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:
I have the experiences of holding Kateri and hearing her last breath… and then doing the same with my Mom two years later. Because of those two events and who they involved, my relationship with Death has become more personal… more intimate… more Real, I guess… and my acceptance of things I have no control over has become much more central to how I react to whatever environment I am in. I absolutely hate… HATE!… that I have those two experiences, but I am glad I have a couple of Life Experiences that taught… and are still… teaching me how to be more compassionate, to be more accepting, and how to empathize and be more engaged with other people having a rough go of it. There’s enough crap out there in The World, I’m just trying not to add to it! Doesn’t always happen and can definitely be a challenge, sometimes!… but I try… and I hope you do, too.
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:
In my Widowhood, I have found that it is a challenge to get excited about things… a lot of things… most things, really. The Sourdough Stump is not one of those things. Food can be nourishing in all sorts of ways.
Like I said, we’re not exactly sure what we’re doing here, but we created an Instagram account you can follow to see when the stump is out and where this little project goes…! Follow along!… @thesourdoughstump
I have dreams of Sourdough Stumps dotting dirt roads all over Vermont… providing bread and conversations for neighbors all across The Green Mountains.
FYI… I’ve been a professional cook for thirty-one years and Amanda was a professional baker after graduating from The Culinary Institute of America: Baking and Pastry… so I guess we DO know what we’re doing when it comes to the production, baking, and food safety side of things for The Sourdough Stump. I mean, c’mon… we all have those neighbors/friends/co-workers whom we can tell what kind of pets they have at home by the cupcakes they brought to the potluck…!
Amanda is a pretty big T. Swift fan. In honor of that I’m REALLY hoping The Sourdough Stump takes off and we get a huge number of followers/fans so that I can refer to them as “Stumpies”…!
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 is a special pocket in my heart for the people who were at our wedding, who were there to celebrate Us, who gave me wonderful stories and memories to take with me on this journey that I can share with people who cross my path… and I miss them all.
Since the beginning of my Widowhood, I have sort of isolated myself from friends, family… the world. I can sometimes justify it in my head with the ol’, “There was a global pandemic” and “Going through my mom dying” or “The struggle just to keep my life, my house, my job somewhat in order” blah blah blah type things, but for whatever reason, what it comes down to is…… I don’t take/make the time to communicate with people… and it’s been a hard thing to come to terms with.
I have learned that the best way to get THE PERFECT Frosted Flakes-to-Milk ratio is to eat them late at night from a sentimental coffee mug while leaning against the counter in a dimly lit kitchen… with a fork.
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:
Sometimes, we need to insert a Smile into the day… because it’s not showing up on it’s own.
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 never paid attention to my mental health… then I lost my Wife.
I’m definitely going through a thing… but I don’t know if I’m going through a thing only because I think I’m going through a thing…?
For you Widowed Folk… I’m at 7 Years 3 Months a Widower… this is just MY experience.
This is my “Weekend Hat”… I got it days after Kateri died… I’ve been feelin’ how it’s lookin’.
Part of me feels weak… one of those “Suck it up, Buttercup” kind of things.
I drove to the dump with the windows up… it felt safe… like I was in my own little capsule/world.
I was gonna do this earlier, kind of off the cuff/in the moment/what I was going through at that specific time… but I realize I would just be blabbering away, and I wanted this to be a bit more pointed… focused. (Well, I basically just narrowed it down to “Keep it up, Champ!”.
I miss my friends.
I just keep obsessing about… What the fuck am I gonna do?!
For the last 3 years I’ve had a design for the Woodpile before my sister got here… she says she’s just the labor… but this is one of those years that I need help… and need to ask for it.
I would love to just run away to some seasonal gig… but our Priorities and Wants change throughout Our Lives and I’m just not in a Seasonal Gig Space in Life now.
I don’t know what I wanna be when I grow up… and I’ve grown up.
This is one of those Time is Running Out struggles I’m dealing with… I’m getting old…er.
There are a ton of things I love in My Life. Just a couple are:
That Amanda will sit on the stairs and postpone work so that she can be there for me as I talk about… and cry over… some aspects of Life I’m struggling with.
When I remember to grab a new bar of soap BEFORE I get in the shower… Little Victories… glorious.
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:
I Love Kateri… and miss absolutely everything about her… everything. Loss hurts.
He said his name was John… of the “Moores” or somethin’… lineage from the 1600/1700’s… and he is the reincarnation of some historically significant bloodline… or some shit. His plan is to create the new and independently sovereign country of… “New England”… consisting of the states we here in The U.S. currently refer to as… New England… but he’s gonna start with becoming the Governor of Maine in 2026… among other things… yup. During my time in the Lubec area, I spent probably a total of 2 and a half hours communicating face-to-face with other humans. 2 hours and 19 minutes of that were eating breakfast and walking around a little fishing town with John. He was very animated and a little hard to follow at times, and he usually informed me I was “slow” or would say, “keep up!” when I mentioned I wasn’t following him, disagreed, or asked a question, but I probably learned more about myself… and Life… during my time with him than at any other point on my trip. I mean, I didn’t walk out to the edge of a wharf or pier with him just in case he had the inclination to push me off into the ocean or somethin’… and I always had an “Exit Strategy” if the space we were in required it… but he taught me a lot..! (He said his IQ was around 182!!).. and I’m thankful he is now a part of my story.
Although I believe it helps us to accept the things that we have no control over for what they are, it doesn’t mean we need to like them. That acceptance just gives us Time, which allows us to focus more on the things we would like to change, build, or improve upon… or that simply fill us with joy, happiness, and a potential smile.
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:
Find/Make/Recognize Time… Time for yourself. Time to figure it out. Time to remember. Time to reflect. Time to plan. Time to learn. Time to share. Time to give… and knowing when you need to take it. Take time to stop… and think… about whatever it is you need to think about.
We’ve semi-started a tradition of eating Breakfast for Dinner on nights we make maple syrup. You know, pancakes n such… just seems fitting.
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…:
I love that my friend’s love for Kateri is still so strong it compelled her to write her another letter.
I love this friend… and her husband… and their families. They’ve been in my Life for 24 years.
We met working at a restaurant. We were in our early/mid-twenties… doing those early/mid twenty’s restaurant worker things.
We don’t talk much anymore, but this friend and her husband have seen and been a part of the truly joyous times in Kateri’s and my life, the decent days when we’re all just kinda pluggin’ along, and the scary/sad/worrisome/fucked up days. We’ve been through some stuff together. Some seriously fun stuff… and some seriously… really… not fun stuff. They are beautiful people… people I should talk to more.
I love that I got to be the one to receive the letter… and then placed it with the others.
This friend has sent multiple cards/letters… a box… over the years. I haven’t opened any of them… they’re addressed to Kateri! Instead, they live on a shelf under a stand-up mirror in our bedroom.
I love that Amanda helped me search for the cards/letter… and a box… because I wanted to take a picture of them for this post… but couldn’t recall where I put them! You know, when I got “organized” and put them somewhere I would “easily remember”…?! Ya… I didn’t remember.
I love that Amanda was supportive and there for me as the tears started flowing down my cheeks when we located the unopened cards/letters… and a box… that my friend has sent to my wife over the years. Another reason I love Amanda.
Dating a Widow/Widower (if you’re not one) can provide you with all sorts of interesting… some might say fun!… emotional and psychological experiences in your relationship!
Widowhood… almost 7 years in… and although it’s not very frequent these days, it can still hit you like a ton of baby elephants. (Not a full-size elephant… they’re too big! And I don’t want to be hit by just one fifth of an elephant!… I think that would be a bit messy for my squeamish stomach.)
I love Kateri and miss her dearly… I know a lot of people do… because Kateri was pretty frickin’ awesome.
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:
My Life is filled with 49 years of wonderful experiences and memories along with more than a handful of uncomfortable ones… and few that I could’ve lived without. That’s just how Life goes. Nope, this isn’t how I expected it to go, but my story is still being written and every day that I’m awake I have an opportunity to adapt to the world outside my windows as I try to persuade The Future to be kind and go in the direction I would like it to. Sometimes it works out. Sometimes it doesn’t, but Perseverance will get me to tomorrow… where there’s another opportunity to try it again.
For years, I’ve had Dreams of Grandeur of becoming an auto mechanic. This experience only reinforced that dream!… hmmm.
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:
In 2019, a guy named Doug left this note on my front door. I wasn’t anywhere near thinking about getting rid of the Tacoma and shared that with him over a very pleasant and enjoyable phone call. I felt that if I was ever to get rid of it… I’d contact him first… so I kept the note… and called 5 years later… and his wife informed me he passed away… in 2019. I’m glad I kept the note. I feel fortunate that I was able to talk to him. And albeit somewhat brief, I’m thankful for the wonderfully heartfelt and honest conversation I was able to have with his widowed wife. Pretty frickin’ cool.
I donated the truck to Habitat for Humanity. At first (after trying Doug), I just wanted it gone and maybe I could get a couple of bucks out of it, but that didn’t feel right to me… Kateri wouldn’t have cared for it. Habitat helped her mom out so I thought Kateri would appreciate the attachment and that her truck was gonna go towards helping someone in need.
Trains of Thought on the Jeep wheel falling off.
The logical train of thought shared with me from people who know a lot more about this kinda stuff is that there was corrosion between the wheel and plate and the lug nuts simply loosened up over time. And yes, I’m still beating myself up for not checking lug nuts when the wibble wobble was going on!
Because I’ve lost a bit of faith in humanity these days, I’m still saying that someone stole four of my lug nuts when I was in town because they needed them for their own car. I hope it worked out for them.
Although I love my new truck, I’m not yet comfortable having it and it’s not lost on me that the main reasons I was in a position to buy it was because my wife died and I straight up stopped spending money, my mom died and there was a small chunk from when my father sold their house, and there was a global pandemic where I worked… and worked… and worked.
Kateri go rid of a bunch of cassette tapes when we moved back to Vermont because we didn’t have a vehicle with a tape deck. When we bought the ’01 Tacoma later that year… it came with a tape deck…!
I kept the tailgate from Kateri’s truck, but I have no idea what I’m gonna do with it yet. Maybe a table up at the fire pit? Maybe a swing? I might just hang it from a tree out in the woods?!
The truck sat so long it created divots in the asphalt…! Stuart the tow truck operator pointed that out. Stuart… another positive part of this experience!
And with this blog post I am closing the chapter of my Life which includes Kateri’s 2001 Toyota Tacoma as I take steps further into my Widowhood and root myself more firmly in the present. I am looking forward to finding excitement in the road ahead as I sit behind the wheel of my new truck… and watch the world go by.
I’m lucky, I get to watch the world go by with Amanda and Xander by my side. Live in The Present, people… The Past will always be there tagging along in the back seat for you to check on through the rear-view mirror.
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:
Just because I miss people and things from the Past, it doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy the Present or am unable to look towards the Future. Just because I’m living in the Present and am excited for the Future, it doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten about the Past or the people who were in it.
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:
For the first time in a week, I’m wearing real underwear AND leaving the house…!… Baby needs a new pair of shoes! (By that I mean Amanda and I are going to the store to grab food for us and Xander)
I didn’t do nearly as much as I thought I would be doing during this recovery. I figured I could still be productive with a bunch of things that don’t require lifting, grabbing, moving and the such. I wasn’t. The sore bum was more distracting than I anticipated.
Thank you, Amanda… for everything… I love you.
I’m gonna admit… I’ve really enjoyed being laid up at home for the last 7 days. It’s been nice living in my own little world for a week. I’m gonna miss it… but Life doesn’t stop for a smashed asshole.
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:
Holy crap… butt surgery is no joke! I should’ve believed the Doc when they said it’s an uncomfortable and lengthy recovery. But noooo!… I was like, “I’ll be up and around in a couple of days…! I’ve got a high pain threshold!”………… nope.
Laying on my stomach feels the best… gives the most relief. Unfortunately, you can’t really do much while laying on your stomach. What I need is a really short massage table with the little head thing on it.
Day 3… 12:03pm… I took my first Oxy. I tried to just “tough it out” with some Tylenol, Advil, and a puff of weed here and there. At 12:54pm I was very happy I took drugs. Now I just hope I don’t end up sucking dick in an alley somewhere trying to find that fix a month down the road! (If you were just offended by that please realize that is nothing compared to the thousands and thousands of lives ruined by the Doctors, Insurance Companies, and Big Pharma who created the opioid epidemic we are currently in.)
I just learned the term “Booty Bumping”… and that’s a hard “No”… not happening… at least not in the next two weeks…! (or ever).
For some reason I figured I would be fine sitting after this procedure. Then I realized I just had surgery on my butt… which is what I sit on. I didn’t think that one through.
I had BIG plans of putting together a bunch of Lego… but that’s really hard to do flat on your back or laying on your stomach.
I had a moment yesterday morning while lying in bed where I thought about Kateri lying in bed during her Dance with Cancer. I thought about how she was staring at the same ceiling, the same walls, out the same window… except she wasn’t “recovering” from anything… she was trying to survive and thinking about completely different things than I’m thinking about.
I’m looking forward to blowing my nose and clearing my throat with some gusto. Currently, I’m afraid to because I can feel it… down there… and it’s kind of nerve racking.
I haven’t worn socks since Friday. I have no desire to try and put them on or take them off.
This is an annoying experience, but I have someone who loves me and is taking care of me. I have friends who have checked in and offered any kind of assistance I may need. I have a job and co-workers who are supportive… and hopefully patient! I have family who have sent tortilla chips, candy, and toys. Butt surgery is a pain in the ass, but in the grand scheme of things… I’ve got it pretty good. I’m Thankful and Grateful for all y’all.
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:
Just so you know, when you have butt surgery you learn just how connected your butt is to the rest of your body. You feel it when you cough, sneeze, laugh, clear your throat, bend over, sit up, walk up stairs or shuffle down them…. simply walking!… putting pants on, taking socks off (which Amanda is doing for me!), or trying to roll over in bed. Ya… it’s fun.
I’m really looking forward to wearing white linen pants…!
Before the surgery, my Brother-in-Law asked if it was gonna hurt to fart… it doesn’t.
When you have butt surgery, you REALLY think about what you want to eat. I would love to eat pizza and ice cream, but I have no idea what that’s gonna turn into by the end of its trip or what kind of landing there’ll be…!
Ladies… pads and the such… I feel ya. Those high flow/three pad mornings were a bitch!
I’ll be honest… this sucks. It hurts. It doesn’t come at an opportune time. I’ve realized the recovery is gonna be a bit rougher/longer than I wanted. I feel like I’m letting work down and won’t be as productive as soon as I’d like. AND!… I’m scared to poop. That really says it all. When you’re scared to poop… no bueno. Fortunately, when you’re scared to poop and then you poop a couple of times, you realize things are healing and you become a little less scared with each pooping episode.
I’m 28 hours into butt surgery recovery… and doing ok. Haven’t taken the narcotics or smoked as much pot as I thought I would, but Amanda has kept me on schedule with the Tylenol and Advil… which I haven’t taken in years. She’s been great… another reason I love her… and she made cake…! Even when we feel like smashed asshole and it hurts to simply exist, we have people taking care of us in one capacity or another. I’m thankful for those people in My Life.
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:
First and foremost, I… loved… my… beard…! I loved it the most at its longest. And it will forever warm my heart that I have the memory of being told that I looked like an Axeless Mountain Dwarf…!
I had the beard for six and a quarter years… that’s how long Kateri has been gone. That sounds like a long time… and can feel like a week.
Kateri never got to see me with a long ass beard… she would’ve loved running her fingers through it. (I can feel that… and now I’m crying. Six and a quarter years that can feel like a week… and sometimes yesterday.)
I can also remember the feeling of Amanda (my girlfriend) running her fingers through my long ass beard… and it reminds me that there are new experiences out there simply waiting for us to get to them. Experiences that are exciting, fun, and feel… GOOD!
There are people in my life that have never seen me without a beard… who weren’t a part of my prior Life.
I’d like a job where I don’t have to put on a beard net, but I’d rather wear a beard net than find another job…!
I don’t know the last time I had more hair on my head than on my face…! Of course, I’m currently in the experiment of “Let’s see what happens if I don’t cut my hair…?”. I’ve had a shaved head for quite a spell now. Once I started to… you know… get a “little” thin up there I decided to accept that I would probably be shaving my head for the rest of my life… or until I retire… or I get out of kitchens… or win the lottery.
I’m pretty sure the hair on the head will be gone in a few weeks.
It’s fun seeing people’s reaction when you shave a beard off, but because I’ve had a beard for a while now… that’s how I picture myself in my brain. So, I found myself in a couple of situations where someone would be looking at me with this strange/quizzical look and I was trying to figure out why! Is there something on my face?!… in my teeth?!… are there flying monkeys behind me?! Nope… the person is just seeing my chin for the first time.
Pandemic Facemask Beard was always fun to see at the end of the day. Wearing a facemask with a long-ass beard… not so much. The beard pushes the top of the mask into your eyeballs every time you look down! The blue surgical ones were the worst.
Complete strangers will come up to you in the airport and comment on your beard.
Last week, after six plus years, I wanted a change. I was ready for a change. Shaving allowed me to have a little fun while pushing my comfort levels on certain things… such as, how I look and/or people see me…!
Ok, my cheek skin definitely looked and felt like it hadn’t seen the sun in over six years! It had that kinda zombie flesh feel and appearance to it. I mean, that is if zombie flesh is as soft and smooth as John Legend singing Moon River on Barry White’s butt!… when he was a baby… and somehow had the superhuman strength to support being sat on by John Legend.
I felt different with the beard… like a different person. When I looked in the mirror that evening a little over six years ago, I felt I looked like a person humbled by the weathering effects of Life… and in some weird way I wanted my actions to reflect it. By her simply being her, Kateri taught me so much about how to be a good person in this crazy world, but it was the loss of her when I truly realized I could’ve done or been… better. A better husband. A better friend. A better co-worker, acquaintance, and customer. I could’ve listened better. I could’ve made better choices. I could’ve been abetterperson. It’s not that I feel as though I’m some sort of horrible person that just went around punching puppies or anything… I just could’ve learned some lessons a little quicker. In some ways, the beard gave me the strength of a safety blanket to sorta hide behind as I tried to be the person I thought “that person” in the mirror looked like…! The Beard allowed me to change how people saw me… how I looked… how I felt… and with that, I thought I could start to figure out who I was in this “New Chapter”… and who I wanted to be.
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:
Be kind.
Make good decisions.
Do what’s right.
Try not to be an asshole… but recognize when you are. (Usually, it’s not the end of the world.)
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:
Priorities and Perspective… we need to keep those in mind… and sometimes be reminded of them.
I was gonna add “Perseverance” in there somehow but thought the 3 P’s sounded kinda weird and like some sorta Self-Help book mantra or something you’d see on a bumper sticker!… or something.
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:
It’s amazing… leaves on trees, grass, and road signs all have sharp edges in real life!
Apparently one of my eyes wouldn’t have passed for the DMV. Good thing I’ve got two of them!… and now glasses, as well.
Through my Widowhood and with the added Global Pandemic I’ve lost sight of a few things. Glasses aren’t gonna fix that… that’s on me.
Getting my eyes checked wasn’t just about being able to see. The act was also an attempt for me to gain some clarity on the steps I want to take as I fumble my way into the future.
If you are new to corrected vision… and like to smoke weed… you’ll be very entertained for the first couple of days!
Yes, that is a shoelace attached to my glasses in the pic… just testing things out!
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:
Change always takes a bit of getting used to. It don’t matter if it’s a big change in your life like your wife dying… a small change like a detour during the morning commute or trimming your beard… or a casual one such as the changing of the seasons. Well, minus the hurricanes, tornadoes, n shit… they aren’t casual, but it’s there… “Change”… and we adapt. Ever since Kateri died, I’ve had to deal with quite a few of those Big Changes that come along with widowhood. And yup… there are some hard ones to deal with on a daily basis (even almost 6 years in), but they’ve taught me how to deal with “Change” in a much more even keeled manner than the “I’m just gonna let this thing Annette did eat at me until I snap at Frankie because he chews with his mouth open like a God Damn camel!!!” (sorry for the blasphemy… old life Darren was wound kinda tight). Now, I’m not saying that in the past almost 6 years of widowhood I’ve dealt with certain Changes, or the effects/repercussions of those Changes, in the best… some might say, “Appropriate” or “Sensitive”… ways, all I’m saying is I simply don’t react the same way as I did before because I’ve had time… and have taken the time… to reflect on how I approach and accept Change since the moment the most significant one in my life took place on April 22nd, 2018. In those almost 6 years I’ve learned some of who I am… what I want… what I need… and as I see it, there ain’t no Change that is THAT big of a deal to me these days. Things will always work out… one way or another… and I’ll be just fine as I plug away at this thing we like to call… Living. (until that changes!)
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:
Sometimes we need to take the Little Victories in any given situation. For me, I’m pretty proud of the fact that I scored a 9 on the Boston Bowel Preparation Scale where anything >8 is considered “Very Good Bowel Preparation”…!… Winning.
