Old Spice and Hope

Hope. Isn't that one of the strongest emotions we have? I know for me it is.  I live on it.  Have for a very long time.  Without it, I have no idea where I would be now.  Face down in a ditch most likely with a bottle of wine in a paper bag. 

Life has a way of trampling you to the point of despair, with absolutely no way to turn or anyone to go to. But with even the smallest amount of hope, you manage to get up and keep trying, or at least try to pretend to.  You can imagine that things will get better, that you could actually wake up in the middle of the night and breath, not panic.  That all your hard work and sacrifices matter.  

My life right now is, for lack of a better phrase, pretty much crashing in from all sides.  Professional, personal, physical, financially, emotional and morally; and all that encompasses.  

Basically, I'm a fucking mess.  

So, where am I going with this pity party montage of what's wrong in my life?  Well, let me tell you.

Something happened to me the other day at the River Park. I was a mess. Rent, bills, the responsibility of others, of me, my leg not responding to my brain; a lovely side affect of shingles. Frustrating as my PT had been going so well. But, I digress.

Having to wait on others decisions to decide if there really is justice, fairness and most of all, a reason to hope.  

Sitting in my car, unable to walk the track to the water I sat there crying. Not the soft, gentle kind of crying. No, this was the ugly kind where you can't catch your breath and you don't think the tears or feeling of despair will ever stop.  The feeling of being so alone you almost can't breath.  If anyone walked by, I only hope they didn't see my absolute breakdown.

I finally stopped crying, calmed down enough to catch my breath and bring my breathing back to normal. My face was a blotchy mess, nose running in such an attractive way were I didn't realize it until I glanced in the rear view mirror.  My face. Wrinkles, tear stained, blotchy and snotty.  Perfect photo shot for a dating app.

I could have cried again, but instead I laughed.

And then, I opened my windows, took in several large breathes of the beautiful day it was, relaxed and just settled down.  

After about five minutes my eyes opened, I sat straight up in the car seat and looked around with almost a panic in my searching.  

No one to be seen, anywhere. 

My car was enveloped with the scent of Old Spice. The original. My husband sprayed that on his body every day. I still have the little bottle he used.  God I love that smell. 

How the hell could this scent be in my car, so strong and powerful?  I can still smell it.  It lasted about ten minutes, during which time I just sat back and took it in.  Cryed softly this time. Not believing this was happening.  Matt was letting me know that I wasn't alone, he was with me even though not in body, but in spirit.

That was the first time anything like that has happened to me.  I felt at peace. 

I visited him that day after I left the park. I sat on the small bench in the memorial garden where my husband, sisters and parents ashes are laid to rest. To many gone to soon.

I thanked Matt for showing me he was there for me and letting me know that I wasn't alone. 

Moving forward is a bit easier for me now. I have a small group of the most amazing friends anyone could hope for. They keep me grounded, listen to me cry, vent, laugh and sometimes go silent.  I love them. 

But it's the early mornings and late nights when the loneliness hits the most  Devastating loneliness. But now I know he's there, always, even thought I can't feel him, touch him, and hear him tell me everything will be ok like he always did.

I don't know what the future holds.  But now I know he's there, by my side and I dont feel so terribly alone. 

And that's enough...

CROSSROADS

It's like when the wind shifts. You're not sure which way to face. Turn one way and the wind blows your hair off your face and away. Turn another way and it blows over your face, swirling around with no direction. 

Thus asking the question; how often in your life have you come to a point where, at that particular place and time, you felt that familiar uneasy tug in your stomach. It doesn't come often, but always showed back up when that was the last thing in your life that you needed. 

What the fuck. Do I go right or do I go left. Do I go the hard way or the easy way? Do I let the wind blow it all away, or just go with it and let the wind take me wherever it goes?

It's so much easier when you're young. Do overs are plentiful. But at my age it's scarey to let the wind take you.  So many things could go wrong.  But oh my God how exhilarating it must be to just let go, not think so god damn hard about every fucking obstacle that could block your  path and just let yourself breath. To stop, for one second and just be free from fear, ridicule and embarrassment; or failure.

