Painting Project #3: My Thoughts

One of the things "they" say you should do after the loss of a spouse is to make the house "yours" instead of "ours." (I am still not sure exactly who "they" are). I have done a couple of things along those lines by painting the guest bathroom and upstairs hallway. About 6 months ago, I decided I wanted to paint our bedroom purple. That would definitely be a healing move, right?

The painting supplies have been upstairs since the 4th of July weekend when I painted the hallway. I was going to paint the bedroom over Labor Day weekend, but decided against it at the time. Then, when I hit the 5th anniversary of my Dad's death on Veteran's Day, I decided I needed a clean start and was just going to sell the house. I even did a drive-by on a cute little 3 bedroom, 2 bath not far from here. It took about a week for that urge to pass and getting my new property assessment cemented it: I am not going anywhere for the time being. The value of my house dropped by quite a bit. And, truth be told, for where my life is now, my house is in a good location.

So, I went back to my bright idea of painting the bedroom. I get a 4-day weekend for Thanksgiving and knew I wasn't going shopping on Friday. Contrary to popular belief, I am actually a rational, sane person. I decided that this would be the perfect time to paint the bedroom. I also decided this was something I needed to do for myself, by myself. I am rethinking the rational, sane person part.

I got the paint Wednesday on my way home. I also ended up with a stud finder. That's the sort of thing that happens when I get bored waiting on the paint department and wander aimlessly around Lowe's. I have found the presence of studs in my bedroom. (Yea!) Sadly, they are not the kind with strong-yet-tender, arms. (Boo!) I spent Wednesday evening packing up the knick-knacks and other random items in the bedroom and taping off most of the baseboards. I put the bed in the bathroom, moved the dresser out from the wall and put the night stands in the other room, so this only left the wall behind the armoire, which I decided to move at the last minute so I could have the TV on for background noise. I needed it for the Macy's parade. Being a grownup means I can watch the parade if I want to and no one can make watch stupid football instead. Being a grownup has its perks!

Thursday, when I got up, I started to tape off the ceiling before heading over to our best friends' for dinner. After dinner, I finished off the taping. This was not easy for me as I had to get on the 3rd rung from the top of the ladder and I am afraid of unstable heights. I had one slight misstep early on that caused me to come close to falling off the ladder and made me realize this was not the best idea I have ever had. My hands were sweating so much, I was making the tape not be sticky anymore. Then I realized I could use one of the vacuum attachments as a tape dispenser and that made it a lot easier. I was relieved when that part was done but was filled with dread knowing I was going to have to get back up to the top of the ladder to get the newspaper down.

Friday, I started painting around 9:30. I finished the first coat around 1:30, which I didn't think was too bad. The edges near the top of the vaults were hard to do. I attached the paint brush to the stir stick and just dabbed at them until they were covered. There corners in the alcove I couldn't reach and decided it wasn't worth falling off the ladder over. So, they aren't done. I had to use the roller on the pole sideways going backwards to do the alcove as it was so I was getting pretty freaked out about the whole thing as it was.

By the time I finished the first coat, the first wall was dry. For the second coat, I decided that anything that required me getting on the ladder above my comfort zone was just not happening. This made it go so much quicker and with a lot less stress. The alcove and the tops of the vaults only have one coat but oh well!

I left the paint to dry, went to Wendy's and DQ for the now traditional post-paint food (grilled chicken go-wrap, and fries from Wendy's and a DQ Peanut Buster Parfait), and after dinner took a 2 hour bath. I thought about just staying in the tub until Monday.

Saturday morning, I had a chiropractor appointment. That was painful. After I got home, I removed the tape from the baseboards and what I could from the ceilings with just the step-stool. Then it was time to face the ladder again. As I had to keep going higher up, I thought about how nice it would be if I had something that I could use to grab the paper and pull it off. And then I remembered I do own one thing that is meant to grab stuff...

My grab method worked quite well and did not require me to go past my comfort zone on the ladder. I about cried tears of joy when I got the last of the newspaper down and had not fallen off the ladder in the process. I then went to see "New Moon" with my friends, thinking I was far enough along with my project I could take a break. Turns out I did nothing but stress out during the movie thinking of all the things I still needed to do.