You know you love someone or something when you’re willing to deal with any of the varieties of bodily fluids that come out of them. Whether it be romantic or platonic, True Love is scooping poop to put into a screw-top container so that you can use the U.S. Postal Service to deliver it to someone in a cold room wearing a white coat… and Danskos.
(Didn’t have to do anything like that this time around. This Post’s subject matter just reminded me of times I experienced or witnessed that lesson!)
Happy Halloween Eve!… or would it be All Hallows Eve Eve?! Either way, Halloween is tomorrow and I hope you have a fun… and safe!… one. (Full dislosure, I’m not dressing up this year. This pic is from years ago when Luke went as Hulk Hogan, John was Randy “The Macho Man” Savage, and I was “Rowdy” Roddy Piper… fun memories!)
PooperUpdate: 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:
Aaaaaaand!… Happy Halloween!!… almost… from the woodpile. (Totally kicked the neighbor’s derriere in the “Arts n Crafts” category during the 2023 Wood Stacking Competition… Halloween Edition!)
Posted at 11:07 am by Darren Lidstrom, on September 28, 2023
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:
I’ve been missing my old life as of late. I’ve been missing the people and the experiences we shared over the years and I wished I was better at keeping in touch. Even though there may be years in between our communication… I still love them all and from time to time the thought pops into my head… “Do they think of me (us)? Do they remember me? I hope they remember me…?”. I know that sounds a little weird, but Widowhood can be a very isolating and lonely existence at certain times of the day, month, year… here and there.
I was up past the One Two (midnight) talking to an old friend last night. He was one of our Men of Honor. We haven’t spoken in months and when he sent a text message saying he was thinking of me… I just had to see his ugly mug (and beautiful hair), so I Facetimed him. When we were finishing up the ol’ convo, I mentioned that he and his wife were in Vermont 12 years ago today and I thanked him for standing up with Kateri and I, in front of 125 of our closest family and friends, as we celebrated our love for each other, partied, danced, laughed, and talked around the fire as we smoked and ate pig… while maybe smoking other things. He didn’t realize that it was my Anniversary Eve… was simply thinking of me. I love that shit… and am so happy we talked.
A Wedding Anniversary for a Widower (Widow) is a strange thing to think about. For me, it’s difficult to process… and in some regards, accept… just how different my life is now than it was prior to Kateri’s Last Breath. My Wedding… well… I still think of it as the best day of my life so far, but it was in a different time… a different “chapter” of my time on Earth that I simply don’t have access to anymore. If you would’ve asked me twelve years ago, today is a date that I thought I would be celebrating and getting excited about for decades to come. Instead, I now use it as an opportunity to remember Kateri, all the beautiful things she brought into this world and into my life, the lessons she taught me, the memories we created throughout the years, and the million and a half other little reasons that on September 28, 2011… at around 4…ish… it made me so grateful to be surrounded by such an amazing group of peeps as I was given the chance to call her… My Wife. (…or was it Fate…?)
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:
I quit drinking so that I wouldn’t lose Kateri. Since she died, I still don’t drink because I know my life is simply better… maybe a hundred times better… some might say, “A shit ton better!”… when I don’t drink.
There’s a lot of peeps out there who don’t drink… it’s not weird.
The pic with the bottle of Absolut Vodka… that was High School… in the early 90’s. (I could tell from the clear braces!… and I know the picture… because it’s mine… of me.)
Staying off the bottle has gotten easier with time… which I have found is sorta the same with my widowhood.
If you need help with addiction or anything else in life… talk to someone… anyone. Life can get better.
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.
Kateri’s Purse: Kateri’s purse hung on a coat hook in the mudroom since I brought it home from hospice. I love how worn and soft the leather was, the smell of it, and the pack of travel tissues still chillin’ in an inside pocket. It went home with someone who understands that it isn’t just a bag to put shit in.
The Note in the Kitchen: This was one of the first things I took down once Amanda and I decided on the move. I wrote Kateri the note one morning before I went to work… after she was diagnosed with Stage 4 Metastatic Malignant Melanoma… and before I realized just how big of a pile of shit was about to be thrown at Me, Kateri, and everyone who knew and loved her. The note simply says:
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, Karaoke, and NYC: For Kateri’s Celebration of Life, our buddy had this pic of Kateri singing karaoke in NYC blown up… because it’s frickin’ awesome! Since then, it has lived at the top of my stairs with a couple of other pics of Kateri hanging with some special people in our life. I… love… this… pic!… but I also love Amanda and feel that if she is gonna move in… maybe she doesn’t wanna be welcomed by my dead wife every time she goes upstairs! So, I took it down. It’s gonna go somewhere… just don’t know where yet.
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…
The lid was heavy and kinda awkward.
I was pretty afraid of falling in. Nope!… doesn’t sound like a fun time to me!
I also really didn’t want to see a body at the bottom or a hand floating or eyeballs staring back at me!… NOPE! NO! NOT EVEN! NO WAY!! Truly… I was freaking myself out.
Too many scary movies.
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 SURVIVALMODE! 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:
Our life is a book in the making and the pages filled with our stories add up over the days, months, and years as we live on the perpetual last page. Last week, I enjoyed sharing the last page with Amanda, her family, and her friends as we flipped through some of her earlier works.
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:
Sometimes life can bruise you up… sometimes pretty good. Just remember that bruises only grow for so long. At some point they plateau… stop spreading… and simply begin to change as they heal. It may take longer for them to mend than it did for the bruise to show up, but they do diminish over time… all the way to where you can’t even see them anymore. You may still feel the effects of the bruise, but at some point, you realize you’ve made it through the blunt trauma and frequent pain and are now simply living with the memory of the bruise… and hopefully you’ve learned to check for stumps…!
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…!
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:
Recognize and cherish those little moments in life… in the future they may not seem so… mundane. Or don’t… I’m not gonna tell you what to do… even though I just did.
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:
Life is different once it’s touched by loss. I still find enjoyment and happiness here and there. I love my family… and my friends. I love my girlfriend and our dog. I love my home… and am grateful to have it. I love playing my guitar in the garage or on the front porch. I love seeing the fireflies on warm summer nights and my breath on cold winter walks. I love mowing my lawn and waving to people as they drive by… and then motherfucking them for driving too fast and coating everything with dust from the dirt road. I love corndogs… with nothing but yellow mustard. But…. I go through times with this strange kind of “whatever” feeling to my existence. My goal isn’t to build a future, I don’t have many Hopes n Dreams, and I guess I don’t really feel as though I have much “Purpose” in this world. I’m existing… getting through the day… one step at a time… sustaining. I’ve grown accustomed to this life and am comfortable enough with it. In my Widowhood, I don’t wish for death or an end to it all, but I understand that it’s coming at some point. Sometimes I get into a quasi-funk and it doesn’t really matter to me when that is. I’ve learned we don’t always have any control over it… and that it can come at any moment. It’s just weird living a life where there are moments that if someone said, “You have cancer and it’s terminal.”… I’d be like, “OK.” and then quit my job, go home to my Little Red Schoolhouse, have a fire, and ride it out. Thankfully… for today… that is not the case.
This was written at a specific time in my life (a few months ago) where this is what I was feeling. It’s completely fine to feel certain ways at certain moments. Our life is a continuum of emotions that we learn to live with… with the hope that we are able to recognize and manage them. A vast majority of the time I try to have a positive approach to life and be a good person while also knowing that sometimes I simply get that feeling of… blah.
Posted at 11:34 am by Darren Lidstrom, on September 29, 2022
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 Tuesday, the day before my Wedding Anniversary, I was standing in the back yard taking a moment and I started to feel some of the emotions that come along with Loss bubble up. And then I thought about the fact that my Wedding Anniversary was Tomorrow… and not Today. Although feelings and emotions come when they want, I had to remind myself that I was still living in the present and before I could really let myself get immersed in the life and loss of Kateri… I needed to thank someone for always being supportive, for being understanding, for being a caring and giving individual, for being there for me, and for loving me. I needed to take a moment… be in the present… tell them, “Thanks”… and, “I love you.” We carry the past with us, but that’s not where we live.
Posted at 11:17 am by Darren Lidstrom, on September 26, 2022
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
By the time I get home from work Xander has been cooped up in The Schoolhouse for 9 to 11 hours so when we go for our afternoon walk I want to give him… time. Time to run. Time to be outside. Time to be a dog sniffing, digging, patrolling, and playing in the woods and yard. On one of these walks I found myself standing there… for I don’t know how long… as Xander was tearing apart a rotting stump and digging deeper and deeper along it’s roots. It was hot… which in Vermont also means buggy… and I was just about over it. At that moment I recognized just how much fun Xander was having trying to get at whatever it was he was fixated on. I wanted him to stop so that we could keep on our walk and I could get to my evening tasks. And then I thought about how he spent the day surrounded by walls with only a view of the world outside the windows. So I took a breath and pushed my thoughts of evening chores to the side and took in the scenery and sounds of the woods while I waited… and waited… and let him be a dog.
Responsibility
When Kateri died, I was thrust into this weird “Instant Independence” kind of life. I was responsible for only myself… and Kateri’s chickens. When the last three chickens (Lil’ Bitch, Chicken, and Chicken) got eaten by raccoons (bastards), I was the last living animal left at The Schoolhouse besides the mice, snakes, and other country creatures. The moment Amanda and I told Judy we would take care of Xander and he could live at my house, I assumed the responsibility of providing the best possible life I could for him. I was responsible for his health, his safety, and his happiness. It’s a responsibility that fills me with warmth every day when I come home and can see him through the big ol’ schoolhouse window sitting on the end of the couch with his paws hanging over the edge just waiting for me to walk past so that he can run to the door to meet me. Of course, sometimes I see him on the couch and by the time I open the door… he’s not there. Nope, sometimes when I open the door I can hear him in the dining room crunching away at the food in his bowl leftover from the night before. Yup… gotta say… sometimes it hurts just a little knowing that food is the bigger priority for him than seeing me at that moment!… but I’ve accepted it.
Unconditional Love
There have always been dogs in mine and Kateri’s life, but we never had one of our own. We moved around a bunch… and were renters… and just thought it would be easier to pick up and start another adventure if we didn’t have animals. Once we bought our Little Red Schoolhouse, once we had our own land, once we had our own Home… that’s when things like pets, chickens, Hopes n Dreams would really start to take off. That first Spring in our first home is when those Hopes n Dreams started to take shape in the form of 8 chickens. And then two Springs later… Kateri died… and things like Hopes n Dreams turned into a cloudy and muddled view of life, love, and the world in which I was living in. Over the last four and a half years some of those challenges that come along with Widowhood have eased and some of those cloudy views have started to clear up a bit. Love is a complicated thing. For an emotion that can make you feel as though you are on top of the world… there are also circumstances where it plays it’s part in making us feel completely isolated… and alone… even when we’re surrounded by loved ones. A dog… Xander… brought life back to my Little Red Schoolhouse. A dog… Xander… has provided me with companionship, friendship, and love every single day over the last year. A dog… Xander… lost his person. Xander lost the life he knew and was thrust into an unfamiliar world… my world. Judy entrusted Amanda and I with the love of her life… and she gave me the opportunity to feel loved every morning as Xander nudges his way under the blanket for warmth an hour before my alarm goes off, every evening I come home from work to a wagging tail and the funny hoppity hop around the living room, and every night he makes his way up to the bedroom with that familiar clickity clack of toenails on wood floors… fashionably five…ish minutes after I have crawled into bed. As her life was ending, through her asking for Amanda and I to bring Xander into our lives, Judy gifted me with the feeling of Unconditional Love at a moment in time I needed to be reminded of it.
Loss in life is simply a hard thing we all go through at on point or another in varying degrees, but we need to remember that we’re living in a world where beauty, love, and happiness still exists and hopefully we have people in our lives that can remind us of that… even after they are gone.
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.
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 thatI 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:
Widowhood can be an overwhelming, confusing, relentless part of life that forces you to live in The Present, with challenging daily reminders of The Past, while accepting the the fact that to a degree… The Future is really just an idea. (Deep Thoughts by… by Darren)
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:
A neighbor of mine lost his husband and he recently wrote a blog where part of it was about how people kinda go away after a while… they stop “checking in”… they simply go on with their lives. Widowhood is an isolating experience, even at the beginning when you are surrounded by friends and family. Even though I understand that people love me, care for me, and are there for me whenever I may need them, I still have that sense of being left… “alone”.
I’ve known Kateri’s Death Date was coming up, but I haven’t really been able to give it much thought until today. With my Mom dying on February 27th, Kateri’s mom passing on April 1st, and with the normal wear and tear of the daily grind… I just haven’t given it the time. I guess that’s one of the reasons I took today off…!.. I wanted to take the time… and to have the space… to remember Kateri and my life with her.
Kateri taught me soooo much in life. I’m not the same person I was when we met. Kateri showed me how to be a better person. Kateri gave me daily examples of how to treat other people, how to find beauty in unsuspecting places, and what the important things in life are. One of the things I love about Kateri is that she didn’t change much throughout our life together. She didn’t need to. She knew who she was, what was right, and she stayed true to herself throughout her life. She was an impressive woman.
The time she rode a bucking bronco, flannel shirts & hoodies, “Balls!”, flowers and flower gardens but not tulips in a row, The Band, outdoor showers, long walks on dirt roads, Hopes n Dreams, chickens, “Yes please!” and “Who makes the best coffee in the world?!”, Lippy/Lipper/Lipstorm… but not Lipstick, a Toyota with a wooden bed, bowling balls on the side of the road (fyi… it costed around $23 to mail a bowling ball across the country in 2002… and she called it a “gutter ball”), bathtubs deep enough for boobs to float in, yard art, sufferin’ succotash, going to the beach in the summertime… going to the ocean in the off season, mini-Fridays, overalls and Darn Toughs, New Hampshire is a state… Vermont is a state of mind, the floor couch, “pills” & Pocket People, 1973 Super Beetles that were five different shades of orange, Dancing the Trump away, Dancing in the car/dancing in the living room/dancing in the kitchen or anywhere and at whatever time it needed to happen…….. Kateri’s Dance with Cancer. My life with Kateri was cut short by powers beyond my control, but I have a million and a half memories that remind me of why I loved her so much and how much she gave to the people in her life.
I’m gonna have a good day today… I am. I mean, I’ve already shot the shit with the dude who is gonna tattoo Kateri’s Birthdate and Deathdate up and down the spine of my back, I got outside and walked The Loop with Xander… and he didn’t run off!, and after a nice little drive through Vermont… I’m gonna spend the evening with people who have a deep love and steadfast bond with Kateri.
Life can be sad, challenging, confusing, and overwhelming… but that’s just part of the gig. It may be hard to see at times, but there are some pretty cool people, beautiful moments, experiences, and adventures mixed in there, as well.
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.
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 NotesnThoughts:
I’ve spent a lot of time in the last couple of days simply listening to my mom breath as I sit on the old wooden chair next to her bed. Every time she takes a breath, I count until her next one. 1, 2, 3… 1, 2, 3… 1, 2… 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7… 1, 2… 1, 2, 3… 1, 2……. 18… and so on and so on. I actually find it relaxing… until the counting continues into the teens and twenties… that sucks. I’m sure I’m trying to get a gauge on where we’re at in the process, but for the most part… I just wanna be there for my mom when she periodically opens her eyes. I can’t really stand the idea of her being by herself in her room in the final days of her life. I want her to see… to feel… just how much she is loved and that she is not going through this… alone.
I started this post yesterday. Today, I began using a stopwatch as I sat on that wooden chair. Her breathing pattern has changed to the tune of take two breaths… a twenty-three second pause… take two breaths. Let me tell you… those pauses aren’t fun to hear.
I’ve noticed that death has a smell. I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s the same smell that filled the air when I was sitting with… and holding… Kateri.
I’m tired. Physically, emotionally, and psychologically… exhausted. I don’t wanna think about leaving, because when I do it means that my mom will be gone. I wanna be here and I feel fortunate to have the opportunity to be here… but I’m also ready to be home.
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 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.
I bought this couch a couple of weeks after we found out Kateri was sick. I figured, if she was gonna be spending more time on our couch… it should probably be on one that she actually found comfortable and not the lumpy “Hand me Down” she mother fucked more often than not… even though the “Hand me Down” was a huge upgrade over the prior couch!
I’m keeping the bed to myself, though. We’ve all gotta compromise sometimes.
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:
It’s actually been a few weeks since Judy passed… I’m just now getting back to this post. Life gets busy once in a while… and simply doesn’t stop for us.
I now have a dog hook. It was just a hook in my “Laundry Room”… but now it has dog stuff on it.
As of last night, at around 7:03… the Honeymoon with Xander was over after he booked it through the woods… up the hill… in the dark. Which meant that I was running up a hill… through the woods… in the dark. Fortunately, I had a flashlight… and four little LED tealights I crammed into my pocket as I ungracefully pulled myself over the rock wall to chase after him. This was the first time I was like, “We’re just gonna walk to the wood pile, it’s dark, the small woodland creatures are sleeping, he’s good at staying close…. I’m not gonna use the leash or put the reflective coat thing on him…!”… and then he bolted.
When he took off at a sprint, my plan was to run up the hill to the path, stop, and listen for him rustling in the leaves. He ended up being just on the other side of the path… the same path in which we walked down (instead of B-Lining it through the woods!) to get back to the house… me bent over holding his collar (good thing I’m short!). After a little sit and chat by Kateri’s Potting Shed… and then a bit of the cold shoulder… we made up. I figured, he’s just a dog being a dog and I’m just learning how to live with a dog… learning to live with Xander.
I have an odd “feeling of guilt” type thing going on. Xander has already added so much to my life and I’ve been having a blast with him… but it’s only because our friend died. It’s a weird thing to balance. Well, maybe it’s not about balancing anything. Maybe it’s more about recognizing the connection between two separate experiences and taking each experience for what they are…? I guess it’s kind of about living in the present… and remembering the past.
We got Xander a dog bed for the bedroom. I already gave up the couch… I wanna keep my bed…!
I love that I can see him all curled up in blankets and sleeping in it from my bed. Every night when I call it a day, there’s a few minute delay before I can here him stretch as he is getting off the couch and then the clickity-clack of his toe nails on the wood floors and stairs as he saunters up to his bed. He’ll come into the bedroom, get a pet on the head, a scratch behind the ears, and then be there until the morning.
I’m having a hard time considering Xander “My/Our” dog. He’s still Judy’s dog… Amanda and I are simply looking after him and promised to give him a good life… as he stays at my house… and sleeps on the couch… or two inches from the woodstove.
For me, the day Kateri died our Little Red Schoolhouse became… silent. Not to mention that once the bastard raccoons massacred Lil’ Bitch, Chicken, and Chicken… I became the only animal in my household for the first time in twenty years!…(besides Mutual of Vermont Wild Kingdom happening in my walls and ceilings)… and I got very comfortable with a life of not being around and/or being responsible for another living thing…! (ummm… FYI… I actually think raccoons are pretty darn cute… except those specific ones… they’re bastards). So I’ve been having to think about stuff like, “Am I ready to share my space, to share The Schoolhouse, to share my home…?” and “Do I want to be responsible for another living thing until it… or I… die!”. Oh yeah, don’t worry, I’ve also thought about the fact that if I’m already this attached to the guy… am I willing to endure the pain that will come if I outlive him?… he’s 7.
(The answer to that is yes… because unconditional love and adventures are parts of life that kinda make it worth living.)
I’m totally kicking my neighbor’s ass at this whole wood pile decorating challenge!… that they’re not aware they are a part of. (Yes, I started this post before Halloween…!)
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.
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’ve had what some have described as a “Heavy couple of months”. And I guess I have. But I’m getting through. Life is simply a mish mash (mosh?) of experiences and encounters that play their parts to get us… Here. There are things that bring us joy… and things that do not. My guitar is one of those things that brings me joy, but also provides me with a little balance. Although it can be frustrating (considering I don’t know really know what I’m doing!), it will always push the world outside the windows aside and allow me to simply sit on our little green rocking chair… in our Little Red Schoolhouse… and get lost for a minute or two.
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:
I’m attaching a GoFundMe page one of Mary Ann’s daughters had set up to help with medical stuff and the whole getting to Mexico and back. Kateri and I both come from humble beginnings… (I’m still in humble beginnings!)… neither one of us exactly came from money so events like this are just another added stress when dealing with an already stressful situation. When Kateri went into Palliative Care, a friend of ours set one up for us… and it has literally saved my life. Because of the generosity of friends, family, and strangers I have been able to limp along for three years now. Because of that experience, I personally know how helpful a few extra bucks can be not only financially, but psychologically and emotionally, as well. So…. please share if you can.
Did I mention Mary Ann would teach art to the street kids in Mexico? That’s the kinda person she is. I mean, she’s human like the rest of us and I’ve seen her do the two handed, double pump, middle finger flip off to family members!… which was always entertaining and something we all laughed about for years!… and just another reason I love her.
