Month: December 2021

When I was a little girl I thought, like most children do, that a mountain of presents under the tree was what was most important at Christmas. When the big Sears Wish Book catalog came in the mail we would excitedly circle all the things we wanted and hope that we’d find them under the tree on Christmas morning. I remember being more conservative in what I circled in the catalog, unlike my younger sibling who circled nearly every thing on every page.

As I reflect back, I can barely remember what presents were under the tree on most of those Christmas mornings. I remember a few things here and there but most of them aren’t really an actual memory but what I see in the pictures that were taken on those mornings. There just weren’t many presents over the years that left such a lasting impression upon me that I’ve remembered them.

What I do remember most about Christmas mornings though was who was there. In my earliest years it was my mom and dad and my siblings. Our tree was set up in our living room where there was plenty of room for four kids to spread out and tear through the presents. Some years my grandparents were there, either at our house or us at their house. What I remember about the Christmas mornings spent at my grandparents house was the color wheel spinning around and casting different colors upon the glistening silver branches of the tinsel tree they had. I think the Christmases spent with my grandmother there are my favorite from when I was younger. Her presence made everything right in the world, at least for me.

As you get older you realize that what was wrapped up under the tree wasn’t what was most important on Christmas. It was who was there that had the most meaning. Presence……not presents. This year will be the first Christmas since 1986 that I won’t be spending with Kenny. To say it’s sad is a gross understatement. Nothing can fill the empty spot in mine and my family’s heart that his absence has left. I am grateful for all the Christmases we did have together, first as a young couple, and then as parents. We were lucky enough to have spent the last four Christmases as grandparents and I hope our grandson will remember his Papa being there on Christmas mornings, even if it is remembering them through pictures and videos.

As my children and my grandson grow older I hope they’ll remember all the Christmases that Kenny was there. I hope they’ll hold those memories inside their hearts and look back on them with happiness and joy, not sadness because he’s no longer here. I hope they’ll always know that the best present ever was Kenny’s presence here, with them, because really, his presence was the very best present of all.

One of the definitions of the word sanctuary is a place of refuge or safety. Most people think of a sanctuary as a physical place. For some, it is exactly that. For others, that sanctuary can be found in the form of another person. They can provide you a different kind of refuge and safety than a geographical location can.

Since my husband died I feel like I’ve lost my sanctuary. He was my refuge from everything in life that I couldn’t handle on my own, which in hindsight, was quite a lot. He was my safe place where I knew I could always find shelter. Many storms were weathered in the safe harbor he provided so unselfishly to me for more than half my life.

Having your sanctuary ripped away from you leaves you feeling lost. You retreat and withdraw because you don’t know what else to do. But hiding your face in a dark corner can only continue for so long. You have to eventually step out into the light a little bit because you can’t survive in the dark forever. The dark is unhealthy and we weren’t meant to live there.

You’re forced to try and find your sanctuary in other ways.

You might find it by filling the blank pages of a notebook with all the words that describe the unbearable grief and loneliness you’re feeling. It might be on the other end of a phone line with a trusted friend as they listen to you cry, again. You may find it in the back pew of a church listening to that one sentence the pastor speaks that you were supposed to hear. It might be found in creating a new habit with your grandchild so they never forget the loved one who left much sooner than they should have. It can also be found sitting alone in your car in a parking lot on a rainy day if need be.

While the above things won’t be the same as the sanctuary that other person gave you, they might bring you some much needed peace, if only for a bit. In time, they may be able to start to fill the void left inside you when your sanctuary was taken away.

It’s human nature to look forward to the big things in life. Those big things are what we think we’ll always remember when we come to the end of our run here on earth. We tend to overlook the little things because they are seemingly so insignificant. They’re such small details that we think they don’t amount to much. But, the reality is that those little things are what end up being what mattered the most.

We get so lost in expectation of the big things that all the little things that happen along the way go unnoticed. What happens though is that all those little things get filed away in our subconscious. They leave an imprint on our soul that we don’t even realize is happening. When those things are suddenly gone is when we realize just how much they meant to us. They were what mattered the most of all. That’s exactly what has happened to me since Kenny died. All the little things he did for me, things I took for granted, are now gone. They’re nothing but bittersweet memories for me now.

Kenny was almost a foot taller than me. He had to lean down to kiss me. Most of the time he wore a baseball hat and the bill of the hat would bump me on the forehead. Years ago he started to lift his hat up by the bill a little when he leaned down to kiss me so it didn’t hit me on my forehead. Other times, he would kiss me on the top of my head or my forehead. There’s a tenderness in a forehead kiss that most people don’t realize. I think forehead kisses are probably the sweetest kisses of all.

