Just realized I better explain myself even further.  When Sam passed, I put his wedding band on to wear with mine, promising myself I would always wear as it was a part of him. It was a daily reminder for me of how much he truly loved me.  However, the only way it stayed on my finger was to wear it over my band with my diamond holding it in place. I realized right away it was not a smart move to wear it but I could not bring myself to let go of it.  Finally, Monday I decided I just needed to make myself do it, which I did.  Interesting thing is, once I made the decision to not wear it any longer, my memories of him changed, becoming much warmer (for lack of a better term), perhaps more clear in my mind's eye.  The guilt at first of not wearing it any longer almost made me put it back on, but I told myself I really do have to find little ways to move on. Removing his band is just one very small step in that direction.  As to whether or not I will ever remove my own wedding band, as of right now I say no.  Tomorrow may be a different story.

q'ua

“It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.” ― Rose Kennedy

This morning I woke at 3:30, completely freaked out from a dream I had about Sam.  Took me all day to realize what the problem is and that is today marks 13 weeks since he passed, tomorrow is the 3 month mark.  My ability to compartmentalize the pain is sometimes too effective!  That all being said, today I chose to stop wearing his wedding band.  The first few minutes of not having his band on my finger were a bit odd, I felt a huge pang of guilt, and then I forced myself to stop thinking about it and just move on.  Day 1 is over and I am ok with my choice.

Last weekend Sweet Pea (the cat) and I adopted a new cat to replace Rocky.  Now, instead of being lonely, Sweet Pea is spending her time hissing to make sure the new cat knows who is boss.  And yes, we have yet to name the little guy.  Perhaps you have some ideas?  He is pure black, about 3 years old and is extremely friendly.  He is beginning to chase after Sweet Pea and it is hilarious because now she takes off running.  Turn about is fair play!

These pictures are from our trip to Eagle, Alaska, July 4, 2010.  It is located on the Yukon River and became one of our favorite places in Alaska.  The people are so friendly and we had a great time.  Eagle is a 13 hour drive from Anchorage, most of which is on a gravel road, better known as the Taylor Highway, Anchorage to Tok to Chicken to Eagle.  Immediately upon arriving we were invited to the community potluck so off we went.  Just like home!  Luckily we brought lots of carrots and celery with us to eat so we took them as our contribution.  The residents told us next time to load up our truck with watermelons because they would buy them and we would be able to pay for our trip.  In other words, fresh fruits and veggies are hard to come by there being so far from grocery stores.  Yes, there is a very small community store but the selections, not to mention the prices...ohmigosh. Eagle's 4th of July celebration is awesome.  Trap shoot across the Yukon, softball tournament, parade (I am pretty certain all 200 residents were in the parade), crafts fair, and a water dunk contest along with the community potluck.  Fun times to be had by all!  Unfortunately, we ended up leaving quickly on Sunday night when the thunderclouds started forming.  Being from eastern Oregon, we knew what they meant, so we hightailed it out of there about 10pm.  We were very lucky as the storms were very bad, the road washed out and was not repaired until the following year.  I am looking forward to going back, maybe even in the winter to experience the 30 below weather.  Ok...maybe not...but maybe...

q'ua

“The pleasure of remembering had been taken from me, because there was no longer anyone to remember with. It felt like losing your co-rememberer meant losing the memory itself, as if the things we'd done were less real and important than they had been hours before.” ― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

Nothing like marking time.  First in days, then weeks, and soon...in months, followed by years.  The two month mark came and went the other day and as I commented to a couple friends, it seems like time has flown by, yet the moments of grief seem to creep by and I wonder how long they are going to last because the pain is deep, intense, and sometimes literally doubles me over.  Thankfully I know those will ease in due time as well.

I have been staying busy, traveling to see family and friends, watching football, having heart attacks over my Denver Broncos (HELLO?!?!?!?!), and most importantly, hanging out with Sweet Pea.  She continues to walk around at night crying, searching each and every room when I get home from work looking for Sam and probably Rocky.  Makes me very sad I am unable to tell her they are not here, yet I often wonder if she is able to see and hear things I am not because she certainly acts it sometimes.  Then again, this is Sweet Pea aka Little Turd we are talking about.

One thing I discovered is the amount of paperwork which keeps appearing is simply absurd.  For awhile it seemed like for every document I completed and submitted, five more appeared. And just when you are sure you are done...well...all I can say is, do not get too cocky.  Just today I found two more documents I need to complete and reminded myself of another item on the to do list I have been putting off.  Plus, I am still working on thank you notes for all the flowers, donations, cards, food, and everything else everyone did for both Sam and I. It is going to take awhile, mostly because my motivation level just is not what it used to be.  Eventually it will return.  

Also today a colleague voiced concern about me coming home to an empty house every night. I found myself telling her that it is okay because I just truly do not feel like being very social right now.  Like I mentioned before, I am staying very busy, but it is just me, or just me and Sweet Pea.  It is difficult to explain and I do not want anyone thinking I am sitting around feeling sorry for myself and crying my eyes out because that is not the case.  Mostly I just do not feel like talking to anyone, although I am always pleased when friends or family call even if I do not answer.  From what I understand, this too shall pass.  It is just part of the grief cycle and I have to let myself go through it. Book club is this weekend as is the Breath Easy Breakfast, so I will be getting out and about with my girlfriends and I am really looking forward to both events.

More than anything, I miss making memories with Sam.  People keep commenting on how much we crammed into the time the we had together.  We truly did a lot and created a boat load of memories.  Unfortunately, I am the only one enjoying the memories, yet I am so very grateful I have them and no one can take them away from me.

