i wake up. it's an empty room. turn compulsively to the phone again. desperate for those empty shots of dopamine that amount to nothing.
i start another day of trying. i commit my life to God but all i feel is the devil.
i've lost count of how many times, in the last 2+ years, i've come up with a new plan to arrive at the new me. the me i deserve. the me to live my best life. i join the gym. i love it. i can't remember when i've felt so pumped up. this is the perfect track to my dream life.
but still the darkness, the silence settles back in all around me. the hunger that cannot be satiated. the yawning void inside me that screams out for more but that is never filled.
there was a time where the phone was not just a mindless device. it was actually an instrument for communication. the phone used to ring with calls from people, with whom they would enrich my life, i would enrich theirs. i still remember the miami nights filled with gaity. the air crackled with electricity. i felt so young, alive, sexy...
now the inescapable reality surrounds me every day. in which i get older and more untouchable.
i think back to looking at my husband lying there in the casket. other than people paid to be there only four came, including my son and i. would jim have cared? probably not. he never did.
a beautiful spray of roses graced the gleaming wooden coffin in which he lay. how much would even that have meant to him? he never had much use for things like that. jim was very very simple. not in mind of course, but in taste, in life. golf, fishing, karaoke, dancing for as long as he could. as best as he could figure, he was sick when we met, probably had been for some time. noticed something off with his golf game a few years earlier. but i still saw him sink a hole-in-one. send those golf balls on the driving range soaring. he'd still do the same thing even from the wheelchair. would stand up and assume the same terrific driving stance, then give that ball what for.
jim never lost that tremendous upper body strength. even after he was bed-bound. i'd scoot him over to the edge of the bed and tell him to grab on with his good arm. i could feel his wiry strength around my neck.
his strength didn't stop there. he was pure diesel inside. jim knew who he was and what he believed, and didn't care a whit if people looked down on him. it bothered me but never him. no matter how much i complained.
and the truth is, though i kind of loved to complain, i needed every bit of him. even through the sickness, even as parkinson's closed in down to the last seconds. i needed to do it all. it was just as much part of us as all the rest. and now i'm lost without it - everything i did for and with jim. because it meant he was still here, that our family was still the invincible trio who life had tried to body slam but we were still standing and kicking.
and here i am in this room while my son sits in his own. i kept jim's wheelchair. i got rid of pretty much everything else. how many times that chair still helps us - a way to haul groceries, laundry, just a comfortable seat...
i'm sick too. i don't know how much longer i have, just like none of us does (unless you're on death row, live in Washington where you can do Death with Dignity, or some other of those narrow exceptions). like i said, i've been trying to get back to that "best life" for 2+ years now. all those attempts have pretty much backfired. could i be fat for the rest of my life? will i ever run another marathon? will i ever taste size 4 again?
i don't know. something is broken inside me. was broken even before jim left. i think it would still be broken even jim were still here - though being without him certainly is no picnic. whatever's broken will have to be fixed. drugs, therapy even, i guess. i've tried dang near everything else so what else is there?
and the funeral bit. to me it was a terrible insult that only four unpaid people came to jim's funeral. makes me wonder if i was the reason why - if people stayed away because of their contempt or hatred of me. but it wasn't about me. it was a ritual to honor jim. a man-made, earthbound ritual. does God tell us to do it? I don't think so. jim went to Heaven. no doubt in my mind. so what purpose does a funeral serve? i guess mainly so that we can cry for ourselves. because certainly in jim's case, he had already received more glory than anything on earth could possibly give him. even if his funeral had been attended by thousands, millions, if we'd had to rent out the Staples Center.
still though it was an eye-opener to me. no matter how or when someone dies, a "proper send-off" seems to go without saying. i'd never known anyone where virtually no one came to their funeral. it was just a scary scene reserved for movies or books (a la Christmas Carol). Some places reinvent the funeral to the point it's a big party, like in New Orleans.
I think jim would have liked the party route. that's why i invited anyone to play or sing at his funeral. at least my dad did. he played three of jim's favorites - "Flowers on the Wall," "Ring of Fire," and "Good Directions." I brought the Alexa along so it could provide back up. Right there next to the casket. "Hey Alexa, do you know who's next to you right now?" yeah i don't mind that little crack - i can almost hear jim chuckling.
anyway. for me the earthly sun still rises and falls. day in and day out. the temperature is dropping. it'll be the first autumn for me and Carl in four years. well technically we ran back to florida just at the beginning of the 2015 autumn. so now i expect we'll see the fall in all its glory.
i imagine jim is having much more fun now - but i bet he'd like being here now too. going back to see the camden riversharks. the zoo - really loved it there. maybe even go catch an eagles game.
i can hear jim saying "sorry babe." that he can't physically do all that with us now. that he can't hold me now and wipe away my tears that have been falling all day.
i wish i wasn't giving him any reason to worry. i wish i could say emphatically - "no worries, i got this." but i can't say that. don't know when/if i will.
but i guess sometimes if something's broken the usual methods won't work. the methods that i had hoped. will it be broken forever? probably not because i've always found a way before, sooner or later. will this be the time that i don't? don't know. this is a world, after all, where only four unpaid people came to jim's funeral.
daylight fading out. what will tomorrow bring? will it be something i can use - like the game-changing port-a-potty in Castaway? or will it be something else so horrible it was previously unfathomable?