We got married on February 14th. I always teased Kenny that he got off easy since he could combine Valentine’s Day and our anniversary. We didn’t always buy gifts for each other over the years but we still acknowledged what that day meant. There are plenty of men out there who have forgotten their anniversary but Kenny never did, not once in the 29 1/2 years we were married. He even remembered the date we had our first date, March 22nd. Without him, those two dates will never again be the same for me.

When we would come home Kenny always unlocked the door, pushed it open and then stepped back to let me go in the house first. Even if he had an armful of grocery bags, he always let me go in first. If you didn’t already know, that’s what chivalry is. He always opened the door of a store or restaurant for me, too. I see too many men not do this for the woman they’re with and I’m sad for both of them. They don’t make men like Kenny anymore.

Sometimes when we were riding in the car we would hold each others hand. We would also pat each others thigh or just leave our hand there. We did the same thing while sitting next to each other in a restaurant. We would also rest our hands on the other’s arm while sitting in bed. Human touch is such an important thing in life and when it’s suddenly gone you feel like an empty shell of a person.

Kenny would often start my car for me so the engine wasn’t cold when I got in it to drive. He would also turn on my heated seat if it was really cold. He knew how much I disliked the cold weather and he wanted to make sure I was as warm as possible getting into the car. He also used to put his big hands over my little hands and rub them together when it was cold. My hands are always cold in the winter and he could warm them up immediately that way.

I’ve always had a hard time accepting compliments and Kenny knew it. He would make it a point to compliment me on many things and when I rebuffed them he would tell me to stop it and just accept the compliment. He helped to build up my self-esteem over the years as it was pretty non-existent when I met him. You don’t know how much a little compliment really means until you don’t hear it anymore.

Kenny was self-employed so his schedule was of his own making. Most days, he would call me to talk when he was sitting in his truck eating the lunch that I made for him. Our conversations usually weren’t anything important but rather small talk. Sometimes it was just so we could hear each other’s voice. He would tell me about the job he was doing, things the customers said, or how his Home Depot or Lowe’s trip for supplies had went that morning. He would also take short breaks to get a drink from his truck and take a minute to send me a text telling me he loved me. We said “I love you” to each other many times a day over the 35 1/2 years we spent together. The last time I heard Kenny tell me he loved me was when we went to bed the night before he had his heart attack.

From the first time I met Kenny he protected me, always. He put up a protective shield around me and wouldn’t let other people hurt me. He was like a knight in shining armor to me. That’s a quality a lot of men seem to lack these days. He wasn’t the kind of man who was loud and boisterous in his protection. It was exhibited in quiet strength instead. This has been one of the hardest things for me to deal with since he died as I’ve already been the receiver of hurtful actions by people who should have never done what they did. If Kenny was here those things would have never happened. Not having him here to protect me has left me feeling vulnerable, exposed and alone. It’s a pretty scary feeling not having someone to protect you.

Every year around the holidays Kenny would always let me know when “It’s A Wonderful Life” was on television. He knew it was my favorite movie and even though I’ve seen it probably three dozen times over the years he still would call me in the other room to see it. He was always amazed that I could speak the lines in the movie from memory right along with the actors. I think Kenny secretly liked that movie too even though he said it was sappy. Maybe that’s because he was the same kind of humble man who everyone loved just like George Bailey was.

There are so many other little things Kenny did that I miss. My heart longs for every single one of them. He isn’t here to do any of them any longer but they’ll remain in my memories till I leave here myself. I wish I’d realized all those years ago that it would never be the big things in our life that held the most importance but the little things instead. In the minutia of our lives is where those most important things will be found.

We all have different relationship roles that make up our identity. We are mothers and fathers, husbands and wives, sons and daughters, and sisters and brothers. We are also grandmothers and grandfathers, aunts and uncles, nieces and nephews, and cousins.

My identity started out almost 55 years ago as daughter to Richard and Shirley. I was also a sister to Vicki, Gigi, Tamra and later to my younger brother. I was a granddaughter to Curtis and Velma and Thomas Reid and Juanita. I was a niece to Pinkey and Ronnie and Gary and later to Jack and Bessie. I was a cousin to many. As I grew older my identity included friend to an array of people and then later, girlfriend to Kenny.

My identity of Kenny’s girlfriend eventually became that of Kenny’s wife. That was a very large part of my identity for almost 30 years and I really loved it, even during times of the marital strife that we all experience at some point. This identity was comfortable and made me feel whole and complete. It was warm and secure. This identity was full of light and happiness and love.

