Thursday, May 17, 2012


18x24" oil on canvas

Hello everyone. Again, thank you all for your kindness and patience.  

I'm doing much better, in fact much better than I ever expected... today. I go up and down but I guess that's to be expected. I think the key is that I talk to Tim as if he were here, right next to me, and I feel, most times, as if he still is. There are no words to convey how much I miss seeing him and hearing his velvet voice, but I've decided that we were far too happy together for the last 20 years for me to spend the rest of my days in misery. I need to honor what we had and no matter how hard it gets— that is exactly what I'm going to do. 

Clearly, some days are better than others, but I must focus on who we were together and know that isn't over simply because I can't see or hear him anymore. I remember clearly, each of us looking at the other and wondering aloud if a husband and wife, together for 20 years, should be having so much fun. It is my intention to continue feeling that joy in honor of one of the kindest and most interesting people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. The insurance company stated that "the marriage ended on February 23, 2012." They were wrong. Very wrong.

I had my first regular day of work since it happened today and I must say that I am so grateful that it felt good. I'm getting some much needed work done on the house, thanks to Tim, and the confusion, changes and chaos are helping to keep me distracted and busy. But..and that's But with a capital B, it is heart wrenching to see the plans we had for the house come to fruition, specifically because Tim is no longer here.

I set a time limit for myself and I decided that today will my first day back at work. I've been patient with myself, however I feel it could become too easy for me to just do nothing and feel it's my due...basically a great big raspberry to the Universe for taking my best friend in the world away. But that isn't what it's about. I'm blindfolded and holding the elephants tail. I won't see the big picture until I leave this plane, so I'm choosing

I hated reading books and suggestions that I accept what is but, it is that simple! Living in the past, trying to redo our last night together so I could change the outcome, or making believe he'll be home when I get back from the store doesn't help. There is nothing that will change what happened, I know that now. Believe me, I've tried everything. It happened because it was supposed to and I know that... simply because it did.

The Sunday before, as I got up to go into the kitchen for another glass of wine, I heard him ask..."has anyone ever died in this house?" I thought he was just curious. And in January we'd taken out a loan to catch up on some bills and he insisted that my name be excluded from the loan application and he took life insurance out on it! He'd never done that before. I thought he was just being responsible. On some level he knew. I wish I did. I think. 

Anyway, I'm back. This is my job now and I must do it. Neo was a commission I had on the easel before Tim left. It is the last painting he stood in front of. I had started it about a week before even though the canvas was improperly stretched. I was concerned because the canvas had so much play in it and decided to purchase another one and start over. Tim said, most decidedly, not to. I remember how comforting his words were. Today when I put it on the easel to finish it up, the canvas was as tight as a drum.

This past Monday the contractor working on our house asked me if I wanted to keep the smoker barbeque Tim had created so many incredible meals on. It had seen better days and we were going to replace it this summer but it brought back so many great memories, I was hesitant to let it go. But I thought better of it and told them it was ok to throw out...put it out on the curb. When I took the pups out for their before bedtime mini-walk, I saw it there...lonely, used, discarded. I thought of him working over the hot coals, dripping with sweat, pleased with the marinade he'd created. I thought it would be a relief for it to be gone. The next morning I woke up and put the boys harnesses on for our morning walk. As I opened the front door, there, right behind the dumpster, propped up on a piece of wood, standing at attention and ready to be put back into action, was the smoker, looking refurbished and ready for duty. As the day progressed I found that neither the contractors nor their employees had rescued it from the curb. I didn't. As much as I hated to see it go, I didn't want to save it. It's Thursday and we still don't know how it got there.

This past Sunday, I took my guitar and a nice glass of wine down to the living room. I turned on the digital recorder we used for our jam sessions and sat in my usual spot on the love seat adjacent to the couch where Tim would sit when we played. I turned on the digital recorder, chose a tune and turned my track down and played to Tim's accompanyment. Much to my surprise, it was a liberating and joyful experience! I heard his voice, our interactions and all it made me feel was happy. There was no emptiness. No sadness. I played for about three hours as if he were still here. The only thing missing was our mutal insecurity and doubt about our ability. Another indication that this kind of relationship deserves nothing but celebration and joy, simply because it existed.

Again and again, thank you for your support and thanks so much for stopping by.