So we have been back home in Pueblo a month now. When we packed up our stuff in Washington, I was just more interested in getting everything packed, rather than going through everything and getting rid of things I didn't really need or want. So now I am faced with that monumental task as I unpack.
The boxes appear to be bunnies, meaning that they seem to reproduce while I work or sleep. Every time I get one room cleared of boxes, then there are more to go through so I take them to the box-free room so I have more room to go through them. At last count today I have approximately 12-15 more boxes upstairs to go through, then sometime (okay probably never) need to go through the boxes in the basement.
The thing about going through these boxes, is that I am not just unpacking things. I am unpacking a lifetime of memories. This time of year is not good for me, as it is almost 2 years since Mel passed away. I have so many memories of our life together. I have unpacked the first gift he ever bought me (a ceramic kitty cat), part of the first Christmas gift he ever gave me (a Mickey Mouse statue holding a great big gift box that he put a birthstone ring in for me to find), my wedding gown and veil, his things that I have kept for the kids to have and all the pictures of our lives together.
I am also taken back to Mel's last hospital stay of 2 years ago. I remember sitting on my window seat cot and watching the snow, the flight for life helicopters, the ambulances and all the other people coming to the hospital. I remember the bleak news we received day after day about Mel's health and prognosis. I remember just sitting with Mel and trying to absorb every moment, every feeling, every ounce of him. I wanted to take him "inside" of me and keep him safe and hold onto him forever. I remember staying awake at night and just watching him breathe and pleading with God with every breath I took to please spare his life. At times the pain is just as unbearable now as it was then. I have started feeling the "open gaping wound in my heart" pain again, and I am scared. I wonder if this will be the cycle I go through every year. Sometimes I wonder if I am really going crazy. I have been crying, a lot.
I was sitting in church on Sunday. The pastor's message was titled Extravagant Love. He talked about God's extravagant love for us, but he also talked about ways we show extravagant love to those we love. He mentioned the fact that caring for someone you deeply love when they are extremely ill and dying is an act of extravagant love. I very clearly heard Mel's voice say "Patty". I cried through the whole service. Mel was always so grateful for the things I did for him. He never went to sleep without telling me he loved me and thanking me for being there with him and taking care of him. I know that I am blessed. I do have the extravagant love of my Father, and I have also been lucky enough to experience the extravagant love of a man whom I absolutely adored and who loved me and spoiled me and was always kind to me. He would show up with flowers "just because", or a sweet card or small gift "just because". He always told me he was the luckiest man in the world, but I was the lucky one.
Last week a of friend of ours passed away. He was diagnosed with cancer within just a few months of Mel. He and his wife used to sit right behind us in church. I remember hugging his wife and seeing the fear in her eyes that I am sure was the same fear reflected in my eyes. He kept in touch with me by Facebook in Washington. We had last emailed about a month before we moved. He had been cancer-free, that is until the doctors scanned his abdomen. I wanted to go to his memorial service, but I just couldn't. I'm just not able to do that yet. I don't know if it's selfish or self-preservation, but I just can't bring myself to go to a funeral or memorial service. I do know that I will call his wife, maybe she needs the company of someone in the exclusive club called "widows-r-us" (I still hate that word).
On a lighter note, I can't get the stove in the new house to work. Some would call that a curse, I call it a blessing.
Well I am off. I have a date with a real square (packing box). Love you all.
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