The Last Best Thanksgiving

I am remembering Robo’s last Thanksgving, our last Thanksgiving together. I recently spoke to a friend who is going through a rough patch with a dying relative. She told me, I keep thinking of things in terms of “last” as in last birthday, last Thanksgiving, last Christmas, etc. I told her not to thinnk of them as the last, but the best or the most cherished. And that is what Thanksgiving 2011 is to me, and always will be. Thanksgiving was always Roberto’s favorite holiday, for reasons you can imagine: Food and football, a license to pig out and overdose on sports on TV? It doesn’t get better than that if you are a guy! The menu was fairly simple. We were hooked on Giada DeLaurentiis and her cooking shows, so a lot of the dishes were Giada-inspired. For starters, I made a berry strada. Followed by tomato and green bean casserole. I also made cornbread with creamed corn and jalapeno peppers, rich and creamy. I had found a fresh turkey breast at the grocer and roasted that on my own (later I would come to rely on precooked turkey from Pappas and Honey Baked Ham Co.). Dessert was the …

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Tears

Anyone who knows me well knows that I cry at the drop of a hat. My favorite uncle told me when I was just a little girl that the world would be an unhappy place for someone who wore their heart on their sleeve. He was right, I guess.

There are all kind of tears, cried for all kinds of reasons. There have been times I’ve laughed so hard that I’ve cried. I cry when I hear a sad song or see a sad movie. When I see or read something that kills my soul, like animal abuse and other inhumanities that humans visit on themselves and other creatures. I cry when I am frustrated with something or if something disappoints me (read: If I don’t get my way about something I’ve counted on).

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I Will Remember…

How Robert waited until he heard me stirring in the morning to ask what’s for breakfast … our favorite meal of the day. How he thoughtfully brought me an ice cold Big Red to drink in the car when I got out of the hospital after my surgery in 1991. How he spent the next three weeks doing just about everything for me (that I would let him, fiercely independent as I was and still am). How he walked three miles in the pouring rain in shin deep water in 1996 to rescue me and my flooded out 300ZX. How he decided it was time for me, at the ripe old age of 35, to finally see the ocean, even if it meant I’d bitch about the heat and the sand in my shoes. How he snuck around and saved to buy me an art print he saw me admiring and even had it custom framed for me for my birthday one year. (I still have that print; it’s hanging over the mantle). How he always liked to sing in the shower. How he left a mess of soapy puddles and soggy towels after every bath. How handsome he looked …

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Discoveries

Since I’ve been recuperating from my foot infection, there isn’t a lot I can do around the house right now besides hobble back and forth from the kitchen to the bedroom or living room. I was able to sit down and sift through some of Roberto’s things. It’s something every widow must do eventually, and depending on circumstances, sooner rather than later. Maybe you’ve got to locate deeds, wills, insurance policies and other documents. We led a simple life so that wasn’t the purpose of my quest. Actually, I was just clearing a table off and ran across a mini Day-Timer diary that I had bought for him to take with him to the hospital. So he could make notes, write down information, etc. Robert did use the book as somewhat of a diary, as evidenced by this very touching entry back in March 2011: 3-13 moved from ICU to room 2037 some time today. Wife came for xtended stay. Love watching her do her computer thing. She slept 4.5 hours. I cried when I read that. For several reasons. First, because he expressed real eagerness to get out of the ICU to a regular room. And second of all, …

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Cry Me a River

I just had a very cathartic cry, upstairs in my office. I put on the saddest song I know (“Shattered” by Trading Yesterday), and just let the tears flow, taking with them all the pain, anguish, uncertainty, confusion, sorrow, and every negative thing I had in me. I mean it was a real snot-fest, with huge racking sobs that probably startled the cat. (In fact she’s still keeping a watchful eye on me from her chair across the room.) And when I was done, I washed my face and poured myself a nice glass of Diet Dr Pepper. I feel much better now. The decks have been cleared and I can focus once more. Like a thunderstorm clears the air and waters the grass, so too do tears have healing properties. As reason clouds my eyes // with splendor fading // Illusions of the sunlight // And the reflection of a lie will keep me waiting // Love gone for so long…

He-Motion

Something just hit me today as I was angrily storming from the bathroom to my bedroom, in a hurry to get dressed for work. I was in danger of being late (again) because at the last minute, Robert needed care that meant I had to drop everything I was doing. The thing that hit me was that I have forgotten how to be in love. I love Robert, don’t get me wrong. He’s been in my life since I was 22. But the time seems to have long since past that I feel in love. I suppose this happens to everyone in a long-term relationship, doesn’t it? The thing that caused me to even think of it was that I’d written an email to a friend who had recently fallen in love. I told this friend to “remember what it feels like to be in love. It can hit you like a sack of rocks and take your breath away.” And it dawned on me today that I haven’t felt that way for a very long time. And maybe I should. Perhaps it will give me a new perspective on things.