Smithlandia

Smithlandia was never really a destination for us.  It was just a place where life happened.  When we moved in 10 years ago, it felt like the name was waiting for us there amongst the cedars and doug firs.  We hauled all manner of things back that 3/8^th of a mile gravel driveway.  Groceries, plants, lumber for projects and old car parts.  We had all manner of things delivered, from UPS, USPS, FedEx and others.  It became our house right away.  Then, over time and a thousand ordinary days, it became our home.  Eventually, it became fully Smithlandia.

This week I carried a part of Sandy back there.  I dropped some of her ashes into Smith River, or Cedar Creek if you wanna listen what the county calls it.  We always called it Smith River.  That got me to wondering, what does it really mean to leave a part of someone in a place where they had already left so much of themselves? 

As her ashes hit the water, they swirled for a moment and then disappeared.  I was expecting the moment to feel larger somehow than it did in the few seconds it took.  More final maybe, or maybe more significant.  Instead, what struck me was how quickly they were gone.  Within seconds the current carried them away, and as they say, that was that.  Except it wasn’t. 

Standing there, I realized I had been thinking about this all wrong.  I thought the ashes were the thing I was bringing back to Smithlandia.  Watching them disappear made me realize that Smithlandia was already full of her.  Not necessarily in big dramatic moments, although there were some of those.  I am talking about the ordinary moments.  She was there in the driveway that we traveled thousands of times.  She was in the flowers.  She was in the projects, including the bridge replacement.  She was in every story, forever connected to every corner of every acre of this place.  I used to think places were sacred because something important happened there.  I wonder if maybe it has more to do with the life that accumulated over time.

After the ashes were gone, I kneeled there for a moment, water coming out of my eyeballs, and before I could pull myself back together, Jack’s hand landed on my shoulder.  No speech. No profound observation.  Just the two of us on a bridge of our own making, listening to Smith River do what it has always done.  Jack could not make this moment easier.  He couldn’t bring Sandy back.  He couldn’t fix anything.  What he could do was stand there with me.  Just the right person showing up at exactly the moment I needed him.  And sometimes, that is what love looks like.

It occurred to me a bit later that maybe this was part of what I had been discovering all afternoon.  Smithlandia wasn’t the only thing carrying traces of Sandy.  Jack was too.  So were the friends who sat on the ponder porch with us over the years.  So were the people who helped us build projects, celebrate victories, and weather hard seasons.  Smith River wasn’t the only place her life left a mark.  Sandy left a mark on Smithlandia, and on those who knew and loved her and shared that chapter of our lives.

Maybe that’s what all of us do if we’re lucky. 

We leave little pieces of ourselves behind in the places we love and in the people we share them with.

A bit later I found myself pondering one question in particular.  What exactly did I leave there this afternoon?  Not her.  The ashes, sure.  But those weren’t Sandy.  Sandy is still in the stories of that place.  She’s in the memory of hauling groceries and car parts up that gravel driveway.  She’s in the bridge we rebuilt ourselves.  She’s in the flowers.  And she’s in the house that slowly became Smithlandia.  She’s also in the people who shared that chapter of life with us.  She’s in the stories we still tell.  She’s in the lessons we learned along the way. 

Standing on the bridge over Smith River, I watched the ashes float away and realized the only part of Sandy I could lose sight of was the part I had just dropped into the water.  The rest of her remained exactly where it had always been.  In the place.  In the people.  In the stories.  She was everywhere I looked.  The physical evidence washed away.  The traces of love, it turns out, are indelible stains.

Turned Up Too Loud

So, I flew back home to Lincoln Friday, and I have been struggling with a lot of different feels.  Some tied to that, others just showing up like they got something to say.   That’s probably not random at all.  Just part of the process.  Either way, they are here and they are loud.  This is by far the most intense the feels have felt since my Beautiful Bride passed.  Today, everything got cranked up to 11, I’m old and don’t like music that loud anymore.

