I’m excited tonight because my architect emailed that I can expect some preliminary drawings of the house tomorrow. I have no idea what to expect, because I left it wide open with him. I gave him some parameters (price, size, number and type of rooms, sustainable, green as I can afford, outdoor space, “cute,” “warm,” appropriate to the space.) But other than that, not much. So it will be very interesting to see what I get.
The land has a mountain view and slopes gently down to a stand of trees. Shirley has always called it “the pasture,” as it is where she and George kept a (constantly changing) cow. The cow kept the grass short and eventually fed them for a long period of time. George, of course, made friends with the cows and then didn’t want to eat them.
Once, when he was about 9, the family got a new refigerator, and he got ahold of the box. It was a great box, really big, and he pondered for days what to do with it. Finally, one day when Shirley was gone, he decided to blow it up with some firecrackers he’d been saving. He figured he’d better make a really long fuse just to be safe. So he planted the firecrackers and strung the fuse, and laid down to watch the action. Well, the box caught the attention of the current cow. She began walking over to the box, slowly. George, watching from afar, started getting nervous about the cow’s progress, but he figured he’d better stay clear of the danger zone.
Long story short, the cow arrived at the box at the same time the flame did. The box blew up with astounding success, and the cow reared back on its hind legs in horror. George felt terrible about the cow for the rest of its fairly short life. He never told Shirley about the cow, or the box, or the firecrackers, and she didn’t know about he incident until I told the story at his Asheville memorial. Our front porch will face the area where the cows lived. I hope we’ll feel close to George on it.
Sara and I started going through clothes to begin decluttering the house for sale. We started with Lily and my clothing to avoid the sadness of facing George’s stuff, but Lily’s clothes made me sad too. Every outgrown t-shirt, dress, pair of jeans has a history and George is all over them. You don’t realize how intertwined your belongings are with your memories of other people until a person is gone from your life.
I would pick up a shirt, put it in the “donate” pile, move it to the “give to friends” pile, then throw it in a “keepsake” box, then back to the “donate” pile. On and on through two years worth of clothing, a t-shirt for every vacation we took and attraction we visited. Lots of “Daddy’s Little Girl” kind of stuff. Clothes he bought for her and brought home as a surprise. Outfits he commented on because he thought they were darling. After we finished I told Sara that I could spend an afternoon gathering some things and putting them in a van and drive away never to return. Going through his stuff is going to be worse, and we’re starting that tomorrow.
Sometimes while I’m writing these posts I think, “Me, me, me… us, us, us. Who cares? How long can I go on about this and expect people to care?” I realize that I’m reporting on the minutiae of my grieving process, but I can’t stop at this point. Somehow, writing these posts helps me face each task, and decompress after tackling it. I never realized that the most difficult, scary moments of my life would take place in my walk-in closet, sorting through shirts and pants and jackets. They don’t prepare you for this stuff in high school or college. And somehow most people get through it without going crazy. They get through it and go on, and most of them come out the other end fairly intact. But it certainly is painful.
I do think about other people who have to face similar moments and my heart goes out to them. A friend whose son passed away right after George wrote today that he’d be playing his boy’s bass at a show this weekend, and I thought, “That’s pretty brave.” It’s certainly worth the pain, to really dive in and face the grief. Play the guitar, in front of an audience. Just let it happen. But now I know the cost of such things. And it is high.
The only thing Lily has asked for at the new house is a blue, orange and green room (!), and a fairy garden. I figure a few garden gnomes and a fairy house will be easy enough to procure, and I’m sure I can make the color scheme in her room work. I’m hoping I have a view of the pasture. We’re not getting a cow, but I’m sure I’ll sometimes see one when I look out there, along with 9 year old George, planning another adventure.