maybe you could whisper it to me jimmy.
i start another day of trying. i commit my life to God but all i feel is the devil.
i've lost count of how many times, in the last 2+ years, i've come up with a new plan to arrive at the new me. the me i deserve. the me to live my best life. i join the gym. i love it. i can't remember when i've felt so pumped up. this is the perfect track to my dream life.
but still the darkness, the silence settles back in all around me. the hunger that cannot be satiated. the yawning void inside me that screams out for more but that is never filled.
there was a time where the phone was not just a mindless device. it was actually an instrument for communication. the phone used to ring with calls from people, with whom they would enrich my life, i would enrich theirs. i still remember the miami nights filled with gaity. the air crackled with electricity. i felt so young, alive, sexy...
now the inescapable reality surrounds me every day. in which i get older and more untouchable.
i think back to looking at my husband lying there in the casket. other than people paid to be there only four came, including my son and i. would jim have cared? probably not. he never did.
a beautiful spray of roses graced the gleaming wooden coffin in which he lay. how much would even that have meant to him? he never had much use for things like that. jim was very very simple. not in mind of course, but in taste, in life. golf, fishing, karaoke, dancing for as long as he could. as best as he could figure, he was sick when we met, probably had been for some time. noticed something off with his golf game a few years earlier. but i still saw him sink a hole-in-one. send those golf balls on the driving range soaring. he'd still do the same thing even from the wheelchair. would stand up and assume the same terrific driving stance, then give that ball what for.jim never lost that tremendous upper body strength. even after he was bed-bound. i'd scoot him over to the edge of the bed and tell him to grab on with his good arm. i could feel his wiry strength around my neck.
his strength didn't stop there. he was pure diesel inside. jim knew who he was and what he believed, and didn't care a whit if people looked down on him. it bothered me but never him. no matter how much i complained.
and the truth is, though i kind of loved to complain, i needed every bit of him. even through the sickness, even as parkinson's closed in down to the last seconds. i needed to do it all. it was just as much part of us as all the rest. and now i'm lost without it - everything i did for and with jim. because it meant he was still here, that our family was still the invincible trio who life had tried to body slam but we were still standing and kicking.
and here i am in this room while my son sits in his own. i kept jim's wheelchair. i got rid of pretty much everything else. how many times that chair still helps us - a way to haul groceries, laundry, just a comfortable seat...
i'm sick too. i don't know how much longer i have, just like none of us does (unless you're on death row, live in Washington where you can do Death with Dignity, or some other of those narrow exceptions). like i said, i've been trying to get back to that "best life" for 2+ years now. all those attempts have pretty much backfired. could i be fat for the rest of my life? will i ever run another marathon? will i ever taste size 4 again?
i don't know. something is broken inside me. was broken even before jim left. i think it would still be broken even jim were still here - though being without him certainly is no picnic. whatever's broken will have to be fixed. drugs, therapy even, i guess. i've tried dang near everything else so what else is there?
and the funeral bit. to me it was a terrible insult that only four unpaid people came to jim's funeral. makes me wonder if i was the reason why - if people stayed away because of their contempt or hatred of me. but it wasn't about me. it was a ritual to honor jim. a man-made, earthbound ritual. does God tell us to do it? I don't think so. jim went to Heaven. no doubt in my mind. so what purpose does a funeral serve? i guess mainly so that we can cry for ourselves. because certainly in jim's case, he had already received more glory than anything on earth could possibly give him. even if his funeral had been attended by thousands, millions, if we'd had to rent out the Staples Center.
still though it was an eye-opener to me. no matter how or when someone dies, a "proper send-off" seems to go without saying. i'd never known anyone where virtually no one came to their funeral. it was just a scary scene reserved for movies or books (a la Christmas Carol). Some places reinvent the funeral to the point it's a big party, like in New Orleans.
I think jim would have liked the party route. that's why i invited anyone to play or sing at his funeral. at least my dad did. he played three of jim's favorites - "Flowers on the Wall," "Ring of Fire," and "Good Directions." I brought the Alexa along so it could provide back up. Right there next to the casket. "Hey Alexa, do you know who's next to you right now?" yeah i don't mind that little crack - i can almost hear jim chuckling.
anyway. for me the earthly sun still rises and falls. day in and day out. the temperature is dropping. it'll be the first autumn for me and Carl in four years. well technically we ran back to florida just at the beginning of the 2015 autumn. so now i expect we'll see the fall in all its glory.
i imagine jim is having much more fun now - but i bet he'd like being here now too. going back to see the camden riversharks. the zoo - really loved it there. maybe even go catch an eagles game.
i can hear jim saying "sorry babe." that he can't physically do all that with us now. that he can't hold me now and wipe away my tears that have been falling all day.
i wish i wasn't giving him any reason to worry. i wish i could say emphatically - "no worries, i got this." but i can't say that. don't know when/if i will.
but i guess sometimes if something's broken the usual methods won't work. the methods that i had hoped. will it be broken forever? probably not because i've always found a way before, sooner or later. will this be the time that i don't? don't know. this is a world, after all, where only four unpaid people came to jim's funeral.
daylight fading out. what will tomorrow bring? will it be something i can use - like the game-changing port-a-potty in Castaway? or will it be something else so horrible it was previously unfathomable?
maybe you could whisper it to me jimmy.
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