The Day I Met Jeff

Ten years ago, on May 31st I met Jeff.  It was a Saturday that made me feel like staying inside.  All cocooned on the couch with a book and a blanket and the cat.  As the day progressed I got to feeling more and more like skipping the dinner I had scheduled that night.  Yet, something propelled me out of my lethargy and I got up off the couch and got dressed to go out.  I drove into DC and the skies opened up.  You know the kind of rain that reminds you that you should  have just stayed home?  Yup.  A rain storm that drizzles, then pours, then drizzles, then pours.  Great.  To top it off, I got lost.  I blame it on the rain.  But really, I didn't go into Georgetown all that often and sure enough I got lost.  I almost bagged the evening.  It felt like the fates were telling me something and that something was to stay on my couch.  However, I pulled over and pulled out my map of DC and found where I needed to go.

I still managed to be one of the first to arrive at the dinner at the Sea Catch in Georgetown.  Jeff arrived shortly after.  We were in a group of 8 people, strangers really, who had signed up to "meet up" for dinner.  The group is called Dinner At 8 and I'd been doing it for about a year.  That and Single Volunteers.  Something to get out of the house and meet people.  I remember talking to Jeff at the bar over a drink but not much else.  I do remember that he made sure to sit next to me at the dinner table and that we talked a great deal.  I knew he went to school in Florida, that he had seen several space shuttle launches and that he owned his own company.  Other than that, I can't tell you what we talked about. 

But I had a good feeling.  I gave him my email address and as I drove home I remember thinking that "I'd just met the man I would marry."  Corny, but true.

Monday morning I had an email from Jeff asking me out for the next weekend and giving me his phone number. 

Our first phone call was awkward.  I thought it was just me, but as I learned later on -- Jeff was really just hard to understand on his cell phone.  If you never called him on it, you wouldn't understand.  He was perfectly auditory in person, but something happened on the phone and he was near impossible to understand.  Years later, even after I had become an expert in Jeff-phone-speak, there would still be times he'd get frustrated because I had no clue what he was trying to tell me.

We set a date for the following Saturday - and that is an even better story...

I can't tell you much of what we talked about and I couldn't even really recall what Jeff looked like after a few hours at dinner.  But I remember the feeling.  The feeling that I almost missed something special... if I'd stayed home.

Sincerely,

Jeff's Wife

Rolling Thunder

I really don't have to try hard to find reminders of Jeff.  I only need to look at my boys... but there is something about Memorial Day and all the motorcycles.

Jeff loved motorcycles and he was very smart about his hobby, as were his parents.  Jeff wasn't allowed to have a "street bike" until after college.  As long as he was on his parent's dime: no bike.  But it didn't take long for him to buy his first bike after college  The Virago (above).  He joined various motorcycle riding clubs and generally had a great time.

Years later, and this is one of my favorite stories, Jeff bought the Harley.  As the story goes: Jeff had been talking for years about wanting a Harley Davidson motorcycle and finally one day his father said to him "You better go out and buy the bike before you meet a woman who won't let you have one."  Jeff bought his 2003 Heritage Softtail Classic in gunmetal pearl less that 3 weeks before we met.

Not that I would have prevented him from buying the Harley, but I just love that quote from his dad.  Jeff rode in Rolling Thunder on Memorial weekend for a number of years with the Virago and the Harley and when he didn't ride in it we would go down to the Pentagon and wander around looking at motorcycles and then staying to hear the thunder start up and honestly, it is louder than thunder, more like space shuttle launch loud.

A year and a half before he died, Jeff sold the Harley.  He started considering it after J1 was born and I refused to let him do it.  I did not want to be the wife that "made him sell his motorcycle".  It wasn't hard to convince him to keep it, but eventually he really was ready to let it go.  He wanted a bike that fit his current life and that included his kids.  He sold the Harley and bought a dirt bike to ride around in the swamp behind our house.  His plan was to use the extra money to buy the boys their own motorcycles and ride together.  Once I understood his plan, I agreed to him selling the Harley.

I'm glad he did.  I never would have been able to sell that bike after his death. 

When I think of Jeff and his motorcycle I think of the Harley.  I went for my first motorcycle ride on the Harley.  I went to Rolling Thunder for the first time on the Harley.  We have a picture of J1, fresh from the hospital, on the Harley. 

So, seeing all the motorcycles this weekend brings up all those memories of the bike and the times we spent with it.  My first thought was that maybe I should head out of town next year.  But then I got to thinking that was the opposite of what Jeff would want and so I've promised myself that next year I am taking the boys to Rolling Thunder.

It's OK.  No one will notice me crying over all that noise.

