I emailed this last Sunday. I didn't put it on the blog but some asked if I would. So...
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It’s been a year ago tomorrow, Monday, Feb. 27th, since Neill died. I can’t believe it.
This picture was just a few hours before I had to make the final decision to remove his life support – a year ago. He wouldn’t let go of my hand, or Hana’s, or Joel’s. I took it with my phone and he grumbled at me when he realized I had taken it. I’m so, so glad I did.
I’ve worried for months what I should do on the anniversary of his death. In lots of ways I hate it being past the one-year mark. It seems dismissive, like saying “oh, that was over a year ago”, like I’m supposed to be all fine and back to “normal” instantly. It’s just a weird place to be. I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel, or do, or say.
I bought myself a present a couple of days ago, a splurge. It’s a very simple id bracelet with just the word “one” engraved on it. My thought was that when I have rough days ahead that this will remind me that I made it one year, I can make it through another one. Who knows what I’ll do next year. Maybe I’ll be stronger and it won’t be necessary.
Knowing that I can’t change anything that happened, the only thing I really wish is that I could have one last conversation with him... where he still had his voice and could talk to me. I think about that every day.
These are things I’ve done or that have happened this past year without Neill.
· - I approved his wishes to turn off his life-support in the hospital while he was still looking at me, and knowing what was about to happen.
· - I managed to sign all the papers and talk to all the hospital administrators about that decision, and keep my wits about me.
· - I sent his body to a crematorium that day – I couldn’t go along for the first time in 36 years. I met with the kind people at Austin Cremations the next day. Picked up his ashes 5 days later. Harder than it sounds. I thought of it as “The Body Shop” to make myself smile a bit.
· - I called all his doctors and told them he died.
· - I called all the companies to pick up the machines and the bed and the wheelchair. And had to give them WAY too much personal information.
· - I wrote an obituary. And realized the unbelievable cost of every word I put in it, financially, and emotionally.
- - I got an tattoo. A small one.
· - I managed to change all the hundreds of accounts we had from “our” name or “his” name to MY name; listen to them doubt what I was telling them; and send those same people WAY too much personal information to do that. I only screamed at a few. And I REALLY screamed at them. (As Neill would have said “Fuck Time Warner. Fuck Sprint.”)
· - I managed to get an entire warehouse emptied. But only thanks to Patrick, Joel, and Hana. And some of Neill’s wonderful friends.
· - I cleaned out drawers and closets and files and boxes and paper sacks. And cried through the whole process. Every time.
· - I took a 5-day trip to California by myself. Because I had to.
· - I made it through two beautiful, special weddings by myself.
· - I began the process of working through huge financial issues.
· - I bought a car. And I have to pay for it. All by myself, without Neill.
· - I’ve tried to be a good mom and aunt to my three “kids”. Not sure if I’m good enough. But I’ve tried hard. They would say I was doing fine I think.
· - I’ve started learning how to do absolutely everything myself after 36 years. No more sharing responsibilities or having a partner to take care of daily life.
· - I’m learning how to not expect anyone to come home. No one is going to be driving into the driveway. I’m learning how to be in the house alone.
· - I’ve learned that I have no one to share my excitement/frustration/anger/questions with on an hourly basis. Neill and I called or emailed or texted each other a dozen times a day. I miss that so much.
· - I’m trying to move forward. It’s still a struggle to get out of bed and face the day EVERY SINGLE DAY. I never want to open my eyes even if I’m awake. But once I do, there are things to make me laugh.
I went to Lowe’s today and bought a plant that has yellow flowers that Neill liked. I planted it in a huge, old, Mexican pot that we hauled back from Nuevo Laredo in the back of the Bronco a billion years ago, and mixed in some of his ashes with the soil. It’s right by the back door so every day I can say, “hi honey”, or “fuck you for leaving me”, depending on my mood. :-)
I’ve gotten to this point. I'll figure out the rest. One "chunk" at a time.
I found this picture from 1959. He was 5 or 6. I thought it fit for the occasion.
R.I.P., honey, and hope you're watching the games.
I love you.
S