When I got home, I shampooed the carpet in the bedroom. I figured it would be a great time for that since the furniture was moved. Sunday, I put the headboard, dresser and armoire back where they belong and shampooed where they were sitting. I had a meeting to go to for a volunteer project I am doing on Friday so I whipped up some brownies for that and headed off to Beaverton. When I got home, I was thrilled to find the carpet was dry and I could put my bed back together. After 4 nights on an air mattress, I was more than ready for my own bed! I have body parts I can't move and my bruises have bruises. I wanted to cry this morning when I went to wash my hair. Acting like a 25 year-old male stud muffin when you are in actuality an out-of-shape 35 year-old woman with a bad knee results in pain. Lots of pain.

The personal effects are still in the spare bedroom so my room looks very impersonal at this point. I am going to put a shelf above the dresser and put the stuff there instead of on the headboard and dresser. I still need to hook the TV back up to the satellite box and the VCR/DVD player but I know that isn't going to go well and was already too frustrated to deal with it last night.

I know this was a good move. I know it was stupid to have done it all myself and the stress of having done so outweighs the accomplishment of having done it. I think there is some numbness there too-denial that it is my room now-there is no longer an us. (MH #2 is either going to have to live with purple, hire someone, or paint the damn room himself).

I always turn the TV on in the morning to hear the weather and traffic reports. It is out of habit from when we had long commutes. I don't really need this information. I have a 4.5 mile commute that is all surface streets and I always wear jeans and a sweater or sweatshirt to work because my office is only slightly warmer than a walk-in freezer. Since the TV is not hooked up, this morning, after I grumbled at the alarm clock, I turned on the radio for something to listen to while I got ready. It is on a country station. I woke up to John Michael Montgomery reminding me "life's a dance you learn as you go. Sometimes you lead, sometimes you follow. Don't worry about what you don't know. Life's a dance you learn as you go." I have been wondering "what's next?" a lot lately. Somehow, this seemed like a perfect end to my weekend and a perfect way to start whatever it is that comes now.

Painting Project #3: in photos

After deciding I was going to do it about 6 months ago, I have finally painted our bedroom. I haven't been able to get the right light for the color to show up properly, but I now have the purple bedroom I have always wanted. I have decided to do the pictures and my thoughts on it separately.

The room has vaulted ceilings, a weird shelf thing (aka "the alcove,") and really heavy furniture.

So many choices...

The winner: "Guardian Angel," by Olympic. It is the one with writing on it and this is the only picture you can really tell it is purple even though it is still off.

Bed in the bathroom. It fits so nicely in there.

Ready to paint. I moved all the furniture myself. That was stupid.

The boys staying out of my way-for once.

You can see the new color on the left-much brighter even after one coat than the old.

Sammy decided to "help" after all by snuggling up against the wall.

I don't know how Charlie got paint all over his ear. Nor do I want to.

My room put back together-except for the TV. And it really is purple.

Thankful

When you suffer a profound loss, it is so easy to let that become the focal point of your life. And as a result, it is easy to lose sight of all the things that are still good. No, this is not how my life would be going if I wrote the script but there are still so many good things in my life.

I am thankful that I had 8 years with James.

I am thankful for the relationship we had-for seeing what real love is like so I will be able to recognize it again.

I am thankful James talked me into getting Sammy and Charlie. They are the center of my world.

I am thankful for my wonderful family and friends. I have such a great support network.

I am thankful that I have made a good friend who (unfortunately) "gets it." That friendship has helped me so much over the last year.

I am thankful that in these tough economic times, I have a job working for a company I love.

I am thankful to have such awesome co-workers, who are more than that-they are good friends as well.

I am thankful that I am able to keep my roof over my head and my bills paid. I am thankful also that I have reliable transportation.

I am thankful that I am too stubborn to give in when all I want to do is throw in the towel.