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:
Memories of places just on the drive home… Like Harry (Kateri) talking about standing at the lake with Michelle and hearing people backspace (ummm, this is what happens when you try to erase something while dictating)… a dude singing… or playing trumpet or something.
I didn’t win the lottery last night.
It’s earth day.
Started (today) with taking a bath… I didn’t really know what else to do.
I have a picture of Kateri on the last day she was alive. I don’t need to look at it… I can see it… it’s a hard image to have… even if it’s peaceful.
I’ve been smoking cigarettes off anon (“and on”-I’m not some weird conspiracy theory guy or anything) very nice (“since Kateri died”-there’s nothing nice about it). It’s time to stop.
Cleaned the house, made appointments, checked on things because life doesn’t stop… even for a day… just because I’m dealing with shit.
I worry about money, worry about losing my job… Because I know I can be a lot to handle sometimes… Dealer (“to deal with”-If I was a dealer, I think I would worry more about going to jail than losing my job!). I worry about losing more. It’s days like today that remind me that I’ll be OK… I’ve been able dad (“to”-love ya dad, but don’t know why you’re in this sentence) survive without Kateri for three years, I can handle anything else that’s on (that comes) my way.
After losing Kateri I’m OK… Or at least willing to except (accept)… That at any point anything in my life can change. I always go back to “if I lost my job, what would I do.?”. It freaks me out. But then I think about the fact that I lost Kateri, I’ll be able to handle anything that comes my way whether it’s by my own hand or unexpectedly. Luckily, pandemic has been good to me… I mean, not going out, government stimulus is (stimuli..?), “report in” pay pay (type) stuff, coupled with my personal forest (“forced”-I don’t have a personal forest… just woods) austerity measures that started when I lost a third of my household income with the death of Kateri… Tell me a (right after we) just bought our first house. For me, it always comes back to (the fact that) my home is the most important thing (to me)… It’s a cute ass little red school house in the hills of Amara (“Vermont”-I don’t know where Amara is, but it sounds exotic!), it was our (the) perfect home… For us.
It does help me simplify in my new life. Our little red school house. It is the answer to so many questions that come up in widowhood. I don’t have any plans on (of) getting rid of it. Hey (A.). At this point in time a bank will never give me alone (a loan) to buy something like this again. Be (B.). Is (It’s) my home. It’s filled with my life. My life with Kateri… And the light (“life”-I’m currently sitting in the dark) I’m currently in. Ha ha ha is (it’s) that kateri attachment that… Is the reason I have so much love from my home. Sometimes I wish I was one of those little words (“widowers”-I’ve been called little words, though) that just had a house in the suburbs… It (which) was filled with their lives, but they’re OK just moving those things to another house. This was Kateri’s dream, do you have a monster (“to have a piece of Vermont”-we’ve all got monsters, though). It was our dream. And it’s a daunting bye (life) for me to go through when I look to the future. It’s a hard way to live.
I’m just sitting in it (the bath tub) dictating into my phone… The water is definitely cooling off… And I’m finding the experience rather ridiculous.
I just had to remind myself that I am trying to make a conscious effort to look at the beautiful parts of life today and of Kateri’s life… Not be all sad and shit. But I’m sad. And overwhelmed. Don’t worry, I’ve also grown a custom (accustomed) to these types of feelings and realize that they pass. There is (They are) a part of my life.
I think one of the things I am experiencing is that I was an insecure kid and young adult,… I became much more confident in who I was over the last 23 years because of Kateri. She taught me so much about life. We were strong to gather (together). I was wrong (“strong”-definitely not wrong) knowing she was there. Because we (didn’t) need anything else… We (would) figure any challenges out… We (would) survive… We were just living life together. (In) Widowhood (I) have lost that… part of that Stranch (strength) that Kateri provided me in my life with. I think (some of) those insecurities pre-back in (come back) because you don’t… because I don’t have Kateri building me back up… Or just up when I’m down or dealing with challenges. Yes I have people in my life, people that help me stay… or try to stay… on a positive path in life… I just have this constant feeling of being alone. Which is weird when you (I) know that (feel that).
I need to say thank you. Yes I have my own personal struggles with the lightbulb (not sure what was up with the lightbulb) loss of kateri… But the experience of widowhood Aza (as a)… (as) Just another human… it’s an extremely hard and involved thing to go through. It touches every single aspect of your life. I am thankful to have so many wonderful people in my life. People are (who I) respect because of how they live their lives. I’m glad I love the people I love.
I don’t know why, but for some reason I’ve been walking around my house naked more often than usual… Which was never. I mean like when I get out of the shower or out of the bath… like I just dead (“did”-wow, not everything needs to be death, death, death!).
My life is just so different… It’s path and my expectations are just so different then (than) they were three years, four months, and three days ago.
So, what did you do on the anniversary of your wife’s death?… I clean(ed) the house and did two loads of laundry. I think I feel that if I keep my house in order that it means in someway that I’m holding my life together… That I’m doing OK. Plus it just gives you time to think.… Me (time) to think. I did end up also cleaning up Kateri‘s plants that I have in the bedroom and upstairs.
Today, honestly I think I’m just trying to get through the day.
I’m going for a drive. It’s not because I’m trying to remember fun times with Kateri as I pass landmark(s) or as I drive through the woods or anything like that… It’s really because I wanna (want a) soda.
My house is the 1921 wild Hill school house… Which means it’s turning 100 this year. I think I want to have a party… Kateri would approve of that… and have a lot of fun throwing it.
Kateri loved dance. She loved to dance. She loved watching people dance. She said she was gonna “Dance the Trump away”. She referred to her diagnosis as her “Dance with Cancer”… and she was gonna dance that away, as well. She may not have danced the cancer away, but she never let cancer take the dance away from her. She continues to remind me about the important things in life… she continues to inspire me.
Three years ago, at 7:24pm on April 22nd, 2018… my life changed. At that moment… it felt empty. Three years later… I have wonderful memories of my life with Kateri that help me deal with the loss of her. I’m thankful I had twenty years of life… with her by my side.
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…!
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!!..!
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’m really diggin’ that it turned 100,000 right when I got home. It’s just one of those cool coincidental things… that provides me with a pretty cool memory.
Driving the Jeep home from Burlington right after agreeing to pay for it over 7 years, we opened the sunroof on the interstate… just because we could. We noticed it didn’t shut the first time we tried and thought it just had to do with the wind. It still doesn’t shut sometimes… and I still haven’t done anything about it except awkwardly pull it shut… sometimes. If I have a friend in the car with me and it doesn’t shut… I sometimes ask them to help..!
We took the “Sky Roof” off in the parking lot of a laundry mat where we met up with our friend Keith to take him for a spin in it. When we hit the highway at 70 mph, we didn’t think the interior roof was gonna make it from the wind current bouncing it up and down! It survived… I guess Jeep had thought about that.
Beach trips with friends… and beach camping trips with friends. They were fun… and can be entertaining when your friend get snippy with the campers in the neighboring camp site. We also learned that it’s a tight fit in the Cute Little Jeep with four people… and beach supplies… for four people.
Studded snow tires. Kateri bought us our first set of studded snow tires a month before cancer. Where she bought them from, the people let her lay on a couch because she had such a bad headache… which turned out to be tumors in her brain. Those tires are on their last winter.
Satellite radio! And a decent stereo! We had a lot of fun with music… and were amazed by how many times Yah Mo B There kept coming up. Today, if I’m on certain stations… it still comes up… and I change the channel. Kateri and I would joke about how often if played. Now I just find it annoying.
For three days I drove across this country in it, sleeping at Rest Areas and eating out of a cooler during the election so that I could see my mom during a pandemic. I love that I had that experience with this vehicle.
Kateri made the monthly payments on our first new vehicle ever… but would rather drive her 2001 Toyota Tacoma (which is rusting away next to the Cute Little Jeep in the driveway) to work everyday on the farm. Her dream car was a Toyota with a wooden bed… she was pretty awesome… and hopefully one day the Yota will get there.
I remember helping her into the back seat, running inside to grab towels and another blanket (or something), coming back out to her having thrown up… and other stuff… because her colon had given out from either the cancer or immunotherapy. I helped her out of the back seat… got to the front door… stripped her clothes off and threw them in the snow covered back yard… cleaned her up… and called an ambulance.
Heated steering wheel… that’s all I should really need to say… they should be standard in every car…!
Again… I wish that there would be some sort of little celebration on the dash/screen/odometer thing when it hits 100,000 miles… it would just be fun.
I’ve had this Jeep for four years. Although Kateri experienced our brand new vehicle for just one of those years… I’m so glad that she (we) had that experience. From the “wheelin’ and dealin'” to the last time I drove her in it on the way to the emergency room… it provided us with the comfort of not worrying if we’ll get to our destination… even if we weren’t sure of where we were heading. A 100,000 miles is a lot of ground to cover. Ya, you can say it’s just a car, just a truck, just a whatever… or you can focus on what you’ve filled that vehicle with as the miles slowly pile up… whether it be physically or metaphorically. You can fit a lot of memories into 100,000 miles… and even though some of those memories are difficult for me to remember… they only make up a few of those miles. I’m fortunate… I have a lot of good memories of Kateri and this Cute Little Jeep, which will help me as I drive through the next 100,000 miles of life… making new memories… without her in the passenger seat.
I love that this is the one video I have of Kateri in our Cute Little Jeep. It’s just sooooo Kateri. This was New Year’s Day 2018… 16 days after they found the mass in her brain. She was at the very beginning of her four month and three day Dance with Cancer. (Sorry, but Youtube let me know that if you live in Iran, North Korea, Cuba, or Syria… this video is blocked. You know… just wanting to keep all my followers in those countries informed!)
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:
I’m finding it kind of ironic that I’m really going to sleep around the same time I normally do… I just happened to be in bed a bit earlier…!
Patience… I needed to practice patience when I was replacing the little subwoofer in the back of my little Jeep because it had blown… and because I didn’t exactly know what I was doing! I was tired of hearing the buzz and rattle it would make when I put on Today’s Hits… or some smooth sounds from the 70’s…… or the intro to Morning Edition. I’ve just gotta say, when all said and done, the sense of accomplishment after practicing a bit of patience was well worth it! (…breathing exercises and weed helped, too!) By taking the time to figure it out, I have… at the least… now made the hour and a half I spend in the car every day on my round trip drive to work and back… better!
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:
Kateri would get excited and announce when she got the fire going by using only a single piece of paper…!
I think a lot about how I want to remember my old life… my life with Kateri… instead of just remembering.
I’ve always wanted to be a truck driver. I still wanna be a truck driver. I just don’t wanna quit smoking weed.
Road trips… adventures… ones with Kateri… ones without her… and ones I have yet to go on.
I’ve been sad lately. Sometimes I can sit here and just be… sad.
Cars should have a little icon of balloons, streamers, and champagne bottles pop up on your odometer when you hit 100,000 miles… and every 100,000 miles after that!
I’m actually pretty happy I don’t have chickens right now. I loved them… miss them… miss the eggs… but I don’t miss the chicken chores… or poop.
I bought a new coffee maker and grinder. My old coffee maker was… well… old. The coffee grinder I just didn’t like so I went and got a different one… which I like less than the old one. So… I’m going back to using the old grinder.
I would love to see Europe, but don’t know how I feel about flying over the ocean and one of my biggest fears is drowning in cold water so I don’t know how I’d do on a boat thousands of miles away from land… it’s quite the conundrum.
I still haven’t seen Tik Tok or know what it’s all about… which sometimes makes me feel older than I actually am. (I’m still young damnit!… but in a “middle-aged” man’s body. Or maybe I’m just immature.)
I think about my mom… a lot. This week I’ve been thinking about the tumor on her adrenal gland that has grown significantly. After talking to my sister, I’ve been able to also think about how the tumors on her spine and in her lungs haven’t grown… and after months of being off of chemo, there aren’t any new ones! Cancer… it fucking sucks.
I think about next winter when I won’t have to cut each piece of wood I burn so that it’ll fit in the stove… it’s gonna be glorious!
I think about shaving, but I haven’t seen my face since Kateri died and am kind of afraid that I’m gonna look gaunt and sickly since my healthy eating and sleeping habits went the way of the Dodo… for the most part. Fortunately… I like the beard.
My land line and internet are still in Kateri’s name… I really should deal with that, but I like my phone number and don’t wanna lose it!
Friends… I miss them, but I understand we are all simply living our lives… and we’re currently in a pandemic. Luckily, I’ve hit that point in life where I feel as though the friends I have will always be a part of my life… whether the last time we spoke to each other was last night, last week, last month… or in 2007.
I sit and think about life. Sometimes it’s complicated. Sometimes it’s not. And sometimes I just need to sit… and get the fire going.
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.
It’s Christmas….!! Things I’m gonna do on my third Widowed Christmas.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
Go downstairs and make my own coffee (I pretty much made the coffee when Kateri was alive… so don’t worry, I’m used to it.)
Be happy that there’s still an inch of wet, slushy snow because it’s raining and I thought I wasn’t gonna wake up to a white Christmas! Of course, it may be a green Christmas come dinner time.
Take a moment and look at my tree, do some rememberin’, and smile because of all the good times Kateri and I had in Christmases Past… be grateful for the loved ones I have in my life today… and be happy that Gobble is still hangin’ out on top!
I’m gonna open all of the Christmas cards sent to me! (I saved them so that I would have something to open on Christmas Morning…!)
I’m not gonna go to work… because we are closed for four days…! which is unheard of in the Food Service World… and I’ll take it! (It was a wonderful… wonderful… gift to us. If you haven’t worked in the industry… you really don’t have any idea of just how wonderful this is.)
I’m thankful Kateri and I moved to this area for my current job. Switching from independent little restaurants to a decent sized company because we were feeling the need to “think about our future” has kinda saved me through both her cancer and death (Insurance, Earn Time, Co-workers, our Company Culture, etc.)… AND through this stoopid ass Pandemic… where I’m perfectly happy not going out amongst The People!
I’m gonna get in touch with friends and family and wish them a Merry Christmas… and tell them I love them.
I’m gonna eat Crullers… maybe all six of them.
Kateri loved Crullers. We would actually have fried dough on Christmas… but I don’t wanna deal with the fry oil… so I bought Crullers!
Ummm, I may be eating Cinnamon Rolls that Amanda made, as well…! (I’m pretty sure Diabetes and I are gonna be friends in the future.)
I’m gonna relax… take a breath… sit by the fire for a moment… and just be warm.
I’m gonna wear the new hat I bought myself yesterday for Christmas… and maybe the new Muck boots… if I go outside!
Dishes… I’m gonna do my dishes leftover from my Christmas Eve Tacos. (Nothing says Christmas in Vermont like Pork Tacos!)
I’m gonna remember Kateri… our life together… her life… who she was… and all the reasons I loved her so much. (…and now, I’m also gonna cry.)
I’m gonna put A Christmas Story on the ol’ tele… and then How the Grinch Stole Christmas (original)… or maybe the other way around. Don’t worry… I’ll figure it out.
I’m gonna be happy that I don’t have a bunch of sticky kids waking me up at 3:30 in the morning (I was still awake) wanting to open presents while losing their minds for the next four hours!
But first, I’m gonna smoke a Joint for Jesus while drinking coffee in bed as I jot down a list of things I wanna do this Christmas and be thankful that if you look out the correct window… it’s a white Christmas!
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”.
Packing!
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.
Iowa
The Archway… Nebraska
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.
FYI-I say somethin’ like “That’s about all..” as if I’m gonna wrap it up or somethin’…. about halfway through the video!
The Trip Out
Leaving Vermont
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.
Ohio… ugh. (time-lapse)
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..?!)
Straight… flat… roads out there in Iowa and Nebraska! It was always exciting when you got to change lanes! (time-lapse)
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.
The last of the canyons heading west. (time-lapse)
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!
Yup… blabbering at the rest area before Boise after two and a half days in the car.
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!
Southern Wyoming… at 7mph.
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.
Sunset the first day I was home.
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:
Since I had recently learned that cameras on phones have a “timer” setting, when I got home I did a fashion show for myself of all the different outfits I wore while on the road. You know… Converse, Darn Tough socks, 501’s, blue hoodie, Hunter’s Orange Carhartt hat… John Deere hat. Yup. And of course… with or without the blue Levi’s hanky mask! (I felt the need to color coordinate my accessories)
Things to do in Quarantine… write really long blog posts.
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.
Just a pic of my Jack-O-Lanterns!
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!
Posted at 11:29 am by Darren Lidstrom, on September 27, 2020
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:
That was rough… even though I’m talking about how I feel good, the moment I wrote “Kateri was my best friend”…. I lost it for about 10 minutes. Yay!… widowhood.
I passed a house that had clothes drying on a clothes line in the back yard. Kateri loved letting nature do the work…. I use the dryer.
I’m at 96 followers!… so close to 100! (You can hit the follow button if you want. I don’t even care if you read the blogs! Well, I kinda care, but I also realize it’s basically sort of a personal journal about loss n shit with no real structure or fully thought out intentions behind it… and I don’t even know how long I’ll be doing these things… so maybe just commit to the “like” button!)
Tomorrow is my Wedding Anniversary. Although, I wish I hadn’t waited ten years to ask for Kateri’s hand in marriage, our wedding and life together was perfect… just 30 to 40 years shorter than expected.
If you throw a whole frozen chicken on a fire… it’ll take a couple of hours until you can’t distinguish it from the other coals in the pit… and will smell like chicken.
Be kind, be supportive, relax… and be good. (I don’t think that is a correctly punctuated sentence. I feel like there could be more periods. Man, I’m glad I’m an adult and not in school gettin’ graded on that shit!)
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.
When it happened… I didn’t know what to do. I felt the need to let someone know what I was dealing with. I needed support. So I texted my girlfriend, “I don’t have chickens anymore.”… and she was there for me… again. She is a caring, compassionate, and understanding woman… and I’m glad she is in my life.
My mother called me on Facetime for the first time… ever! (except for the one time she did it on accident)… once she heard what had happened. I loved it! I love her.
I had a friend from work (from another department and building) seek me out to say sorry. She walked through the kitchen without hesitation simply because she knew what this event meant to me. At the same time, another friend showed up who had seen what had happened on social media. Although she was really there to deliver yogurt, her words were supportive and filled with compassion. It felt good.
Our old friend David called after he heard about the massacre. During our conversation, we came up with a plan for Lil’ Bitch since I didn’t want to let the raccoons take her. (I was fine with them taking Chicken and Chicken… but it was dark and Lil’ Bitch was still in one piece… so I removed her from the coop… and now she’s in my chest freezer! Kinda gross… I know.) He’s gonna visit at the end of the month, we’re gonna light a big ol’ fire at the fire pit… and lay Lil’ Bitch to rest!… in the fire. Yeah, the feathers are gonna smell a bit at first, but then I figure it’s just gonna smell like… chicken!
My friend Raph took me on a Jeep ride through the back woods of Vermont simply because he thought it would be a nice way to take my mind off of the heavier things in life for a while. It was awesome. It was fun. It was beautiful… except for the zombie we passed standing next to her shanty town looking home-made mini RV parked on the wrong side of the dirt road… in the dark. We didn’t stop.
My neighbor Bobbi called… for no reason except to check in. She hadn’t heard about my chickens… she was just seeing how I was doing. We hadn’t spoken for a spell, so I kinda dug the fact that she was simply thinking about me and decided to give a shout. (She sold us the Schoolhouse)
CHICKS!… 2016
Last night… my favorite coincidence in the last week happened. I was at a friend’s house down the road getting an introduction into motorcycles since I’ve been thinking about getting one… maybe. (I’m actually leaning towards starting to fix up Kateri’s truck… it’s safer… but I still have those dreams of owning a motorcycle!) When we got up to the garage and were doing the whole Vermont thing of looking at wood piles and log splitters while smoking a joint and drinking beers (I wasn’t drinking), a dude was peddling past the “driveway”. I kinda put my joint to my side and said, “Evenin’!”. The dude looked at me, I looked at him… I walked a little closer and we realized… we new each other! Not like we met once through friends or at a show or something… like, he’s been at my house… like, he was on my floor laying next to Kateri when she was sick… like, Kateri loved this man… almost as much as she loved his wife… who was peddling up the hill right behind him! I simply yelled out, “Jeff!”… and then, “Cristina!”…! (Cristina actually made a pill schedule for Kateri that I kept on my refrigerator up until just a bit ago… she’s a nurse… and I still have the schedule.) It was surreal. It was so unexpected considering they live on the other side of the state, and yet here they were!… just peddling through Vermont! I wish we lived in a time where I would’ve just grabbed them for a hug, but seeing them there… in person… was such a wonderful coincidence for me that it helped lighten the heaviness that has been my life for the last three weeks. I can just imagine how entertaining it must have been for them to stumble upon us all high n shit as my buddy started up Harleys while giving them his idea of what the best route would be for the rest of their evening ride! It was simply awesome.
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.
I lined the drawers with the stuff Kateri got for the chicken coop!
