Dreams

I had a dream about Dave early this morning. He was sick and dying, but I wasn’t experiencing the trauma I did in real life. There were many people around; it was like a street festival outside his room. I was visiting and hugging many, many people. I kept forgetting to tell them that I was pregnant with Dave’s child. I remember at one point in the dream Dave was standing and hugging me and he was saying that he was sad that he wouldn’t be here when the baby came. I was telling him how happy I was to be having his baby; that I felt that I would still have him in my life because of it. I was looking forward to having a little Dave to take care of and be with for the rest of my life.

Sigh.

I have actually thought about this over the months since Dave’s death. I think, oh, wouldn’t it have been nice if we’d had a child? We talked about it. Dave didn’t have any children and he would have been a wonderful father. If we had met at a younger age, we probably would have had a child or two. My children are in their early 20’s and the thought of starting over at my age was not at all appealing.

Sigh.

But Dave was in one of my dreams! This is not the first, but it was the first that he was in for so long a time. It was wonderful to have him standing and hugging me and to hear his voice. Dave has only been in 2 other dreams, and after both, I woke sobbing. This time I awoke feeling peaceful.

Sigh.

How to Recognize a Widow on Holidays

She’s the one crying at the pool because she just saw a hairy back. Now most people see a hairy back and say, “Yuck,” but the widow of man with a hairy back, sees one – for the first time since his death - and once again is crying in public.

She is the one crying in the middle of an Al Green concert of very uplifting and fun, but nostalgic music, digging for tissue because she is once again crying public.

She is the one crying on the street outside the souvenir shop where she just received a phone call on her cell phone from a friend/acquaintance who doesn’t use a computer and somehow was out of the loop and just heard of her husband’s passing. Once again crying in public.

She is the one crying on the beach as she remembers other holidays with him on beaches throughout the world.

She is the one crying in the mall after picking up prints of photos that had been on her cell phone. She had wanted that great photo from a certain happy day, but she forgot that there was a picture of him just before died, looking to gaunt and close to death’s door.

She is the one crying in her motel room with loneliness and sadness. It doesn’t matter if she is alone or with a friend.

She is the one crying in the restaurant because she is sharing stories with a dear friend, which she loves to do, but is just overcome with tears.

She is the one crying in the car as she misses his hand that used to come over to touch her as she drives down the street.

She is the one crying in the coffee shop as she writes a blog entry about how to recognize a widow.

Once again, crying in public.

I Still Can't Believe It

As much as I am trying to avoid my grief, it won’t avoid me. This morning I am feeling the grief deeply. I still can’ believe he’s gone.

I was relaxing (I’m on holidays), reading a novel when the story started to talk about a fellow and his older Porsche. One of Dave’s friends has an older Porsche and it started me remembering Dave and L. I remember specifically how L was such a good friend in the end. He took Dave out in that old Porsche for rides through the countryside, through the foothills, stopping for lunch and having a pleasant day. This was when Dave could still sit. This was last October. This was after Dave received his news from the oncologists that “there is nothing more that we can do”.

It was shocking and disturbing news. Especially in light of the fact that Dave had a form of skin cancer that was supposed to be completely treatable. We had had a roller coaster ride for 2 years, as the doctors were sure after each treatment or surgery that the cancer was eradicated. Each time we experienced joy and relief and began to look forward, breath again and get back to normalcy. The photo above is taken on one of those good news days. Dave healed, I nursed and supported and he became strong again. Then 3 – 4 months later we’d be told that the cancer was still present. So, more treatments, more surgeries. This happened 3 times and the 4th was the time they gave up on it. The cancer was in the lymph system. They had lost the battle. Each ride up and down the waves of emotions was difficult. The last, devastatingly difficult.

Today, I am remembering the months leading up to Dave’s demise. I had no idea it would all happen so fast. I waited until mid-December to take a leave from work, and by then he was so very sick. Cancer is a relentless and disparaging disease. I was his full time caregiver and I took care of him with all the love in the world. It was so intense. But I wanted and needed to be there for him. He died 2 and a half months later. I still can’t believe that he is gone. How could that be? He was such a vibrant, energetic man. It doesn’t seem right. He should be here with me.

His Side of the Bed

Here I sit in a motel room in Morro Bay, CA. I was out and about earlier today – I went down to the waterfront. I had a lovely latte and some frittata beside the marina and gazed at Morro Rock. It was another cold and windy day so instead of walking the beaches, I went shopping. OMG – I don’t shop, but cruising the galleries is soothing and inspiring. I am always intrigued and marveled by the creativity of others. But I also bought a pair of shoes and some jewelry. WTF – jewelry?! I rarely wear the stuff – I am always worried that I will lose it. So here I am spending too much money on jewelry that I will probably not wear. Oh well. Happy Birthday to me – I do have a birthday this year!

I feel better about traveling alone today. I am not so self conscious and uneasy. It could be that I had a good sleep last night. What a difference that makes. Since Dave’s death, I have been amazed at the loss of confidence I have experienced. I am typically a very independent woman. I go places alone, I make decisions by and for myself as well as others. I can hammer and nail and saw. I know how to call the plumber. But since Dave’s death, I have felt very vulnerable. My confidence has slipped and my strength has gone from none existent to evasive. I have avoided public places and encounters with others like the plague. Then, around month 4 was able to get out and do things, but often would just put my head down and "get at it". Today was a good day. I chatted up the waitress, the cooks, the clerks and some people on the street. The town of Morro Bay has a nice laid-back feel and it was easy to do. But it didn’t last long. I was back at the motel by mid-afternoon. I needed rest.

