Letters to Diane – 8

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OK, today you got to me big time. Some PT Cruiser friends came to visit me. A small group consisting of Rick many dozens of businesses you’ve visited over the years. There are lots of them. I went through your email list and unsubscribed them one at a time until my fingers got tired. Then I decided to clean up the applications you no longer need. I didn’t get many done, and I fiddled with just resetting the phone to back to zero, or new out of the box for a new user.

As I looked at the list I quickly came across your Notes app and was reminded of the turmoil I caused that last time I messed with that one. Instead of moving on, I opened it to see what you had on your list.

There are 311 items on your list. Imagine my surprise when I was greeted by your last entry on October 15th.

“Remember: You’ll be in my Heart”

I was stunned. You hid this little Gem knowing I would eventually get around to your phone to do exactly what I was doing. As I pondered your message it became clear to me that you were resigned to your fate, to exit this mortal coil long before you should have.

You never said a word about how much pain you were experiencing and I wasn’t able to comprehend what you were enduring. That you were thinking of me at this low point in your life is very meaningful to me and I thank you for that. That sounds like a very simplistic response to the profound message you left for me.

You will always be in my heart, to. You’ve been there since you were 14.

You knew I’d eventually get around to the phone, didn’t you?

Letters to Diane – 7

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Hi Hon. Been thinking about you non-stop and adding that a chance to look you in the eyes would be nice. Not likely, I know, but I can wish.

Each day I encounter more evidence about how brave you are. First was a short discussion with Jennifer about a talk you had with the doctor on, or about, October 21st when he asked if you wanted to consider the suicide departure if the liver biopsy wasn’t encouraging. It’s my understanding that you vetoed that option. That just wasn’t you at all. You’re a fighter even when the odds were so drastically against you. I can only thank you for enduring the pain because I’m not sure how I would have reacted if suicide had been your choice.

Then, today, Carolann called to check on me and we had nice visit. She reminded me that we have a date on the 21st at Simms in Scappoose. We’ll, of course, be talking about you in that venue. The last time we were there, as I recall, was with this same group. It’s been a while, but I think I’m right.

What I learned from Carolann was a conversation she had with you at some point before all the turmoil started with the hospital visits. She said you shared that you didn’t want to “linger” which, you thought, would cause more turmoil in the family. You wanted to fight your way through this, and you knew it early on.

Because of that I’m more in awe of your will to endure whatever cancer could throw at you. Although there was no hope for a recovery, you gave it all you had, and then some.

I’m gushing, I know. But I’m so proud of you, I can’t help myself. For those of us who remain, you gave us a life lesson in how to deal with tragedy head on with dignity.

Going forward, I’m going to bask in the knowledge that of all the choices you could have made, you chose me. I loved every second of it.

Letters to Diane – 6

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Today was another long one but it’s becoming normal. I’m OK with that. Normal is comforting.

Dan and Jen joined us for lunch while they cooked up the breakfasts that require an oven. Their new one doesn’t arrive until next Saturday. It’s coming to Shore because I failed to change the delivery address. Maybe I can convince them to deliver it to Matzen.

I took Max for his second walk this afternoon. While preparing to leave I had a short talk with Lydia about you, your Mom and your Dad. It was about the fact that all three of you died in this house within 20 steps of each other. Specifically, you and Mom were within 10 steps either side of where your Dad died.

I’ve been busy closing accounts for you and it’s a challenge. I suspect the best way to identify what needs to be fixed by checking your emails. Yes, I think I’ll do that.

I’ll start tomorrow.

Now I’m going to eat an apple.

Letters to Diane – 5

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Time has changed for me. Minutes have become hours, hours in turn become days and days take forever. even with everything going so slowly, I cannot accomplish anything. I just sit in my chair reliving my past with Max in my lap. He anchors me in place. As I sit I drift in out of sleep, semi-aware of the activities going on around me.

Today I did get the garbage cans retrieved from the street and refilled them immediately with garbage gathered just yesterday. That’s going to make it difficult to make it to next Monday without creating another pile of garbage. The only solution is for us to eat the garbage. That’s more than disgusting so it’s not an option. We will have to define a way to eat meals without making garbage during the process.