I want to say this first, I felt incredibly supported and loved over those two weeks.  The kind of love and support that only old friends can give.  Some of these folks go back to the early 90’s, Navy days.  I remember their kids being born, and now those kids are grown ass adults.  One day we were smoking ribs, hanging out and I had to go sit on another room.  Just overwhelmed from sharing space with so many folks I love. 

Sharing space like that, chosen family all in one place, is something I haven’t found yet in Lincoln.  And this time it hit different, because it was just me.  No Beautiful Bride.  She was always the life of the party at those sorts of events and that showed up hard.  She loved a great party.  Always quick with a story, or even quicker with the most amazing laugh when other stories were told.  It just felt weird and I feel lonely in a way I hadn’t felt before.   

That led something I wasn’t expecting, guilt.  Which is weird because I don’t really feel guilt, never have, and she figured that out early.  Guilt is an emotion I don’t have much experience with, so it is hitting harder and sticking around longer than other ones I have been cycling through since her death.  I caught myself feeling weird about how long it took for it to show up this strong.

I know grief is a fickle bitch, but I was not expecting it to show up and punch as hard as it has.  It is almost like it picked the one emotion I have the least experience with and decided that was my weak point.  This isn’t to say this hasn’t been hard.  I am only saying I have more experience processing almost every other emotion or feeling.  So maybe it is just an opportunity to practice, which pissed me off because I don’t want to practice on that one, I have lived the better part of my life not feeling guilt and I am not sure I want to start now. 

I also started feeling some guilt about these blog posts.  So much about me and not about her.  Seems silly to think about but that is what is going on in my head.  And one thing I have learned through my time on the journey, we cannot control how we feel.  Best we can do is control our reaction to those feelings.  I also felt a bit of guilt about writing so much about how I am feeling, it sorta feels like I am wallowing around in it.  Intellectual Smitty knows that is not the case, but emotional Smitty ain’t so sure right now.  I know this is part of the process but damn it Jim, I am not a guilt dude!

It’s a funny thing, our feelings and the emotions that are connected to them.  In my brain, the intellectual part, I know this is part of this journey.  The emotional side of my brain cares little, that dichotomy is a cruel joke the universe plays.  It isn’t just grief either, it has been around for a long time, at least with me.  Like guilt I guess, it is the universe saying here is something to test you, to test your mettle.  Like all things in life, we get the test first and the lesson later.  Seems backwards to what it oughta be but that’s what it is, at least for me.

Aside from the guilt bit, I also came away with an awful lot of uncertainty about what the next chapter is.  I am super fortunate to be in a position that I can really do anything I want to, well within reason.  I just don’t know what it wants to be yet and if I follow the lessons from the rest of my life, the universe will put something in front of me when its time.  In some ways I just wanna get on with it, and in others I know forcing things never produces good outcomes, at least in my lived experiences.  So, in addition to everything else that seems to be swirling around me, there is that quandary too.

Whether I like it or not, this thing does not come in a straight line.  That whole turned it up to 11 feeling, as much as I hate it, it doesn’t feel like going backwards as much as it does something new showing up.  It might just be the next layer deciding it’s time for you to deal with me now.  This seems to be the part where it stops being something I understand in my head and turns into something I must feel and experience.

Being around folks, folks who knew us when we were all still trying to figure life out, that was different.  It wasn’t just missing her, it was missing us.  Who we were together in those spaces.  That version of me is still in there somewhere, but it is just off balance and unable to get firm footing.  It’s kinda feels like I’m carrying half of something that used to be whole, and I just don’t know what to do with that.  And that uncertainty sits heavy on me.  I know this next chapter, whenever it arrives, will probably have something to do with figuring out how to hold onto that part of us without getting stuck in it.  All that while I am also learning how to be half of what I once was.

And maybe, even the parts I don’t like, especially the guilt, aren’t wrong.  I don’t have to like all the parts, but I also don’t think any of them are mistakes.  They are just part of the system that is Smitty trying to reset after the most massive overhaul to date.  I damn sure don’t feel ready for any of it, I don’t even like the test first, lesson later arrangement, never have.  But most likely this isn’t about doing it right or even doing it fast.  Maybe just doing the dang thing is the thing to do, whatever the hell the dang thing is.  That intellectual side of my brain knows this, the emotion side… yeah, that bastard is still telling me something very different.  Damn it.

