Grief (June 10, 2022)

Where has this cold come from? 
“It comes from the death of your friend.” 
Will I always, from now on, be this cold? 
“No, it will diminish. But always it will be with you.” 
What is the reason for it? 
“Wasn’t your friendship always as beautiful as a flame?”

~ Mary Oliver, For Tom Shaw S.S.J.E. (1945– 2014)

It's been a little over 3 weeks. I had no idea that time could move this slowly. When Scott was in the hospital and a friend asked how he was doing, Scott replied “In an incomparable part of life,” which also describes where I am. Everything around me reminds me of him, which is painful but what I prefer over not remembering. A few days after I came home from hospice, I found myself staring at the juicer sitting on the kitchen counter. I had often made freshly squeezed orange juice for Scott, which he loved. It was one of the few things that consistently tasted good to him throughout cancer and gave him a moment of pleasure. I packed up the juicer and put it away in a cabinet. It is strange how bittersweet or painful memories can come from unexpected places.

When Scott and I left for the emergency department, neither of us knew that he was walking out of our house for the last time. I'm glad that was the case; it would have been too hard for both of us if we knew. The first time I came back to the house to get clothes to stay the night at the hospital, I stopped as I walked through the front door and surveyed the signs of our life together that were still all around me. The thought that he would never return to our house overwhelmed me with sadness and it overwhelms me still.

When I close my eyes, I can hear his voice and see his face so clearly. It is painful, but at the same time I want this moment to last, to be able to feel his presence so vividly and feel like he is still nearby. I don't want the memories to fade or blur, even if it means feeling less sad. I've moved very few of Scott's belongings; I can't bear to put them away and am not ready yet. The only exceptions are that I threw out his old CPAP machine that we were keeping as a backup and this week I went through all his meds and filled a bag with them for disposal. As I sorted through the meds, I told myself that he is free now, he doesn't need these anymore.

Planning for Scott's celebration of life service this Sunday has also been keeping me busy. I have never planned a memorial service before or even attended more than a handful. In some ways that may be a good thing, so I can do what Scott wanted and not worry about what is customary or expected. I went through hundreds of pictures of his life and was amazed at the flood of happy memories that came rushing back. Planning this service has echoes of planning our wedding. It's simpler in many ways, but there's a chapel service followed by a reception. I worked on the order of service, made programs, picked out music that he loved. Many of the important people in our lives will be there. I am looking forward to seeing them all and am grateful to all the people who are traveling from out of state to be here. I just can't believe that it's for this.

The night that Scott passed away, after we all cried and said our goodbyes, I walked out of the hospice and into the night. It was about 1:30am and my mind felt completely numb. As Vicki drove me home, I looked at my phone and the first thing I saw was an e-mail from a friend who shared a beautiful and intensely real dream that she had about Scott and me. In that dream, Scott had invited friends and coworkers to meet on a hill so that people could say goodbye to him. "He took his time going around to talk to everyone - he was happy and gave everyone hugs, letting them know that he valued their friendship and enjoying his time talking with everyone. He couldn't speak with them all in person so he had met them in a dream. As he spoke with each person, Scott sought to comfort his friends, and said that he wanted everyone to live fully and enjoy life, to take care of each other, and to be hopeful." That dream made me smile through the tears, because it was so true to who Scott was. 

Planning events does not come naturally for me, and I tend to get overly immersed in all the logistics and details. But I hope that the service will capture some of the beauty and joy that Scott brought into our lives, and that I can be present for it when the moment comes.