emotions… put my big boy pants on… grab a cup of Joe… and head to work. Even on the way out to my cute little Jeep I could feel myself getting emotional and not wanting to face the day, but I did anyways… because that’s just what I had to do.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
For being one of those people who are easily amused when strings of numbers show up… I can’t believe it wasn’t until I got home from work that I saw the date written out in an… amusing… way! Soooooo…. 4/3/21… I guess it’s starting people!… Here we go!!..!
ps… try to be nice.
pps… Happy Easter Eve…!
A friend of mine lost someone very close to them in the last couple of days and on the drive into work yesterday morning I found it ironic that I (the long winded widower) wasn’t sure what it was that I wanted to say to them… I didn’t have the words!… and I told her that. She texted me that she truly thought she was prepared for what was happening. My response was:
“I don’t think we are ever truly prepared for the loss of someone… who truly loves us.”
I mentioned to her to remember to take care of herself, too!… which I think is actually the more important message for people living through loss.
Random Widower Notes n Thoughts:
St. Patrick’s Day, the holiday, really doesn’t mean anything to me. I mean, I’m not Irish… I don’t drink… and I don’t care if I know the “true” story behind the dude! For me… it’s all about Kateri… because it’s her birthday! AND… since she was Irish/Italian, she loved that she was born on St. Patty’s Day! So for her birthday this year, I decided to move her from the box the crematorium housed her in, to her new home… the Klean Kanteen bottle. And then, I moved her from the jelly cupboard to the front room so that she could be with her plants.
My plan was to take the day off from work, to be home, and just kinda remember some of the fun times we had celebrating Kateri’s Birthdays… like going to the ocean in March while wearing little green hats for the three hour drive… just to be festive. I remember one birthday morning when we went to George’s Coffee Shop in Gloucester and I got to listen to her and the line cook persuading Dean (the owner) to put The Pogues on the radio… which he did. Sometimes, it was all about the Baily’s… being drunk from the little plastic green beer mugs… one ounce at a time.
Most of the time for her birthdays it was just the two of us. I don’t really ever recall her talking about having a “Party” until her last birthday in 2018. Ya… that was rough. I can look back on it now with a certain amount of fondness as I remember how much love was in our Little Red Schoolhouse for her on that day… and how much love she had for our friends and family who were there (and those who were not)… and for life (even in those times)… but that only goes so far. I mean, it was her last birthday… I haven’t exactly gotten over that… hence the snot and tears coating my mustache and face right now! But this is about today… and how I celebrated Kateri’s Birthday… with her… by myself.
Widower Notes n Thoughts… about moving Kateri to the Klean Kanteen on her birthday:
My plan was to grab some Indian food from the house in WRJ… (it’s literally a house that sells take-out)… but when I was eating my salad for lunch in the driver’s seat this afternoon, I saw there were only twenty-five more miles until I hit 100,000 in the (my) Cute Little Jeep! Of course I Google Mapped it… (or used whatever app it is that shows me how to get from here to there)… and my phone told me that it was only twenty-FOUR miles to my house! So, needless to say, I decided against getting the super tasty Indian food to hopefully maybe make the memory of pulling into my driveway… of arriving Home… when those five numbers turned into six! And… well… it did!
I’m pretty good at attaching all sorts of significance… to all sorts of things. 100,000 is just a number. A car… even a Cute Little Jeep… is just a car. But we use numbers, such as 100,000, as milestones… they allow us to chunk up our lives. Kateri is attached to every memory, feeling, thought I have about my Jeep because it is the first brand new vehicle we ever bought! It was a big deal to us… we had just bought our first home and were somehow able to by a spanking new Jeep! Inch by inch… over the years… we kept working towards the life we wanted… towards our Hopes N Dreams. For people like us, with the life we lived, buying a car in which you don’t have to worry about the radiator blowing, or fuel pump leaving you stranded, or the window not rolling up when you accidentally hit the down button… and it’s 3 degrees out… is one of those moments in life where it makes you feel as though you’ve “arrived”… or “grown up”. It was a time in my life when “The Struggle” seemed to finally be dissipating. Fuck… life was good! WE HAD CHICKENS FOR CHRIST’S SAKE! (…sorry for using the Lord’s name in vain) Things were humming along!… until they weren’t anymore. So ya… I guess I can say that a car is just a car, but nothing is that simple. Seeing my odometer hit 100,000 miles is an opportunity for me to remember the memories I have with this vehicle during my life with Kateri… and in my life since. 100,000 miles is a lot of ground to cover… which would take a long time write down… so here’s just a few of those miles.
Widower Notes n Thoughts… about my Cute Little Jeep:
I took this picture at work today. For some reason I just found it sort of entertaining. But I had an experience this evening that made me think of this picture… and that word… in a different way. From a different angle. From a different perspective. From the perspective of… me… and how that word pertains to my life.
I started writing this at 10:13pm… all cozied up under the first sheets I bought as a widower… with the king size duvet that Kateri stole providing weight and warmth with a perplexing amount of… poofiness. (hey kids, it’s wrong to steal… but these people were assholes… and it fits perfectly on my full size bed!) I only mention the time tonight because since Kateri died, I’ve had this thing where I simply can’t put myself to bed… like I don’t wanna miss out on living or something. The other part of that is… there is straight up just more to do when going from a household of two… to a life of one. After doing things I need to do, I always want time to “Relax”… “Zone Out”… play guitar… eat a pint of Ben & Jerry’s… watch some How it’s Made or check out what Carvana is all about… you know?,… “Chill”. (By the way… buying a car online?… weird.) I usually don’t get to bed until after the One-Two… so being in bed within the 10 o’clock hour is quite the accomplishment!
Here’s the point I’m trying to get to. Patience. When Kateri died… I knew it was gonna be a life-long thing of rememberin’, feeling, learning, balancing, and… well… “surviving”. Tonight, it was a friend’s Instagram post (a picture) of two dogs walking down a bricked path, in whichever Asian country he lives in, that made me sorta realize that I have become a much more “patient” person in my widowhood. (If you saw the IG post… this would make much more sense!) For almost three years I’ve been trying to figure out how to fit it all in… how to “live”. I’ve created little routines that have helped me on the “Adulting” side of life as well as on the personal, emotional, and psychological side. I guess, in a way, they’re also helping me… cope. At the beginning of this ordeal, I had absolutely no idea how I was gonna be able to do it. But now… NOW!… I’m still not sure… but I seem to still be able to cut enough wood for the fire, keep the plants alive, do a little snowshoeing with my girlfriend, have fires at the fire pit, pay the bills, smoke a doobie… or two, AND live with the memory of how wonderful Kateri was, what I loved about her (everything), and how much I loved my life with her. At the beginning, I knew this was gonna be a life-long gig. Today… tonight… at 11:31pm, I still know it’s gonna be a life-long gig. And even though the pain is still there… and I’m still trying to fit it all in, I need to acknowledge that parts of my life have gotten… better… since Widower Day 1. Yes, it’s taken making a few mistakes and taking a step back to reassess so that I could hopefully make a couple of good decisions to maybe have a more enjoyable experience in the future…! (sheesh… long winded sentence right there!) But it’s also taken recognizing that I have a different perspective… on life… which has taken time. Some might say that it’s taken patience… and it’s clear to me… that it’s gonna take some more.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
This “Memory” popped up on Facebook yesterday. After hearing news of my friend passing away (which brought up all sorts of shit!), and then picking up the Klean Kanteen for Kateri… when this little gem popped up (because FB remembers everything!) I just thought to myself, “Well, the emotional hits just keep on coming!”. Luckily, I’m in a pretty decent space in life, and although it’s been a pretty exhausting week… and crying takes up time… this “memory” actually provided me with more warmth and fondness than sadness and despair. And I gotta tell ya… it feels good to be able to remember the fun times when I see funny videos of our life… because they were fun. (I remember balancing my phone on the porch railing, hitting play, and scurrying up the snow pile at the top of the driveway so that I could push start the utility sled that Kateri was already sitting in. The Director’s Cut has an extended version of the video where you can watch Kateri and I walk back up the driveway… under the cover of darkness… dragging a utility sled.)
Below is what I posted on my FB page when I shared the “Memory”:
I love this memory. I love that I made a sledding run down the side of our driveway. I love that we used the black utility sled. I love that it was at night. I love that I can hear Kateri’s laugh… because I don’t hear it from across the room, in the car, around the fire, or belting out into the nothingness while she’s sandwiched between my legs where I can actually FEEL her laugh… as we hold on for the ride. I know that sounds rough… but that’s why I love this memory… because I can hear her laugh.
Two years, ten months, and three days… and I just brought home Kateri’s urn… her Klean Kanteen bottle. I’d love to get all into the nitty gritty of what this moment in my life means to me, the things it brings up, the weight of this step in my Widowhood, but it’s been a long week… and I’m tired of being all emotional and shit so I’m just gonna lay down a few of the things that this day was filled with.
I had it all planned out. I was gonna come home after work, move wood from behind Kateri’s Potting Shed over to the garage using the utility sled and my cute little Jeep, eat some pizza, write a little light hearted something and post this little video I had recorded a couple days prior. I was ready to chill for my weekend. And then… while I was sitting at my desk at the end of the day… a good friend called to let me know that another good friend of ours had died the night before… fuck. Stoopid cancer.
He was a part of my life for the last 19 years. Kateri loved him. He loved her. And the memories and emotions hit me like a ton of bricks. My mind just kept going from one memory to another. The good ones. The bad ones. And everything in between. I couldn’t believe how many memories of Kateri and cancer came back… it was an onslaught that I’m currently still trying to get some control over while also letting certain emotions and thoughts have their time and space. I feel fortunate that I’m at a point where I can remember the good times in my life with Kateri and not just the cancer, but the news of his passing and the attachments of his life to ours… to Kateri… was simply crushing. I cried… a lot. Thankfully, I have beautiful friends, an understanding, supportive, and compassionate girlfriend, I’ve got my home, and I’ve got my mom to call… when I need to talk to my mom. Luckily, I’ve also become a “Functional Crier” in my widowhood. No, I may not have moved any wood, but I was still able to feed myself and take a shower… where it’s more convenient to cry because the water just washes off the snot and tears.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
The Video
I posted this on my Insta/FB accounts and someone commented “Peaceful”. I agree… I do find it kinda peaceful. Of course, it’s funny to think about how I was tromping around the outside of my hundred year old schoolhouse… in Muck Boots and comfy clothes at 11:23pm… snow (topped with 2” of ice) up to my knees… out front with the sign and flag, on the deck with the windows, in the driveway, in the breeze way, back to the driveway trying to find a “cool scene”… phone in one hand and a small flashlight in the other… stumbling around as I broke through the crust with every step while trying to keep steady until I decided to say “Screw it… I’m just gonna stand HERE!”…(I more likely said the “F” word, but I don’t know if I can say that in this description!)… and then with my little flashlight shining off into the woods to the west… and maybe freaking out the neighbors down the road on the other side of those woods, as they try to figure out why the heck there is a light coming from… THE WOODS!… (creepy) … I recorded this little video. Did I mention some say it’s “Peaceful”..? I’d agree.
It’s Valentine’s Day…. and I’m a widower.
On it’s face, that is a very sad statement filled with the memories of twenty years, but we can’t sum up the complexities of life in seven words… because sometimes nine other words show up to say, “Today, I’m gonna spend it with someone I love.”
In the winter time, when I get home from work one of the first things I generally do is get the fire going. (Kateri would’ve followed that line up with, “In my loins!”… but I’m not talkin’ about that kinda fire.) Sometimes I need to cut wood first or maybe snow blow/shovel the driveway, but invariably I end up sitting in front of the wood stove on my little stool that Kateri and I got in 2001 (maybe ’02..?), when we lived above a garage in Monkton, as I get the fire going for the evening. I enjoy this part of my day. It’s a built in time/task that sorta forces me to just sit for a few minutes. Of course, when I just sit for a few minutes… I think… about all sorts of stuff!… like how the stool I sit on was Kateri’s and my first piece of furniture!… and I hope it doesn’t spontaneously collapse on me as I’m starting the fire! But it hasn’t yet and I’m glad… because once the fire is going I absolutely love sitting on that stool and letting the wood stove heat my knees, hands, face, and top of my head that used to have beautifully thick hair keeping it warm. It provides me with space… to think… to remember… to reflect.
