love and relationships

Normal Life


Normal for Rob and I on a weekend morning is lounging about in our robes, eating a leisurely breakfast, checking out what is going on in the world via our computers and sharing what we find and think with each other. Is that everyone else’s normal too? Probably not. I have long suspected that what the world calls normal and the way people actually live are two separate things. The first is a fantasy perpetrated on us by the self-appointed arbiters of life, and the second is the way things really are and are supposed to be.

There is much talk among the widowed about returning to what they regard as normal life. I guess I was never much of an enthusiast for the idea because my normal before Will died was anything but that, especially when I looked at what most people consider to be a normal life. Even before Will was in the hospice, and the nursing home before that, normal was skewed by his yet unknown to us by name illness. I really have no basis for what is normal married life or normal family life. My own family and upbringing may have been typical for the neighborhood I grew up in, but an alcoholic father makes for a pretty unpredictable family life, and as I grew my younger brother’s drug addiction just made that life more turbulent. Is it normal to lie awake until your little sisters fall asleep so you can push the bedroom dresser in front of the door because your brother threatened to kill everyone as they slept? I am thinking not. Probably not anymore normal than spending Sunday mornings spoon feeding Cream of Wheat to your nearly vegetative husband in a nursing home while your two year old looks on.

What is normal? Is it one of those eye of the beholder things? Or does it really even exist at all? Is it perhaps one of those middle class ideals they sell you through TV shows and movies? I am not too concerned about whether or not my life is normal these days. It is what it is. And mostly what it happens to be is pretty darn good. But it was no accident or lucky break because I don’t really believe in those things anymore. Life changed because I did and continue to do so. I chose not to wait for the day I was happy again and went looking for it. 

Today while my handsome husband is at work, I will tackle the household chores and rearrange furniture, in a likely vain attempt to make sense of the blending of stuff, and then take my daughter to her first day of kindercamp. Normal enough? I think so.

First Day of a Damn Long Time


It took four days to get here. Home. The inside of the house looks like one of those Oprah in need of intervention homes. Totes, boxes, furniture in need of assembly if only there was room enough for another piece of furniture, and somewhere in the chaos is my daughter, Rob , myself and Rob’s daughter, Jordan. There is a a transient feel to each room, and yet there is more permanence here than I have felt in any house, including the one I just left, then I have felt in years.

Rob needed to get to work early this morning, so I got up and joined him for breakfast. I could have slept in. He wanted me to because I haven’t gotten much rest in the last several weeks, but it was my first “normal” day with Rob and I didn’t want to miss even a second of it. Toast and tea. Who would have ever believed what a banquet that could be?

There is a re-coupled widower on WidowNet whose signature includes the names of both his late wife and his current wife. After his late wife’s name he has the date of her birth and her death listed but after his current wife’s name it lists her birth date and then where a date of death would be it says…..”better be a damn long time”. Rob cites that sometimes when he talks about the future which I find so interesting because he and Shelley were together for 27 years which is almost five times as long as Will and I were together, and still, it wasn’t long enough. Is there ever enough time to spend with the person you have chosen to love and cherish above all others? I don’t think so. Four days in a truck. Tea and Toast at 7AM. Moving and removing furniture. Talking about the girls. Making wedding plans and planning dinner. You need a damn long time for these things. Damn long.

Goodbye


Trusty Uhaul Truck

Image by Open Wheel via Flickr

The last tote was strapped to the topper of the Avalanche at about 7PM this evening. My best friend, Vicki, arrived with her youngest daughter and helped Rob and I load up the remaining items to be sold (or given away) into her van. The house was empty of everything but the few pieces of furniture that will go to my “niece” to furnish her new apartment next month. It was time to leave.

 

 

 

Time to say goodbye.

 

I went through the house alone. I had to close the garage door and leave the opener on the counter for the new owners. There were two openers. I think the other got packed. Next time we are hiring this packing crap done.

 

The last time the house was this empty was the day we moved in. Fours years ago in exactly two months from today. Four years ago. Katy was eleven months old. I was packing another house. Will was dying.

I can’t say that I will miss the house. I have said already it has few memories that one could call happy, and it was my prison for a long time. Still, it hurt to say goodbye. And it was silly really because like the hospice and the cemetery, Will was not there. I could hear him admonish me in a tone of voice that ranged somewhere between patience and exasperation, reminding me.

 

Outside and heading towards the truck and U-Haul with tears still streaming, Rob met me with an already sweat soggy shoulder and a strong, comforting embrace. Everything was still as it was a moment earlier and yet everything was all right as well.

 

Goodbye house. Goodbye Des Moines. But not goodbye to Will. After all, like Elvis, he had already left the building.