As we pack up our house to move and I sift through all of George’s things, memories are flooding back. I’ve been through letters from old girlfriends, passports, checkbooks, emails, childhood toys, drawings, song lyrics, love letters to me, and pictures, pictures, pictures.
Never have I missed George more than I do these past days. The anniversary of his accident is this Saturday. He passed away on September 4th. I am asking people who read this blog to please post here in the comments section any memories or stories tht they have of George. I plan to download the comments and save them for Lily. Many people have been so kind to us since his death. I would like her to know how people felt about her father, and some of the memories they have of him. Since Lily was so small when George left us, her memories are all from a child’s point of view: tickle fights, swimming, Disneyworld, walking the dog, favorite restaurants, reding together. I would love her to know more about George. Please share!
xoxo Lisa
PS. If you didn’t know George, but have interacted with me and Lily since the accident and have something to share, please do. Its my experience that children who experience great trauma like this often forget large portions of their childhood. I’m hoping I can help Lily remember this time in a positive way as she grows up.
So the roof trusses are on!
It’s starting to feel real.
My bedroom looking toward screened porch and mountain.
Along the view side of our part of the house.
Our side of the house, from the pasture out back. This is the side looking out onto the mountains.
My kitchen looking at my Mom's side across the courtyard.
Last night I was telling Sara that grief is such an odd and confusing emotion.
In the almost-year since George died, I’ve been horribly sad much of the time, but also can feel almost giddy with joy at life, love and all that the world offers. For anyone who has grieved a loss, this point of view is no surprise. What George’s passing has done to me is crack me open to deeper emotions and understanding. The only other experience in my life that in any way matched it was Lily’s birth; a moment so full of magic, joy, fear and surprise that I can call it up at any time, fully blown, even 8 years later.
I was explaining to Sara that even though I’m not sure what I think about death and am extremely skeptical about the hereafter, I can’t help but mentally plead with George to communicate with me in some way. At night, sometimes I send out thoughts to him, begging him to visit me in my sleep or somehow send me a sign.
And guess what I’ve gotten? Nothing.
But this morning, as I sat, holed up in my bedroom, dreading the next round of packing and wishing George was here, a bit of magic did occur. If you read my entry about the moment of George’s death, then you know that I experienced an odd warm feeling when he left his body. Whether it was energy, life force, soul, or spirit I don’t know. But I felt a rush of warmth and knew he had departed his body.
Today I experienced a similar event. I was dwelling on how overwhelmed I feel about the move. All of a sudden, that familiar warm feeling returned. It rushed into and down my body. I could smell George. I put my hands up automatically and it was as if he was right above me, leaning across me. My arms felt as if they were clutched around his strong back. My face was pressed to his neck. It was electric. We embraced, and the feeling was quickly gone, leaving me confused and elated.
Explaining this moment is difficult.
When I say I felt him, it wasn’t tactile. It was a heaviness of the air and a rush through my body.
A sense memory?
Being a skeptic, I am left curious and of course deeply touched by the feeling I had for just those few seconds that seemed to last an eternity. Is my mind comforting me? Or is George? I know many of you believe the first, and just as many the second. As for me, I have no idea. But I got my visit from George somehow and I’m deeply thrilled and incredibly thankful.
Another life experience to be filed away and pored over some night when I’m feeling lonely. A moment to cherish when I once again felt a deep connection with the incredibly alive and vital man that was my husband.
I miss him just a tiny bit less now, and love him a tiny bit more.
Our builder, Jim Preish, who is moving along at an amazing clip, sent me a new batch of pics this morning. Everything is moving very quickly, and if we can just finish packing we should be in NC in about two weeks. Lily is spending a lot of time with the grandparents. It’s exciting to see these pictures and know that soon, we’ll have a roof over our heads.
Front of my parents' side of the house.
Garage.
Connector between the two houses.
My side, porch.
Parents' side, portch
Lily and I upstairs, Sara downstairs.
Roof trusses. Should be on in the next few days.
I’m a mess.
The house is about two thirds packed and we are in the “rubble after the bomb” phase of moving. I’m getting more and more overwhelmed about the physical process of packing and have developed tennis elbow to add to my constant back issues. But really, what I am is mentally unfit for duty. No matter how much I try to pump myself up, I can hardly face moving the rest of the things in the house and driving 600 miles in the next two weeks.
Lily is unsettled too.
The past few days, each time she comes into the house she ends up getting extremely upset. This is bold, talking back, telling me off, daring me to punish her type behavior. Today, someone finally loaded up the Nordic Track that we put in the front yard. Its about twenty years old and should have been disposed of before George and I even moved in together. She looked out the window randomly and saw two men take it. Then she had a fit. “It smelled like Dad!” “I wanted it!” “You’re taking everything that ever meant anything to him!” “I’m his daughter, I should decide!” and on, and on. Finally, after making what turned out to be a few empty threats, I called my mom and talked her into letting Lily spend the night, drove her over, came home and collapsed.
I’m afraid.
What if I screw her up? What if I’m not up to raising her alone? What if I’m too old, too permissive, too tired?
What if she turns out to be bi-polar or just so angry and disappointed that she ends up living a miserable life?
What if I end up living a miserable life?
Today, I’m really down, really sad, and I miss George so damn much I feel like I’m going to spontaneously combust. My cheeks are hot and my eyes are teary. Everything hurts.
My confidence, and the bravado that I squeeze daily out of my soul is waning. I’m questioning all my decisions and hoping I can get Lily to Asheville in time to attend the first day of school, and that I won’t have ruined our relationship completely by the time we get there.
Why did this happen to us?
I’m sure I’ll be fine tomorrow, or at least functional, but tonight I feel like the saddest, loneliest girl in the world, and I hate it.
I’m angry.
I’m tired.
I’m gonna have to get over it, though. Gotta keep moving.
Wish me luck.
When George and I got back together after our 16 year hiatus, he sang The Yardbirds’ Heart Full of Soul to me to tell me how it felt.
Sick at heart and lonely
Deep in dark despair.
Thinking one thought only-
“Where is she, tell me where?”
And if she says to you
She don’t love me,
Please give her my message.
Tell her of my plea.
And I know
That if she had me back again,
I would never make her sad.
I’ve got a heart full of soul.
She’s been gone such a long time,
Longer than I can bear.
But if she says she wants me,
Tell her that I’ll be there.
And if she says to you
She don’t love me,
Please give her my message.
Tell her of my plea.
And I know
That if she had me back again,
I would never make her sad.
I’ve got a heart full of soul
Today, I wish I could sing it to him.