Plus, I think Sam is standing on the Oregon sidelines, if you know what I mean.  I am sure God and he had a long talk about how it is high time his Ducks won the BCS.

q'ua

A man is a success if he gets up in the morning and goes to bed at night, and in between does what he wants to do. Bob Dylan

I am told the pain lessens as time goes by. In fact, I know it does.  Just wish time would hurry up. Each day I miss Sam just as much as the day before.  How I handle it, though, improves each day.  I could ramble on and on about how much I miss him, so I will not bore you with that.  Just suffice it to say, every day is subtly different, not easier, just different.  There is an overbearing sadness within me yet I do my best to focus on happiness.  It is not only what I want but what Sam would want as well.  Make the most of each and every day...it is what we all should be doing

Tomorrow is a new day and I cannot wait to see what it brings.

q'ua

Perhaps they are not stars in the sky, but rather openings where our loved ones smile down to let us know that they are happy. Eskimo proverb

Today marked four weeks since Sam passed.  It almost seems surreal to me.  Several times throughout the day I find myself wanting to text him to tell him something or ask his opinion or just to say hi.  Each time it almost startles me to realize he is not here anymore.  I do still talk with him, though.  If I listen closely, he does respond...or at least, that is what I chose to believe.

Slowly I am responding to all the flowers, plants, cards, emails, calls, and texts I received from all of you.  The support I received is almost overwhelming and deeply appreciated.   My family (Glass and Evans) received a great amount as well.  Thank you for your kind thoughts, words, and prayers.  The two celebrations of life proved to be very different, each providing a closing to various chapters of Sam's life as well as a celebration of his passing on to the next.

For all of you wondering, I am staying in Alaska.  Sam and I became Alaskans the minute we crossed the state line.  It is our home.

As to what is going on behind these closed doors?  Well, his clothes are still in the closet and dresser.  One of his Oregon sweatshirts is still draped over the back of a dining room chair, right where he left it.  His shoes are still tossed in a corner in the bedroom. Many things are still in the same place as they were before.  Yesterday I made my first Costco run in two months and I also did laundry for the first time in a couple weeks, both of which forced me to put some things away or move them around.  I have no idea how long I will keep his things with me, but I will not be doing anything with them until I am ready and not a minute before.

If I sound angry, I guess I am a little bit because those questions were asked of me in the first week he was gone.  I admit, I was caught by surprise.  Everyone grieves differently, though, as well as survives differently.  For me, it gives me strength to have Sam's things around me, makes me feel like he is still here with me.  I talk with him every morning and every night and it makes me feel good.  One of these days I might wake up and decide today is the day to give his clothes away, but then again, it might not ever happen.  I just do not know so I am just taking it one day at a time and doing the best that I can, continuing, and building upon, the life we built together.

Admittedly, it does help that my Denver Broncos are kicking butt.

q'ua

Imagine that, how sweet it'd be To have you here again with me Oh lord, I wish I had you back But all I can do is imagine that. "Imagine That" lyrics by Don Williams

Tonight one of our friends posted this on Facebook and it was the first thing I saw when I logged on.  It truly is the only thing I can do.  My heart hurts in ways I never thought it could.  Yet, sometimes it seems like it is all a dream.  Sam should be here with me, taking the trailer out for one last weekend, camping in the rain, getting ready for football, wondering if there is going to be termination dust on the peaks when the clouds finally rise, and every other little thing I am now doing alone.  Yes, I truly believe he is here with me as my angel, but I want to be able to reach out and touch him and that is not possible.  Evenings, nights and weekends are the hardest because those are the times I spent exclusively with Sam.  Most of the time, there are no tears, just an aching pain that will ease with time but more than likely will never go away.  I do not want anyone to feel sorry for me, I just want people to understand that just because I am not in tears does not mean I am not grieving. Sometimes the tears come suddenly and quite unexpectedly and other times, I am prepared for them because I am learning what triggers them.  Tonight as I left our "adopted Alaska parents" house, I felt tears because Sam would have had so much fun with them this evening.  I know he was there in spirit, though, because I felt his presence several times throughout the evening.  

q'ua

Death is no more than passing from one room into another. But there's a difference for me, you know. Because in that other room I shall be able to see. Helen Keller

For Sam, passing from one room to another means he is no longer in pain and suffering.  For several days prior to his peaceful passing, he struggled mightily against the pain he experienced.  I cannot tell you what it did to my heart and soul to watch and to listen to his battle.  At times I could not bear it, nor could anyone else around, Brian, our pastor Ron, and others.  Many many thanks to our friend, Dr. Mike Kirkham, who provided me the guidance necessary to work with hospice and request the things Sam needed.

Personally, I am doing pretty good.  As I have mentioned to many people, Sam and I have had four years to grieve and prepare for this.  No, it does not make it any easier, but the grieving is not as intense.  Yesterday I had several "moments" as my mother refers to them, but to me, that is to be expected.  I allow the moment to happen, experience it, and move on.  More than likely these will continue to happen to one extreme or another for the rest of my life.

I miss Sam more than I can put into words.  My life consisted of Sam, the cats, work, and a little bit of me for the past four years, and actually, our entire marriage, long before we knew Sam was sick.  Half of me is now gone so I have this huge void.  Last night I wandered aimlessly around the condo before finally forcing myself to go to bed.  Sweet Pea followed me in my wanderings as she is even more confused than I am.

A Celebration of Life is scheduled for this Saturday, August 31, at the First United Methodist Church in downtown Anchorage at 10:00am.  A second one is scheduled for 1:00pm, Saturday, September 14, at the United Methodist Church in John Day, Oregon.  His ashes will be interred at the Fort Richardson National Cemetery here in Anchorage at a later date, yet to be determined.  There will be an obituary in both the Anchorage Daily News and the Blue Mountain Eagle.

Sam spent many hours volunteering at the Anchorage Animal Shelter and he asked that donations be made to it or the American Lung Association - Alaska.

q'ua