February 9, 2005

• Well, I can't sleep, so I might as well write about the things I'm thinking of........I am, of course, thinking about my late husband Bob quite a bit, coming up on the anniversary of his death.  So I don't expect anyone to read all of this, I just need to let it out somewhere so maybe I can get some rest.  Feel free to go read a happier site, I really don't mind.

  
  

  In the days after Bob's death, the phone rang constantly, the doorbell rang many times a day, we had 4 refridgerators and freezers full of food, and still more came.  Two and three different families a night would show up with dinner.  I ate very little of it, only what my mom put in my mouth with her fingers, coaxing me to chew.  I felt like I had been sucked dry, I was flat, like Gumby, if I turned sideways, I would be invisible.  So my esophagus was flat, and didn't want anything trying to go down, I would gag, choke things up.

  
  

  He was an extremely well loved man, affable, friendly, the most unselfish person I've ever known.  He belonged to many service clubs - Lions, Elks, Rotary- in fact, his first year in the Rotary Club here in Eugene, the board of the club created a new "Rookie of the Year" award, and he was the first recipient.  I still feel pride when I think of them creating a new award just to honor his hard work.  He ran clubs at the high school, was in boosters, BBQ'd at the football games, always going, always volunteering, always helping.

  
  

  My father sent his obituary down to a couple of papers in California, to the towns where we used to live.  The obit ran on February 14th, and his funeral was at 11 o'clock in the morning on Saturday, the 15th.  I was so shocked that morning, to see the people coming in to the funeral home who had got home from work on Friday night, read the paper, saw his obit, loaded up the kids and drove all night to be at his funeral the next morning.  Some had drove 12 hours or more.

  
  

  So I'm not being overly sentimental when I tell you he was "much loved" by many, but especially by his children, his family, and myself.  There was not enough room at the funeral home for all the people who came.  And when they opened it up for comments, so many came up to say how much they loved him, and tell stories of what he had done for them, that they finally had to put a stop to it, because people were arriving for the next funeral, and there was no room for them.  They had had to move that poor lady's body out of the side chapel so that it could be opened up for seating for us.

  
  

  And still the phone rang, and rang, and rang.  My family would answer the assorted house and cell phones......."no, she can't really talk right now, doesn't feel too well, OK, we'll let her know, thanks so much", they would kindly tell folks, and then they would mouth the name of the caller to me.  Most of them, I didn't feel any need to speak to, but a few had me reaching out my hand, trying to choke out a few words, crying, listening.....

  
  

  One of those callers was Henrik, our very first exchange student, calling from his home in Sweden.  He came to stay with us the school year 88-89.  He is a surgeon now, happily married with two kids of his own.  I love him dearly, he has come to visit us three times since that year he spent in our home.  Our daughter was 3 and our son was 2 that year, and they drove him bananas.  Oh, the fond memories!

  
  

  In our phone conversation, (well, he was talking, I was breathing), he said something that shook me to my bones.  He said "You always knew this was going to happen.  I don't know how you knew, but you did."  "What?", I croaked.  "You told me that year I lived with you that he would die young, that he would have a heart attack someday.  I thought you were crazy, but I've learned a lot over the years, and now I know you weren't crazy at all, you just 'knew'."  My stomach turned over, and I was filled with dread,........you see, I knew I knew.  But Henrik was wrong on one count, I hadn't "always known", in fact, I had only "known" for a couple of years when he came to stay with us.  I can't believe in my young craziness I told this foreign exchange student something like that, that I had spoke what I knew aloud to anyone.  But I guess I had.  Later, my mom told me I had told her, too, and that she herself had been told by a seer.

  
  

  I had always in my heart said things like, "Well, 67 is young nowadays, I'll be 60 or so when he goes, and then a widow for 25 years or so...."  I really did that.  I would lie beside him, with my head on his chest, listening to his heart thump, and my mind would whisper "my enemy"....  And that was one of the first things I said, when I could speak.  There in the emergency room, I whispered it, while looking at his chest, covered in some blue goo.  "My enemy" had won, and death had come much sooner than I had been willing to acknowledge.

  
  

  If I get enough mental energy, maybe I will tell you brave souls who read this what happened on the day that I first "knew".  As God is my witness, everything I am saying is true.

  • 11:28 am
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