A rainy cold Sunday...

As it has been across most of Texas, San Antonio has spent a rainy cold weekend, for Texans, too cold to venture out.  So I spent my afternoon unexpectedly nestled in my bed covered in 92 letters that Steve and I had written to one another while we were dating.

As I wrote in my last blog, it was one of those unexpected moments that swept over me before I knew what was happening.  Thursday I did what I swore I’d never do...I gutted up and decorated for Christmas before Thanksgiving.  Yes, I’m having 14 for Thanksgiving dinner and my table is set, pumpkins, acorns, autumn leaves and all but if you look across the dining room you will find garland, nativities and lighted Santa's.  It makes me crazy...and I did it!

I knew the week after Thanksgiving would be very hectic and I knew time was against me so I bit the bullet and bulldozed my way into the attic to grab Christmas decorations.  I need to explain that we have this wonderful, incredible walk-in attic.  It always made Steve crazy because about ⅓ okay ½ of it is full of my Christmas decor/junk.  So I decided that as long as I was up there I would purge, as I decorated.  Every Christmas box I carried down, I also carried down a box labeled “Miscellaneous.”  By Saturday night my house was decorated and my garage was full of unwanted items to be given away. I had been so productive!

Toward the end of my scourging I found a large Tupperware bin labeled JMB Treasurers.  Thinking it would be stuff from childhood I took it downstairs and opened it up.  On top lay neatly packaged some of my children’s baby clothes.  Beneath lay letters...oh my, letters Steve and I had written to one another during our 18 months of dating.  We had both kept every letter and card and at some point I had placed all 92 of them carefully in this bin to store them as treasurers.  I took several out and read them, oh how the tears welled in my eyes.  My heart literally ached as I remembered that excitement, that overwhelming desire to be with Steve.  That love that began and grew and was at first fun, then consuming, then so serious we had to make very difficult decisions that concerned both of my children.  All of those first new exciting feelings flooded through me and I was right there, 20+ years ago, in love with this enchanting man.  I placed the letters back and shut the lid of the box, I couldn’t allow myself to go there, to that place that I cherished so very much.

Today came, cold and dreary.  I tied up all my loose ends, polished some of my silver ornaments, added a few bows and thought constantly about that box...it was calling to me.  After lunch I grabbed a blanket and the box and headed for my bed.  Here I spent the entire afternoon reading and reliving 18 of the most thrilling and wonderful months of my life.

Within those 92 cards and letters, I sent Steve 6 different birthday cards on the week leading up to his birthday.  One of the letters was a Western Union telegram from Steve telling me he was thinking about me.  Many were silly, flirtatious and fun...it was a long distance relationship.  We spent every night on the phone, and that was when long distance calls were pricey.  Steve didn’t care we would talk for hours and then write.

My letters were long and wordy, I wrote things like “I’m so comfortable with you...you allow me to be myself.”  In time I would write of the loneliness I felt when we left one another.  Steve was living in San Antonio and I in Midland.  In one letter I wrote, “It’s hard to leave you at the airport.  I feel empty and lonely, unsettled without you.”  I wrote how fun it was to be with him, how dangerous I thought he was.  I felt more like I was 16 than 40.

We both wrote of our excitement of upcoming trips Steve planned for us.  Trips to Santa Fe, New York, San Francisco not counting all the flights I made back and forth to San Antonio.  We spoke of meeting each other at the airport gates and counted the days until we would see one another.  One of Steve’s letters, “As I write, there are just 5 nights (and just 125 hours) until I can see you and hold you.”

Steve would send me airline tickets through registered mail along with brochures of the hotels we where we would stay.  I can still remember the thrill of going to the mailbox and ripping open those letters to discover where our next adventure would take us.

Many of my letters thanked him for the amazing trips, the fun we had, how I loved discovering all the facets there were to him.  Both of our letters spoke of how much we missed each other and couldn’t wait until the next time we were together.  