I am thankful my parents instilled in me that I can do anything I set my mind to. (Okay-there are some moments I really hate them for that). I am also thankful that this mindset gives me the determination to plow through when I get frustrated.

I am thankful for my sense of humor.

I am thankful for the practical things my parents taught me: how to check my oil, my tire pressure and how to make chocolate chip cookies.

I am thankful the one "boy chore" James taught me was how to change the air filter in the heater/air conditioning unit.

I am thankful to live near a big city that allows me to experience a wide variety of events that you don't find in small towns.

I am thankful for my small town upbringing. I wouldn't change that for anything.

I am thankful for the freedom to both do the things I enjoy and to try new things.

I am thankful I chose to go to college and that I joined Alpha Gamma Delta even though I was unsure of the whole sorority thing. The strides I made there helped paved the way for who I am today.

I am thankful my now dear friend took a chance on the girl from Idaho and hired me for my first job when I graduated. It put me on the path to meet James.

I am thankful that 10 years ago, when James asked if I wanted to spend New Year's Eve with a bunch of people I didn't know, I said yes, even though he broke all my "rules."

I am thankful for the knowledge that what I think I want and what is meant to be are not necessarily the same thing (maybe I could be a cougar...).

I am thankful for my opportunities and my accomplishments whether they are big or small.

I am thankful for the little moments that make life great.

I am thankful that I am able to realize how much I have to be thankful for.

The walls came down

Something happened Tuesday that I wasn't able to get out of my head. It was just a brief moment and I couldn't figure out what it was about it that was puzzling me. The best way I could describe it was that there was something I just wasn't getting. That, and I couldn't put my finger on what it was I couldn't put my finger on.

The back story leading up to Tuesday is that the week before on 11/10, there was a fire that destroyed an elementary school in SE Portland. Thankfully, there were no injuries but the teachers and 435 students lost everything. It was quickly decided that a school that had been closed in 2007 due to budget cuts would temporarily house the displaced students and the organization I do most of my volunteering for, Schoolhouse Supplies (SHS), became the hub for donations for this school.

Every month, I lead a project at SHS that is organized by Hands on Portland, which is an organization that fulfills volunteer needs for other organizations. Our project for November was two days after the fire and SHS was already overwhelmed with donations for Marysville. It was clear that we would not be able to get through everything in the time we had for the project and they had a corporate partner scheduled to bring in a huge donation the next day.

Typically, a project leader needs to have a minimum 3-week window for posting projects on the Hands on Portland calendar, but I e-mailed them to see if we could do another project on the 17th to help expedite getting the supplies to the school. They agreed to let me have the project and put it on their front page to help get it filled. (I posted it Friday. It was full by Sunday morning. Yea!)

Saturday, 11/14, I packed up James' Steelers collectibles. I set some of the items aside for SHS: a football, a generic stuffed football, an insulated lunchbox-things that would be great for the incentive shelf (things teachers use to reward their students). I took the items with me when I went to do the special project on the 17th.

Normally when I get to SHS, I am chatty with the people who work there. They see a lot of me so I have established a friendly relationship with them. In fact, my friend and I recruited one of them to be in our bunco group a year or so ago. They even sent me a card when James died. Tuesday, however, I was not chatty. I was very quiet. I said "hi" when I walked in and filled out a donation sheet for my items. After a brief discussion with Volunteer Guy, we decided to leave the items in the store instead of sending them to the school, with the thought that there was a better chance of finding a Steeler's fan district wide than at just one school. I then went into the conference room and set out my name tags and sign in sheet and waited for the volunteers to start to arrive. I made small talk when they came in. Normally, I go over the project with Volunteer Guy so I know how to lead the group.

About a half hour or so after we got the project started, I passed Volunteer Guy. He asked if everything was okay and then asked what was wrong. And my eyes filled with tears. I motioned for him to follow me around the corner so we were out of sight of the volunteers. I took a deep breath and told him that it was one thing to pack up James' things but it was another thing altogether to actually dispose of them. And then the tears started to fall. I told him that I was sorry-that I was trying really hard to hold it together. That I had packed the stuff up Saturday but that was the first of it that I had actually given away. As I wiped my eyes, I heard him say "come here," but I just stood there and cried.

