Saturday, June 26, 2010

Fat Free 1/2 & 1/2

It's amazing what will trigger a memory. I was in Shop Rite the other day and I went to pick up milk. Next to the milk section, is the 1/2 & 1/2. Bobby always drank coffee with Fat Free 1/2 & 1/2 in it, so we always had to make sure it was in the house! It felt very very strange not to pick up a quart of 1/2 & 1/2 that day. Very strange, and very very sad. Just another sad reminder of what I've lost.

I also went to the dentist this week. Going to the dentist is stressful enough, but this time it was so sad. Bobby and I used to go to the same dentist. We would even make our appointments at the same time, so that we could go together, since our dentist was a 30-40 minute ride away. I remember one time when we were at the dentist, we were in adjacent rooms. The hygienist that was taking care of my teeth had left the room for a few minutes to get some x-rays developed. So I got out of the chair and stuck my head out of the room to see Bobby. He was stuck with something in his teeth, so he couldn't talk, so I started making faces at him so that he would laugh. When his hygienist came back into his room, she took the thing out of his mouth and he said, "Miss, can you please ask that other patient to leave me alone? She is trying to pick me up, and I'm married!" It was so funny, because the hygienist looked at me to say something about leaving him alone and I said, "Of course he is married, to me!" The hygienist did not know what to think. He thought it was hilarious.

Then there is "the news". I heard something funny today that, for a split second, couldn't wait to go home and share with him, until I realized that I couldn't share it with him. It made me so sad. We always shared all the funny and ridiculous things that happened to us, or interesting stories that would make us laugh. I can't believe sometimes that he is no longer here to share those moments with me.

And boy, do I miss those moments!! We had a lot of fun moments, and they come rushing back at the most unexpected moments and by the most unexpected things, like Fat Free 1/2 & 1/2. Unfortunately, there were not too many of those fun moments in the past year, but before his illness was discovered, we had fun. People ask me if "...I'm having a good day?" That is not a question that I can answer. The question is, "Are you having a good minute?"

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Father's Day

Well, it's Father's Day, the first of the most dreaded holidays this during this first year of my loss. Sure, I've already gotten through Mother's Day, my birthday and my son's birthday, and they were hard and he was missed terribly. But this is one of the big ones.

Father's Day was always a fun day for our family. I think my husband liked it better than his birthday. For some reason, he never really cared about his birthday so much, but he loved the big deal we made over him on Father's Day. Two of the best Father's Days I remember are 2000 and 2001. 2000 was special to us because he chose that day to quit smoking. He had planned for a few months to quit and was working his way down from a pack a day to maybe three cigarettes a day. He never said why he chose Father's Day as his quitting day, but he did. I was so proud of him.

2001 was special because that was the day I rented him a Harley Davidson motorcycle for the day. He was so happy! I didn't tell him about it until it was time to go and pick it up...he had the most fun that day. I'm positive it was on his list of top ten days of his life! He rode as a young man and really missed it.

Well 2010 is certainly not going to be a happy or fun Father's Day for me or the kids. I'll be at the cemetery. He is in the same one as my dad, so I'll stop to see them both. Then, in order to get through the day, I'll keep myself busy bbq'ing for my brother (who is also a dad) and his family. That will give me something to focus on today, since I would probably just lay in bed and cry all day. I hope it works.

Sunday, June 13, 2010

The One

Someone said to me the other day, “It’s not only the loss of someone you love, but the loss of someone who loved you.” Boy did that his home. It’s true. No matter who I am with, no matter what we are doing, even if I am laughing with friends or family, I’m alone. There was no one in the world who loved me like he did. And I knew it. Even my own children, who I know love me dearly and need me immensely, don’t love me as much as Bobby did. I would venture to say that even my mother (and father when he was alive) don’t love me as much as Bobby did. He had a way of making me feel special, like I was not just some regular person on the street.

There are so many things that you do with your spouse that defines the specialness of the relationship. How many times have you been at a party, talking to one group of people and your spouse is across the room, talking to a different group, and you can catch each other's eyes and know exactly what they are thinking? Or you finished each other sentences? That is a unique relationship, one that only comes with loving and living with someone for an extended period of time in a committed relationship.

I went out to dinner the other night with a friend of mine and my children. Her husband called to say he would be joining us in about ½ hour. So she suggested we all get appetizers while we waited for him. Then when we ordered dinner, she ordered for him without consulting him so that his meal would be ready at the same time ours were. That, to me, is a symbol of that connectedness that only two people who are committed to and love each other have. I thought about it as she was ordering, and I knew exactly what was on that menu that I would have ordered for Bobby had I been in her shoes.

It breaks my heart to know that I will never have these special times again. It’s really hard to accept that I am no longer “that special someone” to somebody else. That there is nobody out there that looks forward to seeing me at the end of the day. That there is no longer anyone kissing me goodnight. It's lonely and it really hurts.