I guess we can only hope to find such courage. 

Or is it to late? 

VULNERABLE

Have you ever noticed that when you least expect it, life throws you a curveball that you never saw coming?  Ever!!

In my case, it started with me blushing. Yup, apparently my cheeks still glow pink with me having no control. How does this happen at 69 years old?  Is that even possible?  There should be a statute of limitations on it. 18 and you're done. 

Now I don't know whether to feel young again or just foolish. At my age, a widow and blushing like I was 16 again.  Humiliating.

My saga begins with me walking into the bar, my bar, my safe haven.  Heading to my seat, minding my own business. I find my bar stool, next to Matt's empty seat; our favorite seat at the bar.  Saturday at noon. It was our sweet spot.

Two and a half years later, I still wear my wedding ring, still feel married, still mourning; yet.....something is about to happen that I didnt see coming. Vulnerability.

All seated, chat with my friend who happens to be the bartender, sip my Savouion Blanc; lean back and relax.  I notice a gentleman whom Matt and I had met over the years here. We share our pleasantries, and go back to our solitude and private thoughts.

Hes's with a friend who's on the phone, a bit loud, but really funny; hard to ignore, so I laugh. Thus starting a conversation.

To preface, I have good bar friends here; most knew and loved Matt; it's a nice, eclectic group of  really decent, interesting people. Good bar friends. I feel safe here.

But, I digress.

Fast forward to this stranger; a conversation started about nothing really. Where are you from, yatta yatta yatta. Then he moved his seat closer to mine as he doesn't hear well so we could talk easier, without yelling 

Because I had been so timid for so long in my life it almost felt like I'd nevet get out of that mind set. Stay silent, stay in the back, and keep your head down. No one will notice you. Well, that's not me anymore. I love to talk, to anyone, anywhere, at any time. You meet a lot of very interesting and lovely people when you smile and say hi. It broadens your view and opens up things and thoughts that you may not have had before. 

And, I digress, yet again.

A funny, general conversation continues, a girl from the shore and a guy from the city. Very interesting tete-a-tete. Extremely different ways of looking at things. He mentioned my husband, as he saw my wedding ring, and I stated he had passed away and this had been out spot.  We talked some more, and then he said it.. those words, three little words, words that I have not heard in a very long time; "You're so attractive. 

What the fuck???  For a brief moment, I looked around to see the hidden camera, as if I were on Candid Camera. I was sure Alan Funt was about to come out of the shadows and yell, SMIILE, YOU'RE ON CANDID CAMERA. Who the hell says that, to me? I blushed, stifled a laugh and managed to say, oh no, no.  I then asked him, how much he had to drink today? With a smile, of course.

I've never taken compliments very well, especially now, when I feel like an troglidite.

With that said, we talked for an hour or so, I got anxious, and most likely rambled. Exchanged phone numbers, not sure why other than he asked me for it, and went our way.  

I went home exhausted over nothing more than conversation and a compliment. 

Later that evening he he texted me saying how much he enjoyed my company and asking to take me to dinner one night. Nope, no absolutely not.  Drinks?  OK, I can do that, but not as a date, just conversation. Good lord.

A few weeks later he called one Saturday and we met at my bar for drinks and small talk. To say I was nervous is an understatement. It was ridiculous. Get a grip Nancy, it's drinks, not a hook up. Hmmm do people hook up who are nearing 70? Shit. 

Needless to stay, it didn't go so well, and that's all on me. I was not ready for any of it. Compliments, moving closer, talks of intimacy, possible meeting again, dinner and more. 

In my usual, mature way, I stammered and said no thank you. He then talked of his aunt who lived alone and never dated for 30 years after his uncle died. He couldn't believe how after two and a half years, I wasn't ready.  How could such a beautiful, fun and happy woman like me want to be alone.  How can you explain to someone that I didnt feel alone.  Being alone, not in a relationship, does not equate to loneliness.