Sometimes I sit there and think about heavy things… when heavy things are going on. Other times I think about other things… when other things are going on. And sometimes I think about things and have no idea why I’m thinking about them! So… over a few days of sitting there on my stool as I got the fire going, I thought I would make a few notes of what it was I was thinking about as I lit old newspaper I had crumpled up and stuffed under my methodically stacked kindling.
Random Widower Notes n Thoughts… as I get the fire going:
I’m sad.
Sometimes that happens.
I don’t need anything from you. I don’t need you to do anything. The things I am sad about can not be fixed… they can not be changed… they can not be taken away and hidden from me… because they are a piece of who I am.
Sadness is a part of life… it’s a part of my life. Sometimes, I force myself to get up on the right side of the bed. Other times, I just let myself be.
Sad.
I haven’t written anything since Christmas. It’s not because I won the lottery or just inherited a crap load of money from some long lost relative who made their fortunes in the Aglet Boom of 1803 and am now sunning myself on my private beach where I’ve been disconnected for the past 35ish days… spending the hours eating take out Chinese Food flown in from NYC, laying in the grass in the middle of my 20 acre garden… after the staff goes through and removes all the bugs… with tweezers and jars so that they can be released into Walter’s bedroom (He may sound old and cute… but he’s a dick.), and… well… doing whatever it is I want to do at any given time… while smoking copious amounts of weed… that Helper Monkeys roll into joints for me using papers that have images of friends, family, and times from my life printed on them. No… it’s not because of that. I’ve just been doing other things. I guess I’ve just been… pluggin’ away.
The plan for my next blog was to share my experience burning the last bundle of sage from the jelly cupboard… from when Kateri was alive… but I don’t feel like getting that heavy right now so I thought I would just jot down some Random Widower Thoughts of things I’ve been thinking about or that have happened since we last connected. I’ve attached a video of me playing my guitar… because… well… why the hell not?! I don’t take it seriously. It’s just a hobby… something I can do to fill “X” amount of time with positive vibrations that simply make me feel good. And it’s something that I find… fun!
With that being said… some thoughts on things since Christmas.
Random Widower Notes n Thoughts:
Video description: I haven’t done a blog post for a bit, so I thought I would play a song and throw it on there..! Not because I wanna be a musician or anything… I just thought it would be an easy post. And then I found out it’s a little more nerve wracking than I expected… putting yourself out there… but oh well! Hobbies help pass the time… and some hobbies help ease the heaviness of adversity that touches us throughout our lives.
It’s Christmas….!! Things I’m gonna do on my third Widowed Christmas.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
Sometimes… things just happen to show up at opportune moments. I knew I was gonna write a little blurb ahead of the video, but the only note I had made for this post was:
Yup… it WAS a frustrating kind of day! I didn’t sleep much. A change at work made me want to bash my head against a brick wall… covered in down pillows… while wearing a full-face helmet. It took forever… I mean, for..ev..ER! to upload the video I made last night for this little blog post thingamajig. AND… today is the anniversary of Kateri finding out the news that there was a mass in her brain. Yup… frustrating. Plus, I’m still trying to get shit together to send in the mail to family for Christmas!… aahhh! But don’t worry… it’ll all be ok.
As the video was creeping it’s way from my phone to YouTube, I decided to throw on some Seinfeld for something mindless. Kateri and I watched a crap load of Seinfeld over the years, but I haven’t opened the DVD’s in quite some time and just thought it sounded… comforting. I decided to start at the beginning and as I was going through the cases, sandwiched between Season 3 and Season 1 was… low and behold… THE DALAI LAMA! In 2007, Kateri and I were introduced to this chant by our friend David as we would hang at his little cabin up Four Mile Canyon. Now, I don’t know anything about chanting n shtuff, but I DO know that it’s pretty darn relaxing to listen to while the fire dimly lights the room as it keeps the cold at bay and I jot this down. In full disclosure, I’m pretty sure I’ve smoked weed every time this hour and a half long “om-ing” action has taken place… so there’s that, too. Either way… I’m diggin’ it… and kinda needed it.
All of that to say… here’s a video of me walking around my house talking about my third Holiday Season as a widower… my third Christmas without Kateri. I made it because as I was decorating the Schoolhouse, feeling all sorts of emotions, and thinking about all sorts of shit… I thought about other people going through the same type of experience… I thought about my fellow widowed folk. So I made a video of some of the things I’m doing, decorating, and thinking about! (And yes… it’s so exciting that it warranted an exclamation mark..! (sorry, “exciting” might be the wrong word. Maybe “rambley” would be better…? or “awkward”..?))
I’ll admit… leaving Vermont to drive across our country to go see my mom took up quite a bit of mental space before I even hit the road! Some of it was emotional considering I haven’t seen her in almost a year… and she has cancer… which was the reason for the trip in the first place. But this post isn’t about the time I spent on the couch with her talking, sharing pics, watching the election, eating meals from my childhood, playing guitar for her and my dad, laughing, crying, or uncomfortably watching the new Borat movie together. Nope!… this is about the drive. This is me leaving my home for the longest period of time since Kateri has passed. This is about being in my cute little Jeep Renegade for 130ish hours with nothing but what I brought (which was a lot!)… during the election… in a Pandemic… to visit my mom… and my thoughts.
The Preparation
When the pandemic hit, it never really affected my life too much. I live in the middle of nowhere, I don’t live with anyone, no one comes over except my girlfriend… who works from home. I’m a homebody to begin with… and don’t really care to socialize! For me, in this new widowed life, the pandemic has actually offered a little reprieve from the onslaught of the world. That was until I realized I hadn’t seen my mom in almost a year… and she lives on the other side of the country! What would’ve normally been a quick little drive to Burlington or Boston to catch a flight, hang out in Idaho for a few days, and then fly back had turned into something a little more complicated, with heavier consequences attached to it. But we do the things we gotta do for the things we feel are important, which is why I decided to drive instead of fly, to eat/sleep in my car, and to only stop at rest areas and gas stations… as well as packing a bag filled with hand sanitizer/wipes, masks, and gloves!… so as to eliminate any of those nasty little Rona germs. So far so good!
Although I like to think that I have become much better at just rolling with stuff since I have become a widower, I’m still very much a “Planner” and “Worry Wart”. I was excited to have the chance to drive cross country again (Kateri and I did many a times, whether we were moving to and from Colorado or Wyoming… or just for a road trip!), but it had a different feeling for me in this new life. I was basically doing it alone for the first time since I did it in 2001 to come back to Vermont… to be with Kateri. That was a long time ago. A lot has happened in those 19 years. Times have changed. I have changed. Life has changed. This was gonna be a “New” experience in this “New Life”… and I approached it as just that… something “New”.
For the weeks leading up to my departure I wanted to get to a point where I felt comfortable leaving my Little Red Schoolhouse in Vermont for an extended period of time, and also tried to make it as comfortable as I could for when I got back. So I stacked my wood, mowed the yard one last time, cleaned the house from top to bottom, cleaned my car, borrowed a phone holder thing for the drive, did my laundry, pulled out coolers and camp stoves… and propane, paid bills, got simple little home security cameras so that I could see when someone was breaking into my house from 2,ooo miles away, cleaned the garage, cut wood… enough for when I got back as well, got an oil change (need another one!), packed clothes, packed old phones/iPad for pics to share, packed sanitizer, packed the Jeep… and then headed out at 5:30am on Sunday morning… with cake pops.
As a widower, much of my current life is still attached to my life with Kateri. Some of that is just natural (memories, emotions, my home and everything in it, for example), but some of that is also how we… as the widowed folk… hold on to and remember our loved ones as we slowly find ourselves in this new environment. I could’ve made this experience driving cross country as one big trip down I-80 memory lane… but that’s not where I wanted to be. I wanted to make this an experience for me… for Darren… recognizing that I would probably be hit with a few emotions as I pass the town Kateri grew up in, or remembering eating bologna sandwiches in the back of the Cherokee in Iowa during a rain storm, or passing under the Archway to the West for the umpteenth time, or when waking up in Wyoming… my second favorite state… and where I first met Kateri. That’s all just part of being a widower… you have memories of the times you spent with the one you love… and you’ve just gotta figure out how to have new experiences for your own personal growth, for your own well-being, and to hopefully make new memories that you can look back upon with appreciation, satisfaction, and fondness.
The Trip Out
I loved the fact that I was gonna take off for this trip across our country two days before the election with the goal of arriving at my folks at some point on Election Day. I love this country. I love how big it is. I love the diversity of the landscape and the people… the metro areas… the ruralness… the mountains… the flats. I loved starting off putzing through Vermont where I felt comfortable taking a piss (sorry for the crudeness… “peeing” just sounded… wrong) on the side of the road before I left my “Safe Space” and crossed the state line into New York… where I did not take a piss (no offense!) on the side of the road. I was excited to take that right turn towards the left side of the country… to be out and about in it… to have the visual reminders of the people and places that make it what it is… that make it special… and that also made me remember why I choose to live in Vermont! And yes… I missed a turn on my way to the interstate.
I made it through New York, PA, Ohio (ugh), Indiana, and into Illinois on the first leg of the trip… hitting a little rain/wind/slushstorm on the way. I thought about swinging by Niagra Falls since I’ve never seen it, but with the storm, not being allowed on the Canadian side, and the chance of other people being there… I decided against it. Again, my priority was to get to Idaho… without The Rona!
Prior to leaving, I looked up Walmarts (because I heard you can sleep in their parking lots!..?) and Rest Areas en route so that I would get an idea of potential sleeping spots. I figured I’d be able to at least get to Indiana… hoping to reach Iowa… but I made it as far Illinois. Even though it was a long day of driving (19 or so hours), I think I was still pretty energized about the trip when I pulled into the Rest Area to use the facilities and to grab a little shut eye… alongside a few of my neighbors who were on their own little adventures. I didn’t eat. I didn’t read anything. I didn’t “decompress” from the driving. I simply pushed some bags to one side of the car, laid out a yoga mat (nice try… but it didn’t do shit for padding), pulled out my sleeping bag and Squishy (Kateri’s pillow), took off my shoes…. and crawled in the back to get some shut eye. Four hours later I pulled out my camp stove, made some instant coffee from Starbucks… and kept driving.
The second leg of the trip was… well… pretty much straight and flat. I’m glad I hit the road before sunrise because I’ve always been a fan of seeing the sun come up and/or set in the Midwest. As it was creeping up the horizon behind me, I didn’t think about the politics of the people who’s state I was in. I didn’t think about how divided our nation is. I didn’t think about all the bad crap that has happened to this person, or that person, or myself. I instead thought about how the sky above seems twice as big as ours in Vermont… and it makes for one impressive dawn of a new day… in my rearview mirror.
When I hit Nebraska I thought about how many people don’t really care for driving through it… maybe because the roads don’t have many bends in them…?! But I rather enjoy it. You can just plug along at 75mph listening to music, the news, or a book on tape (which isn’t on tape anymore!) while hoping to God (if that’s what you’re into) a deer or antelope doesn’t run out in front of you! Yeah… it may not be exciting… but at least the roads are straight. (That may even be their state motto..?!)
The second night, I was able to make it to the Wagonhound Rest Area in Wyoming. Honestly, I wasn’t sure what emotional state I would be in when I arrived in Wyoming considering the reason for the trip, my lack of sleep, and my attachments to the state with Kateri, but I held my shit together. I’m sure the fact that I wasn’t anywhere near where we used to live helped with the dampening of emotions that could potentially pop up. It was nice being back, driving past the the windmills, the gas and oil fields… and the oasis of lights from them at night. It was nice seeing signs for Cheyenne, Laramie… and Rock Springs. It was nice being back out in The West. Back in the land of The Rockies (…the mountains… not baseball). Back where horses have the right of way and I have memories of sitting around camp fires with cowboys… and Kateri. It was nice to be back… if only for a day.