When he died I was no longer Kenny’s wife. I became Kenny’s widow instead. I don’t like being Kenny’s widow and I don’t want to be known as that. I detest the word widow. It’s an ugly word and I wish it never existed. This is an identity I never wanted. I know hate is a very strong word with awful connotations but that’s the emotion I’m feeling with this new and very much unwanted identity. I want to go back to my formerly known as identity but that isn’t possible.

This new identity is like an ill fitting iron suit that I can’t take off. It’s bone chilling cold. It weighs a million pounds and it has sharp edges. It’s so tight and it makes it hard to breathe. This identity is dark and lonely and full of sadness. It’s also angry and at times, full of rage.

When Kenny died I felt like a huge part of my identity had been ripped away from me that I’ll never be able to get back. It feels like someone has taken the sharpest knife and sliced off a giant part of me that I can’t ever retrieve. I feel fractured and broken. I feel like I can’t ever be put back together again. What my former identity has been replaced with feels repugnant. I honestly do not know how other people who’ve lost their spouse handle all this. I wish there was a handbook to help you navigate these very dark waters.

I know getting used to this new identity will take time. How long that process will be, God only knows. I can only hope that grace and understanding will lay the foundation of this unfamiliar road ahead of me. But please, don’t call me Kenny’s widow. Those words cut me like a razor blade. I am Kenny’s wife.

The old saying that you never truly understand something until you experience it is so very true. I’ve had so many realizations that would have never occurred to me had my husband not died. I see things from a different perspective now. You see a situation from a whole different point of view when you’re standing on the other side of it.

It’s like I’m now standing outside and looking in the window of a room I had been in for over 35 years. The things I see now are much different than they appeared to be when I was inside that room. I’m no longer the participant; I’m the observer. That change in perspective affords one crystal clear vision. These are some of the observations I’ve made since becoming recently widowed~

I liked taking care of my husband

For years I complained that there were things my husband didn’t do for himself but depended on me to do for him. For a long time I thought that this was societal conditioning from the generation we grew up in and from him seeing how the generation before was. I still do believe that’s true but I see it differently now.

Even before we started living together I did a lot of things for him. I would wash his clothes and straighten his room up when I went to see him. He was perfectly able to do those things for himself (and he did before I met him) but it made me feel good to do them for him. I came into this world a nurturer and I need someone to take care of. Since my husband died I’ve felt lost not having a partner to attend to their needs.

I have my adult children and my grandson to nurture but that’s nurturing in a different manner. I’m in the mother and grandmother role in those relationships and the care I give them isn’t the same that I gave to my husband. He’s not here anymore for me to make his lunch and pack it in his Stanley lunchbox. He’s not here anymore for me to write little notes to and stick them in with that lunch. He’s not here anymore to bake a batch of “just because” brownies for. He’s not here anymore to make sure he has clean clothes in his dresser. He’s not here anymore for me to leave the top sheet on the bed untucked on his side because that’s how he liked it. He’s not here anymore for me to send silly and inappropriate things to over text message because I know it will make him laugh.

I was just as dependent on him as he was on me

I used to half jokingly refer to my husband as “my appendage”. It would drive me crazy sometimes how attached he was to me. It felt like he was stuck to my side like velcro. Over the years though we grew to become each other’s best friend. I still had my friends but he gravitated away from spending time with his friends like he used to do before. Because of this he became more dependent on me to fulfill the role of friend for him. I wanted him to have friend relationships outside of me but for the most part he didn’t.

I took care of things for my husband that he couldn’t or didn’t know how to do. During our marriage he was the main source of income for our family. I did work at different times throughout the years but not all the time. I stayed home for a long time raising our children and took care of everything in our home. I took care of paying the bills. I knew what was due and when. I took care of all the tax paperwork every year. That was a big source of aggravation for me as he was self-employed and the receipts for his supplies took me a long time to organize. I handled all the details for everything regarding our children……school, doctor’s appointments, scouting activities, etc. I even made all the arrangements for his mother after her passing because he didn’t know what to do. I wrapped a protective wing around him when I met him because he was so sensitive and I didn’t want anyone to ever hurt him.

Like I did for him, my husband took care of things I couldn’t or didn’t know how to do. He always unscrewed all the lids on jars for me because he was much stronger than me. He reached things on the top shelf of the cabinet because I’m so short. He figured out things that required math skills because I’m horrible at math and he was good at it. He changed the air filter on the HVAC because I couldn’t reach it. He took care of getting the oil changed in the car because I never learned to do that. He changed the flat tires on the car because I never learned to do that either. He weed whacked the yard because I don’t know how to start the weed whacker. He took care of getting rid of snakes in the yard and garage because I am absolutely petrified of snakes. He was my greatest protector. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt me in any way.

