Last night, a fellow Black Swan and friend from my Governor days called me out of the blue. We had recently reconnected, which brought me a lot of joy, even though it was because he joined our “club” that no one wants to join. When I first learned of his loss, I reached out, and in that outreach nearly a year ago, I included the gentle invitation to this blog. I am unsure if this is the right thing to do, but many people have expressed gratitude for sharing my thoughts here, so I did. I also included a suggestion I often make: start at the beginning, as some of my recent thoughts may not be as helpful to the newly widowed.
He called last night because he never began to read the blog till yesterday. He wanted to share how helpful it was, and we chatted and joked briefly, quickly falling into the worn grooves of our relationship in the ‘before times.’ For reasons I cannot explain when I picked up my phone and saw that he had liked several posts, I was drawn to re-read them. I don’t remember ever going back and reading my earlier posts. I was surprised to realize I did not remember some of them and that the emotions I expressed in a few were less relevant today (month 39 for those keeping track at home), while some were resonant.
Today was a Day Like This - see the Van Morrison song above. It is worth noting that Chuck loved Van Morrison. We danced to “Have I Told You Lately That I Love You” for our first dance at our wedding, and when I shared a non-Van Morrison version, he was mortally offended. I woke up at the farm today due to unexpected car trouble over the weekend that messed up my travel schedule. I wasn’t sorry to be here, though. I have so many things to do for the wedding and just general tasks as the weather warms up, plus there are worse places to be. I was planning to spend more time here after this week when I finished (she said hopefully) my PT for my piriformis muscle strain. And while I was outside with the new caretaker and Bucky, I saw a beautiful blue bird, which seemed early but felt like a sign. Oh boy, a sign it was!
Long story short, amidst a lot of work piled up on my computer and some meetings I had to be at home to do, I planned to squeeze in a few important errands. I had to replace my debit card at the Credit Union (it was compromised over the weekend), visit my mom, and brave the registry to finally transfer the girls’ Crosstrek out of Chuck’s name to mine. I have needed to do this for a while, and now the registration can’t be renewed next month until I get it done. If I haven’t previously shared that the RMV in MA is on a long list of agencies who seem to go out of their way to make a widow’s life miserable, I just did. But I felt ready to tackle it today.
Of course, as I went to start the Jeep (a replacement for my truck whose make I am legally not allowed to share with you because I signed a gag order when the manufacturer repurchased it after so many issues, it deserves a post of its own but there is that gag order - not the legal term, but you understand) for the second time in two days, and after a trip to a Jeep dealer in Vermont, it would not start. The Vermont guys had warned me about this, which was part of why I was on the farm. But what a pain! It isn’t as big a pain or expense, either Sunday or today, as it could have been. That is because Chuck not only insisted that we be Premiere members of Triple-A, but he has our membership on auto-renewal, so I cannot forget. What I do forget is where the card is. Luckily, his daughters are better trained than me, and both times, Lauren had to rescue me with a picture of the card (that is now saved to my photos).
While dealing with this and the pressures of tight deadlines on some work projects, one of the girls called. I nearly hung up before she could tell me this was important, not just a chit-chat call. Long story short, she spent the day in the ER, and her issue was far less scary than it could have been.
In the midst of nearly melting down, I remembered that I re-read my post “ALONE” late last night. It was from June 2022, only six months after Chuck died. I had car trouble that day, too. There was no ER visit, but in the post, I detailed the many “to-do” lists stressing me out, seemingly more than was reasonable. Chuck was the car guy. He also ran a lot of the errands. He wasn’t any more fond of the Registry than me, but he did it. I remember him returning from multiple trips to the RMV complaining about a particular employee and his treatment. I un-diplomatically suggested that while it wasn’t fair, he might get better service if he was not dressed like a homeless person. Sometimes, I think I am funny and speak before thinking. Chuck came into the house a few hours later with this homemade sign.
He could be wickedly funny and knew how to put me in my place. (For the record, he wore better clothes and brushed his hair before creating the sign.) It is one of my best memories.
Besides the ‘getting used to’ part of grief that I quoted from my reflection book in that “Alone” post, I thought about the bluebird and signs. Mostly, I thought about Chuck’s constant refrain to the girls and me that problems are best solved by staying calm. I had reminded my ER child of this quote earlier, but I was on the brink of disregarding it. He had been through a lot of trauma in his life - lots of “Days Like This.” And rather than be bowed by those challenges, he had learned to calm himself in stressful situations. He reinforced that lesson with us continuously.
With the reminders in that long-ago post, I solved many problems today. Unexpectedly, the friend who called to thank me was preparing me to tackle a tough day. Hopefully, he has made his way to the present-day posts, or he will one day, so I don’t have to call him late tonight to thank him.
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