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Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Molecules and Particles

Throughout my life, I’ve never been a saver. I hate clutter and have never held much sentimental value in “things.” I don’t have any toys from my childhood, handed down china or heirloom jewelry. Hell, I threw away Al’s trophies not long after we were first married. What? They were old! They weren’t exactly Olympic medals. It must have something to do with the way I was raised because my parents were the same; they didn’t hang on to “things” either. That’s not to say “things” are bad. It’s just for me, the memory is in my heart and mind not in the object. I don’t need to look at an object to remember, it’s all kept within me.

So I actually find it a little puzzling that I find it hard to let go of Al’s things. Not the large, tangible things like his golf clubs, guns, etc. It’s more like his clothes, his shoes, his stupid little diabetes testing kit, multiple pairs of eyeglasses and his cell phone. It’s not the memories these items hold either because like I said, the memories are within me, not in those “things.”

I figured it out last night when I was turning off the light switch on the wall of my bedroom. As my hand came in contact with the surface my mind was flooded with a sudden thought and feeling of Al. As I got comfortable in bed I thought about touching that light switch plate and how Al had touched that same light switch plate every day for 25 years and then it hit me.

Molecules and particles! I know it sounds crazy and unsentimental but it’s not. His molecules and his particles are all over the items I can’t seem to get rid of. Three different pair of eyeglasses all with the molecules and particles of his face, his skin and his oils. The cell phone that has his molecules and particles of his fingers, his ears, the side of his face and his mouth. Pieces of him, parts of his body that I’ll never hold again….they surround me. And those are “things” I can understand.

Sunday, August 7, 2011

Time Is My Friend

For whatever reason, Al’s back. Well, I know he never really left. I think that he comes and goes. He seems to come when I need him. When I’m feeling insecure and need a reminder that he’ll help me along. When I’m feeling alone in the world and need a reminder that he’ll always be here with me. When things are going well and I need to share things with him. But then he goes for periods of time giving me the independence I need to move forward in my life and allowing me to “forget” a little. Not really forget but not to think about him so much.

But over the past week he’s made his presence known to me. A lot. And I’m trying to figure out why. I have to take it for what it is. I haven’t been feeling insecure or sad. I am alone but I’m not lonely. I think he’s letting me know that he’s proud of me, that the decisions I’ve made lately are good ones and he’s encouraging me to keep it up, to fight and succeed and keep moving forward.

It’s always the same sign and there is no coincidence involved. It’s that 11:11 thing that has been happening since just after Al passed. It’s been pretty much daily for the past week, week and a half. I’m not a clock watcher and tend to get lost in things, forgetting about time altogether. I’ll be at work and not look at the clock all day but something compels me to look at the time on either my phone or computer and it’s 11:11. At home late in the evening I get caught up in what I’m doing and don’t pay attention to the time. I don’t go to bed at a set time so it’s not like when a certain show ends, then I go to bed. The TV is just background for me. It’s odd because I’ll go to bed and more often than not lately I’ll reach for my alarm clock to set it and I’m staring at those same numbers. Or if I end up going to bed a little earlier, I'll wake up and roll over to have 11:11 staring back at me in bright green numbers.

It’s hard to express what I feel when I get that sign. I feel warmth and happiness. If I’m home I’ll talk out loud to Al and thank him for showing me that he’s here. I tell him I love him and miss him and that I’m doing OK. I let him know that I’d give anything to have him back lying in bed beside me. I tell him that I’d do it all over again and take care of him and love him exactly as I did all over again. And I thank him. When it happens at work, I pause for the full minute until the clock turns to 11:12 and silently tell him all the same things.

A digital clock…my best friend of late.