So, here I sit, on Dave’s side of the bed. If I sat on my side, I would miss him too much, I would look at the empty space and feel the loss of him. So I am sitting on his side. There is no room for him now. And now I feel guilty for putting that in black and white. I guess I just need a rest from everything – including my grief. That is why I have run away from home.

Rat-a-Tatt-Tatt

I did it. I got a tattoo. I have thought about it for 6 years now. August 4th was the 6th anniversary of my first husband’s death. I still miss him. I still think of him often. I still continually remember our times together and quote him often. I still wish our children had a father. I tell them stories of their father as often as I can.

Since his death, I have thought about getting a tattoo in his honour. Although he didn’t like tattoos and probably wouldn’t approve, I got a tattoo for me. It took me quite a while to decide on a design – and I told myself that I had to want that same design for one year before I would get it. At first I wanted a Celtic knot – but it didn’t really suite T. It suited me, though. Then I wanted a dragon – he was born in the year of the dragon. But I couldn’t find a design I liked. Then I wanted a sun – but no face. T loved the sun – he was Finnish and when the sun came out he said “sun” but in Finn, “ aurinko” (and don’t forget to roll the r !) I put a simple sun on his headstone as well as trees and mountains. He was a true outdoors man, a western-Canadian style outdoor man.

So – the tattoo finally came together last August. Dave, his best friend and I discussed it on the dock while on holidays last summer. I still wanted it this summer.

So – the sun is for T and the celtic knot represents the 4 of us: my son, my daughter, myself, and T who is the love we all have for each other. I am happy with it.

Running Away From Home

Where do I start? So much seems to have happened these past few weeks. I will have several posts to “get it all out”. I find I am constantly composing and writing in my mind. I have titles for experiences and photos. I could say that I am becoming a writer – but if I am more honest with myself, it is that I am not really engaged in my experiences. I am an outsider: observing, evaluating and recording. This is where I am right now. I am not truly engaged – everything is an expose for Dave – “Look, Dave, there is a field of strawberries” etc and I describe it all to him in my mind. It’s the endless days that I cannot share with him and I need to record it all to tell him when he gets home – only, he’s not coming home.

He’s not here with me on this epic road trip. I miss him. I wish he were by my side, seeing all that I am seeing,

My daughter, bless her, didn’t want me alone for this 24 day journey so joined me for the first 10 days. We traveled 1500 km down the Pacific coast from Victoria BC to San Francisco CA. We had a great time together. We laughed, talked, sang, played and romped like children. She listened and empathized as I talked about Dave and remembered him. We live on the prairies, beside the great Rocky Mountains, so all these seascapes and beaches and sand dunes are a real novelty. We enjoyed it all.

Yesterday, I left her at the San Francisco airport and am on my own now. Now I really miss Dave. I have 17,329 of his songs on my iPod. It is a comfort to listen to his music. While he was dying, I uploaded many of his CDs. The ones that had meaning for us: the ones we listened to together as well as others that I thought that I would like. We had the same taste in music. There was very little that we didn’t like together. So I am enjoying the music as well as feeling that a part of him is with me.

So – traveling alone – hmmm – haven’t done much of that in my life – a couple of weeks in Italy a few years ago, but I emailed Dave every night to tell him about my day. So now I have you, my dear blog. Any readers; thank you for ‘listening’.

I am spending a lot of time on the computer – catching up on 10 days worth of widow blogs. I missed my widow blog friends. They are such a comfort to me. I must get out for a walk on the beach.

The Dave L_______ Lounge

Two weekends ago, was the Folk Music Festival here. It was bittersweet to participate, mostly sweet. There were tears, lots of hugs, a few laughs, story sharing and some great music. I have seen some of the Folk Fest folks during Dave’s illness, some at his Celebration of Life and others not since last year. Dave had been a volunteer for many, many years. I spent some time there with him for the last 5 years. The FF staff - god love 'em - sent me a complimentary pass to be down at the island with back stage access for the weekend. Dave had been an institution there; a positive force that will be missed for years to come. It was a beautiful weekend – sunny and warm both physically and emotionally.

The love for Dave was palpable there. Dave was a volunteer for the FF for 22 years. The last 12 or so were in the Green Room (Artist's Lounge) as the Coordinator. So Saturday at the fest, the green room was turned into the “Dave _______ Lounge” in honour of Dave. Dave liked to sport Hawaiian shirts to serve beer and oversee staff. He liked to make the work there fun, so volunteers wore Hawaiian shirts as well. I took down a photo board of FF pics of Dave and the crews. It was bittersweet. He was a well-loved man. There was a light sprinkling of tears all over the grounds as I ran into people/volunteers who were missing his presence. I spent the majority of my time there visiting and reminiscing. I was not uncomfortable to be ‘alone’ as I did not feel alone, I felt supported and supportive and I felt loved and loving. It was wonderful.

Music, what music?! Although it was a very social time there, I did see a few acts that were awesome – The Swell Season, Michael Franti, Corb Lund, Ian Tyson, and Geoff Muldaur. Oh yea, and I got lei'd in the Beer Gardens! LOL

I could feel Dave's presence everwhere. He was in the corner of my eye all weekend. He was in the music, the smiles, the tears, the memories, the laughs and the fun. He permeated the whole setting.

It was very touching to see and be with others missing him; to remember him as the fun-filled, fun-loving man that he was; and to see the ripple effect of his time in our world. It was a lovely experience of community. It was such a beautiful honoring of a good man who contributed to his community. I was honored and humbled.