When I woke up at the Ol’ Wagonhound, it felt good knowing I would be able to make it to Idaho at a reasonable hour that day so I didn’t put too much pressure on myself to wrack up miles in “x” amount of time. When I got to Idaho, I decided to stop at the first rest area… it was crappy… so I went on to the second one. As I was sitting in my driver’s seat with the door open after taking care of some business, a trucker asked if I was “Having car troubles?” or “Just taking a rest?” as he was on his way to the facilities. I mentioned I was just resting and we shot the shit for a minute… which then turned into an hour and a half conversation about life… and him giving me a tour (socially distanced) of his truck and trailer! Even popped the hood! He provided me with so much information about engines, brakes, axles, trailers, stopping distances, other truckers, cops, his wife, his dog (Midas), and trucking in general that if I had retained more of it… I would sound like I knew what I was talking about! But I didn’t. My favorite part of that experience was that I asked if he had voted since it was Election Day. He said his wife was taking him once he got home… and then we never spoke about it again. It wasn’t important for us to know who each of us was voting for… or why… and I’m pretty sure we weren’t voting for the same guy! The important part was we were just two guys having an impromptu conversation about life. It was civil. It was respectful. It was nice.
I stopped at the last Rest Area before Boise to gather my thoughts, to get in touch with some people, and to take a breath before seeing my mom and dad. After three days in the car without showering… or changing my clothes… the thought of a shower and comfy clothes was beginning to sound better and better. I could feel myself getting legitimately excited about it. And then…. my father called. I asked how things were and he replied, “Good…. except we’re having some plumbing issues. Like… no water.”. Yup! Just gotta say, I was not expecting that one! Hopes and Dreams of sliding fresh, soft, and cozy Darn Tough socks onto my freshly cleaned and slightly less stinky feet were put on hold! Luckily, my folks live in the city… where there’s all sorts of plumbers who are available all hours of the day (pricing varies), so I knew the chances of it getting fixed was pretty good and didn’t think too much about it after that. Heck, I already felt gross… I was fine feeling gross a little bit longer… and at least I could feel gross while being in the same space as my mom! It was just hard not giving her a hug until after the plumbing was fixed, I was clean, and out of contaminated clothes!
Idaho
There will be another post about my time spent in Idaho, but what I’ll say is that it was absolutely wonderful walking into my folk’s home and seeing my mom sitting on the couch. I love her… and thoughts of Covid, cancer, work, Kateri, loss, elections, widowhood, my schoolhouse, my home, my friends, my challenges, and my problems simply went away for the first few moments I was there. I could see her… I was seeing her…. and that’s what the driving, the precautions, the lack of sleep was all about. It was to spend time with her. One of the great things about moms… they don’t care if you’re stinky.
The Drive Home
Now, the drive east was a much different trip than the drive out. I’d like to say I was calmer… more relaxed… and in some ways I was. For the most part though, I think I was exhausted… and ready to be back in my drafty little hundred year old schoolhouse in Vermont… where trees make better neighbors. I was ready to be home.
My plan was to leave Sunday, but at the time there weren’t as strict of Covid restrictions going on so I decided to spend another day with her and my dad and leave on Monday. Of course, all hell broke loose with Covid and things changed, but I’m still happy I stayed another day. Usually, I would’ve left before the ass crack of dawn for a road trip, but when you have over 2,600 miles ahead of you… an hour or two here and there isn’t gonna change much… so I took off around 7:30am. Basically because I wanted to say “I love you” and “goodbye” over a cup of coffee and with a hug… and not by waking them up in the middle of the night by nudging a shoulder to faintly tell them I’m leaving. I don’t think I could’ve done that… and I’m glad I didn’t.
For the five and a half days I was in Idaho we watched a lot… A LOT!… of election stuff… and I rather enjoyed it. I also kinda liked that it eliminated all of that, “what do you wanna watch?” type stuff. We couldn’t go out because of the Pandemic/cancer/etc., so might as well belly up to the boob tube! Again, I love this country (yes, we’ve got some serious issues) and to have the unique opportunity to be out and about in it while “We the People” were casting our votes… I just kinda dug it. However, after watching and hearing about how a bunch of our country viewed the process, viewed the election, viewed the other side, got their information, how they share their information, how easily so many people are willing to disregard tradition, respect, the process, facts… their fellow Americans… it took me until Wyoming before I could switch the radio station away from music… and back to the news… which didn’t last long. For the rest of the trip east, I would periodically flip through the news channels, get a couple of different updates and angles, and then right back to some much more enjoyable sounds while on the road!
The drive back wasn’t without it’s challenges… I did have to drive through a snow/ice storm which started in Wyoming and I dealt with through Nebraska. Luckily, I don’t care if people get upset with me for driving slow. The goal was to get home… safe and sound… and that’s what I was gonna do. Again… 2,600 miles… as long as I was moving forward, it was good enough for me! Was it nerve wracking?… yes. Did I spend a ton of time thinking about how “All Season” tires do on ice with 50mph winds?… yes. Did I just want to stop, get out of the car, and wait it out?… well… no… because it was cold, snowy, and windy with big trucks careening off the interstate… and that wouldn’t have gotten me any closer to home! So I just kept driving… between 7 and 43mph… until I came upon my home for the next few hours… the Pine Bluffs Rest Area. FYI, when you sleep in your car and it’s 17 degrees outside… inside your car ain’t much warmer!
On a side note, I posted the storm experience on social media and a friend of mine from Vermont commented how he was driving through the same storm!… on the same road!… in the same area!… and I guess he’s now a truck driver instead of a cook! I just thought it was kinda cool… in a “Small World” sorta way.
I really didn’t have any problem with driving through the weather, but I’ll tell ya, it felt a million times better when the road looked dry and my little thermometer thingy was telling me it was 35 degrees outside! Luckily, it just got warmer and warmer the further I drove east. I mean… until the sun went down. Then it got colder… cuz that’s what happens when the big ball of heat goes away.
Once I made it back to the Chicago area… it felt like I was getting closer… it felt more “familiar”. I don’t know why… maybe it’s the congestion of people, maybe it’s being on a “Turnpike” or “Thruway”… but whenever I hit the Chicago/Gary/Cleveland part of the trip, it just seems to feel like Vermont is a hop, skip, and a jump away! And then you remember there’s still New York to get through… Upstate. Which from my understanding is all of NY… except the city..? I actually thought about taking I-86 across southern New York so that I could get some pizza from Nirchi’s. Kateri and I would get two sheets to snack on whenever we headed out west. It’s fantastic. But instead, I was all responsible n shit and decided to stay safe and stick to the plan… and not have Nirchi’s pizza.
Home
From the moment I walked out my parent’s door and got back into my cute little Jeep Renegade, I had my bed, my woodstove, my little red schoolhouse in the back of my mind. I just wanted to be there. The thing I found odd was that it was only in the back of my mind. Yes, I wished I could teleport myself and in the blink of an eye… be home! But in reality, I knew I had a lot of ground to cover before I would be there, so I guess I simply went through the motions until I reached my destination… and didn’t think too much about it.
When I crossed into Vermont under the cover of darkness, I didn’t get that “I’M HOME!” feeling… although, I did feel a huge sense of relief. My mind was still in Idaho with my mom, on the road thinking about life, in the past with my memories, and concentrating on the present with every turn through The Green Mountains as I made my way to 91. For a week and a half I didn’t think about all the things I think about on a daily basis. For a week and a half I didn’t worry about the things happening in my life. For a week and a half I didn’t think about cutting wood, paying bills, work, if I did this right… or if I did that wrong. For a week and a half I drove across this country to be with my mom… to take a moment to sit, to talk, and to spend time with her… and then to drive home. That was the purpose of my trip. I guess I road it till the end because it didn’t really hit me until I was making my way up Wild Hill and had passed John and Mary’s… then Heman’s… and then the Hooligan’s… I went past my wood pile and up my driveway until I reached that oh so familiar view out the driver’s side of those big, beautiful schoolhouse windows… that I realized I had reached my destination. I sat there thinking about the fact that when I turn the car off… and open my door… the trip is over. It was emotional. It was overwhelming. It took me some time… but after a lot of deep breaths, and a few more moments of thinking, I opened the door… stepped out into the cool Vermont night… and found solace in the fact that I had made it…… home.
Random Widower Notes n Thoughts:
Before I left for my trip to see my mom, I had the idea that I would be writing quite a bit while I was out there…. that didn’t happen… and I’m cool with that because it just meant that I spent more time with my mom! Going into it, I sorta approached each of the three segments of the trip… The Drive Out, Hanging with My Mom, The Drive Home… into their own unique emotional, psychological, and personal experience’s… each of which I feel sooooo fortunate to have had! I got back last night and am taking advantage of the time I have to recoup, relax, and reflect on the past week and a half. I’m excited to write a few blogs during this time, share some pics/experiences, and was gonna start at the beginning, but we’re gonna work backwards because… well… this is where I’m at right now! For today… I just need to stop. I need to stop moving. I need to stop thinking about everything. I need to rest my body and mind… maybe while on the couch, from my bed, in the tub, or maybe all three! Whichever way, it feels good to be home.
As a widower, I could’ve attached all sorts of things from my old life to this trip… but I didn’t… that’s not what this trip was about. Even though I took a part of Kateri with me for the ride (She was always up for a road trip… and I could hear her voice saying, “Where the antelope roam!” as I rolled across Nebraska and back into Wyoming), this trip was for me… as time moves forward… in my present life. The day I left I thought about Widowhood and how it’s a layer of complexity which I would much rather not have in my life. But I also thought about how it’s just part of my life. A big part… but just a part.
Random Widower Notes n Thoughts… of my trip:
The Video Description
Well, I literally just got home from my drive to go spend some time with my mom in Idaho. The gist of it is…. I left Vermont 11/1/2020 at 5:30am and got to my P’s house in Boise on Tuesday… Election Day… after driving 26 hundred miles or so… only stopping for gas/to pee/poop/or to sleep in the back of my Jeep Renegade (it’s “cute”… ugh) at rest areas. Hung out with her and my dad… didn’t go out because of the pandemic/she has cancer/not much energy right now/etc. So we watched election shit because it was happenin’… and important… and was something we could do from the couch. I’m glad I saw her… and was able to see how she was doing. (She’s doing well… she’s good) It was nice to talk… and share pictures… and watch movies that I never thought I would watch with her! And then I drove back to Vermont on 11/9/2020… post election… doing the same thing but adding in a snowstorm in Wyoming/Nebraska and arriving home on 11/11/2020… at 11:00pm… funny. On the drives, I thought about my life, my widowhood, my mom, my future, my past, my country, my job, my home, my friends, my family, my feet… and more! This is me in my driveway… after sitting for a few moments… after 63 and a half hours in the car covering 2,667 miles (or so!)… and before opening the door and getting out of the vehicle. Ummm… yeah. I’m writing this description the next day after unloading a little/eating/sleeping in/decompressing/reflecting and relaxing because I realized… after a couple of “moments” this morning… I’m exhausted. It was a wonderful trip during an extraordinary time to see someone I love more than anyone…. but I’m glad to be back at my little Schoolhouse… in Vermont… where there’s a wood stove and a bathtub… both of which I’m about to use.
For some reason I decided to search The Oracle for widowed celebrities… and I’m not exactly sure why besides simple ol’ curiostity. I mean, I’m not exactly up on celebrities and I kinda don’t care for reading or watching stuff about widowhood, but I searched it anyways. If you became famous in the last decade… 15 years or so… I probably can’t pick you out of a line up!.. or really care to! But, if you’re a widow(er)… I feel for you. It don’t matter how many people know ya or how much money you got from that horrible 90’s sitcom… or one hit wonder!… if the person you loved more than any of that type of shit… the person you loved more than anything else… up and died… life sucked.