Steve’s writing touched my heart then as it does now.  Reading his words today, how could I not have fallen madly in love with this passionate, caring, sensitive, very desirable man?  Let me share just a few of his words.

“the prospect of discovering all the very nice things about each of us is very exciting”

“I like to have things to look forward to.  It’s very nice to have you in my life.”

“This thing we have going is very exciting.”

“I want to be a nice thing in your life now and provide whatever you want from me--”

“I enjoyed learning things about you and in doing so learned some things about myself.”

He made a list of The Top Ten Reasons I needed to go to New York with Him.

“I don’t know if I have ever heard anything that means more to me than hearing you say I am your best friend.”

“I want a place in your life as well as in your heart.”

Oh how I reveled in those written words.  I would read them over and over again until the next letter came.  

I came across this letter that I wrote to Steve about a month after we had been “dating” and I think it sums up even now...20+ years later exactly how I feel about this man I so love.  

“You remain so very different from anyone I have ever known.  You are intricate and you operate on so many various levels that I find discovering who you are such an adventure. You are funny, witty, quick...It’s fun to learn of your little quirks--your great love for cotton socks, your even greater passion for crunchy peanut butter on a spoon at odd times of the day. The intensity in which you park you car in inexplainable spots so that you can be assured of leaving with great ease.  I like the way you make people feel good about who they are--”officer” seems the most perfect example, although I could list a dozen, no maybe a “zillion” ways you have enabled me to feel very special about who I am.”

Today I had a date with my husband.  I heard his voice, I laughed at his sense of humor,  I saw inside his heart.  I saw his beautiful shining eyes and gorgeous smile and I almost felt his arms incircle me.  

I have wrapped and sealed our letters and stored them safely away.  Maybe in a year or so on another wet cold rainy Sunday afternoon I will revisit them again.  For now I feel fully blessed that I loved and was so loved and we never took one another for granted.

Ruth 1:16  “Don’t ask me to leave you and turn back. Wherever you go, I will go; wherever you live, I will live. Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God.

Anxious Anticipation...

Lately two of my most frequently asked questions have been, “How are you doing?” and “Are you apprehensive about the upcoming holidays?”

My answer to the first is usually, “I’m okay.”  Do you know how many ways there are to say that word?  The answer to question #2 however, is throwing me for a loop.  I think I’m finding that apprehension, like anticipation, is in the waiting.  Sometimes it seems like the expectation of an anticipated incident can be worse than the actual experience.  Once the dreaded experience has passed, you realize what you worried about wasn’t nearly as bad as you had anticipated.

Let me give you a few of my life examples and see if you agree with me.  I think I was in the 9^th grade when I had to give an oral report.  My father, an attorney, was big on emoting.  He had helped me with this English assignment, I remember I was in Mrs. B. Smith’s class (once, when she sneezed her wiglet flew off her head into the trash can, but that’s an entirely different story.)  My father had drilled me on the importance of speaking enthusiastically and enunciating each spoken syllable...now let me remind you that in the 60’s no one in the 9^th grade gets up in front of their classmates and enunciates and merrily chirps there way through their oral report...no one.  I, being the obedient child I usually was, did as my father directed and was humiliated by the roars of laughter.  To this day, I have a deadly fear of anxiously anticipating speaking in public.  My voice will shake, my palms sweat and I become a freaky wreck.  However, I am able to speak publicly, spur of the moment or off the cuff, here I find it as natural as breathing.  It’s the anxiety of planning ahead to determine what I’m going to say that gives me the heebie-jeebies.

Here’s an example of anxious anticipation everyone can relate to, moving.  I have really only “adult moved” four times in my life and every time I dreaded moving day as if I had bacterial meningitis.  For months before each move I would walk the floors of my home thinking, how am I going to get all of this in boxes?  When am I going to find the time?  The next phase was accruing boxes and packing materials and finally packing away my junk, all the while trembling at the thought of moving day.   

