How I Miss You

You should have been there. So many came to remember you. Friends, family; people from the past; people from far away; they all came. We planted a tree for you finally. It's a maple from Barb's nursery. I put some of your ashes down around the rootball and then all of the family members took turns placing a shovel full of dirt around it as well using your "golden shovel" from the groundbreaking of the Pres Homes project.

The weather was iffy up until the last moment then suddenly the clouds parted and the sun shown down. You didn't have anything to do with that did you?

If so, then all of the details of the party and the lunch will be old hat for you. In fact, you probably saw and know more than me about all of that. I was too busy hugging people and leaking tears to do much else. After all of Joan I's work, I didn't have any of the food other than one of those little cakes she invented for you. All I can say about that was that it was heavenly, but you know that already don't you?

Did you hear the piper as he played Amazing Grace? It was towards the end when they wanted everyone to leave the tent so they could start tearing it down to make way for paying customers come opening time. You would have approved. He played Amazing Grace as he slowly marched down to your tree, pulling the people behind him.

That's another thing that you would like - the tree site I mean. It is pretty now, but when they get done with the rest of the landscaping, it will truly be a place of peace, meditation and beauty. By the end of the day, your tree was festooned with fifty or more red carnations placed there by pilgrims who had walked down from the restaurant to see your memorial bench.

Probably the proudest moment came when your daughter got up and spoke at the microphone for about five minutes. She told the crowd of three hundred and fifty about how you influenced her. It was powerful stuff and left many a juicy eye.

Joe also did us proud. He helped design a beautiful menu with Joan I. He did the font design and wrote a full page memoir of what your favorite foods were and what they meant to you. It is his influence that promoted your saying of "Chocolate is Important" throughout Saturday's festivities. In addition to his design efforts, he created a slideshow with music that is really a wonderful thing to behold. It was so captivating that it caused quite a bottleneck during all of the proceedings.

Saturday was a truly beautiful day, but I fear that my sister was correct when she cruelly said that "today is the best you are going to feel for a long time." If today is any indication, she was right.

I miss you so.

Goodnight.

D.

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

My Dearest Love,

Today feels hard.

I went to the dermatologist today and had to explain that you were gone and that my cancer is on the move again. The doctor was very sympathetic, but it was hard to go over that ground again.

When I got home, I wrote thank you notes to folks that had made donations to Children's Home Society or Caring Bridge. I also paid bills. There is a lot of money flowing out right now but none coming in.

I went to the bank to deposit a couple of small checks and stopped at the F&N store for burger to make for tonight. Then I went to the postoffice to mail notes and bills and to get more stamps. The clerk didn't want to take my credit card because it was so used that the signature strip was wearing off the back. She was really snooty about it and I had to be careful not to say something bad back.

Then it was to the gas station for fuel and propane. Then on to the drugstore to pick up two prescriptions, one for Kate and one for me - had a flare up of gout yesterday. It was there that I was told that our health insurance had been canceled as of the day you died. I just about shit my pants.

I drove straight home and called the insurance company. They checked their records and said "Yup, it was canceled as of June 2, the day after she died." The phone-drone I was talking to said that wasn't supposed to happen; that we were supposed to be covered until July 1 instead. Then they said that if I wanted to extend the coverage, I would have to apply for "survivorship" coverage. They said they would fix the current problem, but that I would have to talk to a different case manager to do the survivorship bit.

I then got transferred into someone's voicemail and left a message.

You know, when you were alive, stuff like this was an annoyance, but I always found ways of making light of it. But now, it feels like heavy links of chain around my neck. I am paranoid that the insurance company will use this little lapse to cancel me down the line. I am having trouble staying rational. My strings are coming undone.

Then later in the afternoon, Joe and I went up to the NO office to meet with everyone about your memorial luncheon this Saturday. I am sure that you would spin in your grave if you had one. This deal will be one for the books. I am having a hard time believing all that will be going on and what DH is laying out for the deal. He has been so generous about everything that I cannot find words.

I have asked Tom to arrange for a time when I can sit down and talk to him about the Note. Sandra M. called today to say that they were ready to file probate papers except for the issue of the note. It needs to be rewritten if we are to go forward. I feel so unprepared for all of this. I never appreciated all that you did until now and now is too late for me to say thank you.