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:
Facebook reminded me that 5 years ago today we signed the purchase agreement on our first home… on our Little Red Schoolhouse.
I finally emptied the little trash can that we (now I) used to dispose of the lint from the dryer… it has been a while. Like, there was still some Kateri Lint in there. Sometimes… you just gotta let go!… of lint.
I hope you have a good day!… night!… whatever!
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 Perseid Meteor Showers were this last week so I pulled one of the Adirondack chairs up onto the unpainted part of the deck and zoned out to the stars for a while Wednesday night. Saw some good ones!
Since Kateri died, I have painted a spare bedroom, my bedroom, and now the deck. The deck was basically to maintain. The bedrooms provided me with a new “feel”… in this “New Life”.
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:
Since making that little video and feeling so good… I’ve had a few Crocodile Tear moments. Sad… yes. But not depressing.
It’s nice to be able to smile while I cry.
When I watched the video and the flood of emotions came rushing in, I looked to my left and saw this scene. The simplistic beauty of it was relaxing to me… the light, the colors, Kateri’s planters that I had filled for the summer and her geraniums enjoying being outside for a few months. It was evening time, there was a calmness… there was a warmth all around.
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:
I’ve started making my bed again every morning… most mornings. It just feels better.
I still haven’t gotten used to the whole being alone and thinking about what would happen if I… say… tripped and broke my ankle, or fell off the roof, or slipped in the tub, or put the chainsaw in my thigh, or had a heart attack, or fell down the stairs, or was mauled by a bear, or if a swarm of bees attacked me while I was sleeping, or my lawn mower blade flew off and took out my shins… or something. Then what would I do?
In general, I feel as though I am happy. But I also feel as though it’s still a subdued happiness… like there’s this weird blanket of “meh” on everything.
I pulled out the last trash bag from the box Kateri and I bought from Costco, which was probably four years old. It was strange thinking about how that box of trash bags was from my life with Kateri… and that was over two years ago. Yup, it took me about two weeks to get it to the recycling bin.
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:
Last night I realized I had stopped counting how many days Kateri has been gone… how long I’ve been a widower… and I was comfortable with it. I figured it just meant other things were starting to fill my brain in this new life. Transitioning… or some crap like that. Then I rambled into my phone… and played a song.
ps… you can follow the blog if you want… there’s still time! Just hit the follow button… or share it if you like!
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.
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 HAPPYBIRTHDAY!… 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.
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:
Dating as a widower is a huge, complicated thing. For all you widowed people out there… just be true and honest to yourself and the other person… and fuck whatever issues and opinions other people have about it… they really don’t have any idea of what you are going through.
It’s hard to balance the wanting to spend time with someone, but also wanting and needing to spend time alone… again, complicated.
Sleep is still a strange thing. During the work week I do okay…ish… 5-7 hours of sleep depending. I generally wake up on the couch between 2:23 and 3:47 on the weekends…. and then crawl into bed so that I can have that feeling of waking up in bed.
Cake Pops. No matter what… they make things better. (unless you have diabetes… then they probably aren’t that great for ya)
Six Hundred and Sixty-Six days in… It’s still hard to come to terms with the fact that Kateri isn’t here. I miss her. I miss our life. I miss our future. And when I think about it… it makes me cry. At this point though… I generally cry alone.
wow… that sounds ridiculously sad.
Remember, we are surrounded by both “The Good” in the world and “The Bad”. 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.
I haven’t worn my wedding ring for 16 days.
The beard is getting a little old… and itchy… but I just can’t get rid of it yet! (because it’s still kinda fun)
I hope you have a good day!
ps… You can follow the blog if you want! I promise! Unless you’re a dick… then you can follow some other blog.
Kateri and I weren’t exactly “texters”… or really even cell phone users, but for some reason I had started texting her when the time was 1:23 or 12:34 or 3:45 or 2:34… you get the idea. I’ve always enjoyed numbers. At the ranch where Kateri and I met, there really wasn’t much to do in the winter if you weren’t working, or snowmobiling, or snowshoeing… or any of the other things you do when there’s 5 feet of snow out the window… with another 4 feet on top of that. So I watched movies here and there, put together puzzles, hung out with the other seasonal riff raff, and read a few books. Some of those books were filled with stories, some were filled with history, and some were filled with exciting tid bits of information like how the Fibonacci Sequence shows up in the arrangement of the seeds of a sunflower. Over the years I have read less and less about “math” as my interests turned towards other things… like cooking, guitar, and hanging out with Kateri… and now I think I’ve dumbed myself down to where I simply get excited when I look at the clock and it reads 4:56! Which I guess has nothing to do with equations or mathematics… but it’s a fun little observance that has absolutely no real significance in my day to day life… and I guess I thought Kateri needed to know when the numbers lined up!
There are so many little things that pop into my head throughout the day that remind me of life with Kateri. Lately, for one reason or another, the memories have been coming in a bit more frequently. They aren’t all big memories of exciting times, or holidays, or those special moments that are only shared between the two people experiencing them… some are little tiny random blips that show up and turn into bigger blips… like texting Kateri 12:34. I don’t know how many times I texted her when the numbers were all lined up on the clock… but I do remember that once in a great while I would receive a text from her and all it would say is 1:23… and it put a smile on my face. I knew the only reason she was doing it was because she knew I got a strange little kick out of it and looking back on it, it’s just one of those little things in my past life that now has a whole bunch more attached to it. It’s kinda like these memories are little tug boats pulling twenty years of experiences behind them with all the emotions piled up high on the barge. Once that tug boat gets to it’s destination… it’s just a matter of time until those emotions need to be unloaded from the barge… and I never know if it’s gonna get unloaded quickly… or take longer than expected!… and there’s always another tug boat coming up the river with an emotional barge in tow.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
Kateri’s plants… I still view them as her’s and not mine. Broadly speaking, they provide me with a living connection to her that I need to pay attention to, take care of, and keep alive… which provides me with a sense of accomplishment along with being surrounded by other living things.
I grabbed a coat from a closet and saw Kateri’s mustard yellow and redish coat. I haven’t gotten rid of or packed her coats away, so they have just been hanging in the spare rooms. This specific coat always made me think of how un-Kateri it was. It was kinda new, kinda stylish, kinda modern. Kateri was most comfy in well worn clothes and flannels, but she also really liked getting dressed up… it made her feel good… and she always looked good no matter what she was wearing!
My guitar has provided me with an escape from the crushing onslaught of emotions, thoughts, and memories the death of Kateri brought into my life. It provides me relief. When she first died and I realized I was playing almost every day… I bought myself a new guitar… a new sound. It provided me change, but with the comfort of familiarity. This year, I thought I would take advantage of my solitude and buy myself an amplifier because of the whole “I’m not gonna bother anyone”… and plus I needed a little personal growth with my hobby. I wanted a few more options with how my “Escape Time” sounded as I searched for relief from the swirling thoughts… and it has been working. Like everything else in this new life, I try to fill time and space with people and experiences that make me feel good… with the hope of dampening down all the crap. Unfortunately… the crap is always there. But fortunately… I can sometimes swap it out for a few moments of “The Good” in the world through walks in the woods with neighbors, conversations on the couch, Stewart’s Orange Soda, Ben and Jerry’s… or simply the strumming of strings.
The cold toilet seat-I took a crap the other morning in the downstairs bathroom and the toilet seat (and bathroom) was a tit bit nipply… almost to the point of invigorating. As I sat there, it made me think about how we put the portable radiator in there when Kateri was sick so that it would keep the space… and toilet seat… warm, since she spent most of her time downstairs next to the wood stove when cancer first appeared… and we were remodeling the upstairs bathroom. (the bathroom in which she put the first hole in the wall… but never saw it finished… or took a bath in her tub surrounded by subway tile.)
I’ve been falling asleep to music lately… Tom Waits. I haven’t been able to listen to the Allison Kraus/Robert Plant album… we would fall asleep to that album or Neil Young’s Harvest Moon quite a bit. I just can’t do it… it feels too weird. It’s weird enough that the music emits from the little JBL speaker I had bought for Kateri when she was in the hospital so that she could listen to the Dali Lama chanting as she tried to relax and rest.
Squishy… I sleep with Squishy every night. Squishy was one of Kateri’s pillows. She called it Squishy because it was… Squishy. I still only use the pillow case with the three flowers on the front for it… any other pillow case just doesn’t seem to be the right fit. I still use my pillow… Squishy just happens to be crammed under or behind it, as well.
Food storage containers-Kateri bought us a bunch of food storage containers for our first Christmas in our first “Home”… the Schoolhouse. Every time I open the bottom drawer and grab one to put half an onion in, or maybe some leftover roasted root vegetables, it makes me think of that Christmas… and her. .
I was so proud of myself for getting the studded snow tires on the Jeep before the first snow flew. Then I drove over a screw and had to use my un-studded full size spare for 4 days… and it snowed. Luckily, I only had to buy one new tire and not four.
Kateri bought these current snow tires… our first ones studded… which is one of those weird memory type things. She bought them almost two years ago and I remember she had a doctor’s appointment the same day because of the headaches she was having… which turned out to actually be tumors. It’s a hard memory for me because I remember not being very sympathetic to her headache. It was before we knew what was going on and I thought it was just a headache that would go away in time… but it never did… and I’m reminded of that morning by stupid studded snow tires… two years later. (I’ve written this down before and I just find it interesting how it’s one of those recurring memories that is time specific. I wonder if this memory is gonna visit me every year when the weather changes and the people start freaking out with the first forecast snow. I swear… people lose their minds!)
I hope you have a wonderful Sunday… and thanks for stopping by!
ps… I thought it would be cool to post this blog at 12:34… but then I had to tend to the fire and missed it!
I established a draft! Yup… it’s pretty exciting! Not like a draft in the writing sense of the word… with my new woodstove and chimney. If you don’t know what I’m talking about… you’re missing out on one of the best things about cold weather… a hot spot to stand next to! It’s been kind of a fun challenge dialing in the new stove, but also kinda frustrating when I can’t get it to burn as efficiently as it should. Plus, when it’s 26 degrees out, like this morning… I wanna be all toasty and warm!
This morning, after I woke up on the couch at 4:37am (next to a pile of empty KitKat and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup wrappers)… and then woke up in bed at 7:42am… I went down to get the fire going for the day. I had planned on spending today doing home chores and getting to know the knew stove since we are in a “cooling trend” right now. You know, do some shit outside… clean and organize the garage, take down window boxes, try to leaf blow the leaves from my yard to the empty land across the road without “Sunday Traffic” seeing me!… while periodically coming in to stoke the fire to keep The Schoolhouse nice and warm. It’s the first day in a bit that I would have this opportunity so I thought I would just go with it, go slow, relax, and enjoy the Sunday Morning doing a few things that would make me happy… like drinking coffee in bed as I hear the tick of cast iron warming my home.
I’m excited to spend some time outside, too. It’ll feel good to get the yard buttoned up for winter. By next Friday, the temps are gonna start dipping into the teens, so I also feel like time is running out to take care of some of these things before the snow flies! It doesn’t hurt that it feels good to look at it once it’s all cleaned up… instant gratification! Accomplishment… I guess. And it’s always refreshing to be out in the fresh, cool air… with chickens.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
My Brother-in-law called last night. We spoke for almost 2 hours. It was fantastic. One of the weird things for me is how with Kateri not being here, neither are her family members as much… physically/phone calls/or texts. She was one of 8 kids… and she was like Switzerland. There was always someone calling, visiting, living with us from time to time, helping us, us helping them, etc., etc…. and now… not. I understand it’s just a normal part of this experience and something I will get used to… but it’s weird… and I miss them.
I took my wedding ring off last night when I took a shower. It felt strange. The other strange part was I kept forgetting to put it back on… for like 8 minutes. I had put it on my dresser, but it wasn’t until I got downstairs and had gone to adjust it with my thumb and noticed it wasn’t there! I went upstairs and put it back on.
I’m getting my license renewed tomorrow. It’s been making me think about Kateri a lot. She got her license renewed maybe a month or so before she died. I had to work, but she was with the perfect person to take her… someone she loved… a lot. The story is entertaining… if you knew Kateri… and the story. It’s a good memory for me from a time that sucked balls.
Although the memory puts a smile on my face… the Crocodile Tears are currently commencing. (a good time to check the status of the stove!.. and get more coffee!)
I’ve decided to start going through the house this winter and taking stock. I haven’t done anything yet… because it’s filled with 20… 43 years of my life and I can’t just approach it as “old life/new life” type stuff, but I do wanna take some more steps to sorta start putting my life together. Create my space… starting with our stuff… because I like our stuff!… (yup… stuff).
Ummm, that’s about alls I gots. I mean, I there’s more… but now I do feel like I need to get motivated and get outside!… and I’ve drank 3/4’s of a pot of coffee so sitting here is starting to become a challenge! I hope you all have a wonderful Sunday… and it’s filled with things that make you feel good!
Sometimes… I feel like I’m chasing a sun that has already set. Sometimes… I just wanna stop, sit, and wait for it to come back around… but I’m forced to keep moving through the darkness. (Don’t worry, I’ve got a headlamp… the batteries just might happen to be a bit weak right now!)
It was the Halloween of… ummm… 2003 maybe..? Could’ve been 2004 or 5. Well, up to 2007… but one of those years. I know we were living in South Starksboro in our cute little cottage with a loft and a woodstove… it was pretty cool. (Our first stand alone home together… rented from a couple who became very special to both Kateri and I… and who still are. It’s weird to think back at those memories right now. I wish I could get everything that is bombarding my brain right now down on paper… but I can’t… and I’m trying to get to what it is that I wanted to write about! But now… I’m thinking about how Kateri called our back yard the Dagobah System. You know?!… Yoda n shit… and it kinda was.) Anyways, I know it was within that range because on one Halloween we used the tiny bedroom downstairs and the loft you couldn’t stand up in… where we slept… up the ladder… as the places to “design” and make our costumes for the evening. We weren’t going out. We weren’t having a party. Well, I guess we never really had parties… but the point is, we were just gonna be hanging out at home that night and Kateri had a knack for coming up with some fun things to do.
I don’t quite remember much of the evening or exactly what time it was or anything… it was dark… and I was probably drunk, but we gave ourselves “x” amount of time to get into costume and to see what each other came up with! It was fun!… and funny!… and somewhat disturbing! I had made a pillow case into a huge face, tucked it into jeans that were halfway down my thighs…ish, and might’ve made arms… but I’m not sure about that! I do know that my own arms were crossed above my head with my elbows pressed into the corners of the pillow case to keep the face… well… a face. I had seen it in elementary school at an assembly or something and figured… we’ve got pillow cases!… pants!… and markers! I could pull it off pretty easily and it would be kinda silly! Kateri almost died laughing as I… or Big Head Person… ran around 450 square feet while throwing in some dancing and jumping. Yup… it was fun.
But it was Kateri’s costume that got me thinking about that particular Halloween this evening. I don’t even really remember her whole outfit… there was a lot of black. What I remember is her face. It… was… FREAKY! Definitely creepy! A little shocking… and somewhat… interesting. She had done the Scotch Tape thing all over her face making her skin look almost sorta burnt… old and wrinklyish… just simply all fucked up! We couldn’t get over how weird it looked! It almost freaked us out!… but mostly we couldn’t stop laughing and talking about how gross it was! And her nose! Oh my gosh… I almost forgot about the pig nose! Wow… I’m glad I haven’t forgotten about that! Actually, I’m glad I remembered that Halloween… this Halloween. I wasn’t expecting that!
For me, it was fun being surprised. Kateri showed and taught me sooooo many things in my life. Some of those things were personally life changing… they played their part in making me into who I am today. But it’s the normal everyday experiences that carry the most weight. I was always amazed by how seemingly easy she could provide joy to someone else. It wasn’t effortless… but it was simply who she was.
The memory that began this whole thought train was Kateri making Halloween decorations with nieces and nephews… and then me wondering if I wanted to pull out those decorations tonight because we still have them… but I’m not gonna. I just like that I have these memories… my memories… of Kateri being Kateri… and her saying, “Bloody Bloody Fangs!” on Halloween.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
Now I’m gonna eat and try to watch a scary movie. We’ll see how that goes. I’ve already been asked if I’ve seen the ghosts of dead children in the schoolhouse… I haven’t… and hope I don’t! (And I don’t think I’ll watch a movie with creepy children.)
Yes, I bought Halloween Candy. No, I won’t have a single Trick or Treater.
I always think of my mom on Halloween and her giving treats (candy) to hundreds of little humans who knock on the door. I like how there is generally a run to the store by my father for more supplies, but it always gets to the point of the lights being turned off, the shades being drawn, and hiding from the masses commences on the couch… maybe with the TV on… quietly.
Happy Halloween people! Hope you have a good one whatever you do!
(Just to put it out there… I still haven’t experienced that “Anger” at the situation feeling, yet… I just REALLY like to swear.)
Ok. So all I really wanted to say is that… for me… 536 days into this experience is about the time that I needed to make the decision to start looking at the future a tiny bit more. I’m tired of the “routine”. Yes, there are things I have been doing that provide me joy (guitar, sitting by the fire or on the porch, eating cake pops, etc.), but those things are literally to get through the day. Losing a spouse is crushing… in every aspect of your life… at least it has been for me. We do things… anything… to just… not… hurt. (To give you a glimpse into the emotional state of this widower… I saw Kateri’s name in a sentence I wrote… and now I’m a wreck. I love her name… how it looks… everything that fills those letters and the spaces in between. That it was who she was.) But getting back to the point… I’m ready for change. I feel the need to make some small changes… and I’m ready for some big ones, as well. (ummm, FYI… not toooo big of changes… or too many!… or ones on a whim! Even though whims make for good adventures). I just feel the need to take a step back, take a moment, and move forward with a bit more focus on having my happiness and well being in mind going into the future.
Basically, I’ve had a few challenges pop up on a few different fronts and I’m just gonna make the effort to control the things I can control, not worry about the things I can’t, and start asking myself… me… what it is I want my life to look like. I may have said all this before (sorry, I still haven’t re-read most of my posts), but I don’t think I can tell myself too many times to focus on being happy!… so that’s what I’m gonna do. Yup. The End.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
People go away. Some just because it’s part of the experience. Others… just because. But it’s interesting that the “lonely” factor, feeling, and level hasn’t really changed. It hasn’t gotten better or worse… just still kinda there. People aren’t gonna help with taking away that loneliness because that loneliness is… the loss of Kateri. I expect it will get better in time, but it has definitely held on… and it’s tiring.
I love fall. The smell of the wet leaves. The colors. The hoodies and heavier comfy clothes. I also can’t wait to be able to say that it is now “Fell”… or “Stick Season”… it reminds me of Kateri.
536 Days… the phone is still in Kateri’s name!
I met some more neighbors! Sat on their porch and chewed the fat for a bit! A friend and I were going on a walk, and a wave turned into a talk. The friend I was with was female… (ummm, and she still is)… so when R. asked if we were The Schoolhouse people it made for an interesting introduction when I had to explain that the schoolhouse was mine and my wife’s first home… that my friend is not my wife and that I live alone… because my wife died from cancer. Fun!
Just part of the life of a widower!
And it was actually a wonderful 45ish minute visit!
Yes, I got a new woodstove! Yes… I love it! (yes… I have 3 and a half cords of 14-16 inch logs… and it only takes 14″. Again… fun)
Posted at 12:46 pm by Darren Lidstrom, on September 29, 2019
I’m just gonna preface this with my Wedding Anniversary was actually yesterday, I’ve been horrible at planning things lately, and at 10:08 in the morning… I’m still in the same comfy clothes as last night because I fell asleep on the couch! (I like to think of it as me being efficient… this way I don’t have to get undressed just to put them back on for a Sunday morning!) Long story short… well, abbreviated… this is what I did.
When I woke up, I really had no plan. I wasn’t sure how I wanted to spend the day. I wasn’t sure how I wanted to honor the date. I didn’t know how I wanted to remember the happiest day of my life in a time where the crap in life seems to overshadow and push down those good memories. I was hoping to wake up and be flooded with all the wonderful images of friends, family, and Kateri on our wedding day… but for now I guess these types of dates are just gonna remind me of how wonderful things were… of the unexplainable joy that filled my life. They remind me of what we had… what I had in my life… and what life did to my sweet sweet Kateri.
I had thought about hitting George’s in Gloucester and maybe spreading some of Kateri’s ashes in the ocean. Or maybe spending a night in Lake Placid where Kateri and I would spend a weekend if we needed outta Dodge. Once, we kinda just wanted to get out for a weekend… but also needed to do laundry! Kateri simply found a hotel with laundry services… we loaded up our dirty clothes… and spent the evening getting room service while waltzing down the hall every so often to switch it over, throw in another load, and spend another small fortune because we were doing laundry in a hotel! Oh well… it was fun… and that’s not what I did yesterday.