Thursday, June 10, 2010


It's been a few days since I've written on this blog. It has not been a good couple of days at all. And now it is 6:35 am on Thursday morning and I don't want to get up. (I'm still lying in bed with my laptop.) I have to get my son up and ready for the day and I don't even want to get up. I have no desire to do anything anymore except surf the net and watch TV. I thank God for my kids because without them, I probably wouldn't even bother getting up anymore.

Yesterday was especially horrible. My husband and I worked for the same employer and he was head of IT. He used to send out emails to "All Users" with his "signature" (name, title, extension, etc.) at the bottom whenever there was something going on with the network. Well, yesterday, I got an email to "All Users" from the new head of IT. I saw the title at the bottom of the email and fell apart. The new guy who got the job is a great guy, I like him a lot, and my husband did too. In fact, my husband would be really happy to hear that he's the one that got the position. However, it killed me to see the title on someone else, and that had he still been alive, that email would have come from him.

Then I started going back into my emails and was reading some old emails from my husband, from as far back as 2006. I found one that included a link to a retirement community in the south that he thought might be a nice place for us to live. He included a list of why this particular place would be nice. I started crying all over again because back in 2006 we were so happy thinking about our future together. We had so many plans of what we were going to do when retired and the kids were on their own. We were really looking forward to that time when it would be the two of us together, doing fun things. Now I am dreading my kids leaving. I know they have to leave someday, and I certainly would not get in their way of living their own lives, but now it's going to be me, alone, when they are gone. I know a lot of people live full lives on their own, but all I can think about is the severe loneliness that I will have to deal with, instead of the fun future that Bobby and I planned.

Sunday, June 6, 2010

Computer Crash

My computer crashed this evening. And I'm so upset about it.

Now, your regular person really wouldn't get upset about a computer crash, but I don't want to lose my pictures! Especially one particular picture that I have of Bobby. The last picture that was ever taken of him. I haven't backed them up in a few months. (There was a lot going on). The reason I am so upset is because Bobby was a computer genius. An absolute genius. He could fix computers that the "Geek Squad" considered unfixable. And he never once told anyone that their information could not be saved. He saved peoples pictures, music and anything else that was important to them in the most hopeless situations. And he never once took a dime for it, never. And now I'm in a situation that I never had to worry about before, and I don't know what to do or who to call.

It's just another huge reminder of my loss.

Saturday, June 5, 2010


Birthdays really can suck after losing a spouse. Lucky for me, I have friends and family to take away some of the pain.

Today is my son's birthday. He is 12. It is his first birthday without his dad. He asked me to buy him a cordless amp for his guitar, and I told him today that we would go to Sam Ash to look at guitar amps sometime this week. I also said we would look at them on the internet. He said, "The last time I went to Sam Ash was with Daddy." He looked sad.

My birthday fell 8 days after my husband died. I wasn't really in the mood to celebrate. But my sister, my cousin and three of my friends came over that night and we had dinner together and they gave me presents, which I did not expect at all!! I really appreciated that they came over to make the day a little better.

My husband always acknowledged my birthday. He would send me roses! Sometimes I would tell him that he shouldn't do's too expensive!! And he would tell me I was worth it. He had a way of making me feel he could see something in me that nobody else, not even me, could see.

Friday, June 4, 2010

Bobby Stuff

I had to hand in my husband's laptop to work today. I felt horrible handing it in. Even though I know it belongs to the district, and that it was never technically "his", I felt like I was letting a little piece of him go. It bothered me.

I guess I would feel a lot worse, if I were giving away his wedding band, his watch, or his wallet. I wear his wedding band every single day on a chain around my neck. His clothes are still hanging in the closet and his sweaters are still folded in his drawer. When my son was playing the sax at his school band concert, he had to wear a tie, so he chose one of my husband's ties. While I was happy to have my son wear one of his ties, I made sure that the tie was put back in the exact spot where my husband had hung it.

I also wear his clothes. I wear his bathrobe in the morning after my shower. The black silk one with the dragon on the back of it...his favorite. I wear his clothing to bed. I was wearing his pajama pants & one of his fleeces to bed every night until the weather got too hot, then I switched to his T-shirts. My youngest son wears one of my husband's shirts to bed every night. My older son had another band concert today, so he is wearing one of my husband's good pair of socks and the same tie. And before he died, he hung one of his jackets on a hook on the back of the bathroom door. It's still there. I cannot bring myself to take it down. Leaving these things where they are give me comfort.

However, his wallet, comb, toothbrush, and razor made me really sad to look at. I cannot understand why these items upset me while the other items comfort me? I stashed these items in his top drawer, so I don't have to see them constantly, because seeing them would make me burst out into tears. If I need to see them or hold them, I know that they are right there in the top drawer. And from time to time, I have gone over there and taken his things out, just to hold for a moment.

I see no reason to rush to get rid of his stuff. It hurt to hand in his laptop. And that was not even something that really belonged to him.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

My LAN/WAN Administrator

I saw Bobby's boss today. It was not a coincidence. In a nutshell, Bobby and I worked at the same place, only in different departments. His boss was doing a training session for a new system, and I was part of the training.