I don't know how much time passed, but probably not much. I tried to wipe my eyes again, and realized I couldn't really move my hands. I realized I was crying on Volunteer Guy's chest. "Volunteer Guy is hugging me," I thought. "No, Volunteer Guy's arms are around my waist. Volunteer Guy is holding me. hmm. I feel skinny. Damn! Volunteer Guy has a strong chest and arms."

I freed myself and told him that it has been almost 2 years and I keep waiting for donating his things to get easier but it never does and that it made me feel like I was erasing 8 years of my life. He said I can't erase the memories. I said that it also makes the fear set in that James was it for me and now I am going to be alone for the rest of my life. He said I can't think that way-that he doesn't believe that. There are too many people out there. I said it took a really long time to find the first one. He just kind of nodded in agreement and told me that if I needed to take a few minutes away from the project to take it.

At the end of the night as we were leaving, he asked if I would be there the next day for my front desk shift. I said I would and would try to be more like myself. He gave me a side hug and told me he would be leaving early for a supply drive at the basketball game and the volunteer cordinator would be coming in to close everything up but there would be about 1/2 hour where I was unsupervised. I asked if I was really being left unsupervised and then said I was going to throw a party. Wednesday, I was concerned things would be awkward but they weren't. I got there late due to a dead mouse issue in my office (grr) and he was on his way out when I was walking in. ( I was explaining to my boss that due to my having already disposed of a dead mouse in the break room I felt I had taken my turn and therefore, he would be getting rid of the one in my office).

I couldn't figure out what my brain was trying to tell me and it was starting to really annoy me. Friday, I had my appointment with the therapist. We were discussing all the healing steps I have taken since last month's appointment (driving his car, packing up the Steelers' stuff, the decision to paint the bedroom, etc) and she said that if I were to meet the right person-someone I felt safe with, I am ready to receive love (first instinct: run like hell!). I told her what happened on Tuesday and that there was something about it that I couldn't grasp. She said to continue thinking about it-I would figure it out. She asked if there could be a romantic connection there. I said no. She asked why not? I said that he's just not someone I have thought about that way and that he pretty much just tolerates me because I am a dependable volunteer. Plus, he is about 6 years younger than me. He's going to be looking for some hot 20-something year old. I really don't think I could land a 30-year-old so I don't consider him to be a possibility.

It finally dawned on me yesterday what was niggling at me. I let my walls come down with Volunteer Guy. I could have lied and said I had a bad day at work (not really a lie. Good days do not involve dead rodents under my desk). I could have said I was just really tired, like I usually tell everyone. But I didn't. I let my walls down-I let him in and I let him see me vulnerable. I don't like anyone to see that side of me. And I don't know why, but I felt he was safe to do that with. And I really don't know how I feel about that.

This morning's dream

Last week when Mom and I had our almost weekly Sunday morning conversation, she told me that one of the things she has read consistently over the years is that to get answers, you are supposed to say a prayer and then ask your angels for a sign. What you dream about it is your sign but it isn't always easy to interpret. She said when I went to bed that night, I should say a prayer and then ask Dad what life has in store for me.

"Dad only gives me bad news," I replied.

"You have to stop being mad at your Dad. And you have to stop being mad at God too," she said.

I sighed. We have had this conversation before. I told her that I was more accepting to God. I didn't like it, but I was more accepting of it. And I told her Dad could have been a lot nicer about the whole thing.

"Your dad was not mean to you." (How does she know-she wasn't in my head).

"Dad was MAD at me. He said to me 'I don't see how it is you can't see it. James is leaving you and he is never coming back.' He said it disgustedly. And a week later, James died. So yeah, I'm still a little mad at the messenger."

"Okay fine. Don't ask your dad. Ask your other angels. But I still think you need to stop being mad at your father." Mothers do have an answer for everything, don't they?