The actual moving day was a breeze compared to what went on before and after “The Day.”  Again, anxious anticipation was worse than the event.

In October, 2008 Steve and I took an incredible trip to Croatia and Austria.  It was one of our favorite vacations and we had a wonderful time.  It was on this trip, that Steve mentioned he was unable to stay involved in a book.  He read only magazine articles during that trip, so unusual for him.  We always worked crossword puzzles together, it was this trip that Steve simply couldn’t figure out the puzzle clues and tossing them aside, they were no longer fun.  I remember we got lost several times as we drove through Europe.  Steve always the navigator and I the driver, had difficulty reading the maps, this was uncommon for him, but we laughed about our misadventures.

Croatia October 2008

Coming home, over the next several weeks I saw a grave mental decline in Steve.  As I watched him worsen I silently moved through a thousand horrible scenarios.  What if Steve had Alzheimer’s disease?  A brain tumor?    

I watched silently as Steve slipped down a long dark rabbit hole.  My anxious anticipation grew large and overwhelming.  Steve and I were one, joined at the hip, we depended on one another greatly...what was I going to do if there were something really wrong with my larger-than-life-husband?  These were long days and sleepless nights.  I spent hours praying, asking God for wisdom, guidance, direction.  I was lost and blanketed in disquietude.  When we finally found the culprit, Glioblastoma Multi-forma, Stage 4, I thought my worst nightmare had indeed come true.  

What was to happen to us next?  My anxious anticipation continued with each stage that we traveled throughout the now 5 years.  My worst nightmare did come true.  Steve battled long and hard, with such grace and dignity.  He never wavered in his battle, never asked why, never anticipated what might be, he enabled us to live through each difficult phase of his cancer thinking, “Well, we got through that, not so bad”…and we would move on to the next phase.  Steve simply accepted what was to be and lived to teach us all how to die with dignity.

Now I am faced with the question, “Am I anxiously anticipating the upcoming holidays?”  My answer, “Yes.”  My hope, my prayer is that the apprehension of what is to come will be greater than living through the actual holiday without Steve.

I have found most of my overwhelming moments come when least expected.  When talking to the cable man, or in a conversation in the middle of a cocktail party, or when singing a lullaby to one of our grand children.  It is those tender personal moments, when the floor is swept out from under my feet and I find myself with no place to stand.  There is no anxious anticipation during these waves of emotions, no they come like a riptide and sweep me away.

So my goal is to be thankful this Thanksgiving for all the joy Steve brought to my life and to our children’s lives.  To be thankful I knew and loved this man and that he loved me with all he had to give.  He blessed my life and made my world a better place to live.

I’ll get through Thanksgiving, then I’ll think about Christmas.  Until then, I’ll do my best not to allow anxious anticipation to creep in and take away my joy.  And ask me tomorrow and  I will tell you all, “I’m Okay!”

Happy Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving 2008–13 days after Steve's Brain Surgery

“The Lord is my strength and shield. I trust him with all my heart. He helps me, and my heart is filled with joy. I burst out in songs of thanksgiving.”  Psalms 28:7

Cleaning out...

I’ve been cleaning out my house and I’m here to say this is no fun.

It all started about 9-10 months ago.  Brooke came to me and told me she and Jared were thinking of moving.  They wanted to find a home and settle in permanently before the kids started school.  

Backing up almost 5 years  when Steve first became sick, we very quickly began discussing  that once I was alone I did not want to live in our home.  We built this home together and have lived here since 2002.  It was such a fun adventure and we enjoyed planning every inch of it and watching it grow into our home.  I knew once I was to live alone, I would want something very different.  This wonderful home has too many memories of us.  

So Steve, being Steve, began his quest to find me the perfect house.  After about 6 months of Steve wanting to look, needing to look, I finally put my foot down and said no.  We were going to spend his remaining time living life, not worrying about what I would do once he was gone.  He finally relented, but he would continue to broach the subject whenever possible.

