I am sitting to write this post on the spot on the couch where Sam sat when he was so sick. I have been avoiding this spot - our entire living room actually. When I'm home, I'm in the kitchen or Birkie and I hang out (hide out?) in our room. But tonight it was time to conquer the couch. When Sam's pelvis was broken, he couldn't move without pain so we spent a LOT of time on the couch. Our bed was too painful for him to get in and out of and uncomfortable for him to sleep in. We had a hospital bed delivered for him, but he hated that too. So he wound up sleeping, sitting upright, on the couch, in this spot where I sit now, almost the entire 25 days we were at home in Alaska. It's a long couch, so I brought pillows from our room at night and laid next to him so we could "sleep" here together. (we couldn't actually sleep much.) It's really, really hard to sit here. I think I'm learning though that thinking through this all so vividly is just part of it. It makes me feel close to him, sitting here, and then simultaneously it is so painful. But pain is part of the richness of life. I think that's what I'm learning. Anyway, I didn't sit down to write about this spot on the couch. I am here to write about a thing I did on Friday. Sam and I picked out matching wedding bands with two evergreen trees on them and the moon shining down on the trees (the moon is a teeny little diamond). I loved the symbolism of the two trees standing there together through it all like trees do in the woods. I ordered my ring while we were engaged and we planned to order his later when we had our wedding (I have no idea why we did not order both of them at the same time). But then our "marriage day" was somewhat spur of the moment due to a twist in his treatment plan. So that day, we went to the jeweler on State Street in Madison and he picked out a silver band, which is what he wore. I still wear my wedding ring, but someday I will take it off. Another young widow, Norah McInerny, described in her book about the day she took hers off and how she tried not to make a big deal about it because there are so many things that can be big deals when you are a new widow. But of course, it was still a big enough deal to mention in her book - how could it not be? Because of this drama, I decided to break my "no big decisions for a year" rule to get our wedding band tattooed on the inside of my left wrist. Just like the design, it has two evergreens on the left, which now represent Birkie and I. Then there's the moon - Sam - shining down on us. Then there's another tree added on the right representing whatever comes next. Sam shines down on that too. I had a fairly significant meltdown the day I got my tattoo. A tattoo is no replacement for a husband and it only has as much meaning as my soul can delegate to it. So that day when I hoped that my tattoo would make me feel closer to Sam and instead it was just a tattoo, I cried a lot.
I'm good and not good at weird things. I keep my shit together all day at work, and then lose it at the grocery store because of the mundane conversation held by another young couple scooping a bag of roasted almonds out of the bulk aisle. I'm wishy-washy. I felt so confident that starting to let go of Sam's clothing was the right thing to do for a friend's garage sale last week, and now I cannot wait to get the stack of items that did not sell back so I can hug them all. I can spend hours in our house, and then cry when I sit in this certain spot on the couch. Despite these ups and downs, the tattoo was something I thought to do right away after Sam died and never wavered. It's no replacement, but it's a really, really nice reminder of him. I'll take as many of those as I can get. Even if they're sometimes painful, they're rich too.
Darlene Machtan
6/13/2017 07:21:07 am
Best tattoo lovely story ever. Thanks for sharing. Sending you strength and love.
Maryann Lynes
6/14/2017 03:10:46 pm
It's a beautiful image. I love it! I'm sure there are many different emotions that you process every day and night. Take 1 minute at a time and allow yourself to feel whatever you want. After my going through 6 deaths in the last year (including my mom) I'm realizing that I just need to let myself feel sad when I'm sad. And not "tough it out." You've been through so much. It will take time. We love you! Comments are closed.
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