I couldn't breath. I just wanted to go home.  We finished our food and drinks, he paid the bill and went to walk me to my car, which I polightly declined.  

I went home and cried

And now I know why I still wear my wedding ring. I'm still married in my heart, still in love with my husband and still so angry he left me.  

Lesson learned, trust your instincts when they scream at you that it isnt time. Not even close. May never be, really.

The funny and unexpected thing that came of this, and at the end of the day, when all is said and done; and coming as a complete shock to me, it really felt nice to be seen as a women again, no matter how old I am. 

Rollercoaster Ride

I absolutely don't know how to process this loss. I am iterally drowning in sadness, anger and, hopelessness.  I'm a strong woman who has been through much, but this has rocked me to my knees.  

I have lost every single person that I would call when feeling desperate or depressed.  Of course I have friends, very important, close friends.  But when is enough enough? My friends, my little inner circle have issues and life changing events that isnt always good.

I want to be there for them. I want to be the friend like they have been for me, for so long.  Yet, every day, after a very long day at work. I go to my bedroom, pour a glass of wine and sit on the side of my bed.  Door open, I'm not secluding, but I'm not functioning. All day at work, I produce, do my job. but not at home. I sit. Promising myself I'll get up and do something. Clean out Matt's drawers, closet.  He isn't fucking coming back.  What the hell am I waiting for?  Does me getting rid of my husband's things mean I didn't or don't care, that I'm moving forward? No, not at all. Just trying to breath again, normally. Just breath.

I have been so angry with Matt for not "showing" himself to me. To let me know know he is ok. I was sure he would. How screwed up is that?  Mad at the dead guy.? But I was. Then, the other morning I woke up at 4:30am to our bedroom  permiated with the smell of Old Spice.  He sprayed that on himself everyday.  The bottle is still on his dresser.  I cant bring myself to move it. Cowboy didn't sense anything as he slept wedged next to me.  But I knew it was Matt.  Letting me know he wasn't mad at me for "killing" him (taking the tube out) and was there for me and letting me know I did the right thing.   

We all go through it, but this ride. This mad Rollercoaster ride with Matt, with all the ups and downs was worth it; I just wasnt ready for the ride to end.  I really miss you Santa !!  And baby, I'm trying.

Dear Matt

Dear Matt,

Hello love. I went to take a shower the other day and realized I had none of my soap left. No big deal, but when you would tell me your worth as a man and husband were nill; it's times like this that remind me what I always told you my dear. 

You ran that house. Small things like always having soap, toilet paper, paper towels, every daily essentials.  They were always just there. I always appreciated it and told you so many times.  Yet you still felt inferior as a man. Nothing could have been further from the truth.

You dusted, moped and tidied up everything.  At Christmas time I would come home and the house would be decorated; so perfectly.

On the days you weren't too tired, dinner would be ready when I got home.

When Brittany would try to mop the floors or vacuum,  you would thank her; but that was your job. 

I hope with all my heart that you realized your worth. I know your family did. 

Matt, you made all the changes in my life after my promotion at work doable.  You were there for me every single day at 5;00 when I would call you after work. You would listen to me cry, vent and be boast about my day. You always listened and were there for me. 

I'm lost without that. Brittany and Shayne get the calls now. Not really fair for them really.  Yet they listen and are patient.  

I'll make it through this a stronger person.  It's going to take time.  Too much time.

Right now, I just don't want to ever get out of bed. 

I love you my dear. I miss you

I'm a Widow

Have you ever been sitting around, minding your own business and a random thought just popped into your head? The other day I was chilling at the inlet, having a cry and it occurred to me; I'm a widow.  I'm a fucking widow.

I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around the "title". Hate it actually.  It kind of solidified that my husband was gone; forever. It's not a long hospital stay, it's permanent. He's not coming back. Ever. 