So… that first part was really just notes I made the day before the 2 and a half year mark. The video below I made the day after the 2 and a half year mark. And now I’m posting this blog three days later. Yup… I’m slackin’! But what it comes down to is, I had a moment where I decided to simply look at the last two and a half years of my life… and tried to not let the emotional attachment to last 20 years with Kateri be the focus of my thoughts. And I’ve gotta say… it felt good to look back at my accomplishments over those two and a half years and be comfortable with how I have handled them! Sure, I’ve taken some wrong steps, but just took a step back when I realized it. Sure, I’ve said some things that I probably shouldn’t have said in certain moments or environments or to certain people, but I’m learning to think before I speak… a majority of the time… sometimes… here and there……… I’m working on it! Sure, I’ve made some mistakes, but as of right now… I’m ok with all of that.
We all make mistakes. Luckily, for two and a half years I have been surrounded by people who are understanding, caring, and supportive… and realize we are all just fallible animals trying to get through the day. It’s because of those people and the lessons Kateri taught me in life that I was able to have a positive moment on this new timeline where I could feel accomplished, comfortable, and proud of how I have dealt with my “Widowhood”… even if that “moment” came to me while in the shower! (I’m pretty sure we all do a lot of thinkin’ in the shower!.. when we’re not singing.)
ps… if you take a gander at the video… I know I say, “ya know?” a lot. This is why I prefer to write things down… I ain’t no orator!
We can’t look at our lives as being in the early stages, or in the middle, or coming to the end of it. It’s all just life… and we simply need to live it.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
Just over ten years ago… in the spring of 2010… it hit me like a ton of feathers that I needed to ask Kateri for her hand in marriage… after being together for nine years before that… and friends (sometimes with benefits) for two/three years before that! I used to say that I wish I had asked earlier. I mean… our first anniversary was our tenth year together!… but those are just numbers. Nowadays, I simply view her as my wife and like to remember the twenty years I was fortunate enough to spend with my best friend… my Dearest Kateri… and not just the time we were married.
I’ll be honest… I don’t really know what to say. My Anniversary makes me think about those twenty years together, filled with the good and not so good times taking place in Wyoming, Colorado… and Vermont… our home… Kateri’s home. There were plenty of other places with good and not so good times all over this country… and in the Dominican… and that other tropical paradise… Canada, but that’s a lot of shit to write down! So, I decided to focus on our wedding, think about why I loved it so much (It was pretty awesome… you should’ve been there!), and simply make a list throughout the morning… and maybe into afternoon… of things that I kinda hold on to about that day.
Kateri and Darren’s Wednesday Wedding
September 28th, 2011
Yup, my third Wedding Anniversary without Kateri is an emotional roller coaster type of day. Today is the anniversary of the best day of my life, but it’s also a pretty big reminder of the worst day of my life… and that’s one of the challenges I face as a widower. When you live a life where you can pin point, right down to the date and time, the best day of your life and the worst… your world gets a little muddled and muted. For example, I know the colors of Autumn surrounding the Schoolhouse and blanketing the hills of Vermont are currently absolutely stunning, vibrant, and beautiful… but it’s just not the same. Although… this year they seem to be a bit more… colorful.
So… the world is going to shit… I guess. That’s what I see on my little phone when I check the news. (CNN/Fox… I like to see propaganda from both sides. Of course, I feel like Fox News is the annoying richy rich frat boy who’s drunk and yelling at all the other party goers to do keg stands and chug vodka so that he and his cronies have easier prey in the hours ahead to make fun of, influence, or take advantage of for their own pleasure or benefit…. just sayin’.) Yup, the west (where I’m from) is on fire, The Rona hasn’t gone away no matter how much disinfectant we drink or how much we stare at the sun, we’ve lost some really good people (John Lewis, Notorious RBG, Chadwick Boseman, Jerry Stiller… Regis), there have been so many storms that we’ve gone into the Greek alphabet to name them, schools are now the petri dishes of some strange social experiment where no one knows how the heck to do it while parents are just happy to get their offspring out of the house for a few hours, and in some parts of the world they are canceling Halloween… that’s just fucked up. But you know what..?… there’s toilet paper on the shelves and they’re coming out with another season of Cobra Kai! It’s not all Doom and Gloom!… which I guess is what I’m trying to get to.
I’m just gonna say it. For me… life is good! Really… it is! Not like “I just won the lottery and am gonna party like it’s 1999 Good!”… but it’s still good. Yes, there have been some heavy moments and a few bumps in the road in the last little bit, but nothing really compares to the loss of Kateri in my life so I feel I’ve been able to somewhat deal with… life. Nope, some things haven’t gone as planned, but one of the things that being a widow has taught me is that the unexpected is to be expected and I just need to plow on through… or stroll… or crawl. OK… sometimes I just need to lay in bed and let time pass to get through certain moments, but I tell myself at some point I’ve gotta just get up, get out, and get going!… because otherwise I’ll get bed sores… and that’ll just create more problems!
I think the loss of my chickens has made me think about the timeline of my life. Specifically, my path since Kateri passed just under 2 years, and five months ago. I feel now that I’m here alone, it’s another step into “My New Life”… and oddly, it sorta feels good to get to this point… the point without chickens. I knew the time would come… it did… and now I’m here. It’s like I’m now living a more accurate picture of what my life will be like post Kateri & Darren’s Time as I’m more firmly rooted in… Darren’s Time. I guess in some way those stoopid raccoons provided me with a little bit of “closure” with the massacre of the chickens… and then I gently pushed the door shut with the subsequent Viking Funeral of Lil’ Bitch up at the fire pit with a couple friends last weekend.
Yup, the Pandemic hasn’t really changed my life much. I’ve got firewood for this year… and next!… and a new stove and chimney to keep the schoolhouse warm as winter is steadily approaching (there have already been a couple of fires… and a Nub Night! I’m still cutting 2-4 inches off of two cord of wood so they fit in the new stove.). The bulk head stairs are built, the deck is painted, the garage is in order… somewhat, rooms are painted, and toilets aren’t leaking anymore… after 17 trips to the hardware store. On top of that… I’ve got friends… good friends… who help. I know we all get caught up in our own worlds and we’re all different types of peeps, but the cool thing about friendships is that just because there may be more miles between us or more time between visits… those aren’t the defining factors of what makes two, three, twenty seven, or a couple hundred people friends. It’s the bond created through shared good experiences… and how we treat each other through the not so good experiences. (Actually, I feel there’s a boatload that goes into what makes people like and not like other people… and the relationships they have, but sometimes I like to not overthink it and hold onto the perspective that there are some friendships/relationships where it simply boils down to the fact that they just… click.)
For twenty years, Kateri was my best friend… and I wish she didn’t die. But I’m thankful for the life I had with her, for the friends we made, and for the lessons she taught me… which I try to use as I figure out how to live my life without her. Yup, there’s all sorts of shit going on in the world… and in our little lives… but there are things in our control and there are things that are not. For today, I’m not gonna focus on the piles of poop being plopped all around us and take some time to focus on the good things, get in touch with some good peeps… and simply have a good day. I hope you do the same!
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
As of 7:44 last Saturday night… I no longer have chickens. It was kind of a horrible experience that I knew was a very real possibility, considering the fact that I live in the woods. It was jarring. It threw me off. Since Kateri died, people have asked if I’m gonna get a pet, a dog, a kitten, fish… whatever… and I would always reply that once the chickens die I don’t wanna be responsible for another living animal for a while. I just didn’t expect that to happen on Saturday! Stoopid nature.
I’ve attached all sorts of things to those chickens. They were Kateri’s Hopes n Dreams. But they also helped me ease into this new solo life by simply being around. I loved that they would be at the door to their little yard when they heard my car pull into the driveway or when I would open the screen door. I loved that they would follow me around the yard as I watered this or worked on that. I loved that they would come when I called out, “Here chick, chick, chick!”. I loved watching them run… and I love that I have the memory of Kateri impersonating a chicken… running! I guess I loved those little ladies for all sorts of reasons, but the fact of the matter is I don’t have them anymore and I need to adapt… to settle into… this new reality. After waking up alone the day after Kateri died…. well… nothing compares. So, I could add more sadness to this experience… or I can accept it for what it is… give it it’s time and space… and keep moving forward. My last week has been filled with some wonderfully supportive and beautiful moments, and some coincidences that I have just kinda dug. I guess that’s what this is about. Here are a few things that have helped me look on the brighter side of life as I adapt to being the only living thing in my household for the first time in twenty years after the death of Kateri… and then her chickens.
Ya, the Schoolhouse feels different… it has changed… it’s not the same as when Kateri and I bought it… it’s quiet. I’m trying to train myself not to look towards the coop every time I walk out of the house. I’m trying to get used to not having the ladies as a source of entertainment… because FYI, they were very entertaining! I’m getting used to not worrying about them. I’m getting used to living alone… on the hill… without Lil’ Bitch. I’m adapting to change. I’m adapting to life. Fortunately, I’ve got a lot of good things going on in my world… a lot of good people. Sometimes those people… sometimes, they just pop up out of nowhere… as they’re riding down the road… at just the right time.
I took a couple of days off so that I could meet a friend in PA this weekend. And yes, I literally mean “meet” them. It’s kind of amazing how much someone can impact your life without ever standing in the same room as them! Unfortunately, the stoopid Rona put the kibosh on that so I decided to still take the time off, stick around the house, and get to things that have been nagging at the brain for a while now… like the leaky toilet… and mess of a garage. After painting the porch, I’ve been sorta motivated to keep on the train of seeing how I would like to set up and/or maintain my new life and home. Getting a few things checked off of the list of things to do does wonders for the psyche!
So, I’ll just say… I had my extended weekend kinda planned out. Start with the toilet (flush valve) and then move on to the garage, chicken coop, truck, and wood. Well, of course things don’t always go as planned. I was able to replace the flush valve OK… for being a cook… but after I attached the tank to the bowl, I noticed one little drip of water… on each of the three anchor bolts! (I don’t even know if that’s what they’re called…?!) Now, originally the flush valve was leaking, but just into the bowl on its way to the septic tank. It was one of those every once in a while things where I would hear the tank replenish the top inch of water, but at least it wasn’t leaking onto the wood floor! Luckily, two mason jars were enough to hold the bolt problem at bay (wherever bay is…?!) until I was able to hit The Home Depot for some new hardware after a few hours of work on Friday.
It was during my learning experience with the toilet, running in and out of the garage to be exact, that I decided it was about time for me to buy one of those stand up tool boxes on wheels to help me organize all the crap I have accumulated over the years while fixing this or building that. So, on Friday I bought the bolts/washers/nuts I needed to finish the toilet… and also bought a tool box to put my crap in! (…after watching the dude struggle to get the box off the top shelf with one of those lift things while I stood guard at the bright orange gate. I tried not to stare… but it was an entertaining struggle!)
I finally finished the turd herding (plumbing) on Friday afternoon around four and then it was on to the garage and tool box…es! (I got two of them…!) Friday night was basically me dorking out in my garage with my stuff, listening to music, and enjoying the process of putting friends with friends. I didn’t finish tidying the garage until Monday morning… there’s a lot going on in there… but it was well worth the effort. It feels good. I feel accomplished. I feel… better.
Yup, those are a few of thing that I did. But now, for the widower shit… the roller coaster… the “rolling with it” type stuff. At the beginning of the week, my intentions were to fly solo, listen to some tunes, smoke some pot, and just be productive at the schoolhouse while I worked on my “New Life”. And then my sister-in-law reached out to say she was in Vermont and was hoping to come up! So, I amended my plan… and prepared for the tidal wave of Kateri and “Old Life” memories and emotions that were gonna come along with having a Damato in the schoolhouse.
First, I’m gonna say that it was an absolutely fantastic couple of days seeing her, talking, remeniscing, building fires, roasting hot dogs, and hanging on the porch until the heat drove us inside or to the garage… while watching a four year old take a bazillion trips up and down the driveway with his scooter.
It had been too long. She was there with us for the last three… fourish weeks of Kateri’s life. The three of us… Kateri, her, and I… had a ton of good times. We spent a lot of time together. We lived through a lot together. And I am forever grateful that the three of us were together… that she was there for Kateri… in the last weeks of her life. I simply love her.
