December 2017

Love, Tomorrow is the day you went home and left me here. Would you be proud of the way I have gone on without you or would you chide me for my weak faltering progress, the times when getting up and putting one foot in front of each other seemed more than I could manage. I always told you that you were my strength even while you insisted that it was inside me hiding all the time.
I laugh, love. I look forward to the children coming home for Christmas and the traditions that we continue. I ride my bicycle, though perhaps not as much as I should. I see friends. I go to work. Life is not as completely barren without you as it was at first. There is color and sound and I have scabbed over, a bit misshapen perhaps, but whole. I made some new riding friends that make me smile. There is some warmth in my life.

Still, not a day goes by that I do not think of you. Now, however, I often smile as I remember something you said or did. The tears still come, but not as often. Thank you for those times, those memories. Thank you for the hard times as well as the good times. I am grateful. Even those years we just muddled through, the first year with only a mattress on the floor and no furniture, I would not trade them. The only change I would have made would to have taken away your pain and made them last longer. And, the third child I wanted but you felt we should not have....I would fight you harder on that. You see, in each of the children, I see parts of you and I realize that you are still here in so many ways.
I like to think of you without the pain that haunted you for so many of the last years. The crinkles around your eyes, the furrows, the tell tale signs of constant pain have eased and you are young again, young and strong. And you are waiting, patiently, knowing my path has not yet ended. And you are glad that I still have dreams and plans. Somehow I know that you want me to have a long and happy life, that you do not want me to grieve for you but to learn from you. And I try. I don't always succeed, but I try.
Rest peacefully. I am fine. Tomorrow is a busy day, purposefully so to keep me from brooding. Until then. Love, Me

Tit in a Wringer

" You cannot swim for new horizons until

you have courage enough to lose sight of the shore."

William Faulkner

 

 

Dear Lloyd,

While I talk to you daily, it has been quite awhile since I have written you.  Do you remember how you would tease me when I would try something and end up having to ask for help?   You always sensed how difficult it was for me, asking for assistance, leaving myself vulnerable.  You knew why, but still I cannot explain it to others.  Despite the years, the sore has never quite scabbed completely over.  

Today I, as you always said in these situations, "Caught my tit in the wringer."  I bought new living room furniture; however, I assume due to bed bug issues (shiver and knock on wood), they no longer will take your old furniture when they deliver your new.  I expected to have some time prior to delivery, but they are bringing it Wednesday.  Heavy though it was, I started to take it outside to deal with later. 

Of course, the recliner caught in the doorway and would not budge forward or backward.  The place where I "thought" I had left a spare key no longer held a spare key, and the other doors were locked.  I managed to climb over the chair, but could not budge it from that direction either.  Then, a spark, fired by necessity, as I heard you say, "Don't panic.  Think about this."  I could feel your  smile and almost hear your laughter, something I starve for.  I do miss you so, love, but I have just accepted that is the way it will always be.  I have good times now.  I laugh and enjoy life.  But I do miss you and wish you were here to share with me. 

Tom, of course, thought this was an ideal situation to try to escape to the great outdoors, something that has really never been a problem.  But I corralled him and kept him in.  Lucy, the one I suspected would make a mad dash, was as good as gold.  Yes, naming him for Tom Sawyer was a wise move. 

I took a good look at the situation and remembered one time you had to take the legs off a piece of furniture.  Down to the basement to view your tools and try to figure out which was appropriate.  Twenty screws later, the bottom was off, the chair was freed, and I knew how to tackle the love seat.  I will leave the couch until tomorrow so I have a place to sit tonight.  

 

Miss you, love.  Melissa