Friday, February 22, 2013

Tim with Blu about 2 year ago

I sat in bed this morning with my favorite new book, the boys fighting for prime real estate on each shoulder when I heard the most ungodly noise.

It was either a plow, scraping the pavement in search of snow now long gone, or there had just been a very nasty auto accident. I bounded out of bed, pulled up the blind and peered out the window. All was very quiet now, but I saw two large SUVs silently coasting slowly away from each other in opposite directions, like two big burly prize fighters retiring to their respective corners following a violent meeting.

My heart raced as I fumbled around searching for the phone to call 911. After reporting the proper coordinates, I hung up and threw on my sweats and raced downstairs and out the door to see if I could do anything to help. Outside, a passerby was frantically running from corner to corner searching for street signs where there were none. I yelled over to him that I had already reported the location and the police were on their way. He said the two drivers seemed shaken but alright when I asked if there was anything I could to to help.

I stood for a few moments to access the situation and realizing there was nothing I could do to help I  returned to my front door. As I reached for the doorknob I realized that I had made a similar, panicked 911 phone call almost one year ago to the day after scrambling, terrified out of bed. The only missing component this time was the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach over what I knew I would find when I reached Tim's side.

Can it possibly be a full year?  So many thoughts, so many different emotions. I sat and thought about it as I watched more emergency vehicles and police cars arrive before returning to my book.

Then, in what seemed like no time at all, the manic running about, the flashing lights, the concerned on-lookers were all gone. It was as if nothing had ever happened. Take away the dented cars and wounded drivers and it's as if it never happened....

"Would you take Mrs. Berry outside so that we can take Mr. Berry from the house?"

My friend, who had rushed right over when I called her that morning, gently took my arm and guided me to the patio outside. Once there we chat, I can't recall about what. I'm dry-eyed, composed, watching myself from across the yard wondering when this horrible nightmare will end so I can wake up and tell Tim how awful it felt. I'm reminded of the many times I joined her on the patio while she grabbed a smoke during a break in our jam sessions with her husband. Only once, for one very brief second do I let the horror in that Tim is being taken away from our home for the very last time by strangers. They are carrying him down the very stairway we'd climbed just hours ago for the very last time.

"This is now a crime scene Mrs. Berry."

I watch the Long Island Medium on TLC constantly. I feel comfortable with the bereaved. I can relate to every word they say, every emotion, longing, every fear. I used to avoid everything that reminded a loved one could disappear in one blind second, never to return again. A friend of ours wrote recently to apologize, calling herself a weenie for not being able to come see me, admitting that if it could happen to us it could happen to her and she wasn't prepared to face that. I so appreciated her honesty knowing I would definitely get my weenie on if the situation were reversed.

We were a unit. If you saw one, you saw the other. We'd rejoice at the sight of one another if we unintentionally ended up in the same isle of a supermarket we were shopping in, as if we hadn't seen one another just moments before.  We were as amazed as anyone who knew us how perfectly we fit together. We developed our own language, would understand each other fully with a fleeting glance and could even communicate without speaking.

And so on the one year anniversary of Tim leaving us, it dawns on me how foolish it would be to let a little thing like death keep us apart. Seriously. I'm getting the hang of this "long distance" relationship thing. I wear my wedding ring and his. I send myself flowers complete with cards from him on fitting occasions. I have conversations with him constantly, laugh out loud at memories we shared and more times than not here lately, feel very comforted and content.

Friends urge me to get out, move on, get back in the game, get back on the horse and all manner of "new start" sports metaphors and I so appreciate their caring.

But I am very much still very married to Timothy Francis Berry and will be until the end of time and beyond. You know when you've found THE one. There's a feeling of complete certainty that leaves not a shadow of a doubt that there isn't anything that can keep the two of you from being together. Not age difference...not race or ethnic background...not family or well meaning friends...not religious differences, spiritual beliefs or lack thereof. Nothing. Not even death! And as the shock of his leaving becomes more and more a reality, it becomes clear to me that indeed, he's never left.

We are one forever, until we meet again my love, you are my heart.


  1. Suzanne, this post brings tears to my eyes. I whole heartedly agree, true love lives on forever.

  2. Suz, you are BEAUTIFUL!
    Love and hugs

  3. Oh my gosh, Suzanne, this has left me a teary eyed mess. Angel, by Sarah McLachlan had just started to play when I clicked in. So many of your posts have made me cry for you. You've shared so much with your loss of Tim. Blessings, blessings and more.

  4. Sweet Suz
    We never stop thinking about you- and now as we read your beautiful words that speak of the unending love for Tim- we are reaching across the miles to hug you. Even though we have understood how you feel-your words have broadened our insight even deeper to the meaning of "forever love".
    Thank you for opening your heart to share and trust us with these memories and feelings.
    We love you Suz- you- Raz, Blu, and Angel Tim- forever and ever.