Enough about garbage.

When Max and I walk around the block we pass by a yard with interesting toadstools. They began as orange balls emerging from the grass then changed to these.

Now, Monday is done. The empty hole in my heart grows bigger. Perhaps the slow passing of time for me is necessary for me to process this loss.

Letters to Diane – 4

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It’s Sunday morning. The house is unusually quiet but it’s a welcome peacefulness The busy day we had yesterday was one of the hardest days of our lives, but we endured.

First, the simple act of waking up was tough knowing what the rest of the day held i store for us. You’re gone from us, but you are still very much alive within us. That was made evident by the people who showed up for your service yesterday. I don’t think anyone counted them. It wasn’t necessary. The church was full of people who love you and that was good.

There were very few people that I didn’t recognize but they filled in my memory gaps as they passed out of the church. Your Bunco Babes were there, as well as the PT Cruisers, and the Old Winnowbago Guys. I can’t categorize all the groups who were there right now, but the final view I had was a large group of folks who love you. The affiliation wasn’t as important as their presence.

After Pastor Ingrid got the service going our brave daughter made her way to the lectern and shared her memories of you. She was very brave and has assumed the matriarchal duties of our family with style. She really good at it. I know you already know this, but it still has to be said.

After Jennie, I found myself standing at the lectern, totally unprepared for the reason I was there. I had a couple pages of notes, but they just didn’t seem adequate enough for me to share my feelings about you. So, being true to myself, and you, I just winged it. Unless someone was recording my efforts those words are lost because I have no idea what I said. I rest comfortably, however, in the belief that let everyone know how important you are to me and pretty much everyone who’s heart you touched.

No matter where I go, I see and I feel the comfort of your touch beside me. As we walk, it’s so easy to feel our hands find each other and clasp together like we’ve done so many times before.

From the serious side of things, my mind wanders off to inappropriate areas where I asked Lydia if it’s too soon to start dating again. When I said that I was amazed about how wide she can open her eyes before realizing I was kidding, something I do a lot. It’s a defense mechanism and it changes the atmosphere very quickly.

As I continue to walk aimlessly through the remainder of my life I will be on alert for your touch.

I Love You.

Letters to Diane – 3

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After I closed out the previous letter, I realized that I failed to mention our success with Halloween visitors. Jennie provided a huge bowl of candy because it never occurred to me that we’d need any. It’s good that she did because we had lots of visitors. The “Littles” of course, and Baylee showed up, too. It was good to see them all. I let kids take hands full to see what would happen and most of them were polite and not greedy. One of them said, “I’ll just take one,” and he did. I was impressed.

Today is November 6th which means I’ve failed miserably with my desire to write one letter a day. Maybe when things calm down a bit after Saturday I can get back on track. At this point in time I’m just wandering around in a fog with no clear destination in site.

This entire week, so far, has been filled with sitting in the living room, Lydia by my side, watching some really questionable movies and eating. People keep bringing us food so eating is a must. Movies make time pass.

Today we are going to Costco for things Jennie needs. She’s been busy building a photo board of Diane. We have tons of photos for her and she keeps ordering more from Walgreens.

Yesterday a small package showed up in the mail addressed to Diane. Unless Amazon is available in Heaven this was obviously something that was backordered. She will be happy to learn that it arrived.

It’s been raining most of the time which suits my mood just right. I’m not as sad as I think I should be and that bothers me. I say I’m not lonely because Lydia is with me every day, but I am.

I trust things will get better with time.

it is now 1406 and Lydia and I successfully returned from our shopping trip to Costco. I’m happy to report that I didn’t run into anything going or coming. That’s the furthest I”ve driven the truck in a couple of years. I’m real proud of myself, I am. The only thing extra I got was a jar of cashews. Everything else was on Jennie’s list.

That’s enough for today.

Letters to Diane – 2

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Hello, my Love. It’s Saturday here and football games rule the airways. Since no team playing interests, me, I just skip around channels, avoiding commercials. Keeps me entertained. You wouldn’t like any of them, except the Oregon Beavers. You have it set to record. I watched it for you and they won. It was their second win of the season. They aren’t doing very well.

