Holidays – Uggh

I was doing pretty well this summer healing from the loss of Frank, then fall appeared along with the realization that all of the holidays are coming up. We loved the holidays, Frank and I – starting with Halloween. We would decorate the wrought iron railings on the front steps with orange lights and some green little Frankenstein lights. We’d put orange light bulbs in the outside lights and we’d always have carved pumpkins complete with candles on the front steps. I’d also decorate the windows with those plastic window clings – pumpkins, witches, ghosts and put fake cobwebs on the bushes. And now? I can’t bring myself to do it. Though I did buy three pumpkins and I suppose I’ll carve them this coming weekend but my heart just isn’t in it.

Then Thanksgiving will follow Halloween and though my cousin has invited me out to her place, and I’ll go, but it’s going to be so odd without Frank. Traditions that were once a part of my life with Frank are now gone. Poof. Just like that.

Yesterday afternoon I spent three hours in bed with the phone off the hook and my cell phone off – maybe it was a pity party – crying my eyes out thinking about the various holidays, especially Christmas and what that will be like this year. My initial, irrational thought was that I would skip all of the holidays altogether, just hide out here in my little house and be a hermit. Then when January hits I’ll come back out, ready to be me again. Or whoever the me is that I am now.

One of the problems with Christmas is that I already know I don’t really want to have a tree because I can’t use OUR ornaments. There is no more Frank and Patty, no more US. All of the decorations and ornaments are OURS. And Christmas was HUGE for us. While lying there on the bed yesterday I envisioned opening the door to the little closet downstairs that houses all of the Christmas stuff and I nearly went into panic mode. My breathing literally sped up and as I was crying at the same time I found myself almost unable to take a breath. To bring out the containers that house a collection of ornaments that we bought each other over the last 14 years – no way in hell. In fact, of all the ornaments and Christmas decorations that are down there, 90% – if not more than that – were bought during the time we knew each other.

I find no comfort or joy in going to chop down a tree – which we always did the Friday after Thanksgiving, and I feel nauseous at the mere thought of decorating one. How can I put up ornaments that say things like “Our First Christmas 1995” or the ones we bought on our vacations that held special meaning for us? Or the ones we bought each other every year? That was a tradition we started the first year and it helped us build a wonderful assortment of ornaments and fabulous memories. It started out that we’d buy each other one ornament each year but after the first year or two it was always multiples.

Before this year for 14 years of holidays it was all about ‘us’, Frank and Patty. Now I have to learn how to accept that it’s only me this year. I really don’t want to put the Christmas lights on the house or the garage or the Merry Christmas sign that lights up on the picture window or the holiday lights on the bushes. I am trying to convince myself that it would be okay to buy a little artificial tree and a few new ornaments that are just mine and mine alone. Nothing big, nothing extravagant, but something that would help me ease into the holidays easier with less emotional impact.

I want and need to have a new ‘first’ with the holidays, but additionally and perhaps more importantly I have find a way to give myself permission to do that because right now I feel like it would be wrong to do so.

Uggh.

Bite Me, GE Capital

I haven’t been able to get this off  my chest, so naturally the best thing for me to do is write a post about it.

Friday, September 24, 2010, 8:42 am

The phone rings and it’s an 800 number. I answer it because I’m trying to get solicitors to stop calling, so I answer to ask them to remove me from their calling list.

Me: Hello?

Them: In a recorded voice-“Hello, we are looking for the person who is handling the affairs for the late Frank (it states his middle initial and last name), if you are the correct person, please press one. If not, please press two.”

Me: I press one and wait. And wait. And wait. At least five minutes pass and I was just about to hang up when the recorded voice came back.

Them: “We’re sorry, we cannot connect you at this time to the representative assigned to your case. Please call us back at xxx-xxx-xxxx.”

Me: I hang up and I do NOT call them back at the number they asked me to.

Why? Well, my gut reaction was:

Are you kidding me? What kind of scam is this? You want me to call YOU? It’s almost 7 months since my husband passed away and I get this call? Frank had no will, no estate, no assets, no debt. Everything was in my name when he died with the exception of  one small debt, about $300 that through my conversations with GE Capital, I was told I didn’t have to pay it as my name was not on the account. That conversation occurred back in April.