Sincerely,

Jeff's Wife

Why Didn't We Bury Daddy?

Out of the blue, my 6 year old ask that question.  Well, maybe it wasn't so out of the blue.  Thank you but no thank you Disney... it seems like the majority of movies we have seen, a parent has died.  I was horrified a few months after Jeff died, when I discovered that the movie Barnyard had a parental death half way through the movie.  I had not seen the movie and did not know about the death until the boys had seen the entire thing.  Lucky for me, they didn't seem to dwell on it the way I did.  But the movie did not return to our line-up.  Last Friday, we were watching a new movie and yet again, the father had died (why do I not know these things?).  So I can see where J1 got to thinking about his father.

So he asks me:

Why didn't we bury Daddy?

And I get back to the difficult spot of how much to explain and how much is too much to know. 

I had Jeff cremated.  It is what he and I both wanted.  But I never expected to have to try to explain cremation to a 6 year old.  I told him that they made Daddy very small so that he would fit into the urn. 

How? 

I was stuck.  I try not to lie about the big stuff so I was honest.  I told him that they burned his body to ashes.  But that Daddy didn't feel anything because it was just his body, his soul was already in Heaven with Jesus.

But that doesn't answer why didn't we bury Jeff.  I know I wrote about this before.  I've been thinking of a tree in an ecoternity forest.  I just didn't know how to broach that with the kids.  So, here I dove in.  And I told J1 about the forest and the trees and burying Daddy under the trees.  Did he like the idea? 

Yes.

Will he help me pick out a tree?

Yes.

So now I have a day-trip to make this summer.  Where I take the boys to a forest and pick out a tree for Jeff.  It is something I had planned to do.  It is something I've been avoiding.  But that is the interesting thing about kids.  They can move you forward when you least expect it.

I will make plans to bury Daddy and I am left to wonder what the next question will be...

Sincerely,

Jeff's Wife

The Meltdown

I cried for two hours last night and it shows today: puffy eyes and black bags under my eyes.

The last week has brought a small amount of drama every day and each event just added more stress.  Nothing was major, but as it continued to pile up it finally became to much.  So there I was: settling down to read my youngest his bedtime story and I started to cry.  I cried the entire way through Green Eggs and Ham, I cried and snivelled as J2 was trying to lay down and go to sleep.  I cried as I went to put J1 to bed, I cried all through Flat Stanely in Space.  I just couldn't stop. I was having a meltdown.

I told them I missed Daddy.  I told them Mommy was sad.  I told them it's OK for Mommy to cry. 

I lied.

Oh, I miss Jeff and I was sad and it is OK for my to cry.  But that wasn't even a tenth of the story.  I was tired.  Tired of the drama.  Tired of being alone.  Tired of dissapointments and complications.  I was tired of making things more difficult for myself.  I was tired of being me.

And this just sounds self-serving: but I was missing Jeff because I miss how Jeff's presence made me a better person.

My dad said once that he sat up and took notice of Jeff after I'd failed to "rip his face off".  That was when my dad knew there was a serious contender in my life.  He was right.  Jeff somehow had a calming influence on me.  I can't explain it.  He managed to wear away the rough edges and quiet the storm before I managed to explode.  Anyone else could try it and I would just wind up, but Jeff could wind me down.  Somehow managing to deflect my worst traits and reflect my best ones.

I miss that influence.  I need that influence.  I sometimes don't feel like a nice person.  I often don't like what I do or who I am.  I work hard at trying to project a better image but frankly it isn't my first impulse.  If left to my own devices I would think of myself and my agenda first.

I never knew Jeff to put himself first.  Jeff always thought and did for others before he would do something for himself.  He was also very tolerant.  Small things that make most of us explode in customer service situations or restraunts he would shrug off and say "they are doing the best they can."  I can't think of a time where he complained to a manager.  It just didn't matter to him.

I had a meltdown because I could really use some Jeff advice.  Advice only he could give in a manner that I can accept.  But that's gone and I'm left to navigate a world where people make me mad.  And I make things worse because I can't filter my response through Jeff.

I miss Jeff.  I miss who I was when I was with Jeff.

Sincerely,

Jeff's Wife

Graduates

This is a big week:  J1 and I are graduating from our private grief counseling.  This does not mean we are done grieving, only that we have the toolbox to go it on our own, for now.

I am a huge supporter of therapy, having spent various years in therapy myself, I find that therapy has it's role in times of change.  I received a lot of advice after Jeff died and a common one I received was to seek therapy.  I had no problems with that.  The problem came in finding the right fit.