  5. This post has left me with no words!!! I am like a stranger and yet, I feel like I've known the both of you for so long....Tim will always be with you, Suzanne....he lives in your heart...

  6. I think we all just get one "real" love... I like what you wrote about knowing Tim is always right there with you. I believe that!

  7. You, lady, are one amazing woman.

    Yes, the reality of love is timeless, I believe that. Nothing will make that change and perfect cannot be improved upon.

    We all weenie out a bit when there is a death involving people we know. We're afraid of saying stupid things and of real emotion I think. However, its also good to say stupid things and be emotional because that is human nature and shows we're not alone in all this.

  8. Hi Suz. What a lovely post! I can feel your calm and your strong faith. Certainly you're right, Tim is still by your side. Creative people feel that more than most I think. It's alright if everyone doesn't understand your continuing connection with Tim. I think you're in such a good place emotionally. I tip my hat to you. I hope you take a quiet day with him today. It might be your best comfort...
    Lots of love my friend...

  9. I am so glad you wrote this, is beautiful and you will do what you need to do to be happiest. I also believe you have that relationship still and as you say, you will until the end of time. I cannot imagine being so fortunate. Warm hugs to you.

  10. What a gorgeous photo for such a lovely, heart-warming post. I can barely believe it's been a whole year either since that day when I saw those telling posts other people had made to your Facebook page. But thinking about it, Codi died on Christmas day and I remember now how soon after that it was, catapulting me in to gaining some sort of perspective, how ever awful it all felt.
    You have already got back on the horse and Tim is just walking alongside, every now and then taking the reigns :0)

  11. Beautiful! Wordless.... True love lives on. Wow! Blessings to you!


  12. My thoughts are with you, Suzanne.Your love is so strong and powerful,I think each one of us secretly wishes for that kind of love, which knows no boundaries.
    Take care, my friend.

  13. What an amazing person you are Suze. I know what you mean about THE one. I think sometimes how lucky I am, and you are, to have found that. It saddens me so much to see so many people take their love for granted, through adultery, neglect, or just plain indifference. Not realizing that it can be gone in an instant. Melodramatic I guess, but still, it's sad.

    I am so happy to hear that you are coping, and doing well. And I admit to getting my weenie on too whenever I see death taking loved ones away. I avoid it just like your friend did.

    Hugs and love to you dear friend. Tim will always be by your side, loving you like he always has.

  14. Suzanne, I've just stumbled upon your blog and read your earlier posts about Tim. Just wanted to say I'm greatly touched by your true and perpetual love for your dear husband; your soul-mate. My thoughts & prayers are with you. May the "small voice" within you continue to bring you comfort. Wishing you peace & joyful creativity always. Nancy

    1. Nancy, I can't access your email to thank you for this lovely comment. Thank you so very much for these kind and generous words. They mean more than you can know.

  15. I wonder, how often Raz and Blu see Tim hanging around? If they could talk, they might be saying, "alright, when are we going for a walk you 2, or a ride?" "Why are you guys sitting there not doing anything?" Or maybe, they think nothing is changed, because they see him everyday..... Of course, you probably already thought all of this....

  16. Suz - you are everything I wanna be if that time comes to me. Your journey has been heartwrenching - yet - your awareness and thoughtfulness are commendable and noticed. True love never dies. Thanks for sharing.

  17. I am sitting here trying to decide what to write and realize that I am speechless.I read your writings with such interest. They deserve my undivided attention. I feel your pain and travel with you in your joys. Has it really been a year... The photo is wonderful.

  18. Beautifully written, Suzanne and yes, death scares me, too :(
    Thanks for sharing.

  19. I knew the year mark was upon "us", so I thought I would check in.

    So many people don't know what they have until it is gone, but you Suzanne, knew what you had and you appreciated Tim wholeheartedly- he knew that. I think he still knows that. And sure as I sit here typing these words, there is no doubt he is "always with you".

    hugs to you,

  20. Wow! Such a beautiful tribute and relationship. I am fortunate to have a relationship with my husband that brings me the same kind of happiness you shared with Tim. Your words remind me to not take that for granted. Thinking of you!!

  21. Suzanne, this is a beautiful, heart-warming post and is so eloquently written. You're amazing.

  22. I have just come across your blog and read this post while holding my breath. I am so sorry. My heart won't stop beating. I have joined your site, it is beautiful and poignant, and I hope to learn more as I read more about your life and your art, and am sending the warmest thoughts and a little prayer your way.

  23. I join all the other people to tell you how concerned we are about you and Tim, and wish you peaceful days.


Your visits to my blog and the comments you leave here are an integral part of my creative process. They are helpful, supportive and well, let's face it, they feel really good! If I don't thank you personally, please allow me to thank you in advance for taking the time to stop by and leave your thoughts, they mean so much!