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Poems, Prayers, and Promises

3/22/2020

More John Denver. Except I really have no poems to offer. However, most of us are offering prayers in this trying time. The changes since my last post two weeks ago are jolting. At that time, there were no confirmed cases of corona virus in Iowa. I had made plans to drive to Dallas ten days later to visit son Pat and wife Jill.

By Monday, the first cases were showing up but all connected with a cruise to Egypt. Basic precautionary measures were being touted online as well as on the local news. The crazy run on toilet paper began, causing those of us who were charged with educating many of the now adults to wonder where we fell down on imparting common sense.

As the week wore on, I began to reconsider my travel plans. But by the weekend, I could not see anything in my plan that would violate the guidelines. I would drive myself, take along my lunch, stay one night at Jill's parents lake house, and spend my time only with family. I figured there was no more risk than staying home for a week and doing necessary errands there.

I planned to leave on Wednesday, but when I looked at the weather forecast on Monday and saw the words severe weather for late Wednesday and Thursday all up and down my travel route, I decided to up my departure to Tuesday. Guidelines for avoiding the virus still focused on six-foot distances, washing your hands, and avoiding large gatherings.

As I headed south on Tuesday, I began hearing things like 'Elderly stay put!' and 'No discretionary travel.' I debated turning around but couldn't see any real gain so kept going. I arrived without a hitch on Wednesday afternoon.

Like many people, we found some distractions. A thousand-piece puzzle of 70s junk food kept us busy for several hours. Saturday afternoon, we took a ride around the area to look for stands of bluebonnets. Unsuccessful but certainly distracting. A drive through the marina where Pat keeps his boat inspired a search for You Tube videos on new boats and campers. And on Wednesday night we were treated to the incredible rainbow pictured above after a storm--a reminder of promises and not to lose hope.

But reality was never far away. Pat maintained his work connections through his computer and teleconferencing. Jill faced challenges of planning online lessons for her fourth-graders and learning new technical skills to execute them. She also helped Jack, a freshman at UTDallas, to move all of his belongings home to finish out the year online. My brother-in-law spent a night in a small Georgia hospital with heart problems, with the accompanying threats of of infection. Other family members and friends were changing plans almost hourly to return home from winter residences.

Tomorrow I will begin my trek back home with an overnight stop again at the lake house. It's been a welcome respite, but I think there are things I can do there that may be helpful to others. It's frightening to consider what the next weeks may bring. But I will remember the rainbow.

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Some Days Are Diamonds

3/8/2020

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We have always been huge fans of John Denver and the lyrics of his songs seem especially apropos to me at this time with the loss of my husband. I have been a member of a group of crazy, strong, amazing women called the Midwest Glampers for several years, although I've only attended one or two of their events each year. They hail mostly from Iowa, Nebraska, Missouri, Kansas, and Illinois. These women love to camp, and many have rebuilt and refurbished vintage campers (sometimes more than one). Others have teardrops or smaller class Cs. Some camp with their husbands, as I did, in larger units. Some bring their children ad/or pets to events. Many have suffered profound losses and challenges, but they are all tough.

The weekends involve games, murder mysteries, crafts, shopping, eating, and a lot of talking. This past weekend, we had a gathering to plan Iowa events for the year. Since the time of year was iffy for camping, the event was held at Camp Quaker Heights near Eldora, Iowa in a lodge type building with at least ten bedrooms, large dining room, great kitchen, TV room and wonderful deck. We even had a campfire on the deck...in a propane gas ring.

The day and a half was definitely a diamond for me. I realized on my way home that it was partly a respite because it was an event that Butch wouldn't have been at anyway--this was just women. It wasn't that I never thought or talked about him. Several of us who have dealt with this kind of loss or caring for a sick loved one shared our experiences and supported one another. And we also had wonderful meals, laughed, took walks in the chilly but bright blue weather, laughed more, and, along the way, even planned a few events. It was a very renewing and--although I think the word is overused--empowering. It will help me weather those days that are stones.

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Grief, Gratitude, and Gripes

3/5/2020

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Butch Nortman, 1943-2020

The title may seem an odd combination of feelings, but in a way, it sums up life. About a month ago, I lost my best friend. He was also my husband. Butch was diagnosed about a year and a half ago with cancer, which had metastasized to the brain. For a year, he had very few symptoms--no pain, weight loss, etc, but we spent most of our time at appointments, radiology, and chemotherapy.

GRIEF: I expected when the end came that grief would be an all-consuming dark chasm. Instead, it has been more of a constant imbalance. I feel like a three-legged dog. I think that may be because the last several months, he was not the person I spent the previous 56 years with. He had mobility and balance issues requiring constant assistance. His difficulty swallowing made meal decisions and eating a challenge. His personality changed, and although there were occasional glimpses of the old Butch and his sense of humor, most of the time I felt like I hardly knew him. Worst of all, his speech became almost indecipherable. Our conversations were a combination of him making wild and random gestures, me making guesses, him shaking his head in frustration and trying to form words, me writing down words that he could point to, and so on. Those months were the dark chasm, partly because I felt there should be something I could do to make it better, but I didn't know what it was.

Now I know there is nothing I can do to change things. Instead, I find myself absently getting two sets of silverware out for supper and then putting one back, not turning on lights when I get up early and tiptoeing around, and reminding myself when something funny or disgusting happens to tell him about it. I think in most marriages, certain tasks become the domain of one partner or the other because of skills, interests, convenience, and/or just habit. He took care of the vehicles (skill and interest), changed the light bulbs and smoke alarm batteries (convenience--he was taller), did most of the driving (he loved to drive), and took care of retrieving things from the lockbox and recycling cans. (habit) So I am learning new skills and habits. For example, I used a car wash a week ago for the first time in my life. But I'm still a three legged dog.

The handsome grandsons

GRATITUDE: I am so thankful for the amazing outpouring of love and support. First of all, our three kids stepped up over the last few months and came frequently from West Virginia, Texas, and Illinois to help with the care giving tasks. They were instrumental in planning the funeral as well. I put together photos for a slide show at the visitation while they worked on the music. Butch whistled constantly and also loved to sing. He sang whenever we slow danced and he whistled when he was working on something. It was wonderful to hear the kids talk about what songs they connected with their dad, each one triggering a memory. All three spoke at the funeral and I couldn't have been prouder. Our grandsons served as pallbearers besides helping with everything.

The food and visits from family and friends both before and after his death were incredible. Other women friends who have been through the same thing have been especially supportive. And I am thankful for the years we had together. We took such wonderful trips in the three years that we were both fully retired. But we also enjoyed the years the kids were growing up (most of the time!) He was a nice man, a great friend, a loving father and grandfather, and a very special husband.

GRIPES: The amount of paperwork, phone calls, and trips to offices in even a simple estate is astounding. In over half of the required contacts that I had to make, the company or agency representative expressed sincere sounding condolences and then proceeded to explain how they were going to royally screw up my life. In at least two instances, I have filled out paperwork twice for the same request. One fifteen page document that I completed only had three pages that I needed to answer--even though one of the pages that I didn't need to do (according to the person on the help line) said MANDATORY SECTION at the top. I asked the representative "You know what mandatory means, right?" I had to close our joint bank account and open a new one in my name only. That would not be a big deal except for automatic deposits and withdrawals. All new numbers. But I think it is finally winding down and I have most things handled.

The only thing I am having a hard time with is that he isn't here. And he isn't coming back.

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Poems, Prayers, and Promises

Some Days Are Diamonds

Grief, Gratitude, and Gripes

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