41 years ago today Sandi and I were married in the same church her parents had been married in many years earlier. She was, and always will be, my everything.
The grief sea is storm tossed with towering waves, as it has been all weekend. I am not fit to be around, so I will do the usual thing, and isolate myself.
40 years ago today I married my New England girl. She was and always will be my everything. Being here without her is brutally hard every day. Some days are way harder. It has not gotten any easier as the years pass. At this point, I don’t think it ever will, as it just gets harder every year.
If things had gone right, like they should have, Sandi would be 65 today. Here she is doing what she loved--crocheting and sitting outside.
This has been a very hard day. I knew it would be and tried to ignore things and just treat it like any other. Denial did nothing but made it worse. I should have just stayed in bed and away from people as I have done past years.
It was at 8:45 AM on December 1st when Sandi passed. 7 years later I still, every single day, having a hard time dealing with her being gone. Holidays, her birthday, and this day is just brutal. Today was one of those absolute brutal days.
The picture is from a few months before things took a turn for the worse. She was feeling good and we thought she was beating the damn thing. The docs and nurses did too. The mood was upbeat so she was smiling.
I never thought I would be a widower. I never thought I would still be here so long after she passed. I would give anything to have her back with me.
39 years ago today Sandi and I were married in the same church her parents had been married in many years earlier. She was, and always will be, my everything. One would think after going through seven of these deals, I could handle it better. I'm not. Some days are just brutal. This is one of those days.
Sandi and I on the apartment porch a few years back. She was doing chemo, confident that she would beat cancer, and feeling pretty good at the time. I'd do pretty much anything to have her back here where she belongs.
Today is Sandi's 64rth birthday. One of the way harder
days of the year in the never ending grief sea. Nothing is getting any
easier. Maybe it isn't supposed to and
this is just the way it will always be as long as I am around.
I have explained this before, I am going to indulge myself again today, as this was and still is a very big deal. She had worked so very hard to get here and here we were..... the picture is from May 15, 2010, which was her
graduation day at TWU. She was back on her feet, had walked at graduation, and
doing pretty well after collapsing while student teaching about two months
prior to this day. She had been air ambulanced from the parking lot of a school
in Frisco down to Medical City Dallas Hospital where they determined she had
several small strokes as well as some sort of heart attack,. While they could
see damage on the MRI and the CT Scans, she never had the blood markers for
either, so they were sure she would be fine long term. We would learn over a
year and half later that not having the blood markers was meaningless because
you could be full of cancer and have no blood markers at all for it.
We would also learn that this event was probably a
warning sign of cancer that was never caught or diagnosed. All we knew this day
was that she had graduated and had to pass the state boards to finally be
cleared to teach. She had a classroom full of supplies and gear in storage and
was so thrilled to have graduated. Sandi was worried that she might not pass
the state boards as she knew she was not
the same person she was before this had happened. But, she was sure that given
enough time, things would work out.
On this day, we had no idea what was to come. We
thought the future was bright. The sun sure was as it kept busting through the
overhead cloud cover. It happened to punch through and nailed us as the picture
was taken all those years ago.
8:45 AM
Nothing has ever been right again. It has been six very long years since Sandi moved on without me. We had dreams. We were supposed to grow old together.
Instead, cancer took her, and changed everything. Not a day goes by that I don't wish I could bring her back. Or, that I had shuffled off this mortal coil right with her.
Going on remains brutally hard. Today is one of those days that the universe really puts it to you with both boots.
This has been a very tough day...... six years ago today Sandi came home her final time just after six in the evening. It was the beginning of hospice ... and the beginning of the end. I did not want her here as I was very afraid of what was coming and not being able to care for her as she needed and deserved. That turned out to be the reality as after about a week they lost pain control and she suffered horribly before lapsing into unconsciousness those last few days. It was hell for her and for us too.
Sandi, on the other hand, did not want to die in the
hospital. She desperately wanted to be at home here with us. I agreed as that
was what she wanted and there was no way I could tell her no. In a sense she is
still here as her urn sits here in the den.
I wish for so much that can't be......and I miss her
so much. Every day is hard....some are worse than others....and then there are
days like today. I turn 62 Monday and she is not here to tell me not to be
grumpy about another birthday and to have fun.
Then we have Thanksgiving, Christmas, and her birthday
in January. What should be a great time of year is instead a hard, painful
slog. Six years later, nothing has changed. At least she is not here to watch
me slowly get sicker as what little I inherited vanishes like sand through the
hourglass.
This afternoon marks 38 years since Sandi and I got married. I won’t bore you again this year with recounting our history as I married my small-town girl. What she ever saw in me, I have no idea.