So, I decided to give it a try. I know I have had a couple of dreams but I don't remember them. I do remember the one I had this morning. I know it was morning because it was after the cling-on also known as Sammy got me up to go out at 4:15. I don't know what is up with these two lately but they are sticking to me like glue. It's actually starting to creep me out a bit.

So, I let the dogs out, fought to get back into bed and lay down before they started crawling all over me, got settled and said a quick prayer. Then I asked my angels what was in store for me and fell asleep to have the following dream:

James and I were playing on our computers. We were in our house, but our house was really a big yard with a glass enclosure. It was in front of a brick building like you see on college campuses. The phone rang and I saw on the caller ID it was my widower friend, so I answered it. He said that he was sorry for calling on such short notice but had a wedding reception to go to and wanted to know if I could go with him. I told him that James and I had plans but I would go ask James if I could go with WF. I told WF I didn't think James would mind if I went to the reception with him if we weren't going to do what we had planned. So, I went and asked James if he was planning to do a raid that night (James was a WoW junkie, but was playing something else in my dream). He said no, that we were going to do what we planned (I can't remember what it was-some show I think). I told him that I was talking to WF and he wanted to know if I could go to a reception with him. I was surprised that James was annoyed that WF had the nerve to ask me to go to a wedding reception with him.

So, I got back on the phone and told WF that James and I were going to do what we had planned so I couldn't go with him but I hoped he had fun. We chatted for a bit longer but WF was pretty quiet, so I asked him what was wrong. He said he knew he wasn't being his chatty self-he was just listening to what I had to say. He then realized it was almost 4:00 and he was supposed to be at the reception at 3:30. I told him that everyone knows that weddings start 1/2 hour late so he was probably fine. We laughed and hung up.

I had been walking around while I was on the phone, and when the conversation ended, I was standing in the sliding glass door of what is my current kitchen, facing outside. I had also turned down the volume on the TV at some point and was still holding the remote. I was walking back to where James was and was going to toss the remote towards the TV, but didn't want it to get lost in the grass. I thought about just walking over to the TV and putting it down but that would have taken me off my path so I just kept it.

I then came upon a small, fluffy dog on the sidewalk. I was carrying a board game (I have no idea where that came from), so I put the dog on the box. A strange blond guy came up and started saying all kinds of things about how pretty my daughter was (meaning the dog) and how he wanted to pet her and play with her. I told him my husband was very protective of her and had a bad temper. So the man left. I continued to walk over to where James was, but now instead of playing on the computer, he was sitting at a card table teaching a little girl (about 5 or 6) with long brown hair-our daughter-how to play checkers.

I have had a dream with this little girl before. I have only seen her from behind, but in both dreams she was my daughter. In the other dream, WF was her father. I was watching from the back of the driveway as he walked her to the school bus for her first day of school. He was bursting with pride but I could tell he was fighting back tears too. I thought to myself that it figured I would have to be the strong one while he got to have the emotional moment with her and I was a little jealous that he was the one having this bonding moment with her.

In both dreams, I have seen the little girl from the 3rd person point of view, although in my dream this morning, everything else up to the point I picked up the dog had been 1st person. The two times I have dreamt about this little girl, I have not seen her face or mine so I don't know how old I am. I do know the little girl is happy and healthy though.

Maybe she's MH #2's little girl and I don't get to see her face because she looks like her daddy and I don't yet know who that is. The poor kid definitely has my hair. Or maybe I am seeing myself when I was that age and life was so innocent and uncomplicated. Who knows? I do know it was nice to have a dream about James in which life was completely normal (other than the living outside part) for once.

Found a grave

After I got home from my volunteer project and running errands today, it was cold and grey but not raining so I decided to go over to the cemetery and try to find the gravestone I volunteered to photograph. I thought about just waiting until tomorrow, but decided I didn't want to tempt the weather. It is November in the Northwest, after all. I learned a couple of things with this first attempt:

* It is kind of creepy when you are the only person walking around a cemetery and you hear voices. I am guessing they were coming from the interior design business across the street. If not, I don't want to know.

