When it fits

There's a lot to be said for underwear that fits.

It makes for a miserable day when it does not. And it can go wrong in so many ways. Too tight - around the waist or the legs. I hate the too-tight legs the most. That tender bitten flesh will scream at me all day long. Too loose - wanders around down there all day long. Who can concentrate when their underwear is on the move? It's a fine fine line that too-tight too-loose one. And that line is permanently etched into my poor 'leg-meets-the-torso' area.

And who designs this stuff? I have a sizable asset and it's tough to find underwear that accomodates that - too low, too shallow, not enough rise, leg holes not equal to girth. So much to consider in underwear design. Who knew? My asset - that's who.

Today was a miserable underwear day. It's in the trash already. So there. If it was up to me I wouldn't even wear the stuff. But who's gonna know. Really. Hmmmmm.

Junk Food Joy

I'm not really sure how much joy is involved with junk food.

There's the intital "I'm gonna get these _______. I haven't had them in so long!" joy when you run across a particular item you really really like. No love - you really really love them. Or you did when you were 12.

There's the taking it out of the bag at home joy. Do I tear into now or save it for later?

There the opening the package joy. How many do I get? Start with 3 and come back for more or just go ahead and get 6. Or 8.

There's that first wonderful tongue-thrilling taste joy. Oh my gosh. So good. Just like I thought it would be. Yes.

Then comes the regret.

I shoulda only got 3 after all. Now I'm stuffed.

I am so damn fat. And uncomfortable. Was it worth adding to that?

Then the reflux when I go to bed. Not so tasty now, huh?

So...does the joy outweigh (pun intended) the regret?

Well, does it punk?

Yep. Yep it does. Today anyway. I'm gonna go drink my Grapico.

Grief is tiring

and a very individual thing. Writing it out helped even tho not another person read it but me. Help is help.

Callie says the dates don't mean as much to her as his glaring absence when she instinctively wants to share something with him or is reminded of him. Those 5 days loom for me every year. For a while, I thought I would never get the picture of what he looked like in ICU out of my head. That's why I won't watch stupid doctor shows on TV anymore - patients don't look like that - they look horrid. Swollen or gaunt, red or pale, tubes and oozes and funny smells and they are unrecognizable. Nightmarish even.

Yes, those days loom. But they're over this year so on we go. And now I remember beautiful strong fishing Johnny. The best is yet to come!

Joy in the Nightmare

I call this a joy buffet and I haven't served a bit of joy the last 4 or 5 days. But it is a story that I need to share and he is a man that should be remembered. So in this whole horrid week, there was one bright spot, one moment in all of it that was shining and bearable. So let me offer this bit of joy....

We had to go shopping for funeral clothes. Do you know how hard it is to shop when you're numb, in shock, can't make eye contact, and your brain is screaming nonstop, "JOHNNY IS DEAD, JOHNNY IS DEAD!!!" It's hard. We had to have something to wear to the funeral and something to wear that night at the visitation.

Ah, visitation. I only know the Southern way, but there's a lot of love, laughter, hugging, crying, talking, remembering, JOY at a southern funeral visitation. Of course, it's more enjoyable if you are the one doing the visiting as opposed to the one being visited and I spent all day long dreading it. I craved quiet and solitude. My brain was screaming at me. I could barely make eye contact - how in the hell was I going to greet visitors?

So we dressed in our new funeral clothes and we had to go early so we could see Johnny. We had a private hour before the visitation began. And he did not look like himself but he looked good - you know? And we cried and touched his rubbery hands and stroked his cold face - oh my God, oh my God there are simply no words. None. Oh God I still cry out to you with the memory. Oh God. Oh Johnny.

And then they opened the doors. And here they came. People and people and so many people and then more people. And they hugged us and clung to us and cried with us and told us memories and loved us and loved our Johnny and it was glorious! Glorious I tell you. And there were so many of them our visitaton ran 2 hours over the alloted time. And it was JOYOUS and GLORIOUS and God's hand was on us all. Our hearts were calm and encouraged and reminded. Reminded of how loved we were, how loved Johnny was.