I hear from some folks that therapy didn't work for them so they quit and didn't go back and my thought is "you just didn't have the right person."  Just like jeans: therapists don't fit the same.  You can try one out and have it not work.  It doesn't mean that therapy doesn't work, just that person.  Every person you meet does not become your friend, the same really can be said for every therapist.

I did OK, but it took three tries before I found the right person for the boys.  The first person I tried didn't give J2, who was 3 at the time, a second thought.  Sorry, but I wanted therapy for both kids.  I know he's young but he had a major change in his life.  She also didn't mesh well with J1.  I gave it two chances with J1 and then called it quits.  I liked the second therapist.  However, again, J2 was left out of the mix and after about 6 weeks J1 still wasn't talking.  I had to dig down deeper and expand my parameters (namely how far I was willing to drive).  And I ended up with the perfect fit.  A wonderful woman who worked with both J1 and J2. 

J2 graduated out of therapy after 6 months and I was happy with his progress.  This week is J1's last after 11 months of therapy.  His anger has dissipated and he has begun to talk about Jeff again.  All things I take as good signs that he is working on his grief. 

I fully expect that they will be back.  As both boys age, different life events and cognitive advances will cause them both to re-visit their father's death.  This can or will most likely require another trip to a therapist.  It is my job to look for the signs that they might need a little more help and then provide it for them. 

A friend who lost her husband shared this quote with me:

"You never get over it, but eventually you do become accustomed to it."

I am not quite there yet. 

There is a part of me that grieves for each day Jeff has missed of his children's lives.  I am not accustomed to the empty half of the closet, the empty half of the bed, the second sink in the bathroom that never gets used.  But I do have my routine: I keep the house running and the children fed.  I may not like it, but I have become accustomed to life as a single mother.

There is no graduation party, no balloons, no cake, no diploma.  But we are all therapy graduates now.

Sincerely,

Jeff's Wife

Mother's Day

Mother's Day was not a difficult holiday for me, not in the same manner that I fear Father's Day, but I did some thinking about others.  My friends who have lost their mothers.  Women I have met through the SUDEP community who have lost their children and of course my Mother-In-Law C.

When I think of Jeff's mother my heart breaks.  I look at my boys and I cannot bear to think of their loss, not now, not in 40 years.  A mother should have a time of peace to enjoy the life their children are living.  You make it through certain milestones of a child's life and you should be free and clear of worry.  They are past the age of SIDS, they survived the teen years and driving, college is done (and the drinking!).  Your boy becomes a man and he gets a good job, buys a house, meets a women you can actually stand, and he marries her.  Then the grandkids arrive.  Yes, he has a motorcycle, but he's careful.  He never rides in the rain, he rarely uses it to commute, and he wears a full face helmet and full leathers.  He is a cautious man with no health issues.  He should be safe.  You just don't expect your child to die in his sleep at 42. 

I couldn't bear it so I don't know how she does.  I don't care that he was an adult, C carried him for 9 months, birthed him, nursed him, raised him, she was Jeff's mother. 

When I think of C, I think of the sacrifices she made for Jeff's education.  When Jeff was young he had a learning problem.  His mother did not accept the school system's assessment of Jeff's potential and she removed him from school.  She homeschooled him for a year and in the process inacted a very strict regimine regarding food (no sugar, no additives), water (limited), exercise (ran 6 miles a day), patterning (crawling, monkey bars), hearing, vision, math, and reading.  I still don't have a grasp on everything she did.  She lived and breathed Jeff's education for over a year.  She became in essence a self-trained occupational therapist before there even was a term for it.

I am amazed by her sacrifice.  She gave up her job, she changed her family, she focused on Jeff's education and it worked. 

I asked myself what I would want my future daughters-in-law to think of me.  And if they can have a fraction of the respect for me that I hold for  my mother-in-law I will be OK.  If they can see the effort I put into their education and the sacrifices I made in raising them, I will be OK. 

In essence, I want to be a good mother-in-law when I grow up.  I'm glad I have such a good role model to pattern myself by.

Happy Mother's Day C.  I miss your son. 

Sincerely,

Jeff's Wife

The Watch

Years ago, Jeff bought me a watch and I wore it non-stop up until I had J1, then I stopped wearing jewelry.  I have really only worn my wedding ring for the past 6 years.  I took off the engagement ring after I scratched the baby changing his diaper.  The earrings came off because they were too tempting for chubby fingers, the same with my necklaces.  I was home a lot with the baby so what did I need a watch for?  Was it time to feed the baby? Was it time to change the baby?  Was it time for the baby to sleep?You don't need a watch for that.