As I said at the beginning, this is a hard day. I feel like an onion with a very thin skin. Tears come unbidden at the slightest thing. I feel very fragile and incompetant as a parent. I worry that I will not be able to hold the family together. Kate is gone as often as she can be and Joe stays in his room so much.

Right now though, he is laying on the couch behind me with your work laptop on his lap as he works on putting together a photo slideshow for the memorial on Saturday. Joan I. says he is her new boyfriend.

I love you and miss you.

Yours,

D.

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

My Dearest Love,

As I write this, the piano tuner is working over your old Everett. It was sadly out of tune. Kind of like me. I wish there was a soul tuner who could come and put my heart strings back in harmony.

Last night, Pat and Dave came over for dinner. We had Rocket Chicken, but made the mistake of using a shitty lager for the beer fuel and it imparted a cheap taste to the bird. It was still very good however. We grilled some broccolli to go with it and Pat and I made all three children (includeing Dave) eat some. We dined on the deck with the hummingbirds and tree frogs for company.

I am having a bit of a gout flareup and have taken two of the evil green pills this morning. Consequently, I am floating through the uncomfortable mental spaciness that these pills alwasy bring on. I know it is there and just have to be careful not to make any major decisions without careful consideration.

Speaking of major decisions, I called my prospective employer yesterday and told them I could not take the position that they had offered. I told them I needed more time to work through the issues related to your death and that I needed to wait until the children went back to school in the fall. I told them that I did not expect them to hold the job for me - that to do so would be unfair to them.

They were very gracious and understanding. I just hope that I have not permanently burned any bridges.

I bought Kate a plane ticket to the family reunion over the Fourth. The airline took my purchase, but did not show any available seats (didn't get to see that until after the transaction went through). The flights are the same as the ones my parents and brother will be on so she will have travel companions.

In closing, I wanted to share with you two blog entries from our son. Here they are:

Monday, June 5:

doot doot doot. lifes life.

Monday, June 19:

you know, life is like the mississippi river, at the beginning, its small and unimportant, but by the end, its huge and powerful, dont you think?

yeah

so i havent really done much....

So much hope and promise.

I miss you.

D.

Thursday, June 15, 2006

My Dearest Love,

I wish you were here to help me celebrate. Today is my 12th Cancerversary. You were always the one to remember and do something special. I find it ironic beyond words that I am here, writing to you, and you are "in the next room" because of the disease I found out I had twelve years ago.

Remember? We were living on Dayton in the old Queen Anne. I waited until we were in bed to tell you and we lay there and cried and held each other all night long. Joe was only one and Kate was three then. I remember thinking that I would die before they had enough memories of me to remember me after I was gone. Now it is you they must struggle to remember.

Barb and Jon came over the other night and she and I went through all of the photo albums while Jon and Joe planted a new rose bush next to the lamp post in the driveway. Later they joined us as we cruised down memory lane. There were a lot of laughs at our old pictures, old bodies, and old fashions. We were all thinner, had more hair, and some of us wore really funny glasses.

I have something serious I want to talk to you about, but I am not going to do it now. I need to think about dinner and feeding the kids. I feel like I haven't been performing up to your standards in this respect, but tonight I am actually going to fix a vegetable - green beans, your favorite. I hope that you are watching wherever you are. I love you and miss you so much.

Yours,

D.

Saturday, June 10, 2006

My Dearest Love,

The days seem like they are flying by. I'm not sure it is supposed to be that way. I always thought that I was supposed to be depressed and suspended in syrupy time, but that is not so - at least not now.

Part of what is keeping me busy is the planning for your memorial lunch. When we talked about it earlier and you said that you just wanted a gathering at the restaurant, I privately thought that you mis-judged the number of people who might show up, not to mention what Doug H would do with it once he got involved.

Where ever you are, I am sure that you are alternately spinning around or laughing as you watch the planning drama unfold. So far, we have a huge tent for the parking lot, a harpist, a classical quartet, a bag piper, and a Celtic band. There will be a private tree planting with just "family" at a site overlooking the lake. There will be a memorial bench with a brass marker. Doug wanted to know what to put on the marker and I think it should read:

"Chocolate is important"
CMM, 1954-2006

What do you think? Speaking of chocolate, Joan created a special chocolate cake in your memory which will be among the things served at the gathering. Doug wanted something that people could take away with them so we are printing up 3x5 cards with your picture and dates on the front and the cake recipe on the back. You will be remembered over and over again as folks pull out your recipe card from their recipe boxes to make the cake. I thought you would be particularly pleased to be stored there, it your friend's kitchens. Perhaps I'll write the recipe down here once I get it from Joan.