We got married at a place called Camp Common Ground in Vermont. It’s not toooo far away from where I live and for some reason I thought it would be nice just to go back, walk around, and remember what it was like on September 28, 2011. It was early enough that I also thought I could cruise up there and be back in time to chill at home for a bit, too! So I headed out.
It was a beautiful drive… cloudy… cool. I took the dirt roads for the first bit and just got in the right frame of mind. When I hit Montpelier I thought, “I should probably eat breakfast…?!” and then Penny Cluse in Burlington instantly came to mind… because I love it there. As I got a little further down the road, another thought popped into my head that put a smile on my face… we cooked a majority of the food for our wedding in the Penny Cluse kitchen!… how fitting that I would be eating there!… today! It’s that whole attachment to experiences thing that I seem to keep trying to do, but it worked for this! So I got to Burlington, ate my Mama Cruz’s Huevos Rancheros, caught up with a couple of people, gave and got a hug from Charles, and moved on to the next phase of the journey.
It was nice driving south from B-Town. I hadn’t driven that route for quite a while and it was interesting to see the changes… the growth. It was while I was taking in all this change that another thought popped into my head. I realized that I was going to Camp Common Ground because of the memories and experience of getting married there. Well, yesterday was a Saturday… and even though we got married on a Wednesday, most people get married on Saturdays… so the thought was, “I wonder if there is gonna be a wedding going on when I pull up?!”… there was. At least, that’s what I’m assuming… because there were people milling about as if they were getting ready for a wedding!
I had prepared myself for that possibility and thought about what my reaction would be. I even thought about just sliding in and start milling about myself!… Who would know I’m not with the wedding?! But instead, I just flipped a bitch before anyone could ask me how I knew the bride and groom… or bride and bride… or groom and groom… and started the journey back home. I would have loved to have stood in the spot where Kateri and I committed our lives to each other in front of our loved ones… beneath those two majestic trees holding court over the open field we had made into our church… but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I knew I had inserted any of my experience into “The Happiest Day of my Life!” experience for these strangers… for these two people who were about to embark on their own journey filled with their own ups and downs. A wedding should be pure joy. Yes, “Till Death” is sometimes inserted into the ceremony, but on your wedding day… at least on mine… it is nothing but love. It’s a celebration. It’s a time to focus on all the reasons we want to spend the rest of our lives with someone. It’s about “The Good” in life. It’s one of those days in life that you just push all the crap aside and fill the time with music, laughter, conversation, life, and love. And I don’t think there are many days like that in our lives (except for maybe the birth of a child) so I wasn’t about to be “The Ruiner” for these people!… who didn’t happen to think about my needs when they were planning their wedding!
Since plans were sorta foiled, I started the journey home with stopping by a friend’s house in the area. They weren’t home so I decided to take the scenic route home (it’s Vermont… it’s all scenic) and go over the Appalachian Gap. Luke and I would drive it every day when we worked in the Mad River Valley and the view from the top is wonderfully convenient.
Driving south, I thought about food again and decided to take myself out to a nice “Anniversary Dinner for One” at a friend’s restaurant in my area… well, close to my area. Again… it was wonderful… and kind of just what I needed. Good food, good atmosphere, good conversation, and a couple of hugs.
I wish my day yesterday was filled with nothing but the joyous and celebratory memories that our wedding provided us for years… but it wasn’t. They were there, but the pain of losing Kateri and the complicated life that that loss has created is all consuming. I guess it’s the whole, “We hurt so much because we loved so much” type shit… and I just haven’t gotten past the pain that these dates periodically insert into my new life. For now, in my new life, they are just reminders… that I don’t have Kateri by my side. The passage of time has helped with some things and I suspect it will help with this. I won’t know for another 365 days… but I look forward to seeing that day come… and to see what fills the other 364 days.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
It… fucking… hurts… today. (September 28th)
It doesn’t hurt as much today! (September 29th)
The memory of Kateri telling me, “I don’t want to die.” one day in the schoolhouse and her saying, “I love you.”… in that weak, soft but scratchy voice while in palliative care four days before she died… the last time we would say it to each other… was almost debilitating as I was driving up to Burlington.
The memory of Kateri shouting, “Just let her go!” as we would crest a hill while driving our 5 Different Shades of Orange ’72 Super Beetle through the Green Mountains of Vermont on a Sunday afternoon… well… that put a smile on my face.
Posted at 11:03 pm by Darren Lidstrom, on September 25, 2019
So…. today happens to be the 6 Year Anniversary of employment at my job. I know, I know… doesn’t seem to be like a huge deal, but for me… it kinda is… for a few reasons. Shortly after Kateri died, I needed to put some parameters/guidelines/goals/rules on my life. The whole experience is just an onslaught of everything and I didn’t wanna just lose my shit… so I told myself I wouldn’t make any “Big Life” decisions until at least today, September 23, 2019. It seemed like a decent amount of time to at least let the dust settle… figure a few things out… learn a few things… and a point to just check in with myself. The other reason… is purely financial.
First… the financial side. I’m pretty sure that as of today, I will be fully vested as an Employee Owner of the company I work for! For my company! It’s an ESOP… Employee Stock Ownership Plan… so a few hundred and some other people can say the same thing… but whatever! (Which means, I ain’t no CEO,CFO, PPO, MTG, DRM or anything… just plain ODD) Basically, we get money when we leave the company as it buys back our stocks… or something… it’s a good retirement thing. Fully vested=I get 100% of those stocks instead of 60% or 20% n such. Plus… wait for it… I get………….. A VEST! Embroidery and all! But really… it’s about the money. Since I just lost a good chunk of my household income when Kateri died, I figured sticking around for at least 17 months seemed worth the financial return. (I’m soooo pragmatic!… and thinking of my future!). The fact that I like my job, coworkers, company, and most of the guests made the decision to use Sept. 23rd as a target date pretty simple.
Ummm… honestly… yes, getting vested is sort of a fun thing for me… but there other things I have attached to that date, as well. Like some of those “Big Life” questions that losing a spouse brings up in the widowed person’s life. The questions it has brought up for me, in my life with the loss of Kateri… are significant. Questions like:
Who do I want to be? Who am I?… me?… now that I’m by myself? (yup, still me… but it’s different)
Where do I want to be?… Vermont?, Rockies?, somewhere completely new and/or different? Travel? Stay put?
What fulfills me?
What do I enjoy?… What puts a smile on my face?
What options do I have for any given obstacle?
How will I keep my home?… Do I keep my home? (definitely yes. I’ve answered that one on multiple occasions from a couple of different angles for myself… and plus… my house is totally fucking cute)
Then… How will I make more money?… doing something I wanna do!
I’m actually willing to do things I don’t wanna do… I’m just not willing to do them right now! I’m not there yet… and I’m not gonna start there, neither!
What do I want to do professionally?… Hmmmmm. (I still enjoy what I do and take pride in my work, but 25 years is a long time to do one thing!)
Now it’s September 23 (well, the 25th really) and I am happy to inform you……… I haven’t really answered too many of those questions! But one thing I love about my life are the little things that happen to pop up at the perfect times… sometimes… like this afternoon. I stopped to get gas and as I was pulling away I noticed I hadn’t shut the cover to the fuel filler inlet (yes… I just asked the Oracle what it was called!), so I pulled into a parking space to shut it. As I got out of the car, my phone started doing it’s little shimmy and shake as a friend was giving me a call. After a couple of “Hey Bud!”s it quickly went to… “How would you like to come work for me in blah blah blah?”. Then I heard a crashing in the background… an “I gotta go!”… and we made a plan to catch up later. It was kind of an unexpected thing
I’ll let you know, we chatted for about 2 and a half hours… along with another friend of mine (who happens to be his wife)… and a majority of that was simply catching up. Yes, we spoke about the possibilities of working together again and I asked my initial questions, but there are a lot… A LOT!… more questions that need to be asked that also need to have some pretty specific answers! But that’s not what I found most exciting about this little “catch up”. For me, the fact that a really good friend of mine happened to have an idea on this day… and he decided to share his idea with me on a day in which I have put quite a bit of personal significance on… just warmed me to the bone! The timing! It’s experiences like these that make me think about how things just fall in line once in a while to make you feel good!… to put a smile on your face! I’m not saying I’m quitting my job and am just gonna thrust myself into a new kind of life quite yet, but the fact that it even came up was just… perfect. (Kind of like when Heman stopped by and introduced himself the day after Kateri passed!… wonderful experiences.)
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
I’m getting a new woodstove tomorrow…! I’ve been super excited about it and I’m sure I’ll share at some point, but it sorta just hit me… I have some pretty significant memories attached to this woodstove!… (like Kateri laying next to it… on a pad that a dear dear friend had made her… as she lived with cancer… the last four months of her life.)
She kept the fire going. It kept her warm. It made her feel good. She was there a lot.
Yup, totally had one of those sobbing moments with those memories tonight… and then I realized how much I’ve adapted to those things as I was crying away while getting the fire going. Still got shit to do!… wet face action or not!
There was no real need for a fire tonight except for the fact that I wanted to have one more!… for Old Times’ sake! I’m sentimental n shit.
I’ll make this short n sweet since I had no plans on opening up the computer in bed when I woke up this morning! It was a Facebook post that sorta hit me… and I subsequently sorta lost it. It was from my sister and she was talking about how you don’t just marry your spouse… you become part of a family. She posted this because my brother-in-law’s mother passed away… her mother-in-law… and it just made me think about how death touches us all the time… from all sorts of different angles.
I know my sister is hurting from the loss, but she wasn’t who I focused on at first. My heart sank for my brother-in-law… because he just lost his mom. There was a flood of emotions as I read her post, but it was the thought (and my own made up image) of my sister holding her husband… consoling him… loving him… and showing him that she loves him that hit me. Her being there for him. Her being his wife. And him being a husband who is needing to look to his wife for strength, love, and support.
I love my brother-in-law. He is a good man. A strong man. A good father. A good husband. A good person… a friend. He is family… and he just lost his mom. I’m glad he has my sister to be there for him… she’s one tough cookie. Oh, I’m sure she’ll have her moments of weakness and he’ll need to be there for her, as well, but she’ll be ok. They are both pretty amazing people, a pretty amazing team… with an impressively resilient family.
One part of relationships is being there for each other in all sorts of situations. It can get messy and confusing like having to be there for your wife even though it’s your mother that passed away… but death affects everyone involved… and we all deal with it differently.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
T—-I’m so sorry you won’t be able to hold your mother anymore or call her up or hear her voice in the other room. I’m sorry that you have to feel this loss. I’m sorry that it hurts. I’m glad that you have my sister by your side and family to help ease the pain. I love you. I wish I could be there and give you a hug. I wish I could be there for you… for my brother.
I still love the memory of when in my senior year of high school you let me borrow your jacked up Nissan for a graduation event/party and at one point the grill went flying into the front yard when we couldn’t get the light fixed or something! (don’t actually remember what the issue was, but it was exciting!)
Death is complicated. Death and how it affects family and friends is complicated. Death and how it affects relationships is complicated. There’s so much that goes into the experience of death that the best description I have been able to come up with is… it’s complicated. Well, traumatic… and complicated.
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I didn’t actually realize it was the anniversary of me deciding not to drink until it popped up as a “Memory” on my Facebook. When I saw that in the past I had posted “11 years” and “8 years”… I figured today is probably the day I quit drinking!… 13 years ago.
The morning actually started off pretty darn nice. It was a good morning…. not even knowing it was the anniversary of a pretty big thing in my life. For the record, I don’t exactly pay attention to how long I haven’t drank alcohol… I just don’t drink anymore… it’s been a reality and no big deal to me for quite a while now. But…. that doesn’t mean I don’t think about the decision I made… about drinking… because I do… quite a bit. Mostly though, I draw upon my decision to cut the ol’ sauce out for strength. Ya, at first it was pretty hard… but then it was just a part of who I was… and who I wanted to be. I like me better not drinking. To be up front, I quit drinking because it was either one or the other… beer (or whisky… or Jägermeister… or Bloodies if it was before noon)… or Kateri. I’m sorry to everyone who struggles with it… but the choice was simple for me. I never “fell off the wagon”… never went on a bender… never went in and out of rehab or AA… but I also never really had any reason to question my decision. Every single day since September 9th, 2006 I had a reason to make better decisions. I had a reminder next to me every morning I woke up… and every time I heard that laugh. I had that reminder… I had Kateri… until 7:24pm on April 22, 2018… and I still haven’t had a sip. I feel good about that. I know my life is better because of it. And yesterday I used that accomplishment to feel good about myself… to feel strong and secure about decisions I’ve made… because it was a moment when I needed to.
I was gonna go into the whole timeline of my feelings, emotions, and events of yesterday morning… but I’ve decided I wanna eat leftover pizza, a piece of poundcake, and watch the Denzel movie that Netflix sent me instead of rehashing it. The morning basically went: good… shitty… better, with a jolt of positivity. I will tell you… seeing that “memory” pop up… well, it came at the right time! Again, not getting into it, but it was weird experiencing something that I had seen over and over again on the online support group I’m a part of and thinking how I never thought I would experience it!… but I did. It was kinda sucky. It hurt. It was unexpected. Somewhat understandable… but unexpected. Then… on an iPhone 8… life reminded me of thirteen years dry… and the morning got a little bit better.
The only time I have been sailing. It was fun… but freaky… Especially when I couldn’t see land! (glad we had beer at that point!)
Yup, I 100%… 96%… 89% believe I could have a drink and not watch my life spin out of control, but I just don’t feel like risking it. I always told Kateri I was gonna start back up when I retire so that I could sit on our porch in my rocking chair with my dog, my shotgun, and my whisky. (I know… how many times have you heard that?! I think that’s a lot of guys’ idea of retirement!) I don’t have any idea if any of that will actually happen… or if that’s even how I envision “retirement” these days. I don’t really think about that far off anymore. Those thoughts and stipulations were when there were two rocking chairs on the porch… and one was Kateri’s.
(wow… that was sort of a sad thing to end on… but I don’t really have anything else to say! And… I gotta get to Denzel!)
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
I got four pieces of mail today. Two for Kateri, one for Gordon (original owner) or current resident, and one for me… Denzel (I’ve mentioned him). Just kinda funny… I’m the only one who lives here… but gets 25% of the mail!
Just food for thought about the strength and pull of the drink… I broke both my legs (femur in half/compounded tibia and fibula) when I ran into a mountain after a night of drinking in town, flipped end over end a couple of times, and did this to my Jeep.
Broke both my legs. I know, I know… impressive and looks fun!… but I don’t recommend it.
That was 7 years before I quit. (I will say being young and stoopid didn’t help!) I actually have another picture of it with my mom holding a togo coffee cup in the background with her arms folded and head slightly tilted down. My mother and father were on their way to the hospital in Wyoming from Idaho and the wreckage was on the way. I keep that image to myself… but you can just think of your mom (or anyone you love) in her place if you are on the fence about some of the choices you’re making with drinking. Ya… don’t put them through it.
I’ve been kinda freaking out about losing pictures and videos… memories… as the time keeps piling up so I started going through them in an attempt to organize them… it’s a slow process. I realized we all get a YouTube account with our google account so I figured I would at least throw the videos I have hanging out on my phone on there so that they are consolidated, I could expand the sharing of this experience, and I could learn a bit more about this technology stuff. Again… slow process.
This morning I had planned on looking at what I’m doing here… Thirty Days of Mo(u)rning… and begin the process of narrowing my focus since I feel I’m doing this sorta half hazardly… I’m all over the place! Well… I’m still gonna be all over the place for at least another day or two… or more. I got sidetracked… by those memories I’m trying not to lose.
Long story short… I came across this video that Kateri had taken on the morning of her first immunotherapy treatment. It was an early appointment so we were there before the masses of sick people and their loved ones started inundating the hospital. The pianos are generally locked… I’m assuming so people like me don’t just start banging on the keys… but this one wasn’t locked on this particular morning…. opportunity.
Now, if you watch the video you’ll notice that I am not a concert pianist! Heck, this is really the only song I sorta know (and it’s only part of the song), but that wasn’t the point. As Kateri, Maria, and I walked into the hospital and I saw the piano wasn’t locked… I saw the opportunity to give Kateri something… a moment to forget exactly why we were there. I wanted to provide her with something that might just take some of the worry away… even for just a moment.
I’ve gotta say… watching this video brought me back to that morning. It was strange to remember that moment so vividly. It was hard to deal with the emotions that came rushing in… ones which have stuck with me throughout today’s morning. I miss my wife. I miss being with her in the good times… and to be there for her during the hard times. And currently… I miss her being there for me. I miss her being here. I miss Kateri.
Ya… so… yesterday I wondered what it would be like to read one of my blog posts and record it. Well, the reading of it was emotional… and the process of trying to record myself (and then watching it)… was interesting. Long story short, on the drive home tonight I was thinking about it being Widower Day 500 today… good, solid number… and just thought I would share something with the widows and widowers out there. (ummm… you can watch this even if you haven’t lost a spouse… it’s ok. Just to forewarn ya, though… it’s eight minutes long) There’s no real significance to the number 500 for me… but for some reason… seems like there should be!
Sooooo, this is me reading my “Random Widower Thoughts” page… n stuff.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
Honestly, I kinda enjoyed Widower Day 500… it was kinda funny. (you should’ve seen my “recording” set up!… entertaining sight I’m sure!)
I’d just like to say that I still wish I lived back in the old timey days before all this technology… like the 1800’s… minus all the bad stuff.
I took three days off of work last week… I felt that I needed to. I’ve been trying to take some time off during the summer, but it just didn’t really happen until this week. I’ve been feeling like I need a bit of time to address some of the obstacles this new life has put in front of me. It’s strange for me to think that it has 497 days… because I face it every single day. So at points it still feels like it literally just happened… and other times I can feel the space growing between points in the timeline. Either way, at the beginning of my Mini Vacation I had no plans on painting my bedroom… but I’m glad I did.
Kateri and I have rented a room in a house with meat heads in Burlington, slept in a studio above a garage attached to a large empty house… on an air mattress in Monkton, slept in a loft in Starksboro (our first stand alone house… we felt so grown up), had a king size bed in our “Secluded Apartment” at the ranch in CO… the squirrels in our room weren’t the worst part… it was the racist and untrustworthy managers. We stayed on our friend’s futon up Four Mile Canyon until we found our little cabin in Ned… where we signed our lease in green colored pencil… and had no jobs at the time. Loved that place… and the people. We stayed in our friend’s basement apartment in Huntington (well, Hanksville… but only people in Hanksville care about those specifics) when we came back to Vermont… where we could hear the kiddos riding their three wheeled machines in a circle through the kitchen, back hallway, living room, front hallway… and kitchen again…. as we laid in bed with smiles on our faces at 6:32am. Our next bedroom was just an open second floor loft with a staircase in the middle. Actually, it was more of a glorified ladder, but it had a railing to hold on to! Side story… I heard Kateri fall down those “stairs” one night when I had forgotten my keys and had to wake her up by calling to her loudly from outside and knocking on the door as I stood in the darkness. When you can hear something like that, your fiancé (at the time) hitting the floor, but aren’t able to see what’s going on… well, I just about broke down the door. Our next place was The Condo… where, from our bed, we could hear the horses run back and forth in the arena on certain mornings. On other mornings… you simply smelled the shit.
The next place we would lay our heads… our next bedroom…. would be in our little red schoolhouse. It’s funny to think about all the places we’ve lived, all the places we’ve slept… and then to think about where I am stretched out right now. I just can’t believe how much is packed into this little corner of the house. Our first night sleeping on the mattress on the floor… of our first home. Moving the bed around every couple of months to find the best light. Figuring out who’s clothes will go where. Those Sunday mornings of laying in bed with coffee as we planned out our day… and dreamed about our future… between runs to fetch a fresh Cup of Joe for one another……………………. And then Cancer.
Three days after Kateri died Maria helped me go through all of (well, most of) Kateri’s clothes. It had always worked out that Kateri would keep her clothes in our bedroom and I would keep mine usually in the spare room… if we had one. It’s not like she had a ton of clothes, it was more that we lived in small spaces! When she first died, I didn’t see the point of waking up every morning being surrounded by her clothes as I would go to another room to grab mine for the day. The thought had hit me that there was absolutely no reason for her clothes to be hanging in the closest… or to fill the two dressers in the room. She wasn’t coming back…. but I had to keep waking up there. I wanted to start my day in my space… with my clothes… because this was now my life. I have a house and twenty years of memories that are constantly reminding me of Kateri and what we had. I needed to chisel out a little space that was just mine as I tried to figure out this new life… so I figured I would start in the place I wake up every morning… and where I end my day every night… when I don’t fall asleep on the couch!
For me, going through Kateri’s clothes wasn’t as hard as I expected. Maria would ask if she could take this or that for herself or a family member and I would say “Sure” or “No”. I had seen Kateri in these clothes throughout my entire life with her and we generally remember people dressed… so there is a huge attachment for me between Kateri and what she wore… her “Style”. In the moment, it was simple… I couldn’t get rid of much… but I didn’t have to either. So, Maria and I went from drawer to drawer and into the closet. We talked, we laughed, we remembered, we cried… and then we put her clothes into green bins which sat in the corner of my bedroom for 16 and a half months… until I painted.