* I don't like feeling like I am walking on someone's grave and kept feeling like I should apologize to all the people I was stepping on. At one point, I actually did.

* Having the exact location of the grave is handy, but doesn't do a lot of good when you don't know the layout of the cemetery. And cemeteries do not have the handy little "You are Here" signs like they do at the mall. At least this one doesn't. Luckily, this is a relatively small cemetery.

* As with other genealogy sites I have used, the information on Find A Grave is only as accurate as the person submitting it knows it to be. It is much easier to find a grave if you have the right name. I am guessing Sylvia Jenny and Sylvia Jensen, b. 1947, d. 2003 are the same person. If not, I am headed back to try again.

It was weird to see all the headstones that were for married couples in which only one spouse has passed away. I have a different perspective now that one of those could be mine. I could still take James' ashes and bury them in a cemetery, buy a plot for myself and get a headstone for both of us. How weird would that be to go visit him and see my own name? I think that would be creepy. It won't happen though as James did not want to be buried in a cemetery, which is why he lives on the mantle. He hadn't figured out where he wanted to be spread. As of now, he is going to be spread with the dogs and I in the harbor of Ocho Rios, Jamaica when I die. We had a really great day there right after we got engaged and his favorite picture from the cruise is the one he took of the harbor. It sits next to his urn on the mantle. The picture was there first. I framed it and gave it to him on the anniversary of the night he proposed. He died a month later.

I know a couple of young widows and widowers who have purchased dual headstones and plots and I have wondered about what they are going to do if they remarry? I think that would be hard to understand for a new spouse if they were not also widowed. I don't think I would get it if MH #2 is a widower and James had not died. I get it now and I understand it. If MH #2 ends up being a widower, I will say a prayer and thank his first wife for sharing him with me when I send him home to be with her. It was also weird to see a gravestone where the date of death was "19"-like this person was expected to die in 19-something and either didn't or no one ever bothered to have it finalized. It was a family plot, so maybe she was the last one? And, it was sad to see all the graves that obviously have not been visited in a very long time.

Now I just have to figure out which picture turned out the best and how to upload it. Then I will see if there are any other area cemeteries with pending photo requests. This is so much more productive than trying to research my ancestors!

Find a Grave

Several months ago, my friend told me about the website Find a Grave. It is "a resource for finding the final resting place of family, friends and 'famous' individuals." (Thank you Find a Grave FAQs)! One of the things members of this site can do is upload photos of gravestones for others who are researching someone but who cannot travel to where the grave is located. You can also request a photo for someone for whom you are researching.

For some odd reason, yesterday I decided to visit the site and typed in my mother's maiden name. I was thrilled to see that someone has posted the marker for my grandfather's plot in the mausoleum at Palm Mortuary in Henderson, NV. Rumor has it he requested to be placed in the mausoleum because at the time of his death there was a bar across the street from the cemetery (don't know if it is still there; he died in 1975), and he did not want drunk people to pee on his grave. I also found a photo for my step-grandmother's mausoleum plot. These were very happy finds for me so I tried a couple of other names but came up empty.

So, I decided to search for the cemeteries in this area and saw that another member of the site has requested a photo of a gravestone in the cemetery I could walk to from my house if I wasn't so lazy. I decided to "claim" the request, meaning I have 14 days to take and upload the requested picture.

This is when I discovered I never actually signed up to become a member of the site (yet another widow brain moment). I know I meant to and thought I did. So, I signed up for the site and claimed the request.

I know it may seem like this is a weird thing for someone in my circumstance to do. But, of the 7 family members who passed away in the last 5 years, only 3 are buried in a cemetery-two in Florida and one in California. I can't exactly visit them at will. Dad is in my brother's closet. My father-in-law is somewhere. We let his girlfriend have the ashes. I am not sure who has James' aunt. I think his brother does. And James is downstairs on the mantle. Because of this, I am able to disassociate myself from my own grief and view cemeteries as a genealogy tool. And I am excited to have found a way to start giving back to the genealogy community (and practice my photography skills). Now I just need a day (or at least a few minutes) without rain in the next 13 days...