And I keep coming back to the same thought.  It’s not just that she is gone.  It’s that the version of me that existed with her does not have a place to stand anymore.  And I don’t think I know how to build that footing back yet.  At some point I am guessing this settles down a bit.  Or maybe I just get a little better at carrying it.  Either way, today wore me slap out.  So yeah, everything still feels turned up too loud.  And the knob just spins when I try to turn it down. 

Two Pretty Damn Amazing Weeks

Well I just got a text letting me know my departure from Jacksonville to Chicago has been delayed.  It appears I still have an hour and 21 minutes  between gates in Chicago for my Lincoln flight.  So I decided I might try to type out a quick Oratory.  I am now at JAX waiting departure so I thought I would finish this one. 

So today I head back home from spending 2 weeks in Jacksonville Florida.  I was completely unplugged from everything, work, house, bills, and most of all my puppy, Handsome Petey Kabuki McPants McGillicuddy, more commonly referred to as Larry O.  From all appearances, he has enjoyed himself.  His tail was pointing up every time I watched, and that I know means he is happy.  Plus, he had extra cuddle time, that was a great upsell at drop off.  I am looking forward to scooping up the butt dart from the border and loving on him.  I have watched him playing every day, their camera system could you some work, I think I will suggest a trade of my expertise for boarding days. 

I shared space and a lot of meals with a lot of chosen families on my trip.  I went to have a meal with folks at places we always went to when we lived here.  Well, except Lubi’s, Bride could not stand a loose meat sandwich.  They were probably heart attacks on bun but damnnnnnn, they are good.  I shared three home cooked meals as well, and they were equally yummy. 

I watched the sunrise every morning, one of them was in Ocala and the rest were at the beach.  I love sunrise, but boy watching in a chair in the surf at the ocean is something everyone should do at least once in their lives.  I just wish I wasn’t learning how to love it again without her.  I remember back in the day a great friend of mine came down here to Florida from Ohio and we went to sunrise as his first time seeing the ocean – it was magnificent and a gift to me to watch someone see that for the first time.  Coincidently, my Niece and her family were also vacationing here so I got a sunrise with her and got to spend some time with her family.

Jacksonville is very much different and very much the same, it just does not feel like home anymore.  I’ve  always said home is where I hand my hat, but it turns out that wasn’t quite right.  Home was wherever she was.  That is what Smithlandia really meant.  All but the three hats I brought with me are still in Lincoln, and I have hundreds and that collection started all the way back to high school.  And yes, since the Beach Diner is closing, I bought one of their hats.

I got to hug a lot of necks, and that was very much needed.  There is something special about that kinda hug, the kind where nobody is really saying anything, and yet everything is being said.  Some of them held on a little longer than normal, and we both knew why.  Because for a few seconds, it filled a space that has been too damn quiet, for both of the of us. 

While I saw a lot of people, I also had a lot of alone time, that was good and bad.  Still writing down three things every morning looking for forward momentum.   Some days its three steps forward, and then, in the same day, its two more backwards.  And every morning I’m still waking up to world she is not in anymore, left wondering how that’s even real.

Overall I have moved forward but the pace is spotty.  And that is the new norm so that is just OK.  I am glad I sprinkled a few ashes as well, while not closure it did feel a bit like adding a period at the end of a sentence.  Problem was, I was not ready for the sentence to end.  I just sat there for a bit after.  It was nice to have that time when I was out of my element.  No constant reminders, no work things, no house things, no dog things, just me, myself and I.

And now for an abrupt topic change, I rented a Hyundai Sonata, it was a hybrid and I kinda liked it.  Well, I liked the efficiency and tech.  Over the two week period I put gas in it twice, and the overall average for my two weeks was 44.7 MPG, which is a hell of lot better than my truck.  Not enough to make me switch yet, but it got my attention.  The tech package was pretty impressive as well, lane drift protection, adaptive cruise, and self steering, although I turned that off after just a minute or two.  The only thing I did not like about it was it was low to ground, I’m old and fat so…  and the drivers compartment was crowded, see aforementioned note on being fat and old.

