In the last 16 months since I lost my son, September 24, 2019 there has been so much that has happened. So many conflicting thoughts, don't know where to begin.
I was my son's major care-taker and I would say that towards his end it was beginning to take it's toll on me. The stresses at work and the combined health issues for me combined with Mikes' passing , well, I'm trying to say that the last few months for him were so not quality. When you add things to your list one at a time and weeks apart, you get 'used' to them. When you write the list down of all that you or one is suffering, it takes on a larger personality.
Mikes' last month was actually the best we had, it was such a blessing to have him with me, I won't go into reasons why but it was just he and I. I know as I look back, all Gods' plans fell into place, they all fit. He spent his last week at my house and we laughed and watched movies and shared life stories. I fed him well. It was probably the best he'd had to eat in six months. And then I walked out on the deck one night and I pleaded with God to take him home. Oh please, Father, take him home...there is no quality, as it were, just surviving. We had a great week, take him away from this pain and suffering. And then He did.
After the month or so it took to take care of all the death business, the repeated calls to the cable company that we cancelled the service and returned your boxes, blah blah blah, the stress was just unimaginable. After the fourth cable bill and repeated calls that Mike had died, we took his urn down to the brick and mortar office, set it up on the counter and said, "Okay. Talk to HIM about it". They said it wasn't necessary to do what we did and we said, oh yes it was since you ignored the letters and phone calls that he was deceased. So that was finally a battle won, same went for several other bills that finally accepted either credit card cancellations or the death certificate.
To get away, we went to the coast, Newport, to be exact..
Today is January 7, 2020. One week into the new decade. Christmas was minimal and quiet since no family; Mikes' passing, my father-in-law passed last March and mother-in-law is in memory care and my daughter had to work. Add to that I was recovering (still) and that both Mr. and I had caught some pretty bad colds. We did have a little tiny tree on the dining room table, a few lights entwined around the front railing and some other little touches so it wasn't a complete loss. Probably the only year I haven't spent myself into debtors' hell--yes, we did get daughter and her two boys gifts. It all worked out. I'm sure things will be different this coming year. Optimism is a glass I keep full.
Last year we lost friends and family and 2019 brought me closer with my daughter and grandsons.
2019 brought heartache and strength. It gave me the strength I needed to fight for my health at work and to finally decide to retire from that horrible workplace called Fred Meyer. On my last day my name tag said, "Nurse Cratched Head Psycho" and before I left the building for the final time, I got on the overhead speaker with this announcement, "Free at last, hallelujah I'm free at last!". End Of Watch; 11-27-19.
Retired. Medicare. Lots to do now besides get better.
Lots of good memories of 2019; watching Sara and the boys wear giant balloons and play bumper in their backyard, a couple of beach trips with Sara, a day at the river in Corvallis, making dinners, spending girl time catching up.
I DO have to add that on the six month anniversary of Mikes' death, I had driven over to Corvallis with some of his ashes so Sara and I could take them to the beach. On my way home, let's just say I was goin' a little fast and was pulled over. Mikes' urn was sitting in the front seat, belted in yes, and the the trooper gave me a reprieve after I explained why it was there. I was a lot more careful the rest of the way home.
Until the next time...