As a widower, I’ve learn how to adapt to change a little bit better… because I was forced to. This weekend was one of those times. For two years and four months I’ve been on this journey. I’ve had to learn how to live in this world without Kateri. I’ve had to learn how to go through the days without being completely devastated by what life has shown me… by how cruel it could be to such a beautiful person… to the person I loved more than anything. That takes work… and a lot of it. Two years and four months after Kateri’s death and I feel as though I am firmly rooted in this “New Life”. I’m doing things that are for me… for my home… for my own well being. I’m able to look a little further into the future… a little… further. I’m at that point where I am living my life… and am doing OK. I’ve adapted. Even though I’m surrounded by the 20 years of life with Kateri and the memories of how it used to be… I’ve learned how to live without her. (basically, you just keep waking up and dealing) So when a family member/friend comes to the schoolhouse to feel close to Kateri, to be in this space, to be close to her things, to find comfort… emotions and memories come with them.
I welcomed those emotions and memories this weekend because most of the time I need to kinda push them to the side just to get through the day. I actually enjoy it when moments like these come around because it provides me with the time and space to simply remember Kateri with someone who also loves and misses her. These days, it’s less devastating when someone comes to visit (which has been no one in this time of Covid!) and more comforting… which feels good. Ya, the plan was to be “productive” this weekend and to spend time with myself in this new life, but I’m soooo happy that plans changed and I got to spend a few days of my new life remembering some of the wonderful parts of… my life.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
ps…. I started this post last week, but WordPress updated me to the new Block Editor… and I don’t really know how to use it!… so it’s taken me a bit. Since then, on Saturday at 7:30ish in the evening as I was trying to figure it out… a raccoon (I’m pretty sure) killed the last three of my chickens… of Kateri’s chickens. Yup… also pretty sure there is gonna be a post about that experience!… which I’m still dealing with… considering the fact that dreams of Lil’ Bitch and me on the hill are over. For the first time in twenty years… I’m the only living thing (besides plants) in my household… weird.
I love the instant gratification you get from painting something. It gives the room, the cabinet, the cart, the box, the house, the dresser, the whatever that clean and new…ish feeling. Today, I’m sitting on my newly painted front porch/deck… and enjoying it. I’m actually on my deck writing this as we speak! I know… it sounds exciting!… but it’s really just relaxing and satisfying more than anything else.
I’ve thought about all the things I could attach to me painting the front porch. There were a ton of memories and emotions that popped into the mind and body as I rolled and brushed away (the Karate Kid also came to mind! (the original!))… but this was simply something I wanted to do for myself… and my home. I guess I wanted to feel like I accomplished something that would give me the sense as though I was making an improvement, cleaning something up, preserving something for a bit longer… taking steps forward. So I grabbed a mask, ventured out among the infected, bought some white paint… and started with the railings.
I thought I would get the porch and railings done in a couple days… it took a week… which I was fine with. I knew it would probably take longer than expected so I simply planned on moving shit, cleaning shit, painting shit, and moving shit again being my evenings for a few days. The weather was gonna lack precipitation so I thought it would be kinda nice to get some sun while getting some work done, as well! Heck, when “Today’s Hits” is blaring out of your garage… you can paint until the sun goes down! A word of caution—when you can paint until the sun goes down… maybe put on some sunscreen while it’s up. Yup… itchy.
It’s amazing how time weathers the things in our everyday lives. I jumped on painting the deck because I saw a picture of our house when we were first looking to buy it. I remember when our offer was accepted, we drove up Wild Hill where I stood on the front porch, looked at those large windows, red siding, and white trim and said to Kateri, “Well, we just bought a really old schoolhouse… with a really new paint job!”.
As I sit here today, there is still paint peeling on the garage and on the north side of the house. (ummm, it’s peeling on the east, west, and south sides, as well!) My downstairs toilet’s tank is still slowly leaking into the bowl on it’s way to my septic tank. My wood is still tucked away in the lean-to on the other side of my yard… and I don’t have next year’s wood yet. I still want to go through some stuff… and organize the garage. There’s all sorts of things that we each need to “get to” in our lives as we go through… our lives. I’ve been overwhelmed quite a bit as I’ve gone through the past 2 years, 3 months, and a few weeks more, but as of right now… I’m not. Right now, I’m enjoying that sense of accomplishment… while sitting on my newly painted deck… as I wave to the people as they drive on by.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
The moment I saw that bag and realized there were only three cards and a bunch of colorful tissue paper in it… I felt wonderful! If you watch the vid… I kind of explain the situation… but basically, I saw a bag… and recycled it. Sometimes, we gotta start small. One step at a time people!… or some shit like that.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
It was hot today. Hot and… humid. When I got home this evening my bedroom was 84 degrees… a thick 84 degrees. Some might say “sticky”… like me… I would say that, but that has nothing to do with this really. Except for the fact that I’m writing this in the shade on my front porch on a Thursday evening… and I generally don’t write these things outside… on Thursday’s. It’s a change. It’s different. It’s kinda strange. It’s also quite the challenge to see what I’m typing because the reflection of my bright ass yellow shirt makes it a bit hard to see the screen! (and no… I’m not gonna change seats… I’m comfy.)
When all this Covid stuff started, I took advantage of an opportunity to be re-deployed to The Upper Valley Haven in an extended “volunteer” type gig (King Arthur has been paying me) and for the past three and a half months… that’s where I’ve been. I’ve learned a lot here. I’ve met some pretty wonderful and giving people who’s intentions are simply to provide a helping hand up… however they can. What was a temporary position, motivated by “self-preservation” in these uncertain times, turned into an experience that educated me, fulfilled me, and provided me with the opportunity to work alongside a wonderful array of staff and volunteers within an organization who’s only intentions are to be a part of “The Good” in the world. It was a temporary position… that built a lasting relationship. I’m simply gonna miss it. On the other hand, I’m not gonna miss trying to mix a 35 pound bucket of natural peanut butter that had been sitting somewhere for months… with a home immersion blender!… that I might’ve broke… don’t tell Lori.
As I’ve recently been transitioning back to KAF, I’ve been thinking about what I would like to say to both places about my experience over the last few months. I wanna shoot a “Thank-you” email out to both places, but also realized that this experience had a significant impact on me in this “New Life”. Soooooooo….. blog.
Widowhood is much more than simply losing our spouses. It’s about waking up to a new reality every morning and sometimes not understanding it… or simply hating it… but still getting up even though you’ve only had 5 hours of sleep… three of which were on the couch! It’s about wishing they were here to get angry at you for putting their Darn Tough socks in the dryer. It’s about facing sadness… the likes of which you had never even come close to feeling. It’s about feeling lost at home, or on your road, or surrounded by friends. It’s about all sorts of loss, pain, and hardships…….. but it’s also about finding ourselves through experiences that simply make us feel… good. It’s about the excitement of unexpectedly stumbling upon things that make us feel… better. It’s about self reflection and discovering the new you, even though it’s always been and will continue to be… well… you.
Hope you have a Happy Sunday!… I’m gonna mow the yard.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
I’ve attached the link to the article that Ashley wrote after we chatted about my experience at the Haven. She is just one of the amazing people that makes The Haven a wonderful place… and is a fantastic writer! I’m not sure if I copied it correctly… I’m a cook and not an IT guy… but you can check out their website, too. Heck, if you’re one of those people who has the ability to give a little… you can donate! It’ll go a long way for people in our community who simply need a little assistance… who are looking for a helping hand up.
Yay!… the lazy blog post! I was gonna do one yesterday because I had a pretty wonderful Holiday Weekend and have been feeling pretty good lately… but didn’t. Oh… I tried. Spent hours trying to figure out what I wanted to share… how I wanted to share it… and realized… there was just too much. There were simply too many fun experiences, interesting situations, positive steps in this new life, good memories, and some sad ones over the last little bit for me to consolidate them into something that would capture the… je ne sais quoi (that’s French!)… warm n fuzzy feeling…?.. with a sense of security….?.. and easiness…? (A feeling of refreshing tranquility and an absence of tension or worry… yup. Thanks google!) So, I watched Unsolved Mysteries instead… and today you get a “Widower” post.
First… some pics from my third 4th of July… in this new life.
And now… a video… about a memory… that keeps coming back.
I actually started on the spare bedroom the day before the 2 Year/2 Month mark. It’s been a week long process… which still isn’t finished… but, it’s definitely a lot further along than it was a week ago!… and going through stuff is just gonna take me a bit. Although I have hit that point where I kinda just wanna start going through stuff and setting up “my” house… I also understand that it’s gonna take a while… but I can start! There’s a lot… A LOT… that comes along with the loss of a spouse. Sometimes, I feel like there’s even more that came along with the loss of Kateri. I mean… it’s Kateri!… she was pretty awesome. Of course, I think anyone who has loved someone else might feel the same way… but I’m talking about me right now.
So, this is what showed up this week in my life after I jumped on the opportunity of having another set of hands to help me move a dresser out of the spare bedroom… some pics and notes. (FYI… life is good… just a big balancing act!)
This is my final pic… and then a video… as if there wasn’t enough already! I really haven’t done anything with my little shrine to Kateri and as I was going through boxes I figured I could add a few things from the top of the jelly cupboard… so I did. I wasn’t sure about how to dispose of the sage bundles used for smudging, so I asked sis-in-law. Well, I found out that neither one of us really knows what to do with used sage bundles, but we figured as long as the intentions were good… it’s all cool and groovy. So… that’s what the video is about. Just a heads up, I mention it’s January 28th… it’s not… it’s June. There would be a heck of a lot more snow on the ground if it were January!… but there might still be a fire.
ps… you can hit the “like” button if appropriate… and you still have time to follow the blog for the chance to randomly see it pop up in your email inbox! (it’s kinda sporadic… and not very focused… or professional.)
Well… I’ve known that I wanted to write a blog today because I like setting time aside and 
taking advantage of dates such as “The Second Anniversary of Kateri’s Kick-Ass Party” to remember her and our life, but now that I’m here… I’m not sure what to say! Not that I’m all verklempt or anything (although, I’m sure there’ll be some emotional moments), two years just happens to get filled with all sorts of things… experiences, emotions, fun times, not fun times, learnin’ times, pandemics, protests, and simply life. So… we’ll see where this goes.
One of the things I just realized is that I have sort of a catalog to look back on with this here blog thingy, so I decided to see what I wrote last year! And… well… last year I said I had no words!… but I did have three Widower Notes n Thoughts and the above bullet point was one of them.. and I still agree with how the celebration of Kateri’s life felt to me. It was absolutely wild the similarities of our wedding and the celebration… and I’m glad it was truly a celebration of the life that Kateri brought to all of us.. the life that she shared with the lucky few of us on this planet. Just like our wedding, I don’t remember all of the particulars of that evening, but I’ve got the gist of it… and it’s mainly a memory of love.
Up until Thursday, I planned on spending this weekend alone doing some things that I thought would be nice little attachments to Kateri. I thought about taking the Klean Kanteen bottle that she used when she was sick up to a friend in B-Town to see if he could get it engraved (that’s what I’m gonna use as her urn). I thought about hitting Flatbread just to be in the space again… which also affords me the opportunity to grab a couple of breads! I thought about swinging by and seeing a couple of wonderful people. But then I thought about all the other people (you know… the rest of the world simply living their lives) and the whole Covid-19 thing going on up there and wasn’t sure how that would impact my job. We’re pretty strict on our travel guidelines!… which is understandable to me… so I started thinking about sticking around the Schoolhouse… and then David called.
I had called my wood guy when I got home from work on Thursday and left him a message. It was the second message I had left for him (which isn’t annoying at all!… but the routine I’ve come to accept) so when the phone rang twenty minutes later I totally thought it was him… it wasn’t. The moment I heard, “Hello my friend.”… I knew it was David… and not my wood guy… whom I still haven’t heard from. This is a nice example of where sometimes I just feel the need to roll with things as they change or materialize. David was calling to see if this Saturday would be a good time to come visit..?! Now, I’m not one who believes the stars aligned with the second moon phase as Jupiter rose in the east… on a Tuesday… to make it so that David reached out two days before this anniversary after not seeing each other for almost a year… but it was a pretty cool coincidence!
