November 17th, 2006 by Atomictumor
I’ve talked often of the beauty.
The beauty is in the things you never notice. The things that are permanent, and the things that are impermanent.
The beauty is tangible, and unreal.
The beauty is everywhere.
Its children you don’t know, playing games outside. Its the mildew, organisms growing in your tub. Its the fact that every part of your being was assembled in a star. Or so I hear.
Its the pain when you stub your toe. Its the happiness on your wedding day.
Its the irritation at a sibling.
Its everything, and its nothing.
I wish I had more to say. I’d tell you that I’m OK. That I’m not grieving, and in fact, haven’t broken down since I said my final good bye, since that final kiss, that final hug, that final caress. That final look. I’m not going to see her again. We’re not having an open casket, because I don’t think it would be right.
I didn’t know that at the time, but I had a good look anyway.
I’ll never see the narrow, button nose. I’ll never see the little hairs she plucks from her eyebrows, that she doesn’t need to.
I’ll never see the bumps on her arms that she was ashamed of, and that I loved to rub.
I’ll never see that mole on her temple, and the other one.
I’ll never make her coffee again.
I’ll never laugh at her jokes again.
I’ll never miss her, because she’s late coming home again.
Ahh, but theres so much love. I’m tempering the grief with the love, by listening (and ignoring) the boys. Pigpen is noisy and boisterous as he watches Cars with the whole family. MastaG is jovial. It is as BJ would have it.
BJ.
My BJ.
This isn’t hard, yet. I welcome the grief. I look forward to the grieving. I think, if the kids are wanting to, and they’re OK without me, next week they may go back to the Blueberry Farm for a day or two. Thursday we’ll have the thanks’G'iving party. Later we’ll have the solemn wake. After that we’ll have BJ’s wake.
It helps to plan. I’ve talked to the Lifegem people, and found out how to do it. I’ve talked to the funeral home, and found out what we’ll need to pay. A cremation is pretty cheap, how about that?
Once my plans are done, once things are done, once the parties are over, and everybody’s drunk to their health, and to BJ’s life, I’ll be alone.
I’ll be surrounded my friends, more than I’ve ever thought, and closer than I’ve ever known. I’ll have a family that I knew I had, but never knew how lucky I was to have. I’ll have the boys, two wonderful, amazing, living breathing creations of BJ and me, who are completely their own spectacular people.
Thats when we’ll see what happens.
Where does life take you? What happens, when you graduate high school? College? Get married? Lose your wife?
I am 28 years old. I am a widower.
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Damn, this laptop really is cool.
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When I was a child, growing up Catholic, my mother had a miscarriage. I grieved, as a kid does, because she did. When I said my prayers, alone, I’d talk to the kid. I’d imagine he was watching me. I wonder if BJ is with him?
She is facing the great mystery. She is seeing what wise men have sought for eternity. She has the answers, right now. Is she getting the traditional life flashback?
Did she do what she wanted to do?
She was happy. She loved me every bit as much as I love her, of that I’m certain. She loved her children more than I think I am capable of loving, as I firmly believe every mother does. Well, REAL mothers, at least. She was so proud of her family. She beamed with pride, silent, happy pride, as I did. When we went out, we held hands, or I’d have her arm in the crook of mine.
I’ll miss that. I’ll miss that more than I can possibly know.
The point is, I think, if I know BJ, that if she gets that cheesy St. Peter instant replay, she’ll be content. Sure, she may complain about the length of play, but she put her family on the path it needs to be on, and all we have to do is follow it.
Maybe she doesn’t get the flashback. Maybe she gets to do what I always thought would be heaven… being free of the body, and free to explore the wonders and mysteries of all forms of existence.
I plan, as I said, when my walk is finished, the miles are done, in 50 or 75, or maybe even 100 years (or maybe 1, who knows?) to meet with her. When we do, we’ll spend that exploration together. We’ll merge our selves, like infinite fingers meshing. Like two different colors in a lava lamp. We’ll rejoice in each other.