The more I thought about it the more I wondered if there was something legitimate about the call. Could it possibly relate to that piddly $300 bucks with GE Captial? Or was it a scam? I felt the approach taken to contact me was suspicious and there had been a recent article in our local paper about collection agencies calling grieving family members to pressure them for payment of debts of the deceased. I wanted confirmation so I called a relative who is professional debt collector. She’s been doing it for years and she knows the rules and regulations inside and out. I thought she could check out the phone numbers and see if I’m right; if it has to do with the GE Capital account and if so, what do I do?

The Reality

M calls the number given to me and finds out that yes, they are a collection company and are calling on behalf of GE Capital about that minuscule debt. They “just” want to see if there is an executor they can talk to about the debt in order to settle it. M tells me that legally they cannot collect from me on a deceased account because one, I am not the executor (no one is, there is NO will) and two, it isn’t a joint account. In fact, she was surprised they were even trying since the amount is so small, they usually don’t do that because there’s nothing in it for them. She told me I had to call this collection company because they wouldn’t tell her anything else without my permission.

M also tells me that even though the collection company will likely do an estate and asset search, they are limited to what they can even search for. Frank clearly doesn’t have an income…he’s DEAD, his name does not exist on any documents anymore other than his death certificate because… he’s DEAD. I’m fairly livid at this point in time because just the thought of having to do this makes me positively ill.

I called this collection company and sure enough, they are going to do a search. I explained to the man I spoke with that there is no executor, Frank died with no assets to his name. He said if they need to, they’ll get back to me. Huh. Two days late I get a document in the mail explaining all of this (and more) and there is so much gobblydeegook in that I’m going to have M look it over. I’m not an idiot but I need to be sure I’m not going to be sued in any way, and the way things are phrased on the document, who the hell can tell?

So now?

I’m still pissed. Very pissed. Here I’m trying to move along in my life, adapting to the changes I experience on my new journey. I’m enjoying my life in a true way for the first time in two solid years and I have to get this call NOW, the one related to an issue I was told was CLOSED? Seven months after his death. Where’s the karma here? What have I done to deserve this?

As a rule I am one of the most upbeat, positive, optimistic people you will ever meet. But this situation absolutely burns me. I’m trying to keep a smile on my face every day but sometimes it’s really hard to fake my feelings when I think about how unnecessary this situation is. And until it’s finally resolved, I know that’s how I’ll continue to feel.

How on earth could GE Capital think that going after a lousy $300 debt is worth it? The collection agency gets a portion and there are an amazing number of people involved, I’m pretty sure it would be like getting fifty cents in the CEO’s pocket after all is said and done. Even M said it’s a pretty worthless debt to chase, it certainly wouldn’t ever make it to court. The powers that be at GE Capital should be ashamed of themselves.

What bothers me to the core is that each time a situation arises that involves Frank, it’s a harsh reminder of all I’ve lost.

 

Self-Help Me

I bought books.

Necessary books.

I’m feeling the need for a little self-help.

Seven Months Already

I’ve just poured myself a shot of scotch and I am raising a toast to Frank. He died seven months ago today and I only just remembered this evening. I’ve been so busy with landscape work today that it took me all day to even notice the date. And when I did my eyes instantly welled up and my heart hurt in what seemed to be a profound way. How has that much time even passed???

I make an effort every single day to move forward with my life, to be positive and enjoy the here and now. But the reminders of my life with and without Frank, like anniversaries, sometimes suck. With the reminders come a mixed bag of emotions. I’ve talked about this before but I haven’t found a satisfactory way to handle it yet, I just sort of roll with it. If anyone has a better idea – bring it on. Seriously.

What I have the most trouble with is reconciling whatever new happiness I may experience – regardless of what that happiness is related to – with the fact I don’t have Frank to share it with. Because the first person who pops to mind whenever something good happens is Frank, I want to talk to him and tell him all about it, whatever that ‘it’ is. Maybe that’s normal because we were together so long and maybe it’s okay.

I hope to share my life with someone eventually, but because Frank comes to mind first and foremost when things happen, is that fair to that future someone?

For that matter, is it really even an issue now and perhaps I should truly just keep rolling with it as I have been? I don’t really know what SHOULD be happening so maybe this IS what should be happening. I’m so confused – and I know it’s not from the scotch. Which, by the way, I’m going to have another little sip of.

Good night.

Time…It’s Supposed to Heal

But sometimes I wonder how long that will take. My days are up and down. So are Ruth’s. She misses her son badly but she’s not where I am and it’s frustrating for her. I’m frustrated too but differently.

I’m going to share a few of the text conversations we’ve shared over the last couple of weeks. In case someone reading this doesn’t know it, the ❤ is supposed to be a heart and >———-< is a hug.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Me: Smooches.