So I will be back in Lincoln tonight, and will pick up Larry in the morning, after his bath and nail trim and other pampering.  Fingers crossed the two flights are uneventful.

So I Stay, and I Keep Reading

I keep reminding myself that this is going to work out, that Smitty is going to be OK.  Even though there are days when it just doesn’t feel like it.  Maybe days is stretching it at this point.  Maybe it’s hours, or minutes or moments where it just seems overwhelming to me.  I also remind myself that I will not have the dynamic duo I had for so long.  The we, the us, and the they are gone.  I  am now just the me, the he, and the I.  It still feels weird to be using those tenses, and I stumble over them all the time.  I guess that will be the norm for a while, maybe forever and I don’t even mind anymore, small reminders of who we were together.

I know this is not my forever, this is a chapter and thank goodness chapters come to an end and a new one begins, that is the way of things in the world.  If I span across the whole journey, this chapter is the one I like the least.  It has been the most difficult, I think because I was so used to having a partner in the game.  Someone who would listen, encourage, support and love me, just like I did for her.  It feels a little isolating to be thinking about this and working my way through it without her, I miss her wisdom in moments like these.

I still have to fight the urge to treat this moment like the whole story.  It feels so large and heavy that it is sometimes hard to see over or around it and recognize that this is just a chapter in a much larger story.  The story we created was simply amazing by any standard.  I knew that and so did she, but I don’t think I understood the magnitude of how amazing we were together.  Spending a couple of weeks here in Florida, surrounded by chosen family, has been a great reminder of that, and I am grateful for each of those reminders, spoken and implied.

Somewhere out there, there is a version of me who made it through all of this.  In some ways I wish I could time travel forward to that dude.  Other times that feels like cheating.  I don’t really know how to explain that part.  I just know it hits wrong.  I just know there is something about skipping ahead that feels wrong, like I’d be missing some ugly part that was necessary to help me become whoever I am supposed to be after this chapter.  I don’t like that, not even a little.  But I also know I don’t get to only read the good parts the story.  So, I will keep moving through the pages, wherever the story goes and however difficult to read, until I get to that future me, who will have been forged into that future me by the journey itself. 

Realizing I’m no longer the one writing this story is really messing with my head.  It is disorienting in a way that does not make sense to me, her absence just turns up the volume on all of it.  It’s like the whole thing gets louder when I try to make sense of it.  I feel like most of that comes down to how badly we want to believe we are in control, like if we just try hard enough or think clearly enough, we can simply negotiate with the page to say something different.  But that ain’t how this works, not really.  Letting go and just being feels wrong, almost like I am violating some of the base code I am programmed with.  Every thing in me wants to push back, rewrite a few lines of code, to do something other than just sitting with it.  Submitting to the page I’m actually on is hard.  Real hard.  It feels very much in conflict with my fight or flight instincts, the ones that have been baked into our DNA since before we made it to the top of the food chain.  All I have is how I show up for the page in front of me, even when showing up sometimes feels like the hardest thing I have ever had to do. 

I don’t like this chapter.  I would not have chosen it in a million years.  It kinda like in book club having to read a book that ya don’t like.  You read it anyway, out of respect for the one who selected it.  This is the book that has been selected for me, and not reading it is not an option, that would be disrespectful of Beautiful Brides memory.  So here I am, slogging away, slower than I want to be moving and this book appears to have a lot of pages to turn.  Some days I make progress, other days I have to go back and reread the shit I didn’t like the first time I read it.  I just keep showing up, and that counts! 

