The hardest part for me was when his casket was at the bottom of the hole, before any dirt was thrown over. It was just so far down, his body unreachable. So final. A bit later I climbed to the top of the little hill in the new cemetary, listened to the stream to the west, noticed there were green fields visible through the trees to the north and south, and then looked up at the sunlight and when I felt the warm rays upon my face the words quickly came "Oh, David! " I felt him there in the rays of light.
Later at a friends house it happened again. I had been inside talking, and when I stepped out in the sunshine, sat down in a chair and curled my body in it for comfort, then raised my face to the sun, again it came "Oh, David! You're the sun." That seemed right to me, David was such a source of light, healing and nourishment for me, and for so many others. Right that he would be the sun now, available most of every day to all of us.
That night when I was washing up before bed, I saw the three rings on my finger and knew to take them off. It was time. I'm not married anymore. I'm a widow. My husband is dead. My finger feels empty, unfamilar, like my house and my life.
The next two days I mostly felt relieved. This has been such a long journey of illness and health and illness and health and illness. And I've just been around for 2 1/2 years of it! I can't imagine the stamina it took for David, and all his family and friends, to do this for 7 1/2 years. I've been grieving the loss of him since October of 2008, when I witnessed his illness taking over, and spent 5 months traveling to Illinois with him for Chemotherapy and finally in February his third stem cell transplant. It was brutal, the whole thing. I'm happy it bought him some more time for loving and dancing and seeing his children grow, and seeing my child grow, and helping me be the best mom I could be and teaching me how to love and trust and be husband and wife. I waited my whole life to learn these things, and David was totally available to teach them to me. He valued marriage so much, and honest communication, and safety, and showing up. He worked so hard at it, with himself and with me. He is the only man I have ever known who would move closer when things were hard between us. Like a miracle it was, loving him.
Meanwhile the cancer and cancer treatment were brutal. The idea was to take him as close to death as possible without actually killing him, and then to bring him back to life with the new cells. It worked, but I cried so much during that time, just cried and cried whenever I was out of his room. I also ate sugar in the cafeteria, trying to not feel. It's a good thing they didn't sell alcohol because I probably would have gone for that instead. Anything not to feel.
Not feeling is kind of what's going on now. I had a clear job the past 6 weeks, care for David, make sure he had what he needed, make sure there was always someone here with him, keep the household running, care for Cameron, do a little self-care for me. Now I wander around the house, feeling empty and confused. The first days I was so tired, but couldn't really sleep. I've been so exhausted and I know my brain has not been working fully. Yesterday I went to yoga for the first time in months and found that I was scared. I have been neglecting my body, and didn't know if I could count on it to be strong when I needed it to. But it was ok, and I think I need to be stretched in unfamiliar directions to unstick what is stuck here. Then I had an accupuncture treatment here at the house. Cameron had stayed home from school sick, grief doing it's job on his lungs now too, so he was treated as well.
When I had my first treatment earlier this summer, Elizabeth explained that sometimes long standing depression goes away after a few months, in addition to improvements in whatever other condition is being treated. That sounded good to me as I have experienced depression at times in my life, and certainly felt overwhelmed and sad about the emminent loss of David. And I have noticed things getting more stable in me. This day, she said my pulses were all there, but very weak, except for heart protection, which was very strong. Her aim was to spread the life force around. I mostly dozed while she worked, and when she left I stayed on the table and slept for more than an hour. When I awoke, I was so relaxed I could hardly hold myself up for hours! Amazing letting down of defenses, opening of availability to be here again.
Today I just felt lost. Cameron wanted me with him almost constantly, and I tired of it. Few people called, one stopped by, and I felt lonely. The house is a wreck, reminders of David everywhere, chaos. I did a lot of dishes, cooked some comfort foods, and snuggled with Cameron.
Some progress in form happened as well. Things are coming together for the service. The sweet many who photographed our wedding came by and we found a photo for the obituary and also made a plan for slideshows on computers at the reception.
Speaking of the obituary, if you know of something significant that you think should be included in the obit, please email it to me by Monday morning at tarademere@gmail.com.
And thanks to the folks who have emailed info about beds available for the weekend of 20/21. Any of you who are coming and need a place to stay, please let me know as there are people in our community who will welcome you.
I also learned how to move emailed photos onto the blog, so next will be a compilation of three camera's worth of documentation of the burial. Hope it gives you a sense of the magesty of it all. Again, I have the sense David is so pleased about how we are honoring him.
love, Tara
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