I still feel tremendous guilt that I could not save her from the cancer or give her the life she deserved in the years before cancer roared into our lives. I remain convinced that going on
without her was not what was meant to be. We were supposed to grow very old
together, hanging out in our respective chairs, and occasionally visited by
friends and family. Acceptance of the life I now have without her remains very
hard and elusive. The going on is very tough and remains so.
Many told me that after a year, things would get
easier. Not for me. Every day is still like it just happened. The last
few months have been way harder in the endless grief sea. I look for little signs of her, like the
lightning bugs that she so loved, out in the yard, and try to deal as best as I
can.
As numerous people far wiser than me have said--- Tomorrow is never promised. Make damn sure the folks you know and love in your life know how much you love them.
Talking to the urn on the mantle is no way to be.
Today is Sandi's 63rd birthday. One of the way harder days of the year in the never ending grief sea.
8:45 AM
Nothing has ever been right again. It has been five very long years since Sandi moved on without me. We were supposed to have a small place out somewhere with a few horses running around, a wide porch with rocking chairs, and grandchildren at our feet. We were supposed to grow old together.
Instead, cancer took her, and changed everything. Not a day goes by that I don't wish I could bring her back. Or, even more, that I had shuffled off this mortal coil right with her.
Going on is brutally hard. Today is one of those days that the universe really puts it to you with both boots.
37 years ago today I finally made a honest woman out of Sandi. Or, as she liked to say, she made the “cradle robbing legal like” as she was a few months older than me. Much to the horror and shame of both families, mine more than hers, we had been living together for several years before we finally were married on this day back in 1985. I know for sure my family was convinced we were doomed to fail. I think her folks thought the same thing.
She was a New England girl, through and through, and I
was a Texas boy that most of her friends and family had no idea what to make of
at all. I did it all, but wear cowboy boots, and most of them were sure I was
not good enough for her. I was not, but not in the way they thought. Though I
did not show it as it was hard for me to talk about or show her, I loved her
with every fiber of my being as she was my everything.
Things were never easy for us. My parents basically
disowned me as soon as I moved out over her. They never got over it though
things were better the last few years my Mom was alive. Her parents were far
more supportive in the beginning, but grew to believe it would be best if their
little girl took the kids and got the heck out of dodge and away from me.
We went through a lot of bad stuff with next to no
help from anyone. It took a toll on both of us and there was a lot of
counseling through the years. We took our vows seriously and worked at it.
Things got better in the years just before I got sick and then she did with
what turned out to be the damn cancer.
Today is the fifth anniversary without her here telling me what needs to be done and that things will work out because they are meant to be. I remain convinced that going on without her was not what was meant to be. We were supposed to grow very old together, hanging out in our respective chairs, and occasionally visited by friends and family. Acceptance of the life I now have without her remains very hard and elusive.
So many told me that after a year things would get
easier. Nope. Not for me. Every day is still like it just happened.
She was and always will be my everything. Not an hour
goes by where I do not think of her. Often more than once. It is hard every
single day, but some days are really, really downright brutal.
This is always one of those days.
This was us long ago when Scott was attending Centennial Elementary in Plano. I had no idea that a time would come when I was supposed to go on without her. I thought we would grow old together.
If things had gone right, my everything would be 62 today. This is one of the brutal days each year in the never ending grief sea.
Four years ago today at 8:45 AM my world shattered and burned as Sandi moved on without me. Every single day since without her has been hard. Some days, like this one, are just brutal.
The picture is from May 15, 2010, which was her graduation day at TWU. She was back on her feet, had walked at graduation, and doing pretty well after collapsing while student teaching about two months prior to this day. She had been air ambulanced to Medical City Dallas Hospital where they determined she had several small strokes as well as some sort of heart attack,. While they could see damage on the MRI and the CT Scans, she never had the blood markers for either so they were sure she would be fine long term. We would learn over a year and half later that not having the blood markers was meaningless because you could be full of cancer and have no blood markers at all for it.
We would also learn that this event was probably a warning sign of cancer that was never caught or diagnosed. All we knew this day was she had graduated and had to pass the state boards to finally be cleared to teach. She had a classroom full of supplies and gear in storage and was so thrilled to have graduated. Sandi was worried that she might not pass the tests as she knew she was not the same person she was before this had happened. But, she was sure that given enough time, things would work out.
On this day, we had no idea what was to come. We thought the future was bright. The sun sure was as it kept busting through the overhead cloud cover. It happened to punch through and nailed us as the picture was taken all those years ago.
36 years ago today Sandi and I made everything proper and
legal like in the same church in Somerville, Massachusetts, that her parents
had wed decades earlier. She was a New England girl, through and through, and I
was a Texas boy that most of her friends and family had no idea what to make of
at all. I did it all, but wear cowboy boots, and most of them were sure I was
not good enough for her. I was not, but not in the way they thought.