Somewhere in the middle of all of this, I found myself on the same beach where we said our vows again at 20 years in.  Sunrise, the same kind of quiet, the same sounds of the ocean doing its thing.  Only this time it was just me, well technically just me.  I had carried her there and did the only thing  I knew how to do, I let her go into the place we loved.  I don’t know if there are words for that moment that actually do it justice, I had nothing but tears then, and now as I type this.  It did not feel like closure.  It did not fix anything.  But it felt right, the kind of right that comes with absolute certainty.  It felt like one small way to honor the story we had, in a place that knew us well when we were still a we.   I stayed long enough to feel it.  Then I walked away without really knowing how to feel about it.  

Somewhere out there is a version of me who has already read the whole book and knows how it ends.  I don’t get to flip ahead to that part though, I have to read it the way it’s written, page by agonizing page.  Regardless of how many times I reread a page, I am just trying to make it all make sense.  Not every page lands, not every chapter is fair, and it’s still my book to read.  Fair, that reminds me of something she used to say, fair is what ya pay to get on a bus and where ya go to get a funnel cake or corndog.  So I will just keep turning pages, trusting that something will shift along the way and trusting that when I finally reach the end of this chapter, I will understand why I had to read it in the first place.  So I stay, and I keep reading.

Today, It Feels Lighter

So we had the remembrance for Sandy yesterday, or maybe it was a celebration of life or maybe it was a service.  Whatever the official name, it was getting to say a few words in front of her Friends and Family, and four of her Siblings got that opportunity as well.  Having done it now I realize just how hard that can be, I am so proud of her siblings getting up and saying a few words about their Sister.  I am also VERY appreciative of them, and one of Sandy's friends from grade school, supporting me by being here. 

Then I got up, thanked the folks who have supported me at the funeral home and the Chaplain, as well as some words for the Navy folks who played taps and presented me a flag.  I said a few words of thanks for everyone who supported me through this and how I have been lifted up by so many amazing humans I have bumped into along the way.  I also shared my gratitude for the gift of getting to spend 38 years with my best friend. 

I also talked about refusing to be sad about any of it, Bride literally gave me the best part of my whole life.   And closed with some words about not having any idea what my next chapter looks like, and that I am certain the universe will lay it out for me when the time is right, it always has.  After that I alternated between telling my own funny stories and sharing those I collected.  I think the biggest revelation was hearing the origin story of her nickname Sam.  I never called her that but most in her family did.

It was hard to get there, I probably over anticipated that though because once I got to reading the funny stories it became easier and the further along I got the easier it got.  I also started to feel some of the burden of grief starting to ease up as well.  That was a pleasant surprise, and much welcomed.  When I was done speaking, the USN navy presented me with a flag.  I always get choked up at the playing of taps and watching the presentation of the flag.  This felt even more emotional because today I was accepting that flag as a symbol of the gratitude of the nation for her honorable and faithful service while taps was played.  It was a powerful emotional moment.

We wrapped up, some of the folks I work with came and I shared some words of appreciation for them coming, it was a bit of a blur as my brain was going 1,000 miles an hour.  Things I should have said, or something I should have said differently, a story I should have told and wondering if Sandy would have liked it.  One thing I should have said is a bit of the eulogy Jackie gave for Ned Devine, or Michael O’Sullivan and if you don’t get the reference, watch Waking Ned Devine.

It would have gone like this – The words that are spoken at a funeral are spoken too late for the person who is dead.  What a wonderful thing it would be to visit your own funeral.  To sit at the front and hear what was said, maybe say a few things yourself.   Sandy and I grew old together.  But at times, when we laughed, we grew young.  If she was here now, if she could hear what I say, I’d congratulate her on being a great woman and thank her for being my friend.  And we laughed A LOT!!!

We even laughed about maybe writing some words for our own funerals, eventually tried a couple of times but it seemed so weird.  Maybe I will do that now for me, haha, she’d think that was funny. 

When I got back home that evening, sharing space with her siblings and close friend, I started to feel a great wave of relief.  I liked it but it felt weird, a lightning of the load I was not expecting.  As the evening went along, I started feeling tired, almost exhausted.  I thought maybe because it was a day I stressed over, to the point of taking one of her Xanex on my way to the service.