Kateri and I hadn’t gotten to painting the bedrooms of our first home. We started with the downstairs, the laundry area, second bathroom, upstairs hallways, and kitchen. There were other things we wanted/needed to do with the house and at the time and some of those projects took priority over painting like building chicken coops, fire pits, small stone patios, and paths through the woods. There was also the bathroom remodel that started with Kateri putting the first hole in the wall before Cancer… and me finishing five months after her death. Life was just sorta happening I guess… and we never really thought about there being a timeline. So this last Monday morning, as I was talking to a friend and trying to come up with a game plan for my Mini Staycation, the painting of the bedroom project came up and I decided to go ahead and try to get it done at some point before I went back to work on Friday.
I was actually really excited about it! It was fun trying to figure out what colors I wanted to surround myself with as I stared at a wall filled with little pieces of paper at Home Depot. Another side note… this was a time I REALLY wished Kateri was with me!… she had an eye for that type of shit, but it was still fun doing it on my own for the first time.
I wanted to wake up in a warm space. I wanted it to be bright. I figured it would help put my brain in a positive space the moment I woke up!… or when I called it a day. I was gonna go with a yellowish color, but the hallway is “Mustard” and that would’ve been just too much so I went with green. Well, actually, “Granny Smith Apple” and “Spring Leaf”. Let me tell you… there must be some very green apples out there! Yup, it’s definitely bright!… it’s growing on me.
I like doing projects because of the instant gratification when you finish. After I had decided on paint color, got together all my brushes and other painting tools, I had remembered about taping! Jesus… I forgot about how much time that takes! I also wanted to do the job right so at some point during the evening I bit the bullet and started to meticulously cover trim, doors, and floors with masking tape. Although the thought of just “being careful” had crossed my mind… I didn’t wanna risk it. I knew I would hear Kateri’s voice every time I saw a little bit of green paint creeping into the wood trim.
I ended up painting until 2:34am… with the assistance of Lizzo and various 90’s Alternative Rock artists providing me with a beat to keep moving to coming from the little JBL speaker I had gotten for Kateri when she was in the hospital… but finally… it was done. It sorta reminded me of when I laid the tile in the bathroom throughout the night when Kateri was in the hospital. I kinda like plugging away… getting stuff done… when the schoolhouse lights are surrounded by darkness and the rest of the world is sleeping. I like being in my own little world once in a while. Sometimes… I need it.
I feel good about the job and again… the color is growing on me. I guess it doesn’t actually matter if the color is growing on me or not… I’m not gonna paint it again for quite a while… but luckily I kinda like it. Kateri’s clothes are now in the spare bedroom across the hall… still in the green bins. Although it feels good that they are out of the bedroom because it allows more light in and I like not seeing them stacked in the corner every morning… I still can’t move them to the garage or anywhere else outside of the house for storage. I like having them close to me… even though I don’t look at them or anything. They provide me with a bit of comfort. And no… I don’t wear them or hold them or rub them up against my face… yet.
It was hard taking another step into this new life… changing something in my home… for me. It’s weird. It’s strange. It’s odd thinking about how I want to set up the schoolhouse in a way that would provide me with a space to remember Kateri… my wife… as well as keeping my own needs and wants in mind. Yes, there were definitely some struggles and emotional moments as I was transforming my bedroom into Fern Gully, but it also felt good to take that little step… to provide myself with a new space… to create a space… in my new life.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
I saw a Pella Windows truck the other day and it reminded me of when Kateri would always say how fancy their windows were.
I miss the Rocky Mountains, ranches, and The West.
There is a red ’57 Chevy for sale down the road. I think it would look great parked in front of my little red schoolhouse… just sayin’.
Loggins and Messina-Danny’s Song… yup, that just about destroyed me as I was driving home the other day. Don’t know why… I don’t even really know what the song is about… wasn’t paying that close of attention!
I just need to figure out how to get what I want… I know the solutions are out there! I guess I also need to figure out what it is I actually want. All I really know is that I need some change. Some big changes… some small… some change.
I left work an hour early on Thursday to unexpectedly drive up to B-Town for something. Work was fine, kind of a normal Thursday for me… did some ordering, sent off invoices, had a talk or two… but it wasn’t until I got up north and was sitting at my friend’s that it hit me… 16 months… since the death of Kateri.
It was kinda strange. I’m always aware when the day comes around… the 22nd of each month… but for some reason my brain was occupied with other things all morning long. I also figure that as the months start to build up… they hit me less and less. I’m learning to live this new life and as time goes by these dates are more just reminders of what it is I’m going through, what it is that I used to have… than the stinging slap in the face or punch in the gut that would debilitate me for “X” amount of time every month.
I’m not putting much weight on the whole “I wasn’t thinking about Kateri” the entire day… I think that is probably a natural progression in this process. Of course I miss and love Kateri, but I realized I’m not gonna be a wreck every single month the 22nd comes around. Sometimes I will be a wreck… sometimes I won’t be. Life kinda happens… and keeps going… and sometimes it takes priority over the past. For me, 16 months was just another perfect moment in this pile of poop.
My friend and I were sitting on his back deck catching up and trying to figure something out, his daughter was playing with a neighbor friend inside, when I checked the time on my phone. That’s when I saw the date and it sorta hit me… 16 months. Yes, when I saw the date and realized the significance… I had to take a moment. I could feel the lump in the throat. I could feel the eyeballs get a little more moist… like when you can feel the tears holding onto the bottom of your eyelid… but they haven’t jumped off yet. A million memories flooded my mind for less than a minute… I took a breath… and we kept talking.
I loved the fact that I was going through this little unexpected episode and the person I was talking to, the person who’s home I was at… was the person who married Kateri and I. We hadn’t seen each other for more than a few months and I just thought it was kinda cool that he was the one I was with when I realized the date. It’s stoopid little things like that that I have come to absolutely love… the cool little memories some situations have given me since the passing of Kateri. They provide me comfort… when those things happen. It makes me feel good. Whether it’s accurate or not… it gives me another reason to think, “It’ll all be ok.”. Sometimes life takes away the things we think we can’t live without. When it does, sometimes it gives us back tiny little things that help us keep going… we just need to make sure we are paying attention.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
Yup, I’ve made it to the point where after placing my order the lady at the Gas Station Chinese Food place actually said to me… over the phone… “I know you!… ha ha ha… see you soon.”… now that’s building community!
The dishes in the sink are piled to the highest point so far in this new life! I’ve been okay with it… until today.
I’m getting Kateri’s truck towed today to hopefully be able to get it running so I can use it for moving wood n stuff… we’ll see what the mechanic says! It’s gonna be a long process… Kateri’s truck… it needs some work… which costs money… but she’ll be on the road again!… sooner or later.
I’ve gotta say… I’m loving that the nights are getting cooler. I’m not ready for summer to be over… but the changing weather is nice.
Widower Day 490… wow. That number doesn’t feel like it’s accurate. Like the truck… this is gonna be a long process.
Now I’ve gotta go clean the house!… and mow the yard! Awe… Sunday.
I guess this is just me giving an example of why some people compare the effects of traumatic experiences to roller coaster rides. My last blog post was pretty darn positive… the good shit in this new life! I’m actually trying to be a pretty darn positive person… but sometimes things pop into my head on the 40 minute drive home through the vibrant green hills. Like memories. I’m gonna keep this short.
I had been sleeping in the spare bedroom for a couple of months because Kateri really needed the space to try and be comfortable. Somewhere in the last of month of her life, I was tucking her into bed when she said, “You can sleep in here if you want?”…. but by the time I was done trying to figure out hospital stuff, insurance stuff, cancer stuff, life stuff… she was asleep, looking as comfortable as she could be, and I didn’t want to do anything that would ruin that. So I laid on the bed above the covers, held her for a bit, and simply kissed her goodnight.
After that night… I never slept in my own bed… next to my wife… next to My Dearest Kateri. There’s a lot that comes along with a thought like that… a lot. Like missed opportunities… that I will never get back. Yup… just driving home.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
I absolutely love driving on a newly grated dirt road!
There are more and more new people in my life… people who never knew Kateri… people who don’t really understand what I’m going through.
I should have a piano moving party!… and a wood stacking party!
I’ve started the process of fixing Kateri’s truck! Well, I washed off the dirt and talked to my mechanic. It’s gonna take some time… and a tow… she needs a little work. But she’s clean!
Some plants need more water than other plants… but I guess they all need water!
You can move inside plants outside… but outside plants will grow in the inside pots… which are outside.
There are more spiders… than I feel are necessary… around my house.
Wow… I’ve written over 57,000 words!… boy are my arms tired! (corny… I know)
Kateri named the pillow with the flowers “Squishy”… because it’s squishy. When she got sick she would ask, “Will you grab Squishy for me?”… and I did.
It was a Monday morning and we were laying in bed doing what we did on Monday mornings… Kateri was looking at bathrooms to come up with ideas for ours and I was probably looking at Craigslist for jobs, canoes, motorcycles, boats, or the random things that people sell. We were sorta coming up with a game plan for the day. It was our one day off together and we always spent them with each other doing mostly nothing… it was perfect.
Kateri wanted to build a cold frame for herbs… or lettuce… or something else we could eat… so we started to make a list of things we would need to go and get at the store to put together something that would hold dirt. Now, did I mention it was our one day off together…? because we also usually just laid in bed for a bit, drank coffee (each of us taking turns running for refills), and pretty much got into a laid back frame of mind… which also made us not want to leave the Schoolhouse. So… I started listing off things in the garage or over at the potting shed which could be used to make a box… with a lid… with the hope of not having to go out amongst “the people”!
We were actually quite proud of ourselves for using what we had! I had leftover lumber probably from the chicken coop. In one of the little plastic bins/cups that Kateri had gotten for me when we bought our house… with the hope of providing me with an organizational tool for the garage I was so excited to finally have… we had found a couple of hinges. For the top…?… it only seemed appropriate to use one of the many old windows we had laying around. (We had windows because in 2011 we had gone around picking them up from various strangers so that we could build our “church” for our wedding. No… neither one of us is religious. Kateri always said she was a “recovering catholic”). And Kateri had some garden mesh/fabric stuff… because she gardened… to line the box with. We had all the fixin’s to build our cold frame! And there was no need to leave the hill!
It was a good day. Nothing special. Nothing really out of the ordinary. Just a Monday. We were so proud of ourselves for just making do. Kateri was so happy to have a cold frame where she could grow things next to the front deck… and beside her gardens. She was putting down roots… at our first home. It made her happy. It made me happy to see her and to help make her happy. Life was good… and we were happy together just doing what we did… on a Monday.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
I was gonna write something yesterday for 15 months, but there were other things I wanted to do. Of course, I kinda wish I wrote about a Monday… on a Monday. (I know… kinda weird)
The Beastie Boys will always remind me of Kateri.
I finally hung the lady in the bathroom. Kateri loved the lady in the tub.
15 months and I’ll admit… I’ve been a little rough lately. Most the time everything is basically fine. Most nights of the week… I have cried. Sometimes… a lot. It’s hard trying to get excited about life… this new life… when the crushing reality hits that I simply miss what my life was before April 22, 2018. I miss Kateri sooo much… it just sucks.
I hope you have as many good people in your lives as I do… whether that’s friends, family, or co-workers… I’ve got some good ones.
Yup, the cold frame kinda took a beating this winter. Glass and eight feet of snow don’t always mix… but shit still grows!
Well… as of today it has been a year since I started jotting some thoughts down pertaining to this whole widower thing on this little bloggery I have called Thirty Days of Mo(u)ring. Yup… a year. I have published 74 (75 now!) posts, learned a bit about how these things work, learned a bit about myself, have gotten some lovely words of encouragement, and have had strangers come into my world that I would now consider my friends… ish. I had absolutely no idea what I was gonna be doing with this blog, how I was gonna do it, or really even why (still don’t), but a few people have reached out to me to say “thanks for sharing… it has helped me get through my shit.”… and I can’t tell you how much that warms my innards.
There are so many things that I want to share, but being a widower is hard… and it takes time away from life. A year. It’s weird to think about all that has happened in that year… and all that I thought would happen. At this point last year, I hadn’t yet finished the upstairs bathroom that Kateri and I started to remodel before cancer… but I finally did… and I took a bath. I hadn’t yet rearranged the living room into a configuration that Kateri would never see. I hadn’t yet gotten on Widow/Widower support groups to try and promote my blog… and then find out that I didn’t wanna share it on that platform because it felt more like self promoting than being supportive. I hadn’t yet gotten on dating apps because of the curiosity… and crushing loneliness. One of my best friends hadn’t yet left Ned for Arizona… cutting off one of our last connections to a town I absolutely loved. Our closest friends here in the Upper Valley (the one Kateri always wanted to live next to, to be neighbors with until we grew old) hadn’t yet decided to start taking steps to relocate for other exciting opportunities. I hadn’t yet been to Atlantic City where “Angel” approached me asking if I wanted to “conversate” in my hotel room (I didn’t). My boss and good friend hadn’t yet left work to make another go at opening another successful restaurant. Old friends hadn’t yet come to Vermont to sit on my porch for the first time… solely because they knew I needed them. My mother had cancer in her brain a year ago… and doesn’t as of today!… (now we’re just waiting for it to clear from her lungs… CT scan today). There have been a lot of changes and learning experiences in the past year. On this day last year… it hadn’t even been three months since I heard Kateri take her last breath as I held her arm with two of our best friends sitting next to her… and holding me.
I wish I could say I’m in better shape than I was a year ago, but I’m not too sure I can say that. They say time heals… but so far I still feel it just changes things. Personally, I’m constantly overwhelmed, constantly worried about money and everything attached to it (I’m a worry wort), constantly trying to “figure out” things that can’t be figured out, constantly trying to do things that make me happy… and always trying to find more hours in the day to fit it all in. Just because I have moved further away from that horrible horrible date, it hasn’t exactly made it easier. I have been forced to manage my grieving and sadness because life doesn’t stop. I still have to go to work, take care of responsibilities, take care of the house, the chickens, deal with the blah, blah, blah… and fit the emotional stuff in when I can. Sometimes it will just show up and I have to either suppress it because I’m about to go back into work or I’m at the store or something. Sometimes, I’m in a place where I can let it go… like sitting in my car in my driveway when I just get home… or in my bed writing a blog. Either way… it’s a hard thing to manage… and a stupid thing to have to manage. It also doesn’t hurt less… it’s just more sporadic.
I know this all sounds pretty depressing… as if there was very little joy in my world… but that’s not the case. It’s a very manic experience being a widower… kind of all over the place emotionally and psychologically. Which just means there are times I’m doing well and feel pretty good about the direction I’m going… and then there are times I need to take a break from writing blogs or thinking about whatever to just go outside and dead-head the daisies in the planters on the porch… because it provides me with a sorta connection to Kateri… she loved dead-heading flowers. She would say, “Pop their little heads off” or simply “Off with their heads!”… and it made her happy. I loved seeing Kateri happy.
I guess that’s one goal of sharing your life with whoever in whatever capacity… to see them happy… which makes us happy. It doesn’t always happen… and sometimes things happen that we just can’t be happy about… but they’re gonna happen anyways. Sometimes, there are days where we just want to stay in comfy clothes, smoke a pinner, eat ice cream, and watch re-runs of Friends. But the joint burns out, the ice cream gets eaten, Friends move on to short lived spin-offs or other endeavors… and we all have to put our pants on to start a new day.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
I should probably take the home phone and internet out of Kateri’s name at some point… but I’m really afraid of losing my number!
I look down a lot when I walk… so I miss shit.
I’ve been wanting to get Kateri’s truck up and running. I loved seeing her in it… and currently it would be helpful to move wood!
Kateri’s dream car was a Toyota with a wooden bed… such the Vermonter!
I’ve noticed I’ve been able to remember some of the fun stuff from before the pile of shit… which is such a nice corner to turn within this process. It doesn’t happen a ton, but when it does… it’s just so warming.
Yup, I could eat better, sleep better, and just take care of myself better… but I’m doing good enough.
Thank you to everyone who has checked my shit out! It makes me feel warm and fuzzy…. even though it’s hot and humid.
I haven’t actually made it to the upstairs bathroom yet… might be dragging my feet. I have decided to trim the beard down to a less “mangy” length… as a friend had described it. I personally like to think of it as “shabby” or “unkempt”. Whatever you call it… I rather enjoy it. Unfortunately, it’s also hot… and I work in kitchens.
It feels a little strange to think that I’m about to take clippers to the face. I’ve talked about it a lot… trimming… just haven’t found the time… or at least the right time. I’ve become attached to the beard as it has grown since Kateri’s death. As a widower, it has sorta helped me feel better. It makes me feel different than I was in my life with Kateri… because I look different. There was a point last summer where I found myself looking in the mirror and I didn’t recognize myself… not my face… not who I was… not my life. It was an odd experience… and not just because of the beard (which was obviously shorter then). But I found comfort in the fact that Kateri would’ve loved how long my facial hair was getting as well as it being something new in my new life… and I didn’t have to do anything! A year later… I feel as though this is almost my identity now… the small guy with a big beard!
If you’re a widower… I suggest you grow a beard… unless it’s patchy or you aren’t allowed to because of some stupid shit like “work”. I simply think it is a fun way to get a little different perspective of yourself… as you are trying to figure out who you are in this new life. Sometimes, you’ll get past using the beard as kind of a crutch (sounds silly… I know… but in many ways it’s true)… and trim it when you are ready for a change… or because it’s been in the 80’s for more than a week! (FYI… I don’t plan on going shorter than an inch… but we’ll see..?!)
Part 2
Yup, now I’m gonna start to grow the beard back out!… I miss it.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
It’s weird to think there are people in my life now that only know me with a beard.
Yes… I pretty much wear either my red or hunter-orange stocking cap when it’s not warm… or my John Deere hat the rest of the time. I’m pretty exciting.
Well, currently sitting in my garage because it’s cooler than the front porch right now and I don’t wanna be inside. I just let the chickens out so that they could feel the grass between their toes… and eat all the ticks. Today is one of those days that I’m willing to risk having to deal with death so that the chickens can enjoy being chickens. (when you live in the woods… there are creatures that rather enjoy eating chicken for dinner… hopefully not tonight, though!) Yup, today I’m just going with the flow. It’s kind of what I’ve been doing for the last week or two… which has been both good and… well… aggravating on some fronts.
Independence Day was fantastic. A friend and I had a wonderfully Vermonty 4th of July with parades (well… a parade), swimming holes, creamies, grilled burgers, macaroni salad, homemade key lime pie (not my home), fireworks and all! It kinda sucked getting a flat tire on the way down to the fireworks… and having the wheel decide it didn’t wanna come off for a bit even though the lug nuts were on the asphalt… but the spare made it on and we made it in time to watch shit explode! Personally, I love the fact that we both sorta rolled with it. We tried something with the tire… didn’t work… I tried it again! Oh hey, my AAA is non-existent…?… let’s try yours! Once we actually got to the point that a tow truck was coming, I just started to kick one side of the tire and it popped off! So we canceled the wrecker, threw on the full size spare (thank God… or something… that it was full size), drove to the town just south of the parking lot we were in, and enjoyed the rest of the evening! Rolling with it!… until it cost me $303 to throw 4 old tires on the Jeep and to replace the sensor that the flat tire destroyed. (Actually still rolling with it at that point… just reluctantly)
A couple of days later, Saturday, I woke up with tears puddled up on my eyeballs and lids. Now… I just need to say… this was one of the stranger “Widower” experiences I have had. I guess it isn’t really all that strange, but it hasn’t happened to me much… if at all… until Saturday. Oh, I’ve woken up and then started crying… but this was different. There was accumulation of salty water on my closed eye lids! When I moved my head I could feel the streams roll over my cheeks into my beard and ears.
I don’t really remember what the dream was about, it wasn’t anything serious or big, but Kateri was in it… both of us were… together. The odd part for me was that I was sorta watching this dream as a third person. There wasn’t a big event happening or anything… it wasn’t like it was our wedding… Darren2 and Kateri were for the most part just going about their lives. It was the fact that I was witnessing these two people just plugging away… and it crushed me. Neither one of them had any idea of what direction their life was gonna take… they had no idea of the pain that they both would face. The physical, psychological, and emotional pain that cancer was gonna cause Kateri… and the pain of having to live a life I (he… Darren2) didn’t plan on… nor care as much for. Seeing Darren2 and Kateri happy without the big pile of poop… before the big pile of poop plopped down… just sorta crushed me in my dream… which is something I guess can make you cry while your asleep.
And now!… I’m gonna go do something else… where there’s less mosquitos! (I feel like mosquitos should stay out of garages! Little bastards.)
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
The whole widower experience has this loneliness thing attached to it all the time… it’s just there… hanging with me.