What she ever saw in me, I do not know. I can not help but wonder, if she had married another and thus had an easier life as we struggled financially and in so many other ways, if the cancer would have ever reared its head or been terminal. I will never know what might have been. I did everything I could to help her in the battle, but it just was not good enough. The guilt I feel, and, yes, I know it is irrational, over that fact is massive and crushing.
Today is the fourth anniversary without her here telling me what needs to be done and that things will work out because they are meant to be. I remain convinced that going on without her was not what was meant to be. We were supposed to grow very old together, hanging out in our respective chairs, and occasionally visited by friends and family. Acceptance of the reality I live with every damn day remains very hard and elusive.
She was and always will be my everything. Not an hour goes by where I do not think of her. Often more than once. It is hard every single day, but some days are really, really downright brutal.
This is one of those days.
Back when Sandi and I were driving down to Medical City Dallas Hospital on Forest Lane from our apartment in Plano, we used to occasionally talk about what I was working on when she was up to it. It was an hour one way—on a good day—as we came down south hoping that the car would not break down or some other calamity would not happen. She was on a schedule and we always knew that even if everything went right, it would be a long day.
We would get down into Richardson, and about the Spring
Valley Road area, we would normally start seeing the many cargo trucks and vans
for various pest control services. Many of them used a version of a squirrel on
the side of the vehicle, but there were also ones decorated with skunks and
other rodents. One morning in the fall of 2016 it seemed like every possible
truck was at one of the intersections in that area. There were lanes of traffic
all stopped with the various trucks line up nose to tail. The way I remember it,
they were lined up at all four sides of the intersection as we waited for the
traffic signal to start working again. There had to be more than twenty trucks
everywhere. Sandi made some comment about all the rodent trucks which became
the title of this story.
At the time there was an anthology that I was aiming
for and I had an idea. Some writers have tons of ideas. I am not one of those
people. I never have been. But this day, I had an idea I had been mulling
around and we had talked about it a little bit. I knew where I wanted the tale
to take place so I had the setting. I now had a title.
We bandied it about some more the rest of the way into
the hospital. About an hour later after she was all checked in and asleep as
the chemo dripped into her, I got to work. That became the project I worked on
that fall of 2016. Unfortunately, it did not make it into that anthology.
We rolled into January 2017 and soon my Mom passed
from a massive stroke. Writing was the last thing on my mind as I dealt with
what one does in such situations. I also had managed to have a car accident
while going back and forth to see Mom at the hospital so I had that to contend
with as well. Beyond all of that, it was also becoming clear that Sandi was not
doing as well as we all had hoped. With our situation and everything else, it
was clear the only real option was to move to the house I grew up. That was
never the plan, but it was now.
As the weeks passed into months and Sandi had a succession
of setbacks, she was hospitalized almost all the time as I worked on getting us
moved here. That was finally done in August 2017. Sandi was here, once we got
in this house, a couple of times for a day or two and then came home on hospice
right before Thanksgiving 2017.
They thought she had six weeks to two months. She had
two weeks.
Writing remained the last thing on my mind.
I know everyone says 2020 with the pandemic was the
worst year ever. They have good reason to say that. It was no piece of cake
around here with Scott’s seizure and my major cancer/colon scare and some other stuff.
But, for me, there is no question that 2017 was absolutely the worst year ever.
It is not even close. I still grieve on a daily basis. Sandi is always on my
mind. I suspect this is how it will always be.
In the years since, about once a year, I have dusted
off the piece, worked on it, and sent it off. It always came back. I was fully
prepared and braced for it to be rejected again. I remain very shocked and
massively grateful that my first publication in at least seven years, if not
longer, has finally happened.
I have no idea if this means, as some folks have suggested,
I am back writing again. I have looked at my old stuff, at different times the
past couple of years, and they read to me like somebody else wrote them whether
they won awards or not. I am radially different now than I was and whatever
creative side I had seems to be gone. At this point, I am not sure that any of
this means anything other than a piece that carries the weight of the world, in
my mind, is out there in print.
If you are still here, and still reading, now you know
a little more about the background of the tale. If you are still interested, you
can read about my story and many others in the Mystery Weekly Magazine: May
2021 issue at their website.
The picture is of the four of us way back when where we were all in attendance a few days before Scott was graduating from Elementary School. It was an open house sort of deal one evening at the school so we walked over and hung out for a couple of hours. Scott's teacher, the absolutely wonderful Linda Ernheart, did the picture taking honors after making sure to hug Karl who she had also taught years earlier. I do not remember much more about the evening other than a good time was had by all.
If things had gone the way they should have, Sandi
would be sixty-one today and here with us. Life did not go the right way making
today one of those brutally hard days of the year.
It is three years ago today at 8:45 AM when everything changed. My world shattered and burned. Nothing has ever been right since.
Some reading opportunities of interest this week…. Fellow SMFS list member Mike McHone announced last week that his short story, The ...
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