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{ 8 comments }
Lisa, no one is getting tired of your posts. We all know that you are grieving and that grieving is a long process that ebbs and flows. I lost my Dad two years ago and still, some days I sit down and cry as though it were yesterday. I hate to admit it but in the last 6 months or so, a day or two has gone by when I didn’t give a thought to the loss of my Dad, but it’s been two years and he was my Dad, not my husband. I know it doesn’t even compare and that it will take you longer to get through your grieving as you will look at George’s daughter every day. You sleep in the bed that you shared, you were so close in so many ways — take your time. We won’t get tired of sharing with you. We love you!
the cow story was laugh-out-loud funny. the pain of sorting is also a good thing to write about…..it strikes me that the “minutiae” of your grieving process resonates with so many of us because it speaks to what life IS. you may not be able to stop writing, because a lot of us are unable to stop reading! and yes, thanks for the blog shout-out. i thought your comments were wonderful. hugs, b
Please keep writing! You keep alot of people focused on living in today. I know I sometimes I take things for granted and complain about simple things that I have to do….you are teaching me not to. Focus on the day and look forward to the next because you never know. This I learned from you and I thank you for that. Keeping you in our prayers as you move forward each day. I hope the mountains will bring some peace to you both. I love the story about the cow I would want to be his friend too.
Dearest Lisa, I’m grieving along with you. I like that you write, so keep on. You’ll know when to stop. Your walk-in closet note took me to my mom’s walk in closet. She died at 59 after a freaky 10 day cancer demise. It was hard watching her die, she died in agony and terror. It still haunts me to this day. But when I went to clean out her closet with her best friend Mary we saw that she had 250 pairs of shoes, all neatly in their own shoebox! I never knew my mom had such a thing for shoes, but when I begin peeking in each box I would recall when I saw her wearing them and exactly which dress matched each exquisite pair. They were truly works of art. She was only 5’2″ tall so each pair of heels were so tall I couldn’t imagine wearing them, much less walking in them. Then we looked at the size… 5.5! So tiny, they all looked like baby shoes compared to my big size 9 foot. I said to Mary, “do you know anyone who wears a size 5.5?” “Well, I do,” she said sheepishly. I said, “Amazing! would you like my mom’s shoes? I’ll give them to you, minus a few pair for Ella.” So my mom’s best friend who also has a size 5.5 foot took all 200+ pair of shoes. She was so grateful and thinking back at Mary and my mom’s relationship, it was very fitting that she would take all of the shoes. I was thrilled to know they were going to someone who would literally “walk in my mom’s shoes.”
Asheville sounds good for you, closer to the south. Great city! I hope that some time soon I can see you and meet Lily.
Melissa
Lisa, I have a friend who had her daughter-in-law make a beautiful quilt out of all the special and meaningful articles of clothing from her grown children’s (5 of them) childhood. It is beautiful and very special to her. Some sections have a ruffle, a piece with a pocket, a button etc. Why don’t you make one for Lily. It would be a good winter time project for you since you sew so well. You could also incorporate photos of Lily and George having fun and print them onto printable fabric and work that into the quilt. You could also put Lily’s drawings from the memorial services on it.
Please keep writing and sharing! I know your pain and your progress! I think the move is great! A new beginning will be good…The packing not so good,but, it must be done! I moved 3 months after Eddies passing! I sit here laughing thinking about it now…I couldn’t part with very much at the time so i packed a lot of his things in boxes and took them with me to my new place…later i went thru the boxes when i was ready to.i sorted and gave to his brothers & friends & family.I was grateful they gave me the time i needed with his things ..I also kept a few shirts that were special to me. still have them after 12 1/2 years. Every now and then i wear one around the house or to do a project ..but,the material reminders become less important over time. I now realize i have memories that no one else has .I will always cherish the shared memories in my heart. I love the cow story.thanks for sharing that one…..Sounds like you are moving to a beautiful place..new dreams for you & Lily! Keep & take what you need to when you move..there will be time later to go through boxes.I will be waiting on your next post,,,,,all my love to you & yours, Jeannie
Still here, your writtings are so true, letting go is hard no matter what the circumstances are. Your future sounds beautiful. Can’t wait to read about the new home. Fairy gardens are wonderful!
keep writing…
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