After the training, we walked to the parking lot together and talked about Bobby. He told me that he talks to him every day at work. I told him that I was hoping that Bobby would always be remembered, at least for a while. I mean, I'm realistic enough to know that someday, when all the people he knew are gone from the workplace, and all new people are there, who never knew him to begin with, then he would no longer be remembered.

However, his boss told me that in some ways, way into the future, even though he personally would not be remembered, that he would live on. Since my husband was the IT guy, (eventually managing the department), he built the complete LAN/WAN Network for the district from the ground up. When he first started working there in 1998, they didn't even have an email system!

Anyway...his boss told me that the main administrator accounts that cannot be changed are actually his name. So even though years from now, the "new" people may not personally know who he is, his name will have to be typed for a really really long time! And that made me smile.

Wednesday, June 2, 2010


This morning on my way to work I started crying because I heard a song on the radio that Bobby hated. Yes, a song he hated. You would think that this would not get me upset, but it did. It wasn't the song that upset me, but the subsequent conversation that would take place every time it came on the radio (which was more often than not in the car). It went something like this:
Bobby: I hate this song, change the station!
Me: I love this song. (I'd make it louder).
Bobby: How could you like this song? (moan and groan, roll eyes, make face)
Me: I don't know. I just do. (laugh)

That is why I cried. I missed our conversation about how much he hated and I loved the song.

Then there was the banjo music. He loved banjo music, and we had an agreement that whoever drives is the one that can choose the music, the heat, the air-conditioning, etc. So when he drove, he would put on banjo music. Now, I don't hate banjo music, but it isn't in my Top Ten. One day, we were driving along with the banjo music on, and about fifteen minutes into the ride and the music I said to him, "Damn, this is a long song!" He just glanced my way (since he was driving) and said, "No, this is the fourth song." I said, "Really? They all sound the same to me!"

Then there were the dinner conversations. These would take place either in person or via email while we were both at work.

Bobby: What are you making for dinner?
Me: Whatever you want.
Bobby: I don't care.
Me: No, tell me what you want. I'll make it.
Bobby: Make whatever is easy.
Me: No, I'll make whatever you feel like having.
Bobby: It doesn't matter. Make whatever you want.
Me: I don't want anything in particular. I'll make whatever you want. get the picture. This would go on so long that usually there wasn't any time for me to make anything and we would just end up ordering a pizza.

The other day I was talking to my sister on the phone and during our conversation she was bickering with her husband, who was in the background, about something completely ridiculous. It made me sad, listening to that type of conversation, the kind you can only have with someone to whom you are happily married.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

He is NOT a Goldfish

Death is NOT divorce. I cannot believe how many people have already told me "don't worry, you will find someone else". WHAT?!?! He's gone seven weeks and already they're writing him off. And two of them did it AT THE WAKE. He was in his casket, less than 10 feet away from me (if that) and I was told twice that I would find someone else. That I could replace him like a goldfish.

Well, here's a newsflash, folks. I don't want anyone else. I cannot believe that anyone would even think to say that to me. It's not like we got divorced and can't stand to think about each other. I mean, I still love him. I'm still "married" on my FB page and I still wear my wedding band. I can't take it off. In my heart, I'm married to the love of my life.

In addition to the two people that said something AT THE WAKE (of which I am still in shock), another friend, who couldn't make it to the wake contacted me later on and the first thing she said was, "I'm so sorry. But don't start comparing every guy to him. Your next relationship will be different, and it wouldn't be fair to the guy to constantly be compared." WHAT?!?! Truthfully, when you've had the best, you could care less about the rest.

Then there was the meanest of all, and this came from a guy who actually liked my husband....and shed a tear or two at the wake. I was talking to a young woman at a social function and telling her all about the pictures I have in the house and how I put one up at work, and how I ordered a charm necklace from a company that has his fingerprint on it. The fingerprint is of his left ring finger, and I wear his wedding band on a chain around my neck. The next thing I know, her father, who has been half-listening to our conversation, says to me, "Look, I hate to say this.." (then don't) "...but the harsh reality is that Bob is gone and he is not coming back. You can't live in a museum dedicated to him. You have to put that stuff away and find a man." I was so insulted and angry that I had to bite my tongue and hold on to my chair because I was ready to strangle him but I wasn't going to do so in front of his daughter. I simply said, "But if I am happy and comfortable living in what you call a museum, isn't that all that counts?" And he said, "Heroine addicts are happy when they are on heroin. Does that make it OK?" I could not believe it. I was floored. I told him that comparing my situation to heroin addicts is like comparing apples and oranges and he just shook his head.

This insult was twofold as far as I'm concerned. First of all, I don't need the harsh "reality check"...I'm living it every single day. Second of all, why in hell do I "need a man" to be happy? Seriously?? As if to say a single woman cannot be a happy woman?

Being single certainly is not my choice. I still feel married anyway...married to Bobby. I want to be married to him, and not anyone else. And like I said before, when you've experienced the best, to hell with all the rest.