Then Brooke and Jared came along with their idea to move.  Their initial thoughts were to make their move in 2 years, give or take.  One morning on one of my walks about 2 months before Steve died, it hit me, I had the perfect plan.  I came home and told Steve of my decision, I would buy Jared and Brooke’s house once they moved.  It was perfect, everything Steve wanted for me, smaller, less upkeep, 4 bedrooms (that he was adamant about), one story, gated neighborhood and we both loved their home!  Done, everyone was happy.

Little did we realize that the Meabon’s perfect house would come along so quickly.  They closed on their new home November 1^st and therefore I bought their/my new home on that day.  Holy moly, that was quick...now I own two homes.

So after I calmed down a bit, I decided to take my time.  I will remodel their home to make it more me.  I am not going to put my house on the market until later, after the holidays, after my trip to Israel...later.

In the mean time, one evening Brent was sitting in the kitchen, innocently looking ceiling to floor, wall to wall, shaking his head and flatly with little to no emotion, said, “What are you going to do with all your stuff?  I mean Mom, you have stuff everywhere.”  Steve had been saying this to me forever and I always thought it was humorous, but for some reason when Brent said it, I started to hyperventilate.  What was I going to do with all this stuff?

The day he left, I went straight to HEB and started grabbing boxes.  I vowed I would begin packing a few boxes each day until I moved.  Thus my daunting task has begun.

There are areas that feel good to purge.  My pantry, full of serving pieces I never use.  My closet...heaps of clothes that were decades old, yet I could never get rid of.  I kept thinking, “Oh, they were so cute, surely they will come back in style again?”  Gone!  

Knick knacks, or rather, treasures, or as Steve called it my junk, that I’ve hauled around with me for way too long...out!  Purging feels like a great weight loss program, that’s working.

There have been areas of the house that I have gone to with great trepidation.  I boxed up all our framed photos.  Oh, incredible memories came flooding back as I looked into Steve’s eyes.  I smiled back at his spellbinding smile. The tears came as I wrapped each frame carefully and placed it in the special boxes labeled  ”Important.”  

I went into an upstairs closet and lining several shelves were all of our travel books.  Fodor’s from France, Croatia, Austria, Greece, Italy... stacks of books from Maine, California, upstate New York, Bryce Canyon...we had traveled.  I stood staring longingly at all of those shelves of books and tears poured out of me like a broken spigot as I touched each book and smiled through my tears.  

The books were dog-eared from handling.  Steve was big on referring to Fodor’s for the best restaurants, hotels, things to do and see.  I had written in the margin of many of the books, commenting on what we loved, simply liked or felt like was a waste of time.  Steve’s handwriting was there on many of the pages.  He was the one to plan our trips ahead of time.  He would read through these books for hours before we would go on trips, making reservations, plotting our course, determining our routes.  

What is one to do with mounds of travel books?  Books of places you have been with the person you most wanted to go with...and now, well now I’m left with this painful stack of books.  So I scooped them up, grabbed a glass of wine, and I spent the evening flipping through the pages of each of book.  It was a private, intimate time and it was difficult, but once I had looked through each book I laid it carefully in the trash bin and at the end of the night, I shut the lid.

I think I may be through cleaning out for a while, my bones feel too dry and I have time.

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven...

    a time to seek, and a time to lose;

a time to keep, and a time to throw away…”  Ecclesiastes 3:1-6

Sometimes for your birthday you get exactly what you need...

Brooke took Harper to Target and allowed her to pick out whatever she wanted to give me for my birthday.

Brent came in Saturday for the weekend.  Brooke & Jared got a babysitter and the four of us had grown-up dinner Saturday night.  Sunday morning Brent and I met the Meabon family for breakfast and Harper proudly presented me with my birthday gift.

Cinderella Hair-Do Head

Yep, my very own Cinderella with hair to style, just for me!  Sometimes you get exactly what you want and what you really need for your birthday.

Thank you Harper and Harris.

I love you,
Honey