This was good. Thanks friends. Thanks.

Planning the funeral

Daddy's going to take me to the funeral home. I am numb. I'm just moving and doing the things people keep telling me I have to do. But I do know which funeral home I want to use - the one close to where Johnny was born. So Daddy called them and they are going to meet us there. On a Sunday afternnon. Because Death doesn't care.

And Susan and Lisa decided they should go. Jesus help me. Please.

I have to buy a plot. Do I want one for both of us? I'm young I may not want to be buried there. But then you have to be buried somewhere.

I have to buy a casket. Tons to choose from. Susan and Lisa like this high dollar one all carved for the outdoorsman - way high dollar. Oh wait - are you guys helping me pay for this? No? Then shut up.

I have to plan the order of service. Here we agree - closed casket (he hated crowds and would not like be stared at), graveside service only (see above) and we must have the song "How Great Thou Art" sung (his favorite hymn ever). Do we want a program? What do we want in the program? Who will conduct the service? They are not church going people so they agree that my pastor can do the service and a former pastor's wife will sing (like an angel, she did).

Done. $10,000.

Now what will he wear? Oh my God - that pummeled me. Pummels me now. I picked an outfit I had just given him for Christmas - he liked the softness of the shirt and he looks wonderful in that color.

Oh Lord - what are we going to wear. Because I know whatever it is, I will never wear it again.

I'll deal with that tomorrow.

The Day

Today is the official date of Johnny's death.

We had agreed to meet at the hospital at 10 am. Susan and Lisa did not come home last night - still staying away which was fine with me. I was so tired of them already - all that anger and guilt and redneck bullshit. I couldn't even be myself in my own home. Couldn't even grieve.

So of course they did not get there by 10. So we waited. I'm sure it gave them some sense of control. Fine - it did not matter. We all went in together and surrounded him. All of us crying and touching and hugging. I sat beside him with my hand on his leg and waited for the moment to say, "Turn off the respirator." When we were all ready - if you can call it ready - the respirator was turned off. And we waited again because every single one of us had some tiny hope that he would continue to breathe on his own and this nightmare would not be true.

I felt his leg grow cold under my hand. The nightmare was true and he had really left us.

We left pretty calmly and quietly. The wrenching part was over - we were emotionally exhausted at this point. Numb.

And then I had to go to the funeral home. Hello, nightmare #2.

Waiting

So after they told me yesterday his pupils were fixed and dilated and I knew he was gone, I asked Daddy to take me home. Right then. I just couldn't stay at the hospital - there were so many people there, wonderful loving friends who had been there since Thursday morning when the nightmare began. But I felt myself crumbling under the weight of the truth and I couldn't do it there in a hospital waiting room. I picked up the canvas bag (his purse lol) and hugged it to me smelling the smell of him on it. I walked out behind Daddy with my eyes down - I could not bear to make eye contact at that moment. I was about to explode with rage and grief and disbelief, and the spark of eye contact would have ignited it. Another friend followed us home and guarded the driveway - so sweetly asking loving friends to let Callie and I have some privacy and alone time. And they did.

Susan and Lisa stayed at the hospital with their Daddy. They were sure the hospital and doctors were not doing enough and they were sure their anger would change that. They weren't ready to accept the truth and they needed that time. This may be when their anger at me began - I'm not sure.

I had to make the decision about taking him off the respirator. And today was the Who Who's dance at Callie's school. And Susan and Lisa were still so angry. Today was not the right day if there is a right day for that sort of thing. So I talked with them all and we decided we would wait till tomorrow to turn off the respirator and all the other horrid machines and tubes keeping his body going.

So I had today. Callie got ready for Who's Who, Susan and Lisa were at some other relatives house because they couldn't stand to be around me. So I went to the hospital and stayed with Johnny. All by myself. Just him and me. This last Saturday night we would have together.

And I sat there with him that last Saturday night - touching him, nuzzling him, smelling the deliciousness of him, and talking talking talking to him. Crying and praying and talking. Remembering and telling him good-bye.