I finally turned in, and I slept like a baby.  Not a single wake up to pee or even a roll over, I woke up in the exact position I was in when I laid down.  That was the first night I slept like a baby since April 20^th, my last night sleeping next to my Honey.  I woke up feeling lighter, feeling  well rested and ready for the day.  I have not woken up like that for a bit.  Not sure what any of that means but life feels a bit different today, and I fucking like it!

And maybe that is enough of an answer in this moment.  I don’t need to understand it, maybe just noticing it is enough.  The weight shifted and eased the load. the air feels a bit crisper and for the first time in a while it does not feel like I am bracing for what ever comes next.   Feels more like I’m figuring out how to carry this awkward load rather than being crushed by the weight of it.   I know I will still have days that hit me in the mouth, but today didn’t.  Today felt like a gift and I am grateful for it.

Ya know, if I am being honest, today feels like something she’d be happy about.  Not the hard, not any of the shit really but the idea that I am still getting my feet back under me, laughing a bit more, and even smiling a bit more, and trying to figure out how to be in this next version of life.  The more I sit with it the more it feels less like a moment and more like something inside me is recalibrating, to compensate for the changes, kinda like the adaptive correction circuit on TV transmitter exciter.  It ain’t fixed, but it does not feel as broken either.  And for now, that’s progress.  Not perfect, but ill take progress over perfection every damn time.

BTW, the recording of the service will be on the site tomorrow in case ya missed it. Sandra "Sandy" Smith - Roper and Sons  share a memory while your there as well.

A Life Well Lived is Truly Built on the Small and Mostly Mindless Moments we Mostly Take for Granted

There have been many big things in my way since the 21^st of April.  They have been front and center, right there, rigidly resting on bedrock and firmly in my way.  They are known, most are hard, and very solvable with time and effort because they are the obstacle in my way.  To quote Marcus Aurelius, “The impediment to action advances action. What stands in the way becomes the way."  So, I am advancing through the action of doing those things.  They have been hard and many but mostly it has been a task driven list.   

The thing I have noticed the most over the last three weeks is how many small, unexpected little things I have been tripping over.  Tripping because they are not big enough to be an obstacle in my way.  I feel that even the cumulative effect of tripping, falling, and getting back up again is still not an obstacle.  It is just something we all do in our lives, stumble, gain footing, and continue on the journey without giving the cause much thought. 

The things I am tripping over now are much more than just a stumble, they feel like harsh reminders of how many silly little things I have taken for granted.  The things that never really made a list, the things that just lived in the corners, in the mundanity of life we rarely even notice, until they are gone.  Now they are gone for me, I am surprised when I trip over them and wonder how I could have not been cherishing those moments more.

Things like adjusting the air or heat before going to bed, she had a narrow comfort range.  Or making sure we always had plenty of supplies so she would never run out of soap, trash bags, razor blades, body wash, and a million other things.  OK, I will probably continue that, the Navy baked that into my DNA so…  Or texting her a picture from the car wash that simply said “current state” in either my car or hers.  Always making sure her car had gas, that she had Coke, sugar free.

Sending pictures I did a lot.  Sometimes of her, once in the place where Larry gets groomed, I went around and hid behind things and texted her a picture of herself, having already moved to the next spot, hahaha.  She texted back “stop that ya dumbass”.   I sent her pictures of sunrise all the time.  She loved sunrise but hated getting up early more so she got plenty of pictures. 

Seeing someone that just needed to have a life story built for them and then subsequently be judged for the life we made up about them.  I saw a dude the other day on O street, I was sure he got his ass whooped in 6^th grade and would have enjoyed building out his life up to the point I saw him with her.

I am still making sure the shower curtains are just so when I get out and I am finding that I am closing the door to the pantry and cabinet doors.  That was something that drove her crazy when I didn’t.  I am washing my clothes in cold water, even though I never thought that made any difference anyway.  There are still a number of things she wanted to do to the house, I will go ahead and do those, even though I am not sure I will even stay in this house.  I have committed to not making any big decisions for at least six months so I got a bit of time.