In other matters, we went to a graduation party in the old neighborhood on Thursday night. I had to leave in the middle of it to attend the dedication of the new Press Homes facility. It was very touching as all of the speakers paid tribute to you and the role you played in the creation of the facility. When Doug got up to speak, he became so emotional that he could not get a coherent word out and he had to sit back down again. We all got very teary and Lynn stayed busy passing out little tissues with lady bug illustrations on them.

When I got back to the graduation party, I found your daughter there with some boy she picked up. Of course, I never got introduced. I mean, why break a tradition now. She assured me that he was "just a friend, Dad," but I was not very comforted.

When Joe and I were driving home, he asked me the following out of the blue. "Dad, are you ready for me to get a girlfriend?" I almost drove off the road. After careful consideration, I responded that this was a decision for him to make, not me. I asked him if he was ready. He said that Andrew thought that he should get a girlfriend because Andrew had one now. I asked if he had anybody particular in mind and he said yes. He then proceeded to make me drive by her house on the way home. More on this as it develops.

One last thing and I will let you go (for now). Mari is working on a beautiful portrait of you. It is from a shot she took a couple of years ago as you sat on the terrace at the restaurant. You look wonderful. You are smiling confidently into the camera and simply exude competence, style, and power. It is the best "professional" image of you I have ever seen. Mari is giving it to us once the memorial is over. It will be sitting on the large table in front of the central fireplace just inside the patio doors at the restaurant. It will be the first thing people see as they come in for the lunch. There will be a guestbook and a basket for cards there as well.

Well, this is enough for now. I have to go back upstairs and tackle more paperwork. It's endless.

With all my love,

D.

June 6, 2006

Dearest Love,

Today was a beautiful day. The sky was blue. The sun was shining. The air was warm and fragrant with the scents of spring wildflowers. I thought of you and wondered if you knew.

I ran errands in the morning, dropping a form off at school that Kate forgot to take with her. Then on to the N.O. offices to drop off three large trays that originally came laden with food the day you died. We talked for a while about the upcoming lunch and how we will have to put a tent up in the parking lot to handle all of the people.

When you said that you wanted to have a memorial gathering at the restaurant I thought that it would be too small to contain all of the people who will come. Others agree.

The eastern metro paper did a very nice expanded obit article on you. They quoted some of your past partners in the two firms here in the cities. It was very nice and tasteful. You would have been pleased, but embarrassed I am sure, over all of the fuss.

Doug hit town tonight and wants to meet with Pat and myself on Thursday to go over plans. He already has a bag full of ideas and it will be hard to keep reined in.

I am able to get through the days pretty well without falling into emotional potholes as long as I don't have to talk to anyone about you. So, when I am by myself in the house, I can concentrate (kind of) on the tasks at hand and get things done.

Nights are harder. I miss you more then. I am having a hard time doing all the dinner planning that you were so good at. The kids don't like what I make and it leads to conflicts that we don't need right now. After dinner, they go to their rooms and entertain themselves and I read or watch a DVD. I miss talking to you, so I am doing it now. Sending my love to you in streams of electrons which is probably as good as any a way to reach you.

I know that I am really talking to myself and getting things out through these letters, but it feels good to tell you about the days and what we have been doing.

Today I started on the medical bills. I decided to try to capture it all in a spreadsheet so I can sort the data in different ways to try to make sense of it. I know that you did it mostly in your head, but you were always better than me at that sort of thing. I made it through the easy stuff today. Tomorrow I will get into the parts that you were contesting with the various parties and try to get my head around it.

Well, enough for tonight. I will go back upstairs to our bed and read for a while. Sleep is still a problem though. I miss you and love you.

D.

June 5, 2006

My Dearest Love,

Things have settled down a little since my last letter. Sunday night we actually had just a family dinner; just the three of us. Kate and I had spent all day at her teen driving clinic (more on that in a sec) and arrived home hot, tired, and dirty; aching for showers. So dinner was simple – thawed burger made into patties and grilled. There were some potato chips as well (I know, I know – not good nutrition, but it got us by). The evening was lovely as we sat on the screen porch and enjoyed each others company. It was the first time we tried out our new threesome. I was nervous.