My husband and I relied on each other to do things for the other. Over the years we became codependent on one another, as do many people who’ve been together for a long time. I just didn’t see that codependency until he died.

Some people slowly leave your circle after your spouse dies

I had another widow tell me that in the beginning, right after your spouse dies, people are there for you in many ways. But, as time goes by, they gravitate away from you. Your contact with them becomes less and less and some just disappear from your life. In nine days, I will have been a widow for two months. In that short time, I have already experienced what that woman told me.

I’m not sure exactly the reason for this. Maybe some people don’t know what to say beyond “I’m sorry”. Maybe they feel uncomfortable listening to you cry. Maybe they don’t want to hear the real answer to the question “Are you okay?” (because really, I am not okay). Maybe they don’t want you to spoil their happy lives with your unhappy one. I just don’t know.

On the flip side of that I have been shown the true nature of some people, both positive and negative. I guess that’s how God weeds out the people that aren’t supposed to be in your life.

I understand now why some people get married again so soon after their spouse dies

My grandmother died when I was almost 9. Her and my grandfather had been married almost 40 years. He got married again about a year after she died. At the time I didn’t understand that and I was really angry at him for doing so. I felt like he was trying to replace her, and much too soon. What went through my child brain was “How could he get married again so soon after she died? Didn’t he love her?”.

Of course my grandfather loved my grandmother. But, even more so than my own husband, my grandfather was used to having my grandmother do everything for him. She was a nurturer, too, and for her taking care of another person was intrinsic, just like it is for me. When she died, my grandfather was suddenly in unknown territory. He was thrown into a world of having to shop for and cook his own food and do his own laundry. He didn’t have her there to take care of little things she did for him that he either didn’t think about or know how to do. I can imagine he felt very lost. Maybe even scared at times. I feel scared, too. I also feel lost, but my lost is opposite than my grandfather’s lost was. I feel lost because I don’t have a partner to take care of and nurture anymore.

I see and understand now why so many people who’ve lost their spouse enter into a relationship and/or get married again so soon after being widowed. It’s because they have no one to take care of. They need to feel needed. They feel imbalanced being alone. They need to feel whole again after having the other half of them die. I will never again widen my eyes in disbelief when I see a widow or widower get involved with someone so soon after losing their spouse because I definitely feel their pain now.

Don’t take anything for granted

This one goes without saying but I’m still going to say it. If I had a dollar for every time I took something for granted over the 35 plus years my husband and I were together I’d be rich. From the little things to the big things, don’t take anything for granted, not ever.

The night before he had his heart attack my husband and I went out to dinner. Our waitress had a tattoo on her forearm that was partially covered by her sleeve. I was trying to inconspicuously read it but she saw me looking at it and asked if I was trying to read what it said. I said yes. She pulled her sleeve back and I saw that it said “Every day is a gift, not a given”. She had a red cardinal bird tattooed next to the words and told us that it was in honor of her grandfather who had raised her. She said that he used to say that saying to her all the time. She went on to say that she lives by that motto and she knew that every single day we have here on this earth is a gift and not a given. I agreed with her and told her I really admired her outlook. That young woman’s tattoo was a message for me. I just didn’t know it that night. It wasn’t until the next day while I was holding my husband’s hand as he lay unconscious in the ICU that I truly understood the depth of the meaning of that message.

During the day and a half he spent in the hospital before he passed I went over a million things in my head. Things I wished I had said to him over the years. Things I wished I hadn’t said. Things I wished we had done together, and things I wish we hadn’t. I was angry at myself for getting mad at him for stupid things and giving him the silent treatment. Those were wasted moments that I’ll never get back. I was mad at myself for all the times he went in the bedroom to watch TV and I stayed in the other room. I could have just as easily sat in the bed with him and read my book. I was mad at myself for all the times I hurried him off the phone because I was too busy to talk to him. Most of those times he just wanted to talk for a few minutes. I was mad at myself for all the times I went to sleep without kissing him goodnight because I was too tired to roll over and do so. I was mad at myself for not being more responsible in looking out for our future because “We’ll have time to worry about that later”. Unfortunately, that later came much sooner than either of us could have ever imagined.

If there was one single piece of advice I would give to anyone it’s to not ever take anything for granted. Cherish every single second you have with another person because you never know if it will be your last. Don’t waste your time being angry because that other person might die and the opportunity for forgiveness is lost forever. Tell them that you love them. Tell them that you appreciate them. Tell them you’re grateful for them. Tell them every single day, multiple times. Don’t take anything for granted, EVER, because, just like the young woman’s tattoo said, EVERY DAY IS A GIFT, NOT A GIVEN.