As I thought about David’s inquiry, it seemed somewhat perfect to me. David has been in our life since 2004. He came into our life during our time at American Flatbread in Vermont. We stayed with him at his little cabin by the river up Four Mile Canyon in Colorado… until we found our place in Ned. We all came back to Vermont at relatively the same time. The three of us spent a lot… A LOT… of time together. He knows me. He knows Kateri. He loves her. So, when I thought about the possibility of maybe having company this weekend… the thought of it being David sorta fit perfectly! He’s someone I feel 100% comfortable having around if I decide to go through shit, am dealing with shit, or simply taking a shit! (that’s how you know your relationship is tight… when you can poop in front of… or in the vicinity of someone… or if there is the possibility of them hearing you on those special mornings after unhealthy nights!… and it doesn’t phase you. Sorry, kind of a gross analogy… and please, try to poop privately)
So today, on the second anniversary of Kateri’s Kick-Ass Party, I’ve decided to see how it plays out. I’ve decided to take this weekend and remember Kateri for all the wonderful things she brought into my life… which I’m sure I won’t remember all of them because there are simply too many amazing experiences, people, and memories that she gave me since 1998, but the good is going to be the focus. I figure, this isn’t a “Woe is me” type weekend… this is more of a “Remember how Kick-Ass Kateri was” type weekend that I luckily get to spend with someone who personally knows just how Kick-Ass Kateri was, too. Yup, I’m sure there will be some emotional moments (just had one!), but that’s only because the love I (we) have for Kateri is just as strong as it was when she took her last breath. Life just happens to be different now.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
When I got to my room over looking Lake Champlain (I splurged… I figured my wife just died and we were celebrating her… I wanted to be able to see something nice when I woke up the next morning), the staff had left me a couple of cupcakes and condolences. Such a simple gesture… that I will always be grateful for.
I came downstairs from taking a shower on Thursday and thought I would get ahead of the game for the weekend, so I threw in a load of laundry. After starting the washer, I took a swing by the kitchen and then had to run back upstairs for something… probably something really important… when I heard a strange noise coming from the mud room. Upon inspection (it was pretty apparent what was going on!), I realized that the pump for the washing machine was trying it’s hardest to fill the washer… but there weren’t no water!… always a fun feeling as a homeowner. I did the whole running around inspecting faucets and pipes looking for leaks, went to the basement to check fuses, water tanks, gauges, and boilers. The boiler has a digital display that said “GOOD”… which made me feel better… but had nothing to do with my issue! After realizing the issue was above my plumbing skills (…still a cook), I decided to wait till morning to give anyone a call… I can survive a night without water. Plus, I generally have a couple of coolers full just in case we lose power!
When I got to work in the morning I gave ARC Mechanical a call and they said they would get someone out that day… they’re great. I got the initial call from Bruce telling me when he would get there, and then he called back a bit later telling me he had fixed the issue! It was a simple little fix of replacing the pressure valve!… yay! As a fairly new homeowner, and more recently a widower, when things like this happen (no water flowing from your faucets) the brain instantly goes to that worse case scenario so when he said it was a valve… I was fucking ecstatic! Although I would’ve managed getting through the weekend without water… (a friend had already filled up four-22 quart Cambros of agua for me and I can pee outside)… I was glad I didn’t need to deal with it!
Yup, the weekend was looking better already. So, I went to the store to grab some provisions and then went on home to enjoy the conveniences of modern life. When I got to the kitchen with the groceries, I turned on the faucet just to reassure myself that the liquid of life was flowing through the pipes… and that I’d be able to take a shower. With a turn of the knob… the water came out… and I was reassured. So while feeling good, I put groceries away and was about to start planning out the ToDo List for the weekend when I felt the need to alleviate some pressure in the guts. The easiest way for me to explain the experience is… took a shit, flushed toilet, went to wash hands… no water… yay. I called ARC back… and Bruce turned around… postponing the start of his weekend.
When Bruce got here, he immediately mentioned that he thought it was something bigger than the valve and gave me the number to Sargent Artesian Wells since it was coming upon quitting time for just about everyone. Luckily, when I called Chaz from the well place he was just as awesome as everyone from ARC and said he would get there tonight at some point… which didn’t happen… but I was fine with it. Even though the experience was somewhat nerve wracking on a couple of fronts, my interaction with Bruce along with knowing what is currently going on in the world made it so I wasn’t freaking out about what the possible fixes may be. However big the issue was… however painful it may be financially… I was gonna be fine.
Long story made a little shorter… the issue was that my well pump gave up… 282 feet below my front yard! For me, it went from the relief of it being a valve to needing to pull up a pump almost three hundred feet down at the bottom of a hole… but at least I didn’t need to drill a new well or anything like that! So… not the best outcome… but no the worst! In all honesty, meeting those two guys and witnessing how they approached their jobs with their sense of responsibility to the people who call upon them when things go awry… was worth the Benjamin’s that I’m gonna be handing over at some point. They seemed like good people… good neighbors… and I’m glad I can support local business.
After Bruce couldn’t fix the issue and had gotten me in touch with the well guys, he helped me prep the well for Chaz… and then we chatted for the next hour and a half in my driveway! (He also had five gallons of my water in the back of his truck from when he was testing the valve that he gave back to me after saying that it was my water to begin with). The moment Bruce approached the wishing well and simply started pushing it over… my mind was blown. I didn’t realize it wasn’t attached to anything!… at all!… it was simply around the well and over the years earth and grass had accumulated up the base of it! I mean, I kind of understood that, but there were also wires going to the light in it… that we never used… but that didn’t stop the toppling over of it! Bruce pushed… I guided it down… and when it was on it’s side, just laying there in the front yard with the rotted parts holding on for dear life… I thought of Kateri.
Kateri hated that wishing well… she thought it was cheesy… and it is, but I have always kinda liked it… the cheesiness. Although I like it, I have also known that it has been needing to be replaced… and it was on the agenda for the summer.
When we first moved in, we had some friends helping us move wood from the lean-to to the garage. They all knew Kateri’s thoughts on the wishing well… because she told them. So… every time MPH would turn his truck around in the front yard, he would give the ol’ well a little nudge… as Kateri would be egging him on, with her arms in the air, yelling at him to keep going!
Fortunately… it never got to the point where I had to build a well that day, but it did give me that wonderful memory to look back upon with such love, fondness, and entertainment as I was dealing with the uncertainty of my current water situation. It brought back so much… and not in a bad way. I felt good as images from that day filled my thoughts. I remembered Kateri in her (my) brown flannel. I remembered David standing on the pile of wood. I remembered the tiny Milk Snake striking at MPH’s heel over by the potting shed. I remembered that that day was the first day we experienced snow… in our first home. It was a wonderful day… in a different time. And unexpectedly, running out of water on Thursday made me remember a time five years ago of stacking wood and nudging wishing wells… with people I love.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
It was a hot one this week. I mean, after nine months of winter, 85 was simply sweltering! When it hit 91… forget about it! So with the heat wave I thought I would make sure The Ladies had everything they needed to stay cool, clean, and safe. No… I did not sew little tiny face masks for their beaks (they are already quarantining themselves and have the social distancing down), but on Tuesday evening I shoveled out their shavings, put new hay in the nesting boxes, took out the vent covers in the rafters (well, where the top of the wall and rafters meet… I have no idea what that would be called… I’m a cook), clean water, new food, and even shoveled some of the shavings and shit from their little penned in area. Gotta say, nothing like cleaning a chicken coop after it has warmed up a bit!… yummy.
I felt pretty good about the shortened week due to Memorial Day… was already being productive! Until Wednesday morning when I woke up, groggily went downstairs for coffee at around 6:00am, and looked out the window to greet the day. What I saw out in the back yard was Lil’ Bitch… who should’ve been in the coop I just cleaned the evening before! When I went outside to investigate… after I put pants on… I noticed the door to the coop was open. Did I forget to latch it?!
That seems odd… I thought I remembered latching it…?! And then I saw how the eye hooks were still attached to the shingles they were screwed in to, but those shingles were now attached to the door as if something simply ripped them from the wall!… the feeder was empty and broken, and Chicken (not sure if it was Chicken #1, 2, or 3…?), was a mangled mess laying lifeless just out the coop’s door in their little yard! Yay!…. Wednesday!
At first, I simply thought it was a bear looking for food considering the door was ripped open. So, Wednesday when I got home from work the fortifying began. Basically, after I cleaned up the broken glass and tipped the window box upright… I got a bigger latch. (The perpetrator pulled the window off… it was old and part of our “church” from our wedding) The wood studs in the window opening provide too small of an opening for a bear to get through and there is wire mesh covering it so I just left it open for some fresh air. Other than that… I thought I was good. 
I even taped some Pop-Its to the steps to try and deter the visitor! And then Wednesday night happened.
It was around 11:30pm when I decided to just pop my head out the back door and shine my headlamp on the coop to see if ol’ Smokey (although, I feel he’s more of a western/Rocky Mountain bear) had come around again. What I was met with were two little beady eyes staring back at me from the top step of the coop as it paused from it’s task of ripping the shingles off around the new latch I installed on the front door! No, it wasn’t a bear… it was too small. And in all honesty, if it was a bear that was getting into the coop?… I’d be ok with it. But noooooo…. it was… was… a RACCOON!… little bastards. And Rocky the Raccoon was going to town on the front of my coop trying to get to that food! It wasn’t really small… quite large actually… kinda disturbingly large… and the Pop-its didn’t deter shit! So then the fortifying began again… under the cover of darkness. (well, with lamps and the light from the garage)
In all honesty, I was a little high and the thought of it maybe being a raccoon with rabies or a fisher cat crossed my mind, so as I ran back and forth from the garage grabbing supplies… I also carried a short, flat head shovel in case I was attacked! I mean, I would periodically shine my light into the woods and those two little beady eyes would still be staring back at me just waiting to pounce!…. or for me to leave so it could get back to business.
I felt a little bad using circular saws and impact drills when it was past the one-two (midnight) for my neighbors’ sake, but the task at hand, the one that took priority at that moment in time was for me to make sure Lil’ Bitch, Chicken, and Chicken were safe. I don’t consider them pets… they’re chickens… but they are living animals that I now have the sole responsibility of making sure they have a good life… a safe life. These chickens were part of Kateri’s “Hopes n Dreams” and they remind me of that every single morning I go to open their little door along with every evening when I go to shut it, make sure they are comfortably roosted, and tell them, “Goodnight”. (Yes, I say “Good morning, Ladies!” and “Goodnight, Ladies!” everyday) So, although I felt sorta bad for using power tools when most people are sleeping… I didn’t feel THAT bad.
I still need to get the coop looking a little better, but I feel it has been secured enough to keep the larger animals out for the time being. The experience definitely threw a wrench in the week I had planned, but I’ve learned that we can only plan on so much while dealing with the things that pop up… which sometimes, we simply can’t plan for. The chickens provide me with an attachment to Kateri and I love them because of that (mostly Lil’ Bitch… she’s my favorite… it’s gonna be me and her on the homestead!), but they can also be a hard reminder of the life I had just two years ago… and of April 22, 2018 when all of my “Hopes n Dreams” were thrown out the window.
CHICKS!… 2016
On Tuesday night, I lost a chicken and over the next couple of days I did what I needed to do to try and make their life better. Today… this morning… I went out to the coop with my coffee in hand, opened their little door, and said, “Good morning, Ladies!” as a few chickens came popping out the opening… and one of them was Lil’ Bitch! Kateri ordered eight chickens four years ago. This morning there were three. A lot can happen in four years, five years, seven years, twenty years or whatever. A lot can change. We need to know how to adapt to those changes… or at the least we need to try… because Life is still all around even when Death reshapes our worlds.
We bought our Five Different Shades of Orange 1973 Super Beetle at a garage sale in Bristol back in ’02 or 3. That kinda makes it sound like we were rolling in cash and just picking up cars as we were out and about enjoying a Saturday, but it actually took a few weeks to make sure we had the money… and Bob (the seller) was having a fair amount of separation anxiety… so it was a process. He would come into the restaurant Kateri and I were managing to grab a bite and we would chat to get acquainted with each other a bit more so that he could feel comfortable knowing his little bug was going to a good home. We feel it did.