Being in the house is hard, because of all the small things.  In case you did not know, I was not the picker in our lives.  Not of colors on the walls, not of furniture, not of stuff hanging on the walls, and not the way any of the décor was arranged or anything else.  I would do the work, painting, hanging things, moving furniture, swapping doors or installing new moldings but was not the picker.   Every room in this house has a 100 reminders of her, and that is hard.  My only reprieve from that is here in my office, that is the one place I did get to choose.   I have done nothing, except hang a picture and the story of H.O. Studley’s toolbox, and yes I built that frame.  I first read about that in Fine Woodworking magazine and was simply amazed by his talent.  Here is a bit about that H.O. Studley tool box.

That is also where I am right now, pecking away on a keyboard typing about my Honey.  All the small things feel like death by a thousand cuts.  I am a woodworker and old car mechanic so I have experience with that, but these cut a bit deeper and seem to not be closing up as fast. 

I go to my first grief session Sunday that focuses on the loss of a spouse.  I am both terrified and hopeful at the same time.  As I have said, I recognize I am on a new path, and I have no idea where its heading, no idea of the terrain, no idea of how long the path is or where it will end up, so one step a time, three things on a list every day is helping.  I am trying to make sure at least one a day includes forward motion and not just motion. 

Fuckity fuck fuck!!  I sure do miss ya BB

 

 

New Firsts, Entry Two, 12 Days in

 It has been 12 days since Bride passed and I am just starting to share bits of this experience, one step at a time.  This is the second one of what will most likely be a bunch of these related to my journey moving forward, without Bride.  I am optimistic that I will get to a point where I can share more about our 38 years of adventures and journey together but I am not ready to do that just yet. 

The things that stand out in each of those days so far is the new firsts.  Everything seems to be a first, first time doing pretty much anything without Bride.  It started when I got home from work on the 21^st when I immediately called 911 and began CPR, with the 911 operator on the phone with me, that was a first.  EMT’s, Lincoln police deputies, Lancaster county Sherriff folks, and County Coroner folks all being in my house all at the same time, that was a first.  Answering what seemed like an endless list of questions, some about Bride, some about me and a lot about what happened, never did any of that before.  Being checked out by EMT’s, temp, oxygen concentrations levels, blood pressure, something looking at my heart with little things stuck all over my chest and legs, while sequestered in my office, new firsts.

Being comforted for my loss by two Lincoln police officers, Margaret and Jeff, no idea what their last names were but they spent what seemed like a few hours supporting me and I hugged them both when they left.  I was also comforted by a Sherriff's office chaplain whose name was Julie.  I don’t remember much of what any of them said but I do remember them being present and sharing space with me, and that was very comforting.  I also remember Julie helping me make the first few very difficult phone calls I had to make.  She stayed with me, sitting on the back porch watching the sun go down until about 930pm.  I have watched thousands of sunsets, some with Bride some by myself or others, but that day, the sunset felt very different, another first without Bride.  I am so glad that I instinctively snapped a few pictures of it, and my first thought when I did, to share them with Bride, not being able to, another first.  

One of the questions I was asked was about which funeral home I wanted to use, being new to Lincoln, I had no idea.  I learned they have an on-call rotation of funeral homes for situations exactly like this.  On that day it was Roper and Son’s, and I remember Logan asking me lots of questions and he too was very comforting.   When Sandy’s Mom died, I recall how she jumped into action to get those arrangements made, it was important work  to do and it was important to Sandy to do them, even after just losing her mother.  I had also watched Bride make lists for all sorts of things, so I picked up a pad and started a list of things to do.  To do my best to honor her courage when her Mom passed, I told Logan I would be by the very next afternoon to make the arrangements, we settled on 2pm.   

After Julie left, and I was all alone there was a knock on the door, my neighbor Jacob and his wife.  We know each other and are starting a friendship, which I find harder to do the older I get.  He did not say a word, just wrapped me up in a big ole bear hug and did not let go.  I cried and cried and he held on until I started to let go.  That human moment was exactly what I needed in that moment, and I will be forever grateful he gave me that unexcepted and much needed gift.  We traded a few words, none of which I remember, and they headed back next door.

