Tears

Tears ... I have to say they seem to flow rather easy these days. I've thought a lot about tears ... I even looked up the word "tear" in Webster's.com and I copied and pasted it below:

1: a drop of clear saline fluid secreted by the lacrimal gland and diffused between the eye and eyelids to moisten the parts and facilitate their motion

2: a transparent drop of fluid or hardened fluid matter (as resin)

3 plural: an act of weeping or grieving <broke into tears>

 

I have to say I don't think that Webster, whom I usually trust implicitly, has a clue as to how to define tears. Yes they are water, a clear saline fluid, but what I wanted to know is why when I'm sad, they flow like a water faucet. Why when we laugh uncontrollably, do we laugh until we cry? Why, when a baby is hungry do the tears flow? The three emotions are all different ... and I just wonder why Webster's didn't define it in a different way.

 

The three emotions are total opposite ends of the spectrum, grief and laughter. We all know that a baby's cry is its only way to communicate.

 

My ramblings are really just heading in the direction of the total loss of control over the tears that fall. Six months ago, I wasn't one who would cry easily, now I swear I can almost cry on demand. Sunday morning kissing little Lena (my grand dog) goodbye, I broke into tears. Turned around, my daughter's arms around me, and I cried even harder. The lonesomeness overwhelming me. I pulled myself together, went to Salem to church, listening to the praise band singing, the tears ran. Walking out of church, a friend hugging me, knowing I wasn't good, but asked anyway. Tears running! Listening to a Josh Groban song today, his music so peaceful and beautiful, the tears running.

 

I'm miffed at the tears ... I'm miffed that they flow so easily ... I'm miffed that I don't seem to be in control of them. And then I laugh!

 

Yes ... I laugh ... because that's just it. I am not in control.

 

"'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord. 'Plans to prosper you and not harm you, plans to give you a future and hope.'" Jeremiah 29:11

 

I have clung to those words from the Bible, I have said them almost daily as I find my way through this storm. I know that Jesus and his holy father, wept the day that time stood still. I have said those words as my kids ask me what I'm going to do. I have said those words to those who find me to be strong. I have played and sang the song written by Nancy Farndale, talented musician from Waldorf College, based on those words, and I have found solace in those words. I have spat out those words, in a frustrated, sad, angry conversation to God.

 

Now I know most of you know I'm a faith-filled woman, I am proud to be able to stand in the pulpit filling in for pastors now and again, and I do believe. I don't mean for this to be a sermon, but there are so many who wonder how I'm doing, how I am getting through, and I say I'm doing OK, and when they respond, "We're still praying for you, or thinking of you." I tell them that I can feel it ... that I can't imagine doing this on my own, without the strength of God lifting me up and carrying me through.

 

Tears ... they are far more than saline fluid ... they are emotion in liquid form. Whether it's a baby's tears because of hunger or need, a person's tears from laughing so hard, or the tears of grief that grips your heart and squeezes it hard ... tears can be summed up and described as emotion in its liquid form.

 

Until soon,

Vic

Sigh ...

Sigh ... a sigh can say so much, speak so loud ... without even using one single sylable, word, or phrase.

Four months ago today ... our lives turned upside down. We stopped breathing for what seems like a week. I lost my husband, friend, companion, hero, sweetheart, lifemate and love, and the father of my babies ... that feels like the greatest and hardest part of my loss ... not my, I guess I should say our loss. Looking back on those four months ... sighhhhhhh.

The days are getting shorter and the nights are getting longer ... the darkness of the house isn't something I like. I've changed the decor a little, I've thought about some new lamps or lights to make the house a bit brighter. The thought of winter is heavy on my heart and brain. Leave the house in the dark and come home to the dark. I would frequently arrive home to the garage open, the snow shoveled, and something started for dinner. In the mornings, if there was a snow the night before, there was always a path to the garage for me. The thought of a winter without Doug is hard to imagine ... Sigh ...

In four months I've watched my babies (all of whom are over 21) grieve the loss of their father, daddy, friend, coach, handyman, joketeller, and go-to-guy. There's no replacing their daddy, how do I tell them that it will be ok. How does Brandon plan and celebrate one of the most joyous days of his life? Who does April call when her Hawkeyes have had a great game? Who does Nolan chat with about his beloved Twins? When the kids arrive home, looking for a beer and a campfire, there's an important guy missing. When Brandon is ready to build his fence or back deck, there's an important guy missing. When I arrive at the kid's houses ... I feel like I'm in a missing man formation, and it takes my breath away. Watching the three people that I love more than life itself hurt so much, knowing their hearts are broken, knowing that some days it's hard to just take a breath, knowing there's a lifetime of memories that he will not be a part of ... Sigh ...

In four months I've had some good days ... I've had ups and downs. I've sat in the car on a beautiful Saturday morning in KC, listening to the radio and burst into tears. I've sat at a few wedding receptions and as the father of the bride or groom stands and talks, I've barely been able to breathe. I've driven lots and lots and lots of miles alone ... and it's been ok ... but I have thought about what if I have car trouble. I've taken down gutters and rehung them ... wooohoooo! I've gotten little Sigma (the cat) to like me. I've had some good days and some bad days ... sigh ...

Today, as I putzed around the house ... I was visiting with Deb and it dawned on me that today is the 4 month mark, I had counted 16 weeks. I was sad for a split second, because I've been counting days, then weeks, then months, and today was a good day and for a bit I wasn't "grieving". But for the other half of that split second, I was proud to have stopped counting the days that he's been gone and I've thought a lot about the memories of a lifetime with Doug:

• Orlando - our family vacation that Brandon and April took us all on
• Fishing trips - and his patience with all of us
• Football games - as I walked into a JV game a few weeks ago ... I thought of how he loved checking out "the guys" each year
• Bonfires - He was the life of the party ... "It's A Miracle" and "Edzachary"
• The leaves - he'd have already gotten the mower ready and sucked up the few leaves we have on the ground ... always busy.
• Driving on trips - I was far better at sleeping as my "chauffer" drove
• Quiet evenings watching tv - we rarely ever argued about what was on tv ... we just watched what the person who was in the room was watching ... yes, even Hallmark.
• Fishing - his ice stands and the memories he must have with his friends and how excited he was about creathing The Ice Stand
• Projects - Every corner of the house has a project that Doug built, invented, or was in the process of finishing

The pictures show just a few of the memories ...

• Doug in a boat
• Doug hanging Christmas lights - look close at what those lights are hanging from
• I wanted luminaries, so he cut milk jugs for me. We used them on Christmas Eve. We lined the path for our newly engaged son and his love.
• The bean bag set he made for the Zobel Reunion.

Fishing ... I could fill the page with pictures ... but the picture of him and Dave ... one of his favorite afternoons in the past few years.

Four months ... and I'm doing ok. I haven't done a very good job of remembering that others are grieving too. This man that I met when I was fifteen years old touched the lives of so many people. People who miss him, people who grieve, people who have memories of one amazing man. And their grief, their memories, they all help to heal, for it reminds me of the life of a wonderful friend, neighbor, work friend, cousin, brother, brother-in-law, inventor, father, and husband. Today it's been four short months ... our world hasn't righted, but it is at least still on it's access. We were so damn lucky to have had him for each and every moment we did. We must remember those moments, cherish them and relive them. For he helped to mold and shape each of us, in one way or another.

Love you Douglas ... and I miss you more than my meager words can convey. I heard the cardinal today, and I know that you are there, watching over each of us. You left far too soon ... but I know that you are soaring, and our tears are your tears as you watch from above.

With deep love and a heavy sigh ...

vic