It was one of those days where we were simply out and about driving around Vermont, watching shit go by, and hitting some yard sales…Kateri loved “Yardsaling”. The Super Beetle was parked on the road with a for sale sign in the window, so we started the whole kicking the tires, inspecting underneath, checking out the rusty spots, and dreaming of what it would be like to use for one of our favorite pass times… smoking weed (with a couple of Road Sodas back in the day) and driving the back roads of the Green Mountains… together.
The inspection and dreaming was all going along fine until I had decided to roll a window down… and it didn’t go back up… and we hadn’t met the owner yet! Yup, Kateri was pretty proud of me at that point! Well, really all it did was force us (me) to find the owner and have a conversation about the vehicle… because I might’ve broken it. When we found Bob we told him we were checking out the car and his first response was, “You didn’t roll down the window, did you?”. Yup…. proud.
We had a nice conversation, checked out some of the other stuff he was selling, purchased an iron gate that we carted around with us for years (not sure where that ended up!), and set up a time to take the bug for a test drive. Of all of our experiences with that little beetle, the test drive was my favorite. Kateri had never been in… or at least driven…(?) a Volkswagen Bug before and we figured that even if we didn’t buy the car, she at least got to have that experience! I’ll tell you… from the moment she saw that little, Five Different Shades of Orange Super Beetle… with a sunroof!… it always put a smile on her face. To be able to clearly remember her enthusiasm when she got into that car, fired it up and heard that distinct Bug sound as she cautiously took off down the road with the windshield six inches from her face, it makes me happy to this day… even as I can feel the tears on my cheeks. (I guess that’s how you know it was a good thing)
I love all the memories I have of Kateri and I with that little buggy. It was an adventure every time we pulled away from our little house in the hills… to drive around other hills… never knowing if it was gonna start up again once you stopped for gas, a bite to eat, or to just take in a view. There was one time we decided to putz down south a tiny ways to where Kateri’s little sister was working for the summer at a kid’s camp. Luckily it was a beautiful day because at every stop we had to wait, let the engine cool down (I think. Again, I’m a cook and not a mechanic!… but believe those engines were air cooled.), and hope that it would start so that we could get to the next point on the trip… and eventually home! It was a great lesson in patience.
The license plate! Oh my gosh… I loved our license plate. It was the first time we got vanity plates. (Are they still called that? Personalized?… whatever) At first, Kateri wanted to have some sort of variation of Pickin’ Apples… her code phrase for sex when she was younger. But we weren’t able to get one of those. We live in Vermont… there are a lot of “Apple” people here… so we started brainstorming other ideas. As much as I like to think it was “our“ Five Different Shades of Orange ’73 Super Beetle… it was really Kateri’s. Once we realized her nickname would fit on the plate, we just thought it would be appropriate! And then we found out THAT was taken. So what do you do?… You add a number to the end! Yup… people would see us puttering around The Green Mountains, smiles ear to ear, in a bright orange bubble with green rectangles on either end that said… SQUIRT1..!
Although “Squirt” is what a lot of people call Kateri, we got a kick out of thinking about how drivers who were following us would interpret it!
When we moved to Colorado in 2007 we had to get rid of it. A friend said he could hold onto it for us and used his ex-girlfriend’s AAA membership to pull it out of it’s winter storage space… tarped in the woods… and transport it north to his place. It wasn’t in too great of shape at that point, the rust was kinda running rampant. As the tow truck guy was slowly using the winch to pull it up the angled flatbed… the battery fell through the floor! It’s sorta sad thinking about how she never hit the road again, but it’s kinda fun thinking about how our friends would sometimes pack into that broken down and stationary Bug after they had a few drinks, pass around a joint, talk, and reminisce about the good times. Kateri got to have that experience once when she came back to help a friend out. I love that image… Kateri smiling and happy in her ’73 Super Beetle… with people she loves.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
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I didn’t go to bed last night until the wee hours of this morning. I knew I was probably gonna be up late since I wasn’t gonna be working today. I decided early on in this “New Life” that I wasn’t gonna work on the anniversary of Kateri’s death… ever… and I’ve made it two years in a row! As a widower, I’ve had to deal with the loss of Kateri every single day I wake up, but as time goes by, day to day life kinda turns into this new normal and I’ve gotten used to balancing the weight of not having Kateri next to me and all of the things that come along with that… and figuring out how to “live” and function in this new world without being an emotional and psychological plane wreck! I feel as though there have been a couple areas of turbulence and maybe a bit of engine trouble over the last two years, but I’m still in the air!… even if I fly pretty low sometimes. One day… I hope to be in a space where I am soooo excited about life that I simply NEED to buzz the tower!… even if Goose is pleading with me not to. One day Goose… one day.
Initially I planned on taking three days off for Kateri’s anniversary so that I could do something out in the world like go to the ocean and stay at the dumpy little hotel, which we loved, and was right on the water. We got a kick out of the place when we found the shape of an iron burned into the carpet in the entry way of room 318 (I don’t actually know the room number… it’s the one on the top floor on the end… in case you were wondering). But The Rona has kinda put the kibosh on any plans like that so I was kinda forced to decide to stick around the schoolhouse… which I’m also completely okay with. I mean, this really is the place where I feel the closest to Kateri because it’s filled with all sorts of her Hopes n Dreams. I just wish there was more time for her to experience more of them.
Two years. Jesus… what the fuck…?! (sorry Jesus, just using you as an exclamation… I don’t blame you. We’ve been warned you work in mysterious ways! At least, that’s what I hear… I don’t actually go to church or follow you on any of your social media platforms… but I dig the message you were delivering. It’s just a fair amount of your followers that I have an issue with… they can get a little freaky!) Although at points it feels like Kateri died yesterday, the fact of the matter is that for 730 days (31?… was there a Leap Year or some shit?) I’ve had to learn how to live life without her. I’ve had to learn how to live My Life using the lessons that she taught me instead of witnessing her actions. She cut the path through the woods… I just need to maintain it and see where I can create new ones. (some bushwhacking required)
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
ps… it feels odd not really ever writing specifically about Kateri and all the beautiful things that made her such a unique and loving person. Maybe my next post will be about her… and not me and my shit.
The story pretty much goes that my life hasn’t changed too dramatically as we are going through this whole COVID-19 thing, but enough has happened that I’ve had to refocus some of my time and energy away from my blog!… which has been an interesting little pause for me as I come up on Kateri’s Death Date. I guess that’s why I felt the urge to at least post something!
So…… last week I made a video which I shared on Facebook… and this week I’m just gonna share it on here because I talk about… well… stuff I’m going through and how our current environment has had an affect on me as a widower and as a person. There have been other things that have recently happened in my life that I could write about such as getting a new chimney two days ago… and finally being able to burn some wood to keep the house warm instead of propane!… after a month and a half! (Man, I love having a “hot spot” to stand next to since I have a cute but drafty house… and it’s still 29 degrees at night.) Or I could write about how I fixed the water lines to my washer so that I don’t have to “get my steps in” every time I do a load of clothes as I would shuffle stainless steel mixing bowls and coolers full of water from the kitchen to the laundry room! I did this for months… MONTHS I say!… just because I didn’t want to deal with plumbing in the winter time in case something went wrong. (Water leaks and winter just don’t jive with me!)
Ok… instead of me writing about all the things I could write about… I’m just gonna throw on this video, let the chickens out, and have morning coffee over Facetime with people I love who are thousands of miles away. Awe… technology in the time of The Rona. Thanks smrt people… for keeping us connected!
ps…. I’ll warn you, the vid is eleven and a half minutes long!… and there are no pyrotechnics.
My Dearest Kateri,
First… Happy Birthday! You’ve always loved your birthday being on St. Patrick’s Day… it might’ve been the Irish in you. I love how you would make sure to have a bottle of Bailey’s around for today… usually starting the morning off with a “little” in your coffee… until the time came to start drinking it out of one of the two tiny plastic beer steins. I especially loved it when you would fill up both of the miniature mugs, hand one to someone you loved, clink them together as well as two small plastic mugs could clink, and celebrate simply being there together on your birthday.
Well babe, I’ll be honest… I had a little emotional breakdown just a second ago, decided to run to the store for some papers and on the way back I realized what it was I needed to say to you. I wanted to write to you about all the fun St. Patty’s Day/Birthday adventures we had at the ocean, in pubs, with friend’s and family… or just the two of us, but I’m not going to. Those are all simply wonderful memories… which I have. What I don’t have… is you. And today…. I’m having a hard time with that.
Since just under two years ago, I’ve been trying to figure out how to do this alone. To fill you in, we currently have something happening in our world that will ultimately touch every living person on this planet… in one way or another. It’s called COVID-19 now, but get this… at first it was called Coronavirus! I know!… CORONA-VIRUS! I thought you would get a kick outta that. Although there were a plethora of beer jokes when it first came to light just a couple of months ago… and I may have made some remarks about licking door knobs to get out of work… aaaand I know you would still be making inappropriate jokes (at times) about it to ease the anxiety… it’s actually a very unsettling time and serious thing.
This is where you come into play. When I drove home from getting my papers, I looked around at the open fields, the sparsely filled Park n Ride, a family in a four door pick-up truck at the stop sign waiting to turn, everything felt… different. I’ve gotta tell you Kateri, when I heard your last breath… I heard my world change. Now, as I face a changing world, I simply wish I never heard that silence and that you were with me now. I wish I had our life again. I wish you were here to stay in comfy clothes, drink Bailey’s, and watch horrible movies on your birthday because everything is shut down. Hell, maybe we would be at an empty hotel on the ocean making cappuccinos in our room because we got it for dirt cheap! Once again, your cappuccino would probably have Bailey’s, but it doesn’t really matter what we would be doing… I just wish you were here with me because you always made uncomfortable times better… or uncomfortable in a different way… a better way!
I hope you are having a wonderful time however you are spending your birthday. I have all sorts of scenarios playing in my head, but my minds eye can only focus on your smile… that big, innocent, genuine smile. I want you to know that our friends have been reaching out today showing us they love us. It’s been nice, but I haven’t really responded to anyone yet… I’ve kinda just been thinking about you. Well, and dealing with work… and a chimney guy!… but mostly you.
You were my partner in everything… in life. When life got crazy… as it is right now… I looked to you… and I still do, Kateri. I want you to know that. You taught me so much. You provided me with direction… with purpose… with guidance. You may not be standing next to me or sleeping upstairs or at the farm or in the garden, but you are always with me.
I’ve been much more emotional today than I expected to be… you would have a blast yelling, “CRYYY!” at me… but I just wanted to send you a note… which made me more emotional… so I’m gonna stop now and say, “I love you, Kateri. Happy St. Patty’s Day and HAPPY BIRTHDAY!… you would be 46.” (because I know you still aren’t paying attention to your age)
Love,
Lippy
ps… Coronavirus: Reason #317 that trees make better neighbors.
Today I’m writing what I was gonna write tomorrow about yesterday, but I realized the date and the whole “Widower Day” was kind of a funny run of two’s so I thought why not tonight?! (I don’t know why… I just happen to like numbers. Yup, as Kateri would say… I suffer from O.D.D…. it spells odd.)
At work yesterday, I made the comment that if I didn’t love my house as much as I do, if Kateri and I had just bought some random home in the burbs instead of our cute ass and drafty little red schoolhouse… well, I probably would’ve sold it and hit the open road! But that’s not the case, so I’m still here at my little red schoolhouse home and on the drive home yesterday I had an experience that simply made me happy about my current living condition.
It was getting dark when I turned at the lake. Not like dark dark… just kinda dark. About three minutes in, I saw two dimly lit red lights moving at a slower rate than I was moving.