I found this card from Kateri yesterday as I was making two stands in the garage. It was in the coffee table that Trilla had given us eons ago. It didn’t hit me hard when I found it… I wasn’t emotionally floored or anything… it just kinda made me feel good. It felt nice to see her handwriting and to think about what was happening at that time (there was a reference because she always dated notes and cards). It was comforting. It was good to feel the love I have for Kateri take the lead… instead of the sorrow that comes along when you aren’t able to tell someone you love them because the world had other ideas.
I feel like I just need to keep going… keep moving… I haven’t been doing that. I’ve been doing what needs to get done and that’s about it. There’s this lack of motivation which I think is feeding into the whole “not feeling so great” all the time. I’m thinking it’s still part of the whole overwhelming aspect of this life of one.
I’m pretty sure I would be a good recluse… who welcomes visitors.
I wish I didn’t love my house or have so many attachments to it. I would sell it in a heartbeat, load up the Jeep, and just start driving. That’s the challenge with living in a cute little schoolhouse as a widower… there’s no way I would ever be able to buy something like this on my own… so I’m not giving it up!… which means no loading up the Jeep… yet. (Hmmm, I wonder if I have lost it in the noggin enough that I would take Lil’ Bitch with me on a 6 month long road trip…? Just me and my chicken!)
I bought a new phone!… and miss using my old one.
Wow… this seems like a very Eeyore… ish post! Besides being somewhat overwhelmed, somewhat numb, and just kinda blah… life is actually pretty decent.
FYI… I can hear my chickens pecking at the paint on the side of my garage. Awe… I’ve got smrt chickens!
The other evening I was going through videos on my phone that I had made last summer… when I was trying to figure out what the effe just happened to my world… and I came across this picture that I had taken on July 1st, 2018. Sooooo, that would’ve been Widower Day 70… and it’s weird to think I’m at 436 now partly because much of the last 14 and whatever months are in some ways a blur… and foggy. But I remember taking this picture because of the significance of what the date on the newspaper reminded me of… April 22nd… the day Kateri died… 70 days earlier.
It was hot that week… a year ago. Come to think of it… it’s hot right now a year later! Hmmm, maybe we should track these trends…? Anyways, it was hot… like real hot. I lost a chicken that week… Taco. Although she wasn’t my favorite, I thought she was the most beautiful. She just looked like a picture perfect Silver Laced Wyandotte. Bright white and black with the really red comb thing… like the ones you see in the movies! (really… I have no idea what a good looking Silver Laced Wyandotte looks like… but she sure was a purdy chicken. And… the chicken in the picture is Lil’ Bitch… she’s my favorite) Yup, poor Taco. I opened up the door to the coop… and BLAM!… dead chicken… mostly in the nesting box… little head hanging over the edge……….. it was hot. I felt pretty bad there for a bit, and then just thought… it’s a chicken… and had to move on.
Anways, while it was sweltering outside, I remember it felt somewhat nice in the garage standing on the cool concrete. I had built shelves on the east side with the hope of getting organized. My “nesting for one”. I was going through boxes that Kateri and I hadn’t yet unpacked from the move back from Ned. We always had an idea of what was in certain boxes and I when I came to the large rectangular one housing the King and Queen I decided I’d like to see them out again. These were from Kateri’s life prior to meeting me, so they had always been a part of OUR life… hanging or leaning here or there… and I just kinda thought they would be fun to have out in the schoolhouse (currently… they are in my front little plant room).
They were wrapped in newspaper… the one with the date… which is the fun part of moving from place to place… sometimes you get to be reminded of specific times in your life as the memories attached to those times get pulled from the vaults with the unwrapping of that protective layer. Sometimes you get to open up a box from multiple moves ago… like this one… which was four ago.
We had packed that box eight years ago and July 1st, 2018 was the day it was gonna get unpacked! When I noticed the date… it was just… kind of a flood of emotions and memories. Honestly, I don’t remember exactly how I reacted… I don’t think I lost it or anything… but I probably did. The one thing I know for sure is… I wasn’t gonna hold onto that crumpled up piece of eight year old newspaper for the rest of my life because it had the date Kateri died on it!… so I took a picture of it… that I’m now afraid of losing.
I’ve come to expect these little unexpected things that pop up. I’m glad that I took a picture of that newspaper and came across it a year later. I’m also glad I came across that picture… a year later… and could recognize a few of the changes I have gone through in this experience. Yes, the picture definitely made me emotional, but it was nice to think about my life with Kateri in a different time… in a different place. It made me happy. Those were happy times in 2010. Hell, I had just asked her to marry me when we were packing those boxes… we were moving back to Vermont to set roots! It was exciting! It was fun! And ya… this aint what we planned… and not what I expected… but I’m grateful for the life we had because it provides me with countless memories (in vaults somewhere) that simply put a smile on my face.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
I put up bunting this evening! I used the ones Kateri had gotten us… really for me. She knew I was fascinated by it… bunting… don’t ask me why. I bought some serious bunting last year… 6 feet across!… real fabric of some sort and all! But it just seemed a bit much and I’m not sold on them yet… so I went with the nylon or polyester or whatever smaller guys.
I wish everyone in this country a Happy Independence Day!… in two days. If you’re new here to the good ol’ USofA… Welcome!… sorry for the assholes… they’ve been fucking shit up for all sorts of good people since the beginning.
I’m just gonna say it… I just lost my shit (the emotional sobbing type) after reading someone’s post on FB. Yup, lost it. Loooosssst…… It. I was just so surprised by what this person had written! It was beautiful! It was powerful! It was posted by someone who was a part of my life in a time when I wore much smaller shoes. (well, not much smaller shoes… but smaller…. I was a kid) The post was touching, I had an attachment to the person… and there was a picture! It had all the makings of a moving moment! And then… then!… I realized it was one of those “copy and paste if you stand for/care for/believe in/proud of/hashtag whatever” things!… and everything changed.
Now, I need to say thanks to whoever wrote that little note… it was fantastic… but it was kind of a weird experience. I found it amusing that I put soooo much into that post… emotionally… in the beginning. One moment I’m losing my mind thinking about how beautifully my friend had shared their feelings about this or that because it made me think about Kateri… and then the realization came and it all stopped… and I laughed at myself. (memories of the person and her age now, her family, how the words made me think of Kateri, the wonderful picture of this woman and her big ass smile… all played a part in my dramatic reaction… I think)
Part of it is my lack of social media participation in the whole “copy this” or “play that” scene. The other part is it went from all of that… everything that I had attached to the post… all the nostalgia… to simply words on a screen that someone took the time to copy and paste. Still a moving post… just not the same… for me.
Just so the record is straight… I love that this person copied/pasted/and participated with this particular post. And the reason the post meant so much to me at first is because of my love for this person and I could see them sharing the wisdom themselves. It was just funny to me how my mind went in one direction… and then abruptly stopped. It just sorta slammed on the brakes so that it could see where it was… and then it realized it was on the good ol’ trusty roller coaster again.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
Michelle helped me plant up Kateri’s pots this last weekend. It was much more emotional than I expected. I don’t know why… I mean, I went into Kateri’s Potting Shed to get Kateri’s planter’s and pots so that I could go to Kateri’s work to plant them up so as to put them on our deck… which is now mine. Hmmmm… didn’t see that coming!
I pulled over in front of my house to take the pic of the empty pots in the back of the Jeep… and two cars drove past. I wondered if they thought I was a tourist taking a picture of my house… and then I realized I wasn’t parked in the safest place.
Quiche. Friends that make quiche… keep them around… they sometimes give you some.
ummm… I’m the one who over cooked it when I was heating it back up
I’m still not sleeping. I’m getting about 5-6 hours a night… until Sunday comes around. Not because of anything in particular… just can’t put myself to bed. Sometimes it makes me feel like a kid… staying up. Sometimes I’m doing something that makes me feel good like playing guitar or catching up with a friend. Usually I’m not doing anything except thinking about a million little things… or at least 23 little things… maybe 5 big things… and it’s kind of annoying.
I’ve read and heard that the second year of widowhood is harder than the first…. and I don’t know if I agree with that… yet. It’s just different. The shock is wearing off and reality is setting in a bit more. I can somewhat rationally think about things… which can be sorta difficult to deal with.
The first year is simply fucked up… but I was also sorta numb through it. The second year (I’m at the start of it), you are able to understand just how fucked up it is as your mind gains a smidgen of clarity.
As more hours and days have piled up behind me, at least I don’t have to worry if I remembered to put pants on… I’m usually pretty sure that I did!
This simply… hit me. I miss her. And right now… it hurts.
CHICKS!… 2016
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
I wish I could fill in the details of what all that evening entailed… a later date perhaps.
It was an absolutely beautiful experience. It’s a beautiful memory… minus… you know.
For me… it had kind of a similar feeling as at our wedding…sorta… ish. I/we were surrounded by nothing but friends and family who were there because they loved us… and there was a celebration!… with American Flatbread… and Zero Gravity beer… and Luke cooked a mammal over a flame… and a lot of the same people. A lot of good… good people.
I’ve gotta tell you… I meant to post this Yesterday. I felt good Yesterday. Yesterday was a good day… for no particular reason… just one of those nice, early summer days. Yup, good ol’ Yesterday. Now, Today is good, too. There isn’t really anything I could say that put a damper on Today… no big emotional moments… work was kinda fun… heck, I’m currently on my porch again… while listening to chickens as they scratch about… hopefully eating up all the ticks in the yard! Actually, I’ve had a good couple of days. I’ve been wanting to share some of the “Big Life” questions that I’ve been tackling lately… those that come along with losing your spouse… but I haven’t really had the time that I would want to devote to those topics.
Sooooo, Yesterday… I figured I would do something quick and make another video. Wasn’t sure what I was gonna blab on about as my shoulder would start to ache while holding my phone at that stupid angle, but I figured it was quicker than writing about “Big Life” questions n shit! And again… there wasn’t anything quick about it. I’m a cook and I have no idea about “formats” or “upload errors” or “bandwidth”… and I don’t even know if “bandwidth” applies to this situation!… but I wasn’t able to “upload” the video until Today… after spending all night trying to force it into my media folder. Which is fun… when you have no idea of what it is you are doing! Long story short… I wanted to do something… which ended up being some ramblin’ and playing a quick little ditty on my guitar… on the porch. (Disclaimer-Another again… I’m a cook.)
ps… there’s a follow button somewhere around here… and it’s ok if you share… really… unless your momma won’t let ya. (kd)
I just got home from spending the day at an ESOP Conference up in B-Town. What is an ESOP you ask? Employee Stock Ownership Plan (look it up!). Yup, I work for one… and went to a conference where they had seminars and stuff about them… which also had me start my day at 5:30am with a nice little drive across The Green Mountain State. It was one of those beautiful drives where you would crest a hill to see a bed of fog at the bottom of a green valley. It’s funny to think that the hills are gonna just get more green… “make you thirsty” green. Anyways, the hills made the postcards proud this morning.
Honestly, I’m not exactly sure what this is about. I was about to go play some guitar in the garage… because I’m sure my neighbors really enjoy it when I do!… but just felt I needed to get back to this… Thirty Days of Mo(u)rning. I had a thought I wanted to get down, but by the time my computer got all booted up… it was gone… or at least morphed into a mish mosh of 25 other thoughts! That seems to happen a lot lately. Almost 14 months into this and the overwhelming/confused/sorta lost aspect of losing Kateri hasn’t diminished as much as I expected. The loneliness aspect is starting to set in again. I’m staying on top of everything I need to and there are things I enjoy… but it currently still sucks balls.
I was going to throw something on FB saying I was heading up to see if anyone was around… but I didn’t. Then after the conference I was gonna text this person or that person or swing by that family’s home around the corner… but I didn’t. I just wanted to get home. One strange thing about this experience is I want to reconnect with so many people… I want to start spending time with friends and meet new ones. I want to do fun things like camp or hit a show or simply have a nice dinner. I want to keep people in my world and not let them slip away because we were all just “living our lives”. But at the same time… I want solitude. I want to be alone to have the peace and quiet as my mind tries to wrap itself around what it is that I’m actually doing with my life… what it is that makes me happy. I feel I need time to take care of all the things that need attention, which cuts into time for other things… like people. It’s kinda messed up.
OK… back to the ESOP Conference (Yes Keith… ESOP). I really enjoyed it. It was informative. They had comfortable chairs. I liked everyone I was there with. It was nice to change up my week. I learned something at every workshop that I’ll be able to take back to work with me and hopefully have a positive impact on my department as well as the company. But what has been on my mind since the last twenty minutes of the last workshop was… the last twenty minutes of the last workshop.
The Best Way to Engage Employee Owners: Tell a Story… that was the last workshop. In the last twenty minutes, the last exercise was that we were to tell our partners our story of why we work for an ESOP… why we stay working at an ESOP. Jay told me a story that happened the other day which reinforced his reasons of why he works at our company and when it was my turn… I told him I would have to go with what the company was able to give me when Kateri was sick, when she passed, and afterwards. Time… and that whole story.
After this little exercise is what has been on my mind. Once the room settled down and was quiet again, one of the speakers asked if anyone wanted to share their story… silence. You could see the panic in some people’s eyes… and I heard my muffled name come from the peanut gallery behind us as a fellow KAFer egged me on to tell a story. The speaker took a few steps up the center aisle and asked, “Is there anyone willing to tell their story?”. Again… silence… and I said fuck it! (I didn’t literally say it… just in my head) I figured this was an opportunity to see how I would do standing up in front of people… while talking. It was an opportunity to push the ol’ comfort levels. It was an opportunity to share something that adds humanity to the conversation of business. And to be frank, if I want to see where TDoM takes me…? if I really do want to get my story out there…? I need to tell it… so I took the opportunity to do just that. When not a single other person even made a hint of wanting to ramble off a random story… that they had just formulated in the last five minutes… in front of 40-50 people… I did.
Now… I think it may have been a little heavy for the audience. I don’t think anyone was expecting an Axeless Mountain Dwarf to stand up in front of them and start with, “I came to an ESOP for the benefits, quality of life, blah blah blah…” and then take the turn into how our company, “gave me time… when my wife got sick. They gave me time to hold her when she took her last breath. And they gave me time in the weeks afterwards.” I spoke about why I am forever grateful to the people I work next to, day in and day out, who have supported me through this big pile of shi… poop… and why I believe the culture an ESOP fosters is just as important as the retirement fund it creates. Nope… I don’t think they were expecting that. But neither was I.
I’ve gone back and forth for the last few hours wondering if I should’ve just sat there with the rest of the crowd… but I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m happy I did it. It was a good thing for me to do. Although I hope I didn’t put a damper on everyone’s day, I’m comfortable with the experience. After the workshop was over, I was approached by Barbara as she thanked me for sharing my story. David (the other speaker) also stuck around and the three of us had a conversation. David has authored a couple of books and after my whole blog and “book” idea (which I haven’t done anything about) came up in the conversation, he gave me his card and said I could use him as a resource… networking!
The conversation with Barbara and David after getting up in front of strangers to tell my story is one of the reasons I’m glad I decided to say “Fuck It”. Was it a bit much of a story for that environment?… maybe. Do I regret doing it?… no. Do I think it people took something away from it?… yes. What that is?… I’m not sure.. but by the looks on people’s faces… it made an impact!
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
My phone says the Bruins are still playing… so I can’t trim the beard. I still have no idea about hockey.
I haven’t checked to see if Kateri’s emails have reached 6,000 yet.
Fire pits are wonderful things to sit by and think. It doesn’t hurt that burning things is fun.
The geraniums finally went outside and I cleaned up the front room… and then brought one geranium back in… because I’m afraid of killing all three! (picture is before I brought it back in… there aren’t any geraniums in that picture. There’s a Brugmansia, Hibiscus… if I remember correctly, Aloe that I finally put in a pot… but no Geranium)
Being alone kinda sucks, but its probably for the best when you can smell your own feet… and it grosses you out.
ps… yup, smack the little follow button if you want…? or maybe the like button…? maybe…?
I wanted to write about my day which was filled with going to the farm Kateri worked at to pick up two hanging baskets (I was there for almost 2 hours… after having driven past it twice as I contemplated if I was up to visiting the ol’ farm today). Or maybe tell you about how and why I built a shitty little wooden table out of leftover two by fours for in between the two new Adirondack Chairs (there seems to be an excessive amount of 2’s and fours!). Or perhaps jot down about going to the dermatologist… mine and Kateri’s dermatologist… and him taking some of my flesh so that he can send it through the postal service to have someone in Massachusetts look at it… and all of the things that could pop in the head after that experience! (neither Dr. Dan or I are exactly worried about the results… nothing to lose sleep over while waiting… just precautionary). Yup, I was gonna write about those experiences and the significance each of them had on me as I go through this widower process and further into the present… but then I started looking at motorcycles on Craigslist.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
I think if one of the goals in my new life is to ride a motorcycle across the country… maybe I should learn how to ride a motorcycle…?… maybe?
First, I just need to say that this post is pretty much a “Widower” post… not sad or anything… it’s not reminiscing about how great and wonderful and beautiful and honest and perfect Kateri was (is)… it’s about after that. For the last two days I have been copying, pasting, increasing indents… still gotta add some pics, and trying to finalize the little “My Thirty Days of Mo(u)rning” site page on this here bloggy website thing a ma jig. Which meant… I read my notes. And we all know what that means! Actually, there weren’t any waterworks the last two days… or maybe just not the last day… but, it was really kinda nice going through the notes and being able to just… remember… ponder… compare times… to simply think about them… without any convulsing, sniffing, or snorting of snot. (Kateri would always say, “Out is better than in!” if I decided to suck the snot in… instead of destroying a kleenex)
Long story short… here’s a list of observances and epiphanies (not many epiphanies, but it sounds good) and some things that have just been swirling up in the ol’ noggin… at 13 months a widower.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
I think I’ve eaten enough Smarties to tell if they are “fresh” or not… it’s a texture thing.
I feel as though the further away I get from the day that Kateri died… the more I’m able to think about her. I mean, at first it was all I could think about… but it included everything!… the whole situation! I look forward to just rememberin’ Kateri… and the life we had.
I still haven’t gotten “angry” at the situation. At first, I think I tried to be overly positive. Partly because I just went through an overly negative experience and I was trying to compensate. More importantly, and a bit more on the “Who am I?” question side, I just saw some of the most beautiful things during a time filled with the most horrendous… I simply like the good shit more. That’s the train I wanna be on.
Point 1-I’m also still sorta numb and in a fog… not fog… but fog. With the loss of Kateri and everything that has come along with it… there just aren’t too many “Big Deals” in my world. I mean, the are “Big Deals” (Food, Schoolhouse, Car, Warmth)… and then… teeny tiny issues that may pop up.
Point 2-As more and more time comes between today and the day Kateri died, it makes it harder to keep that train going… being positive all the time. Fortunately, I still find it easy to recover from a negative experience, situation, or thought… I just lost Kateri… Helloooo?! Whatever the issue is… it ain’t a Big Deal to me.
Point 3-Pants on?… check. Good enough… for a lot of the time.
Point 4-It’s a learning thing. I still take a step and if it’s good?… take another. If it’s not good?… maybe don’t do that again… but there’s always another step coming.
Point 5-When one of your points are still “Point 3″… 395 Widower Days later… it makes it easier to try and enjoy the rest of what’s going on around ya.
Everything that I have done… and am going to do with the yard will have Kateri in mind. Last summer was a bust.
Sleep… I have gotten comfortable with 5 hours of sleep a night. It’s not that I don’t sleep, it’s that I just can’t put myself to bed! Once in bed… horizontal… out like a light (that has been turned off), but getting to the horizontal stage is the challenge. There’s just too much that I feel I need to do… and want to do. I think it might be part of the whole “I don’t wanna miss out on life” thing. I was given a lesson on how quickly things can end… can just go away… and I wanna fill my life with as much time awake doing things I wanna do that I just can’t put myself to bed.
I also made the decision at the beginning of this big pile of shit that if I have the opportunity to have a conversation with someone… to have an interaction… to connect with them for whatever reason… I was going to. That connection is more important to me than sleep.
The loneliness a widow or widower feels is one of those significantly unique things in life that only a person knows when they lose their spouse… and it is the worst feeling I have ever felt. There are just soooo many things that goes into that loneliness… that it physically hurts. Here at the schoolhouse in the woods, the stillness and separation from people can be both therapeutic and calming… or deafening and crushing. Just depends on the day.
The overwhelming feeling hasn’t gone away, but I feel I have learned how to manage it better.
Another sucky thing about these types of experiences… I have been forced to learn how to “manage” things… like emotions… so that I can simply function in life. At the beginning, I didn’t care who saw me being emotional and I didn’t care where it was… still don’t… but it does get to be a little old.
Although the cliche sayings (Maria’s and my “Dr. Phil Moments”) bug the shit out of me (time heals, one day at a time… one hour, it’ll get better, it’s different for everyone, she would want you to be happy, pants on—check)… they still have value and are quite accurate.