I was sitting in the living room by myself and could not get the image of finding Bride out of my head.  Not sure how I thought to go find a bunch of my favorite pictures of Sandy on my devices, but I did.  I uploaded them to Walgreens to print out as 8x10’s, thinking I would pick them up in the morning, wrong, I got a text 7 minutes later that they were ready, so I ran up and got them, along with a bunch of frames. 

I sat in the living room with those pictures of her scattered around the room.   I can no longer see the images of her when I found her, I can recall it happening, I can describe the event but I can’t see her that way anymore.  I don’t know if it was the pictures or my brain protecting me from the trauma of that event or both, I guess it does not matter because I can no longer see it, and I count that as a blessing from the universe.

I did not sleep well at all and got up super early and sat on the front porch waiting for the sun to come up.  Like the night before, this one felt different, it was the dawning of a new day, in so many different ways than all the others, another first. 

The house seemed so large and so empty, I kept moving to different rooms to try to shake that feeling, another first.  This is when I realized, or maybe it was just acknowledging that I must be in shock.  I was unable to even understand what was happening, let alone begin to process all the feels and all the emotions that were flooding into my brain.  Each going 900 miles an hour, colliding with each other making me unable to function. 

My best friend, Mark arrived at 10am from Rhode Island, we have been friends since the early 90’s and Bride loved him too.  By noon thirty Sandy’s best friend Kathy from Oregon arrived along with my Nephew Chad from Vancouver Washington.  Looking back now I am not even sure how any of them pulled that off so fast and I sure as hell am glad they did though as being alone that morning was difficult.

I also had someone to come with me to Roper and Son’s to sort through the details of the next steps.  Sandy has a big family in Texas, with at least 60 or 70 folks, 7 siblings, their kids, and then those kids kids.  Knowing that, I asked for the ashes to be split and put into two identical urns with one being shipped to her older sister Suzanne.  So, after all the details were sorted I came away with things that I needed to provide, music, pictures and a few other things, they went on the list.  I spent time calling folks, our actual and chosen families and those calls were so hard but I was determined to take three steps forward every day so I did not get stuck in hell. 

Those first few days were simply a blur, the only real things I remember from the second day was picking up my Sister Karen and a Brother from another Mother Scott from the airport, they had come in from Ohio and Florida.  Then came my Niece Amanda, and tomorrow Conny and after that, Judy.  I also remember feeling loved and supported more than anything else.   

With all the calls I made, I got advice and things to think about, they all went on the list of things.  One nugget I got from a few folks was to create a list of folks who want to come and time those out so you have a longer time before you have to be alone.  It is crazy to think about but that list has like 15 people on it.  Our dear friend Conny sent groceries to the house, she lives in Florida. 

Being surrounded by people we loved and that loved us was so very helpful.  I will forever be in their debt for just coming, without fanfare or question, just got a plane and came to support and comfort me in any way they could.  And they did, and I know they felt supported and loved by me and the others, some of whom had never met each other before.  There has been crying and quiet contemplation of what the world would be like without Sandy in it.  There has also been lot’s of laughter and telling of stories, so many shared experiences from everyone with my Honey.   

I am still writing down my three steps each morning, somedays I get more in but at least three.  Each day it seems a little easier, but I know I am only fooling myself.  I feel like I have motion but I am not sure each step is actually moving me forward, but I am going to just keep moving until it is moving forward.  I got two recommendations for grief support groups, it seems weird but I am going one of those a try, I plan on doing the in person ones vs the internet based ones.

Yesterday I got the large flower bed along the back of our property sown with Nebraska native wildflowers that are supposed to be excellent for the pollinators, that was Bride’s idea.  I bought a new bed yesterday.  I have also been chugging through the notifications and adjustments to business relationships, the credit union, the gas and water bills and what not.  I still have more of those to do but I am making progress.  It was very hard to mash a web site button that said “Remove Sandy” from this account.  As She would say, FUCKITY FUCK FUCK!!!