I knew that, of course, when he died, but that title or badge if you will rocked me to my core. Where do I even go from here? We had plans that incorporated his declining health. We made preparations for that.  But yet, he died.  He left me.

My children are struggling, each in their own way. How can I go to them with my grief when they are struggling on their own?  I can't intude on their process of sorry. I need to be there for them. Not the other way around.

My co-workers are wonderful, but yet again, are going through their own issues.  And have been dealing with me and Matt's health for years.  When is it time to give them a break, a pass from listening to me and my sorrow at the loss of so many in my family? My crying moments at my desk?

My friends are amazing. They are always there for me, always and ways have been.  But they have lives and trials and issues as well.  

I am lost, in limbo. Half of who I have been for over 40 years is now permanently gone. I don't even know who I am anymore.  I was half of a couple. Now, I'm just one. 

My parents are gone, my sisters are gone. My husband and Uncle Bob is gone, my confidant, my co-worker of 35 yeas is gone.  

I am heartbroken that they died, yet the  selfish side of me is angry that they left me. Matt promised me he wouldn't leave.  Yet he did. I am devastated for him, and for me. He had so much more to do, to see, to love.

I have no idea where my path is now. No idea of tomorrow. But I'll navigate it the best I can and accept my limitations and not fight my grief.  There is a process and I will take it where it leads me.  The good the bad and the ugly. 

As long as I get up every day, do my best and realize that I am allowed to grieve in my own way and in my time; however short or long it takes.

I will be there for my family the best I can be. We are and will survive this together; the four of us. Arguments and disagreements aside, we are strong and will unite together in the end. Thats what Matt wanted.

This was a severe gut punch for all of us.  Matt always came back home; until he didn't....

EULOGY FOR MY HUSBAND

First I'd like to thank everyone for coming today to celebrate Matt's life. He was loved and cared for by so many.  I wish that Matt had known his worth long before he did. He was a complicated, complex, man for a very long time.  Family saw it, others didn't,  which is the way it should be i guess. I always knew what kind of man he was, a good, strong , kind man.  I'm sorry it took him so long to see it for himself.  

During those years if the kids had to share something, ask something or admit to something I always got the phone call first.  If they wanted to ask their dad a question, they called me first as well.  What kind of mood is he in, shoukd we ask now or wait? I gave them my best advice and I always  reminded the kids that whatever the question was, that dad was going to say no. Which he always did. Then, more often then not he would stop, think about it and say, sure, yes why not.  

But for all the years he was struggling,  he had moments of pure compassion, kindness and empathy. Which was the real man. Those memories are etched in my mind. I would want to shake him and say" this is who you are, can't you see, not that angry loner. " 

Some of his early moments that stick out for me was when shayne was playing baseball for the school. He was ok but he was convinced if he had this special bat he could do better.  It cost 105.00 and that was a lot then. Well unbenost to me Matt showed up to the next game with that bat for Shayne. The look on both their faces will always be with me. I honestly don't know who was happier. Shayne or Matt. Pure joy of appreciation and acceptance on both of their faces.   

Another was with Brittany. Brittany always loved old cars, specifically Subirbans. And she always wanted to learn how to repair them. So she asked her father to teach her. Absolutely I will help and teach you. He showed her everything he knew. It was such a happy time for him. And for Brittany. On one such occasion working on Brittany's old surban with her, he got the step ladder out, climbed up and proceeded to get into it. I will never the forget the sight of my husband, legs stiking straight out of the motor explaining to Brittany how to do something, so serious.  It was hysterical. His passion was real. They spent many days under the hood of that truck.  He taught her much.  

Anthony. For dad, watching you play soccer was a highlight of his weekends.  He was so proud of you and how determined and serious you took it. And then watching you with your BMX bike.  Pride swelled from him watching you.  But one of the proudest dad was of you when you were young was when a picture of you surfaced from your 8th grade trip.you were the only student in the picture with their hand over your heart during either the flag raising or national anthem. That one made him tear up. At some point in your lives you three have all frustrated, angered, and delighted him.. 