I’m sorry, the whole “they would want you to be happy” thing is nice and all, but there are complicated topics to face as a widower. Such as, I know Kateri would not want me to be having Naked Sexy Fun Time… with anyone… but hopefully I still have a long life ahead of me… and I have no plans on becoming monk. (I had a thing about priests right here on the original post… but thought better of it and decided to not offend a pretty good sized group of people… I hate growing up)
I have been simply amazed by people. The love and support I have gotten in the past thirteen and a half months from varying places, friends, family, new friends, and strangers has been heart warming, comforting, and sometimes unexpected.
I should have paid better attention over the last 20 years. There are things in my house that I have to ask, “Where did we get that?” or “Who gave us this?”. At times, my brain actually goes, “I should ask Kateri where/when/who…”, and then I remember she’s not here to ask. That’s one of those all sorts of fucked up moments.
I’ve learned that even though we may go through some pretty horrific experiences in life that seem to be all consuming, we still have things of value that we are able to share with other people who are searching for their own answers.
After thirteen and a half months… I simply miss everything about my life with Kateri. Although there are good things in my new life, I feel it was just better with her… and that makes it bit hard to get excited about the future… but I tell myself that I am.
I’m still wearing my wedding ring, but have started thinking about weening myself off of it. Thinking about… just can’t do it yet. It’s the one thing that provides me with the most connection to Kateri… to my wife… to the commitment I made to her… to the love that I have for her… and the love that she had for me. I’m not ready for that weight to come off of my ring finger.
Yup, that’s enough sad widower shit for a Sunday morning… I gave it it’s time. Now, it’s time to get excited about friends coming to make cookies and family coming to catch up. It may be a horrendous experience losing a spouse, but cookies and conversations help ease the pain and burden of having to go through it… and I’m thankful for the people who help me get through the day… one day at a time. (stoopid Dr. Phil Moments!)
Yup, the ol’ Adirondack Chairs that Kateri and I had bought 15 years ago from The Christmas Tree Shop finally bit the dust. Well, one of them had a run in with a chunk of snow that jumped off the roof this winter… I probably should have moved it before then… oops. In all honesty, they lasted ten years longer than we expected them to! Of course, we treated them pretty well. In the beginning we would bring them into the house as our “winter furniture”. We didn’t have anything else besides a papasan and the stool (our first piece of “furniture” which I still use by the woodstove) and if you add a cushion to an Adirondack Chair… they are quite comfy to sit back in and watch a movie!
It’s a little weird seeing something that has been a part of my life… a part of mine and Kateri’s life… start to go away… and I’ve realized I’m not exactly ready for that. So I decided to take apart the broken chair, trace each piece, cut ’em out, sand them, and reassemble the same Adirondack Chair… with new wood. I wanted to keep the memories, but needed to replace enough of the chair that I decided it was a good opportunity for a fresh start… and for a project. It was fun blaring music, setting up saw horses, and pulling out the old power tools. A friend had just come and helped me organize the garage the day earlier so it was nice to have an open work space after the winter, too! I hadn’t work in the garage since last fall (it’s kinda cold out there in the winter) and it just felt a little bit like summer… early summer… late spring with fires still in the woodstove. It felt good. Comfortable.
I’m glad the chairs will have an attachment to my memories with Kateri… that I didn’t just go and buy some random piece of patio furniture because it was convenient or inexpensive. Kateri would have dug the fact that I took apart a chair and built new ones. If she was around she would just let me go and do my thing in the garage while she would dig in the dirt. I would proudly bring out the finished product and place them on the porch… and we would sit. I can picture her sliding her dirt covered hands back and forth on the arm rests… leaving little dark trails on the freshly sanded wood. All part of testing them out… of breaking them in… of enjoying them and the things they provided us.
Yup, Kateri would dig them and that puts a smile on my face. That’s the “widower” sad side of the chairs (filled with a ton of good memories and stories), but we live in the present and I’m walking into the future. I look forward to sitting on the porch in one of those new Adirondack Chairs, maybe for hours, and maybe in silence. Then again… maybe not! I did make TWO chairs! That’s the perfect number of chairs needed for a conversation on the porch! I mean, there are other seating options and space to accommodate at least 4 other people… but I’m not making another chair for a while. And just so you know, if you are ever sitting on my porch with me… you will witness me wave to every car that drives past. Except one. I have my reasons.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
Hours… I just need more hours. But, don’t we all?!
I’m not trimming the beard till at least the 12th… because of hockey… or some shit. I don’t have any idea about hockey. Kateri was always impressed by how light on the ice such big men could be, but past that… not a part of our life. Someone at work told me I couldn’t… so I figure it’s been 9 months since the last trimming… what’s another couple of weeks?!
I actually started another bloggery thing the other day that I meant to finish and throw out to the ether yesterday. The whole 13 months gig… a year since I finished my Thirty Days of Mourning notes… reading through them… just made me want to share my thoughts on that day!… but I didn’t. And I’m not gonna today, either. (neither?)
My evening last night was instead filled with friends showing up on their motorcycles right when I told my mom that I didn’t have company… and then me calling her back at the end of my night. It was a wonderful and entertaining visit… it always is. I texted with besties about steroids. I ate a strip steak that had been cooked to a perfect 125 degrees… sliced… and served over pearled couscous and steamed broccoli that was almost not over cooked. I’m happy I’ve spent 24 years in kitchens… and that I have a thermometer… and seasoning salt! (Having the ability to cook for yourself is quite beneficial as a widow/widower. Actually doing it?… that’s another story!) There was some guitar… but just some. There was a text… followed by five more… one being a picture of Kateri and the Text Sender in front of the Text Sender’s family’s sugarhouse from a few years back. Both of them with winter hats, scarves, and smiles… two, big beautiful smiles… because they were happy. Kateri was happy.
Kateri loved this woman with a huge chunk of her heart. She was proud of her. She trusted her… with her life (there are examples). And the text sender loves Kateri (yes, there are examples of that, as well). For me last night, it felt nice to sorta remember some of the good shit (just starting to be able to do that… one of those kind of fucked up things as a widower) and to remember there are a lot of wonderfully caring people that the loss of Kateri has affected. It also just felt nice to feel that love myself… in a picture sent from one side of Vermont to the other, with words on a little screen followed by little hearts, and from the 18 years of friendship that preceded the Text Sender sending the text last night. The Text Sender was sad because she loves Kateri. She reached out last night because of her love for me. Yup… that’s “The Good” in the big pile of shit.
Ya… so, last night was filled with people… and that’s what I needed. I’m sure I’ll finish the other post sooner or later. Tonight though?… it’s rainy, windy, and now dark… the perfect combination for comfy clothes and mindlessness!
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
I just wanted to throw in a picture from last night of me taking a picture of the chicken who thought it was a good idea to eat the paint off of the deck… which I call my front porch… that happens to be on the side of the schoolhouse.
Now… I’m just gonna say that I’m one of those people who actually enjoys it when they look out the window and sees a little bit of the white stuff on the grass in the Spring. No, that isn’t some hip and modern drug reference I frequently use in this rock star life I live… it was just snow… in the yard… and it was kinda nice to see.
Wow. It just took me waaaaay too long to write that paragraph… and I need to eat. Aaaand… I need to come clean. There are actually no sump pumps in the video. It’s just me talking about my sump pump and how a simple thing like a sump pump provided me some comfort. The sump pump is in the sump under the house through the bulk head… where there’s spiders… and snakes… and other evil things from evil worlds… so I don’t hang out down there making videos. Sorry you won’t get to see the sump… or the sump pump… maybe some other time!……………………………….. sump pump.
Intermission
Ya… so… that was all written a few days ago… the snow is gone and it has actually been a beautiful couple of days here in the Northeast weather-wise. Life on the other hand, well…. it’s been good, but a little rough on both the professional and personal side. All just part of the process… and life I guess. I’m not sure if acknowledging the challenges makes them any easier, but I feel being aware helps me get through the day as I’m trying to look to the future. The future… hmmm. For right now, I’m starting to think about it… have to… but mostly, I’m still just figuring I’ll see it when I get there.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
One challenge of being a widower is that people try to protect you by not wanting to put more on your plate. Although I find comfort with the intentions, it doesn’t help… it just pushes things off for a while.
Without kids, Kateri, animals, or neighbors… I’ve got a lot of time to think about this stuff… to be self reflective. Because of that, I feel I have been able to handle the multiple piles of shit that had plopped down in my life as of relatively recently.
For the last year, I’ve been filling my space with things that help push some of the pain and sadness away… and I kinda don’t wanna do that anymore. I sorta wanna just miss Kateri, remember Kateri, remember what made our life so great… and try to save a bit of that to bring along with me into my new life.
I’m about to mow the yard for the first time this year. I’m so fortunate to have our home to heal in and I’m gonna try to keep the yard and gardens up to Kateri’s standards (which she made seem effortless… not talking about the sweat and dirt that would cover her hands and face… which she loved). As a widower it’s also weird to be thinking about making your home beautiful… in case you have to sell it. I have no plans like that, but it pops into your head to be prepared.
Sometimes… things come into your life that provide nothing but joy… like Ben & Jerry’s Milk and Cookies Ice Cream. Yes… it helps… because that’s some good shit!
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(Yup, when I started this post it was NOT Mother’s Day… and now it is) Simply… after the one year mark… things are different… I feel different. I was gonna go into all the ways “this” has changed… or how “that” has been replaced by “those”, but there will be other times for all that jive. I just felt the need to say that through this experience, every once in a while there is a tangible feeling when a shift takes place. Kinda of like on the first day I didn’t cry… or when six months hit and I felt like I had a little bit of control over my life… and had to make decisions for myself. Although there is no destination, there’s this tedious little march going on that keeps pushing me forward and with every step, I overanalyze it… and then adapt to make the next step.
As I have flubbed my way through this, there are times that I just feel lighter. Sometimes it’s happens when I come to a realization of something that has been weighing down my brain. Sometimes it was just getting through a holiday or birthday or our anniversary. For right now… for today… I attribute my “I simply feel a little better!” state of mind to two main things… getting past a date… and a text saying, “GOOD, GOOD NEWS!!!!”.
Now, there are actually a gazillion little things I believe that contribute to noticeably feeling a little better… i.e. getting most of the yard raked, not needing to build a fire every night, rearranging the living room, meeting new people from all walks of life… in my new life, SPRING!!, the fact that I’m still on top of sh… stuff, that I haven’t acquired some strange illness that causes a baby’s hand… and arm… to grow out of the top of my head! (although… could be useful) Yup, there are a bunch of things that come into play, but currently it’s the continuous passage of Time during my tedious little march that helps me get through certain checkpoints. For me, hitting the one year mark without Kateri felt like I was just gently pushed into a new chapter of life. Of course, it might just be a new paragraph, but might as well use the universally accepted homogenized term to reference a point in the story line. Hopefully it’s a long story… and as long as there are more pages to turn… I don’t really care what chapter or paragraph I’m on!
The text… “GOOD, GOOD NEWS!!!!”… came from my father… and he wasn’t lying. We found out that my mother had cancer (lung cancer that had also traveled to her brain) 4 or five months before we found the sh… stuff (really trying not to cuss!) in Kateri’s head. For me, it has been quite the experience having to process and accept that the two most important people in my life were handed the cancer card…. and cancer is a fucked up thing. Once you live with cancer in your world, you begin to see not only how prevelant and inconsistant the disease is, but also how many people it simply affects. It’s a strange trip. When I got the phone call that they had found something in my mom’s lung… I was devastated. When it hit Kateri… and then she died… well, I didn’t think about what was worse than “Devastated”, but I felt it. Luckily… time does help.
Sometimes, you just have to hold on for a while and let the time pass. If you do, sometimes the big pile of shit get’s a couple of shovel loads taken out of it by three simple words… written in all caps… with exclamation marks. Sometimes… “GOOD, GOOD NEWS!!!!” pertains to the best news you’ve heard in a year and 19 days… at least for me. What’s the “GOOD, GOOD NEWS!!!!” you ask? The docs could no longer see any tumors in my mom’s brain!… yup, and we’ll take it!
Honestly, it’s been one of those roller coaster months, but for now I’m just gonna allow the “GOOD, GOOD NEWS!!!!” to stick around for a while and give me another thing to smile about. Today is Mother’s Day…. and I feel fortunate that when I’m done here I have the opportunity to pick up the phone… and talk to my mom… because I love her. (yes… I’m a momma’s boy. When I was a kid, I remember crying after a swim lesson… not because I was afraid of water or got it up my nose or anything, but since I was having so much fun in the water… I forgot about my mom… and I didn’t like that.) There’s a lot of crap out there, but the good is hangin’ around, too. Sometimes it’s so good… you have to say it twice.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
A commercial with LL Cool J came on last night talking about how his wife “Beat Cancer Like a Boss”. I think it’s great that she is an ambassador for the American Cancer Society and for the positive message of facing adversity with a positive outlook, but it just kinda hit me strange and it’s been swirling around in my brain. At first, I was like “Well, Kateri dealt with this experience with strength, courage, empathy, grace, and love. She never even took anything for the pain besides weed. She still supported other people. She still lived life and tried to control what she could… and what she thought she could. But… she still died.” Last night, I took the commercial as saying that if you try hard and have positive thoughts… you can beat cancer… and I don’t fully subscribe to that train of thought. Thinking more on it and actually looking into it a bit… I saw the commercial in a different light… and realized that that’s not what the commercial was saying. Cancer does what it wants… and it doesn’t give a hoot who you are or how much you wanna beat it. Yup, cancer kills…. but the message is more about how are we gonna live with it… that’s what we have control over… and I’m glad LL (we’re not really on a first name basis) still has his wife… and that on Mother’s Day, their children still have their mom.
I think there is some “bitterness” in my brain about this whole experience which makes me initially look at things from certain angles…. which aren’t always completely accurate.
Although I feel sorta “better”… this is still an overwhelming experience… life is complicated.
I bought a toilet brush for the upstairs bathroom. That may not seem like a big deal, but it is. I’m starting to bring things into my home… for my life.
I raked the paths on our land yesterday (6.5 acres). Although Kateri sorta laughed at me the first time I did it… she still enjoyed walking on them! Nowadays with Kateri gone, I sorta feel like the crazy ol’ widower on the hill raking the woods!… the beard, John Deere hat, and rubber boots don’t help that image.
To all you mothers out there… the ones who are supportive, encouraging, and present… thank you. Having a kid gives you responsibility. Loving and nurturing that child… for the rest of your life… makes you a mom.
I’ve been thinking a lot about other widowers and widows lately… more so than in the past. I think that the whole “Time heals” bullshit has something to do with that. Plus, I belong to two support groups (1 just widowers, 1 widowers/widows) and it’s kinda hard not to feel for people who are going through… or who have been through… what I’m experiencing when they pop up all over your Gosh Darn (trying to be respectful) Facebook feed! In all seriousness, I’m not exactly a “support group” kinda guy and I definitely don’t engage as much as other people, but the names on the screens and the words of support I see them write to strangers has provided me with an unmeasurable amount of encouragement for not only my life to keep moving forward, but for theirs as well! It has just been one of those things that has pleasantly caught me by surprise.
I’m at a point where some of the fog is starting to lift and my mind isn’t fully consumed by figuring out how to just “survive”… the shock is dissipating, I guess. A few other people who have lost their loved ones (spouses) have reached out to me… and I can’t tell you how wonderful that makes me feel… that they found some sort of connection to what I was saying or that it put them, at the least, a little bit at ease knowing they weren’t the only ones going through this horrendous experience. They could see there are other people who somewhat understood their pain… which is unrelenting at the beginning of this life changing event.
Soooo, on this beautifully overcast and chilly Vermont Sunday morning I decided to jump back on the ol’ blog and update the “My Thirty Days of Mo(u)rning” page with adding the first 6 days of notes from my experience being alone in the world again after nearly 20 years with Kateri. I’m currently in the first anniversary month of my Thirty Days of Mo(u)rning and it’s nice to use it as sort of a gauge to how I’ve changed, coped, and dealt with this slap in the face from life. I’ll admit… it’s a little strange looking back at these notes a year later, but I love the fact that I can remember most of it so clearly. Of course, revisiting pictures makes for a lovely emotional Sunday morning… but it’s nice to recognize that it’s a different time, it’s a different space, and that I’m different. I don’t know if I can say “Better”… there’s a lot that goes into that… but I can definitely say things have changed… and that I’m ok. I’m may even be good… ish… and I hope you all are, too.
Thirty Days of Mo(u)rning
Widower Day 6… (April 28, 2018). Woke up at 6:58am on the couch… in the same position.
Took truck to recycling in Thetford
a. Broke the law (not my town’s dump… shhh), saw Joan, she turned right. I figured if she was going to the orchard that it would give me an in… so I followed her, so I could meet a neighbor. Laying down foundation. b. John and Peggy c. Beautiful view d. Sprayed me with tick shit. New thought… I am going to constantly be paranoid of ticks since I now don’t have that person to Tick Check me (Tick Check Yourself before You Wreck Yourself…).
Took Jeep to Kmart for more green bins. (For Kateri’s clothes)
Drove to Hannaford’s in Bradford. Figured I should have at least a little bit of food I know I would eat, but don’t have to make.
a. Interesting how I’m a cook, but I was buying things I only needed to heat up. b. First real shopping trip shopping for just me… odd sensations, realizations.
Went to Local Buzz for a sandwich.
a. Abby made it for me. Came up from behind me. b. Same approach as Wild Hill Orchard… I need to step out of my comfort zone if I want the keep the same types of things that Kateri provided for me. I would pretty much never go get a sandwich by myself and bring it home to eat. c. Got a pack of smokes from The Bliss (not sure if that is the name of it).
Called Will… he and Kate came over.
a. Brought enchiladas, mole, guac, beans, chips b. Chatted in the kitchen and then on the deck… sunny, warm c. Will called an hour later mentioning that he can always come over and we can just smoke a joint.
Tidied the garage.
a. As I type this, I realize it is giving me “purpose”… something to do, something that keeps my mind going… even if it is about what I am going through. b. Built a support for plywood. Moved wood to middle so that I have space to move around and to start setting up the garage for the beginning of my life. c. Threw scrap wood in black cart, baby rocker to shed, wheelbarrow.
Flipping through pictures, I came across the 3 I had taken of Kateri (the morning she died)… didn’t shock me as much as I expected it to. I was conflicted about taking the pictures, but I felt I need to have the option of being able to see her… I find the picture beautiful with the army blanket… I just love her and found it to be somewhat peaceful.
a. Deleted one photo b. Didn’t take any other photos at Palliative.
Had a Fire.
a. Figured… why not? I’ve got a fire pit. Burnt all scrap wood from garage except planter box and piece of house (would be good to start the next fire). b. Light out for the whole thing. Sun just starting to go down. Chickens just roosting up… I watched them march to the coop. c. Used old gasoline to start… ya, stoopid… but kinda fun (kept thinking “WFC Style”). It got a little big at one point… need to expand the ring. d. Looked around—this is all mine… just an odd feeling and made me think about the fact that I wouldn’t have this without Kateri… no bank would give me a loan off of what I make. Lucky that I have all of this in a time I am dealing with such sorrow and loss. I’ll figure the money shit out… hopefully.
Took a shower. Facetimed my P’s. Planned on watching Justice League (Kateri loved superhero movies… those where really the only types of movies we would go out and see… “big screen movies”), facetimed with Keith.
a. I haven’t really been able to cry when I’m alone. Talking with my P’s and Keith I got a little weepy… I was able to release a little. It’s strange all the different types of emotions and angles and just “things” the brain does as it tries to cope. I feel mellower emotionally, but I can’t tell if it’s any easier. b. Fell asleep on the couch again (I’m writing this from bed on Sunday… at 12:30pm. Came up at 6:30 for a “Sunday morning” and haven’t really left except for 2 smokes… and had to wash my hand after each one).
Some thoughts during the day/night:
a. Willing to invest my personal time in KAF if they are willing to invest in my future… hell, I can work at home on shit and it won’t take time away from Kateri these days. b. I still get a kick out of numbers (1234) and remember how we would text the time back and forth. c. Realized I haven’t looked at myself in the mirror for a while… don’t even know the last time. I looked hairier to myself. d. People are telling me “You did good”… no regrets type shit, but I don’t really care that they feel I have been a good husband/partner/”soulmate” through this and through our life. I only care about what Kateri would think… and I will never be able to ask her about that, if I gave her enough love/support… if she was proud of my actions through life and through this big pile of shit. (I am now crying). Just one of those mindfuck type things. The tears feel good.
Widower Notes n Thoughts:
It’s nice that there is no more snow at the schoolhouse. It’s not so nice that winter beat the crap out of my chimney, gutters, siding, and GAS GRILL! A few learning experiences I guess… and I get to get a new grill!
When I came out of the grocery store yesterday, I had: Milk, Cheese Dip, a frozen Chicken Pot Pie, and Oreos. Yup… my professional title is still “Sous Chef”.
The sump pump is going off every 8 minutes and 44 seconds. It was every 2 minutes and fifty seconds. We’re going in the right direction!