Ruth: Butterfly kisses! ❤

Me: Mmmm…I like that.

Ruth: Oh God, I used to do that to Drew all the time when he was little! 😀

Me: I think that’s so sweet, I’m glad you sent to me.

Ruth: 🙂

Me: What about eyelash kisses – ever do those?

Ruth: That’s a butterfly kiss!

Me: Oh. Haaaaa!! 🙂

Ruth:  ❤

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ruth: I’m coming to really hate mornings. 😦

Me: I know what you mean.

Ruth:  I just want one more chance to make it better for him!

Me: I wish you could too, sweetie. But you probably couldn’t have anymore than I could have cured Frank.

Ruth: In as much as Jesus would have allowed it, I hope Frank whacked him upside the head, and then welcomed him with open arms.

Me: I know he did. I truly feel that, Ruth.

Ruth: I just wish my heart would come to accept that so it can grieve. I can’t get past the guilt and blame to start feeling the loss.

Me: I think the guilt and blame are part of the grieving process for you. I have yet to completely forgive myself for things regarding Frank’s care that last week, even though I have been told I shouldn’t feel guilty. I know it isn’t the same as Drew but the point is, it has been months and I still can’t forgive myself. Time. Guess that’s what it takes. Tho I obviously feel the loss – but that took a long time, too.

Ruth: But I wasn’t born with the patience gene, remember?!!

Me: Too true! It will happen when you least expect it. Kind of like love – when you look for it you can’t find it, it just happens, tho grief doesn’t feel as good.

Ruth: So to sum it all up: this sucks. 🙂

Me: Exactly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Me: God, I hate this f@cking part of my life right now. I hate being alone so bad I cannot even begin to explain it. Dammit.

Ruth: You don’t need to explain it; just remember to go with it. I tell you this to help you since I can’t help myself right now – Lee says I’m in living in my head and won’t let my heart in yet…so I still feel nothing most of the time. So in a weird way I envy you being able to live thru your heart; mine is still too shattered to deal. I’d rather be moving forward than stuck here. That’s what YOUR doing – moving forward – one day at a time. And you can feel lonely but you’re never alone Cakers.

Me: But it hurts so f@cking bad. I think I would rather not feel anything sometimes but I can’t. The best word to describe it is raw. I would not wish this on anyone. Going to light a candle in the bathroom and take a bubble bath. Need to calm down.  Love you so much, Pooh Babe.

Ruth: Love you too. Remember to add the bubble bath and not just fart to make the bubbles. 🙂