It’s been raining hard lately but the creek still hasn’t gone up much. I keep expecting it to at least get up around the big boulders along the bank, but it doesn’t.

Having Lydia live with me was a great idea. Max thinks so, too. She sits in your chair so it’s very comforting for me, almost like you’re still here. We even watch the kind of movies you like, like spy stuff, and women who do well in bar fights. We watch a movie every evening.

Your memorial will be next Thursday, November 8th at 1100. Jennie has everything planned. The only thing left is your eulogy. I tried to write one but wound up telling a story about your life with me in the Navy.

I’m kinda stuck here so will quit for today.

I love you and miss you. I’d be very happy if you could figure out a way to send me responses so I can ask specific questions. Like, where did you put all the hot pads? Stuff like that.

Ok. Gonna go.

Letters to Diane – 1

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I miss you. Today is Halloween and I was really counting on you to be here to hand out candy to all the kids. Now that you’re gone I guess I should step up and do it. It would be pretty horrible if some kids made it down the street with getting candy from our house.

“Where,” you might ask, “did you get candy?”

Well, I didn’t get it. Jennie did. She’s been taking care of everything since you left us. Watching you die kinda put me in a tizzy and I was pretty useless for a few days. It’s been a week now and with Jennie’s help I’ve become more human, and even a bit useful. That’s what Lydia tells me. She’s living with me now. The family thinks someone should be close to me in case I hurt myself like I’ve been known to do.

Jennie has also arranged your service for November 11th at Bethany. There will be many people there, we’re sure. Jennie’s first guess was 100 guests, but there will be more. I’ll give you the count on November 9th, after the service.

I kinda wished you had made a will. Everything will be OK in the end, but it would have been a bit easier if we had a will from you. You no longer need to worry about it unless you have a way of getting information from beyond. I don’t know if what I send into the cloud reaches you for approval, so we’re really in the same boat with regard to the communication issue. But, I’ll keep sending these notes to you simply based on faith. If nothing else, I’ll benefit from the therapy I get from talking with you.

Good nite, my love. I trust you are well in the arms of God.

Diane is gone

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She left us at 3:15 pm on Friday the 24th surrounded by family. We were all talking at once and I suspect she just got tired of all the noise. Oddly enough, all of us turned our eyes to her just as she took her last breath. She didn’t make a sound, she just left.

A very sad time. Even though she’s been gone a few days it’s not real for me yet. It’s like a poem I read about the dearly departed aren’t really gone, they’re just in the next room. There have been many times that I’ve lost track of her in the house and have to go looking for her. Usually she’s busy on her computer trying to get it to do what she wants it to do. Then, once I’ve found her, I go back to doing whatever it was I was doing. Knowing where she is was always important to me.

Lydia is staying with me and we haven’t done much except try to wrap our heads around what happened. She’s not here, but she’s really everywhere. I’m surrounded by her but she’s always just a little ways out of my field of vision. I know she’s there, though.

We’re all very sad she’s gone but knowing she’s no longer suffering helps us.

Diane came home …

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Yesterday was Diane’s last day in the hospital. Jeff and Jennifer made room in our bedroom for her hospital bed, and arranged home hospice care for her arrival. I spent the day with her waiting for 7 pm, the scheduled arrival time for her transport. They finally showed up about 8:30 pm.

Getting on the gurney for the ride was her last surprise because they did the 1-2-3 thing then lifted from the bed and placed her on the gurney. I’m sure it was like a carnival ride for her because her eyes got big on the transfer, then she was almost immediately comfortable as they buckled her up.

We parted ways at elevator #4: they went to the emergency room exit and I went to the main exit. Two days prior I parked in a handicap spot near the front door. It was a long lonely ride to St. Helens.

When I got to the house the medics were just wheeling her up the driveway and there were cars parked everywhere. It was like a long overdue family reunion. Diane was semi aware of all the commotion.

Diane’s bed replaced her recliner, net to mine. This is where she will draw her final breath.

We will all miss her immensely.