Brittany. When you ran your own company and how you raised Madison. Shayne, Anthony when you both jointled the Marines. He loved you all so much. 

Now, I don't think anyone doesn't know this but when Matt married me I had two small children. Shayne and Brittany. He didn't just marry me, he married all three if us.  It wasn't always easy but the love was there, always. After we had Anthony, never, ever did he not see all three of his children as the same, his. 

It wasnt easy for Matt to articulate his feelings though. But one time Matt and I went to dinner at a local bar that was changing ownership. We were sitting with the outgoing owners, and every time they were bought a drink, so were Matt and I. Matt was drinking martinis. Then to the Moby Dick for more. We got driven home, I wentto the house to get the kids to help me get their dad in the  and in bed. All he kept saying in that drunk, emotional voice. Was. "I LOVE YOU GIYS. IM SORRY I DONT SAY IT ENOUGH" It was so sweet and so funny at the same time.  

And then, as Matt started to age I could see the anger and self doubt start to strip away.  It was a slow process but one day Matt called me at work, crying. He said, Nancy the kids are calling me now and not you.  It was a profound moment for him.  From there it was all up hill. Matt's coat of protecting armor melted and the true man came out. 

He was an amazing father, husband, poppop and friend. He smiled and laughed openly, a lot for the first time in a long time. 

Then came the grandchildren. To say he he adored them would be an inderstatement. 

Madison, our oldest grandchild has been nothing but an absolute joy. We got to watch her grow up as Brittany worked nights.  When Matt used to be grumpy, a lot and Madison wanted to talk to him, she would get a red and white peppermint candy, go into the bedroom where Matt was watching TV and offer him a grumpy pill. It always made him smile. She held his heart and could always turn his mood. Years later as Matts health failed and he could no longer work, he was home more often. I'll never forget getting a call from him asking me, guess who I had lunch with today?  He sounded so excited. He said Madison and I went to Ikko. He sounded like a young boy on Christmas morning . He couldnt believe that she wanted to go with him, just him. It became a thing for them. He loved those moments.  Your work ethic,  which your mama taught you, your dedication to your school work. You push yourself so hard in everything you do and he was so proud of you for it. Your loyalty as a friend amazed him. Poppop adored you Madison. I hope you know that. He lit up when ever you were together.  

And then came Olivia, Mia and Brantley.  The little ones as pop called them. 

Some of dad's favorite memories were Olivia Christmas tree shopping with us and then lunch.  Cooking with us on holidays in her apron and chefs hat. 

Mia and her amazing hugs. Staring endlessly with popop at his fish tank. When shown the sonogram of her brother Brandly she wanted to know where the blood and bones were.  Daddy couldn't get over that. 

And then came Brantley Matthew.  My gosh, when Brantley was born dad was convinced he didn't like him.  He couldn't have been more wrong.  The child adored his poppop. I showed up at the door before Matt did as Matt was walking slower then and Brantley ran by me, where's poppop?? Shayne was laughing but mortified. SAY HI TO NANA..  When pop was around I was invisible.  And that was fine.

AND then there was Myrtle Beach. It was our safe place. Quiet, calm with just the pool, ocean and balcony.and Lulus. Our friends Ruth and John and Toni and Dan would join us. We had such good times there.  It was our happy place. When Matt started to deteriorate this year, he made me promise to continue to go the Second week in Sept. I promised.  I don't think I'm going to be able to keep that promise though.  

He loved his friends, his neice, nephews, and his many coworkers.  

At the end I know my children and I made the right decision. Matt and I had spoken often about it last year. He just was so tired. But the selfish part knows he will never hold my hand again. Never kiss my head after a long day at work and tell me that I'll be fine. That I've got it. Fall evenings sitting in the open garage with a cigar waiting for me to come home. The Broadway at noon Sundays chatting with Linda and Sue. Half Moon sharing stories with Carolyn.  We had a good life together with all its ups and downs.  

God speed  my dear. You are walking tall and without pain now.  I love you.