Me: LOL! Thank you for that! 🙂

~~~~~~~~~~~~

This exchange was the day after I held a little party to celebrate Frank’s life.

Me: Thank you so much for everything yesterday, most especially for being here. I know it was hard for you and I love you tons for sticking it out. ❤ ❤

Ruth: I hope you know I couldn’t have been anywhere else.

Me: I do. >—————-<

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Below is a picture of my best friend, Ruth, and me at the party, note we are looking sweaty because we were. It was 93 degrees but the humidity made the temp feel closer to 100. And below that one are pictures of our guys.

We have each other, we have our family and friends. We’ll get through this.

One day at a time.

Drew (this is from 2006, he is on the left, his brother is on the right, clearly bored)

Frank

Sunday + No Frank + No Drew = Yuck

My husband died on a Sunday, as did my dear friend Ruth’s son, that’s why Sundays are difficult for both of us. I realized the other day we’re even more connected now than ever, not just because they both died on a Sunday but because they died at such similar times – Frank died at approximately 11:20 am on a Sunday, the medical examiner through information from the police determined that Drew died approximately 11:19pm on a Sunday. Some connections in life I’d prefer not to have but on the other hand, maybe it will help us both.

For some reason for me this Sunday was particularly difficult, maybe because it was on a holiday. Frank loved the 4th of July, always wanted to put on a fireworks show that he thought would be better than what the neighbors would do. Sometimes he was successful. Sometimes the neighbors were. But we all enjoyed them regardless.

Ruth and I exchanged a couple of text messages yesterday, typical of our days now.

First Text Conversation with Ruth yesterday:

Me: “Sometimes I don’t like Sundays. Every so often I forget what it means for me but when I can’t it really sucks. Like today.”

Ruth: “Yep…Sundays have taken on a whole different feeling now.”

Me: “Can’t even pause the waterworks. Pissing myself off. If it wouldn’t hurt, I would consider punching something. I just want to stay in bed until tomorrow.”

Ruth: “My mom told me that when they start you can’t stop them and that you need to let them come.”

Me: “I know she has to be right because the times I don’t stop them I feel better. Minutely, but better. Maybe I’ll watch The Men Who Stare at Goats with George Clooney. That should cheer me up. It’s George, how could it not?”

Second Text Conversation with Ruth yesterday:

Me: “From Sara McLachlan’s new cd, I love the chorus from ‘Changes’: ‘Time passes us by and the way we love changes, and we’re learning to waltz through the waves like everyone, let it keep us from falling, would you dance with me, dance with me now?’ We can dance through this together, Ruth, we have to.”

Ruth: “I know which song you’re talking about. And you’re correct – we HAVE to.”

Every single day we exchange some messages. Not always conversations like those above. Sometimes they’re just single words like “hugs”, “smooches”, “snuggles”,  and sometimes it’s a simple phrase like “love you, Pooh Babe” (she’s a Winne the Pooh fan) or “stay strong”. Just little things that don’t require a response but that are heartfelt.

Yesterday was 18 weeks since Frank died, 3 weeks since Drew died.

When will I stop counting the weeks?

Do I have to?

So Much Anger and Sadness

I’m still so angry about certain things – like the fact that Frank didn’t have an opportunity to go up north to enjoy his birthday with his friends that he had planned before he died, and wear the beautiful clothes he bought for the event. He was in the rehab facility instead. Why couldn’t this have all started one damn month later? Just one!! Why not February 26th going into the hospital instead of January 26th. God. I’m just so angry. He didn’t seem to have regrets himself about it, but I’m pissed off. Too bad I don’t have some glass that I don’t care about because I think the sound of it breaking would help temper my feelings. But probably only temporarily. So perhaps once I have the all clear for strenuous exercise, I should pick up kick-boxing to let out some of this anger, yes?

Then there are the phone calls. Oh my god. You have to call everyone – credit cards, medical insurance, investments (yep, we need a 25 minute phone call about that $60 investment in 3M just to find out that I would need to be transferred to someone else because this was the wrong department to let them know about his death – you didn’t know that from the first sentence I spoke when I mentioned he had passed???), bank accounts (the checking account that doesn’t have much money in it but by god, you’d better have a list of whatever assets he owned, that in total have a value over $28,900, plus his certified death certificate order to touch one single solitary penny. And by the way, no, they don’t need a list, the woman was off her rocker, and where the hell did she get that dollar amount??).

Then you get the snail mail. The flyers, the magazines, dental appointment reminders, all the crap you don’t even realize has any meaning until the person they’re intended for is gone.

Or how about the phone call from the temp agency that Frank hadn’t worked for in almost 5 years that called out of the blue, a week after he died, and left a message -“Hi, this is Crystal calling from _______, this message is for Frank. I’d like to talk to you about a position I think you’d be interested in. It could go to permanent from temporary status rather quickly so if you’re interested, please give me a call.” I know they couldn’t have known but right now in my head, I don’t care.

Then I get sad because I realize that the anger isn’t meant towards them. It’s meant towards whatever higher power deemed it necessary to take the most important person in the world away from me. Frank wasn’t perfect and good gosh, I’m not either. But we balanced each other in ways I can’t explain. Who else is ever going to put up with my imperfections? My faults? How will I be able to do that for someone else? Will that even ever be a possibility? Will that all simply become moot because another incredible person will miraculously come along?

We never, ever once went to bed angry. If we had an argument, and we had a few doozies, or even just a heated discussion, we kissed and made up before going to bed. Neither of us were very good at staying mad for long, it was much more fun being happy.

Which I guess is what I am hoping for. Happiness. Right now I don’t even know how to categorize my feelings except to slot them into either sad or angry. Sometimes I have moments of what seems to be happiness but then I think I can’t be that happy because Frank isn’t here to be happy with me.

I’ve planned a 10 day get-a-way at the end of May for myself. I’ve rented a cabin that overlooks a beautiful part of the world I live in, it has a 3 season porch, kitchen, living room, bathroom and bedroom (not fancy, kind of rustic and simple), and is just a couple of blocks away from a pebble/sand beach. It will be just me and my thoughts, watching the sun rise from the porch steps, walking along the beach, resting when I need to. I need this. I crave this. I only hope I’m not pinning too much importance on the outcome of my trip but I hope that I find a way to de-compress and begin whatever healing process I need to move forward. Without forgetting Frank.