Recently, I got the watch out to wear and of course the battery was dead.  I took it to my local jeweler, who spent 10 minutes on it and came out shaking his head.  It was more than just the battery and as he put it, it might not be worth the repair. 

I only had to look up and say "My husband gave it to me."  And the jeweler, gently patted my hand and said "Then I'll fix it" and he wrote up a ticket for the repair. 
 

It will probably cost me more to have the watch repaired than Jeff paid for it.  But that's OK, that isn't where the value lies.  The value is in all the memories of all the years I wore the watch.  The early years with Jeff.

I'm looking forward to getting the watch back.

Sincerely,

Jeff's Wife

I Bought Myself Flowers

It is my wedding anniversary today and I bought myself flowers.  It is painful not to mark a special day but it is sad to buy myself a gift "from Jeff".

I know I wasn't celebrating my birthday, but there was no present from Jeff (no card from his secret stash) and there was nothing from the kids.  They are little.  I don't blame them.  But it is something Jeff had done previously for Christmas, birthdays, and Mother's day.  He would have taken them out to Walmart or someplace equally fancy and had them pick out a gift for me.  It was surprisingly painful for that to be missing this year.

Jeff had himself figured out.  He knew he'd forget important events so he set up calendar reminders for birthdays, anniversaries, even random events like the day he proposed or the day we bought our house.  He even signed up for the FTD florist website to remind him to order flowers for important dates (I know this because he still gets emails from them).  He also knew that commercial holidays would elude him.  Valentine's Day, Mother's Day, arborists day (well, maybe not the last one).  So, Jeff... being Jeff kept a secret stash of cards in the garage.  Only, it wasn't much of a secret, as I have said before, he wasn't great on keeping secrets.  Jeff had birthday cards, Easter cards, Mother's day cards out in the garage.  If his computer reminders didn't work, he could run out to the garage and whip out a card for the holiday and be covered.  It was obvious to me what was going on, but that's OK.  It was Jeff and he was trying so hard to live up to expectations I couldn't quibble about how he was doing it. 

There are no more cards from Jeff.  Last fall as my family and friends helped me clean out the garage we found Jeff's secret stash.  I have the Hallmark bag with the last few cards in it, the last cards he will never sign.

I decided I didn't want my wedding anniversary to suffer the same fate as my birthday.  So I bought myself flowers.  It's sad.  The flowers make me sad.  But what about this day wouldn't? 

Mother's Day is coming up.  Last year, I let all these things pass by without a thought.  I didn't do anything for others and I didn't expect anything in return.  I was in a fog and I just didn't care about "significant" dates.  But this year I do.  I am making an effort. 

I want to remember my wedding with a smile and not tears.  I'm not there yet, but I hope one day I will be.

Sincerely,

Jeff's Wife

The Pocket

This weekend I wore a jacket I hadn't had on since November 18, 2005.  I know this because there was a movie ticket stub in the pocket for Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.  In the other pocket were about 12 Gin Gin candies, hard ginger candy to help control morning sickness.

And an entire flood of memories smacked me in the face.  That night, of 2005 as we stood in the freezing cold outside the Uptown Theater waiting to see Harry Potter, Jeff told his closest friends that he was about to become a father.

Jeff was not good at keeping secrets in his personal life.  I always found it odd that he was able to keep his work-life secrets.  Maybe it was the fact no one would understand what he was up to anyway.  But when it came to presents, impending babies, and wedding rings.  Jeff couldn't keep a secret.  It had pretty much killed him to wait one month to tell his friends but there were other reasons it wasn't a good time to spread the news.

I wonder how many other little time capsule bombs there are in my house.  A random pocket here or there, or a drawer that contains some nugget that facilitates memories of my life with Jeff.  And it isn't a frightening thought.

I was proud of my reaction to this find.  Four to six months ago I would have cried and the rest of my evening would have been ruined.  But this night, after my discovery, I put the items back into my pocket.  Smiled through the memories and kept on going with my family. 

Don't get me wrong, it is always sad to make a find.  To think about the life I had with Jeff and the life I don't have now.  But I have found that after the initial shock of the discovery my level of sad is sometimes not as great as it once was.  And I'm OK with that.  In the course of a conversation with my grief therapist I said "I don't have to wallow in my grief to prove that I loved Jeff."   And I truly believe it.  I grieve, I'm sad, but I am finding that I can eek out some level of happiness even when confronted with something tangible to my loss.

It's progress, it's just time, it's an accumulation of everything I have done to accept my loss and therefore I have to embrace it.  I may not be ready to go turning out the pockets of other jackets but I'm OK with what I found in this one.

Sincerely,

Jeff's Wife