Now, about the driving clinic. Things started kind of dicey. You know Kate when she has to give up a “sleep-in” day. She was pretty grouchy and was uncommonly rough driving my car as we made our way down to the far southern reaches of the east metro area. Guess who we saw as we drove in? Our neighbors from across the street. Kelly and Joe were there and engaged us in conversation right off the bat, thereby dispelling any sense of arriving at a strange place and having to “fit in.”

Kate and I were separated immediately as she went into the first classroom session and I went out to the track with the rest of the helpers to set up cones and learn our respective responsibilities for the day. The weather was partly cloudy and warm to start and getting fully sunny and hot as the day progressed. I slathered on the sun block a couple of times but still managed to miss an arc around the left side of my lower neck.

I was gratified to see that by the time the young drivers and their instructors were in the cars and moving that smiles started to replace the frowns on Kate’s face. She started pretty hesitantly, but it was not long before she was tossing that old white pig around like a veteran. She really had a good time before the day was done, but of course you probably know that, where ever you are.

Today, I made myself a long list of things to do. Among them was the task of picking you (or what is left of you) up from the funeral home. You were surprisingly heavy in your little cardboard box. The funeral home also laundered your T-shirt, which I thought was a nice touch, though they did not use a detergent that you would approve of.

Did you know that it cost as much to run your obituary notices in the three papers as it did to turn you into grit? We ran the obits in the two metro papers and one up north over the weekend. We used the one you drafted as well as the picture you picked out. I added a little in the middle as you requested. It was very tasteful and understated as you would have wished.

That may change tomorrow however. I received a call from a reporter working with the eastern metro paper who was putting together an extended obit on you. Seems that you made a bigger splash than you planned in the city of your choosing. I’ll save you a copy.

Oh – it finally arrived – the lasagna. You may not remember a week ago last Saturday, you were busy trying to die, but the neighbors across the street (not the nice ones, but the ones just up the road) started some kind of hideously loud machinery at 6:30 in the morning. I remember. I wanted to kill them – or worse.

Well, today, they arrived on our doorstep with a large basket containing a pan of lasagna, a plastic tube of industrial factory garlic bread, and a caeser salad. They even brought their son, a nice looking boy who looked as though he was having hot oil poured down the back of his pants as his parents stood there saying impossibly sincere bullshit about a person they never met.

Throughout it all, I remained pleasant. I did not bash them with the basket as I wished. I did not roll my eyes when they oozed their smarminess. I did not order them off our property for being the biggest assholes I have come across in some time. I was nice and said little. I took their basket inside and threw away everything but the salad. That I put in the refrigerator. Maybe I’ll throw it away tomorrow.

I will close now. I miss you, but I don’t miss the sick part.

With all my love,

P.

Dearest Love,

I miss you. I feel as though a huge and vital part of me has been taken out. The void leaves me gasping for air, clouding up around the eyes, and wondering how I can possibly live without you.

Your family has been over just about every night, helping the healing process, though "Little Steven" is far from soothing. Pam came down when she'd heard you passed and is staying for a few more days.

The carpet was cleaned today and you would be happy with the way it looks though I am worried about Kate's room because I told her she could finally have her sleepover and there will be nine girls in there tonight with much trapsing in and out of the patio door. Maybe I can lay down a plastic sheet or something.

So far, both kids seem to be doing OK. Kate has even talked to me a couple of times about it. Joe is happily manipulating every Aunt he can to get maximum favors and treats. He is the one I worry about.

Doug and Mari sent two huge beautiful flower arrangements that are now on the dining room table and the living room couch table. It's a good thing you are not here to smell the mix of scents.

I cleaned all of the pills off the bathroom counters and placed the vase of flowers that Mary brought over on the counter under the window. Another thing you would disapprove of.

I have not yet had the courage to tackle the medical bills and mailings. Perhaps tomorrow.

I made all the calls on the list you left me. It took me until this morning to finish up because I kept breaking down with every call. The obit got written just as you wanted and will run in both metro papers this weekend as well as in the Duluth paper. The memorial lunch is set for the 24th of this month at the restaurant as you wished. It will be very entertaining to watch Pat negotiate with Doug over the details.

It's funny how I can be going along just fine and suddenly I feel like I have a twenty pound boulder sitting inside my chest and my eyes start to leak. That just happened again.

This letter is the first of many, I hope. I need to talk to you and ask for your advise just as I did before you left.

I am going to go now. I love you and miss you. I will try to live as you would have liked.

Your love,

P.