January 11, 2009
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It's astounding - and a bit unnerving - how I can be having a dreary afternoon, then perk up some and have a pretty good evening, only to suddenly take note of the empty computer desk chair and be swamped again by Don's absence.
Up and down. Up and down. Sometimes it makes my stomach upset, i.e sort of an emotional motion sickness.
Late evening like this is often hard as I remember I need to go put the van in the garage. At least I thought of it at 11:15 p.m., which is earlier than I often do. Many times since Don's death I've had to throw a coat over my nightgown and go do it around midnight.
Every night about 10 p.m. Don would find me and ask "Do you need anything before I put the cars up?"
And that wasn't an idle offer. If he caught the slightest hesitation on my part he'd push a bit. "What? You need something. What is it?" Usually I'd assure him I'd fetch whatever it was at the store the next day, but every now and again I actually did need something, and bless his heart, he'd unhestitatingly and cheerfully head out into the night to get it for me. This normally didn't happen more than once or twice a year, but without fail he made the offer prior to putting the cars away for the day.
How many thousands of times over the years did I hear "Do you need anything before I put the cars up?"
Glory, but I miss him. He was a wonderful husband.
Comments (4)
What a sweet marriage. Sometimes it worries me when I think of Rich having the same thoughts you are having. Thinking of all the little loving habits we have with one another such as yours, well-- life would be a painful trial. Isn't it odd how the very sweetness of an excellent marriage can become the bitterest of pills?
In an odd way, you and the children will learn to make fun of those little foibles, too. "Now, if Dad were here, he'd say..." Our dad's been gone for nearly 30 years and we still say stuff like that, same with Hazel's Denny and our sisters...sometimes it brings tears, but more often these days it's laughter. They're GOOD memories and we were blessed to have those loved ones for the time we did. And, you can remember those things that really burned you up, too, and those will be funny! Honest! I've seen it happen with a lot of widows.
So savor all those memories. Keep writing about them for your grandchildren. They'll want to remember all of that kind of thing about Grandpa Don.
BTW, totally apropos of nothing, just typing "Grandpa Don" put this in my head. I've been wondering what Derek and his siblings will end up calling me - I think Faron has his name already. Bompa's too cute not to stick. But every time he calls me something it's something different. When Robin was small, she solved the dilemma of distinguishing her grandmothers by calling Denny's mom, who was short - less than 5 ft tall, "Little Gram." And therefore my mother, at a "towering" 5'4, was "Big Gram." And, with all of the chaos at my parents' house all the time, I'm sure everything about that place seemed big to a small child! I just wonder if I'll become "Big Gram" for entirely more deserving reasons!
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Beautifully put, Eleanor: "Isn't it odd how the very sweetness of an excellent marriage can become the bitterest of pills?"
And, in conjunction with that, you do have precious memories of an excellent marriage to an excellent man.
Thanks for sharing another wonderful memory of Don. What a really thoughtful and caring husband. Keep sharing your memories with us. Love, Jeanne
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