I couldn’t really make out the shape of the car, but I could tell the lights were the taillights of on old Volvo station wagon… and then made the assumption that it was John plugging along in front of me. This is where I felt a little bit of the warmth that “community” and “neighbors” provide once in a while. I loved the fact that before I could actually see any of the particulars, I could tell who it was. It made me feel like I was driving “Home”. After literally saying how I would’ve “Hit the open road” just a couple of hours earlier, it made me realize that I do still really love where I live… and the fact that I know my neighbors. I don’t know most of them very well, but each of them have come into my (or our) life at one point or the other. Some I wish we (I) got to spend more time with… I guess I still can. Some, I’m fine with just a wave here and there. Either way, it’s comforting knowing the people on my Home Road. It eases the loneliness… and that little experience helped fill a tiny bit of the emptiness I feel every time I head back north. It was a little thing. It was random. It was moment specific. But it was significant to me on an insignificant drive back to the schoolhouse.
When I pulled into the driveway, pulled up to the garage, put the car in park and set the parking break.. I just sat there for a moment. I have this thing where sometimes I can’t get out of the car right away… usually because I see those big ass schoolhouse windows to my left and it just reminds me of all of the “Hopes and Dreams” Kateri and I had with our lives and our home… this was one of those times. I was starting to get a little emotional when the song Dance Monkey by Tones and I came on. I had heard this song quite a few times and have just always really enjoyed it. I’d like to think that I’m sorta up on current music, but I don’t have TV and am not on the internet too much so I don’t really know about any of the artists… or what they even look like! This song, however, has just been growing on me so I decided to sit and listen… in my driveway.
It made me really think about Kateri for a couple of reasons. I thought of her dancing in the passenger seat as we would drive down the highway… or be sitting in our driveway. I thought about how she would’ve really enjoyed movin’ to this particular song. It made me think about how Kateri faced the news and fucked up reality that she had cancer… in her brain… and her plan was to dance the cancer away. She always described it as her “Dance” with cancer… and she danced beautifully with the asshole partner who unexpectedly cut in.
As I thought about these things and others, I wondered if I could maybe play this song on the guitar…? So, as I sat there in the driveway… in my “cute” little Jeep… I pulled out my phone and searched guitar chords for the song that was currently vibrating loose change in the cup holder. I saw that it was basically four chords and when the song ended, I went inside, rolled a joint, turned on Youtube to check out the official video, lit a fire, lit the joint… and just enjoyed the song for the second time in 15 minutes.
I couldn’t really tell anything about the artist from the official video, so I started searching live performances. This is where I need to insert the “Oh my God!”… because what I saw was simply amazing. The first video I found was her U.S. debut when she played on Jimmy Fallon… and I couldn’t get enough of it… of her! I’m not gonna get too much into it except to say that I found her to be absolutely inspiring… which then turned into another two hours filled with nothing but Tones and I… and Dance Monkey being played over and over again as I searched for more and more live performances. It was such a “not what I thought” experience that I couldn’t get over it! As I watched her perform… it made me wanna root for her! Of course, seeing her perform gave me the feeling that she is gonna have a shit ton of people who are gonna wanna listen to her music, learn about her story, and support her! It was just one of those pleasant surprises that come along once in a while. Check her out!
Yup, it was just one of those days. And, in all honesty… I finished writing this today… because I didn’t finish it yesterday. Instead, I fell asleep on the couch.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
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I think… like everyone else… I wish I could just drop everything, pack a bag, load the car, and experience wanderlust again for a while instead of plugging away at the grind. Not that things have been absolutely horrible… I haven’t been getting punched in the nuts when I wake up every morning or anything like that… but it DOES get a little tiring when you constantly feel overwhelmed, are constantly trying to “figure things out”, and life keeps showing you that there are things you have control over… and there are things that you don’t. So…. I’m just gonna keep plugging away at routines for right now… keep an eye on what I have control over… and maybe try to create some new routines! (Like ones where I have to brush my teeth at a rest stop, in a hotel, or next to my tent would be fun! Or in my schoolhouse… I have no plans of letting go of my schoolhouse! Gotta have home to come back to!)
The past couple of weeks have been good, filled with some good things. My lady friend and I went to Salem, Mass last week to get out of Dodge, see the ocean, and check out some witches! (the witches weren’t actually a main focal point) One thing I love about the East Coast is it’s history. Yes, we have some pretty horrendous history in this country, but everywhere does.
It’s fun to walk around a town made up of old brick buildings and wooden houses where you can read about what took place on that spot hundreds of years ago!… even though they weren’t good times. (I guess that’s how we learn not to do those things again… or not let them happen again.)
For me, it’s weird doing things with someone who isn’t Kateri… but that’s the whole balancing “New Life” and “Old Life”. I mean, I still wanna experience life… sometimes with someone else… sometimes by myself… but mainly I don’t wanna keep trying to recreate the experiences I had with Kateri because those times are simply memories of a different life now… even if they are really, really good memories. I want new experiences… for my new life. Experiences like going to the Peabody Essex Museum or the Salem Witch Museum. I still wanna walk around towns and look at the architecture or old ass homes where the doors don’t have any right angles anymore. I wanna go into magic shops and get in trouble for taking pictures because they sell REALLY important and magical things. I wanna have fun and say things like, “These are the trees where they hung all the witches!” when walking through a town green… not knowing if there was any truth in the statement! I still wanna live… life… and focus on “The Good” things once in a while… and push “The Bad” to the side for a bit… here and there.
I was gonna go into some other things I’ve been doing over the last couple of weeks like the fact that I’ve started going through the house… slowly… or the fact that I’ve started my book! (an even slower start… but I’ve got a file folder with words in it!) But, it’s my Sunday on a Monday and I’ve got things to do. All in all, I feel I’ve been doing okay. Going through the cabinet in the living room was rewarding. It’s interesting what you find in boxes. This one had old computers (no, I didn’t turn them on to look at pics or anything… although I wanted to), CD’s from decades ago, cords cords cords, an old picture of me from 2007, a ticket from our NY City Christmas in 2012, toys my mom gave Kateri over the years,…. and underwear. Yup, you just never know what you’ll find!… but you’ve gotta open the box first to see what’s in it! Otherwise, it’s just a box taking up space.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
It’s up to us to decide on which to focus on and when. We aren’t helpless. Sometimes, we can do things that are actually helpful to ourselves… and others… without much effort.ps… You can follow the blog if you want! I promise! Unless you’re a dick… then you can follow some other blog.
Well… it has started. I have begun the process of going through shit to see what I want to keep around, what I want to save, what I want to throw away, and what I feel other people may want… of course, people definitely tell you what they want when your wife dies! More importantly though, I would want something to go to someone I love… who loved Kateri… if there is significant weight put on whatever object by whatever person… and if it’s in the “Give Away” pile! In this case, I’m going the kitchen… so there isn’t a ton of those types of things.
I mean, I don’t know if anyone is gonna be fighting over the 2 year old Cheerios in the glass jar on the counter!.. but maybe?!
I planned on going through the kitchen on Sunday since my original plan to go see a buddy in AZ fell through and I was still gonna take the time off… because I need it. When I knew I wasn’t going to some strange land filled with sand… and where the sun seems to be a heck of a lot closer… I wanted to take advantage of the time to get to some things that I just simply haven’t been able to get to yet. The kitchen seemed like a good place to start because it is also a space that is functional… I use it everyday.
Now I’ve just gotta say it went a WHOLE lot slower than I expected… and I’m actually not even done!… but the kitchen is clean (top of the fridge and all!) and I was able to go through a few cabinets and cupboards. The fridge… and everything on it… was the big one. It’s amazing what we put on refrigerators… the memories we magnet to the thin metal keeping all our shit cold. Mine kinda covered the gambit. It was dotted with pictures of family from years ago, recipes in Kateri’s handwriting, little notes, menus from local sandwich shops, magnets from our travels, wedding invitations and snapshots of good times! It also had Kateri’s pill regiment schedule on it that our nurse friend had made her when Kateri got discharged from the hospital… when her colon gave out halfway through “Cancer Time” because of the immunotherapy or some shit. Ya… I think I’m at the point where I don’t need to see that every time I go in the fridge to grab a Stewart’s Orange n Cream soda! I also stumbled upon a fortune, hidden beneath other papers, that word used to “Learn Chinese” was…….. disease. Yay!
Although I didn’t actually finish what I planned to finish in the kitchen… it is further along than it was on Satruday! I’ve learned that I can’t put unreasonable pressure on myself to bang some of these things out. Some things will just take time due to those constraints in time, emotional attachment, and… well… life. For me, I’m happy that I started the process and sorta have a game plan going forward. I made a big dent in something that has been nagging at my brain for a bit… and that feels good. Now I’m off to round up all “Important Papers” scattered around the house in various bags, boxes, cabinets, and closets… and I’m gonna show them their permanent home in the filing cabinet! (the one Kateri found on the side of the road!)
Widower Notes n Thought:
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Well… I officially have a Therapist for the first time in my adult life. It’s funny, as I sat here after writing that sentence, I didn’t know what I really wanted to say!… and then a friend texted and my thoughts shifted to jogging in the rain… which sounds kinda sloshy… fun, but I will probably never do… and doesn’t have anything to do with my Therapist. This is sorta what happens for me every time I stop and take the time to think about what it is I’m going through… where I’m at… what brought me here over the last 44 years and how it all works together to push me in a certain direction as I try my best to steer the wheel of life… which happens to have a significant amount of “play” in it! I keep seeing sayings like “YOU control your life” and “It’s how you show up” type stuff… and it’s true… but there’s a shitload out there that we have absolutely no control over which affects our life in one way or the other and to whatever varying degree! Hence… “play in the wheel”! (My father had an old Wagoneer. One of those classy ones with the mountain scene on the back widow. You could give the wheel a quarter turn before you headed in whichever direction!… Man, I would love to have that Jeep now.)
Back to the Therapist. I’m not gonna get into the whole road that led up to me seeing a Therapist because that could take a while! (I mean, I know I got up early… but no.) And… it’s not really important. I mean (again), it is… but it isn’t. For me, the important part is that I am taking the steps necessary to keep my life moving in a direction I can live with. After six hundred and whatever goddamn days I’m also just simply…. tired… and taking advantage of every opportunity to push me in a positive direction in hopes of getting to a better space. I mean (third time), all in all… on average… in the grand scheme of things… I’m hanging in there… fair to midland, I would say… but I’m tired of that feeling of “sustaining” or “keeping my head above water”. I want growth in all aspects of my life and in who I am. I want to be able to see the beauty that surrounds me… or that is on the other side of the windshield… and not just recognize it for being beautiful. This is one of those opportunities.
So… my approach to finding a Therapist…? As with every experience in this new life, I wanted this one to be as close to how I envision it to go as possible. I already had an idea in my head of what I felt I would be comfortable with. I thought about what type of environment would be calming and warm, the location, the type of person I wanted to have this experience with and all that jive. Fortunately, so far it has worked out!
I went through EAP at work and got two referrals. Yes.. I googled each of them. The first one was closer to my home, but there were other areas they specialized in like “Yoga”… and all I want to do is talk to someone… who focuses on talking. I can get 100% behind all the “Namaste” stuff… positive energy/vibrations/loop o’ bliss/etc., but I didn’t feel I wanted it as part of this experience, so I moved on to the other one.
I couldn’t find much info on… we’ll say “Betty”… so I gave her a call. The moment I heard her voice I knew I had found my person! (I’m calling her “Betty” for a reason… she sounded consoling and supportive… and… well… “seasoned”.) I instantly felt like I could talk with her. She had this welcoming sound to her that put any of my concerns about the process at ease. It felt… good. Aaaaaand….. when we actually met at her house for the first session…. it turned out to be exactly the experience I was looking for! Betty’s stature, demeanor, her home, her history, her voice and words, even the road to her house were all fantastic parts of this new experience… making a new memory… in this “New Life”.
There isn’t much more to really say about that first session… it was mainly a get to know ya/why we’re here type thing. I was gonna do just three sessions to start, but as we were talking I realized what this session basically was and thought a couple more would probably be beneficial. So, I’ve decided to commit to five sessions and then take stock. The first three are gonna be kinda rapid fire (once a week) and then I wanna space out the next couple. What it comes down to is… for me to get to a point where I am happy with where I am, who I am, and how I’m doing it… I’m gonna need to be open to trying new things! Fortunately, this “new thing” has so far been nothing but… encouraging!
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
Thirty Days of Mo(u)rning 