She doesn’t have long to wait. I imagine to a soul prepped for eternity, 50 or 75 years is a blink of an eye. During that time, I’ll see her business through.
You’ll hear about it. I’m going to continue writing here. The ‘tumor has evolved past what it was.
I cherish our past here, and Joel, Daco, Netmom, Miece, Evan, Mel, and very much Bos and Eaves. We’ll not be what we were, but we’ve evolved.
At the same time, those of you who I won’t name, for fear of leaving out an important person, who have meant a lot to me. Vickie, for the shawl. Lucky, for the pot pie (we ate tonight). All of the rest of you, for your financial help, and heartfelt messages. For your prayers, your thoughts.
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Cherish your people. Cherish those who mean so much to you. Never forget, no matter how much it means, how sweet, or sometimes bittersweet, it can be, it has an ending. It may be soon, it may be long, but it will happen.
Hold those people tighter. Forgive those trespasses. Remember this.
Remember, there is nothing to fear, and nothing to doubt.
Remember GAC.
November 17th, 2006 at 9:03 pm
Well I feel like shit. I think I was the one who gave you false hope. I wish to God (hell?) I could be that friend who poured your next glass and share it with you just to numb the pain. I don’t know what the bleep to say, AT. I’m sharing your pain? I can certainly vouche for that. Cry, dude. Just frigging cry. Let the shit go. I’ll help you.
November 17th, 2006 at 9:09 pm
You got it all wrong, Bennie. I didn’t get false hope from anywhere, man. I knew from the beginning, that this was a very likely outcome (just read some of the old posts). I chose to hope, because it was my choice, and it would be more fit to hope than to give up.
It didn’t work.
Don’t take this on yourself, Bennie.
November 17th, 2006 at 9:17 pm
Good post, AT. Thanks for sharing these thoughts.
November 17th, 2006 at 9:24 pm
AT, I’m thinking of you and, Jesus Christ, I’m sorry.
We will celebrate BJ today.
I raise my glass to this fine woman, and to you.
Peace.
November 17th, 2006 at 9:28 pm
You write really beautifully here, just gently, down to earth, so sad but serene. I think I know what you mean about seeing the beauty in everything, the heightened perceptions we have when life is very intense. When I first met the love of my life, I walked around seeing that for days. I have been apart from him now for almost three months; we celebrated our two year anniversary a couple days ago–over the internet. But he will be here in 26 more days, and as I have followed your ordeal on this blog, and read the insights you have come to, I have felt my appreciation for him growing deeper and more uncluttered by all the stuff that doesn’t matter. I cherish the time, together and apart, that we are in this world because it won’t be forever. Thanks AT. Hang in there.
P.S. I also find rather appealing the idea of your kids being able to say, “My mother is a diamond.” Is it because of the advertising slogan “Diamonds are forever”? Not sure, but as odd an idea as it is, I can really see why you want to do it.
November 17th, 2006 at 9:52 pm
crying for you right now. grieving for you. can’t stop thinking about how you are coping. i saw pigpen with his teacher in the hallway at school today while they were waiting for you to pick him up and fear came over me … i knew. i said “is everything ok?” and she shook her head no … it was 12:30 i was headed out the door going to lunch. i said “did she …” and she shook her head no. we didn’t know yet. i walked on home (i live across the street from the school) and prayed for your peace and enough pain so know you still love her but peace to know she is in Good hands, if that makes any sense. i checked the AT immediatley and saw the latest. when my break was over i asked my husband to walk me back to work and he was busy spackling the wall and he said that he’d rather not. all i could think was bj and i said “think of bj” … and he gave me that “what a horrible guilt trip” look. i told him “she was here loving her family 2 weeks ago and now she isn’t … we can’t waste a minute ever again.” he walked me back to work and i kissed him goodbye. i can’t imagine i’ll ever forget what you have shown us all taking us through this leg of your journey like you have. please call on us, *insert your actual name here to make this more personal*, if you need us … when you need us. i mean that.
November 17th, 2006 at 10:01 pm
Thanks AT. Your sharing this experience with us has touched us beyond understanding.
November 17th, 2006 at 10:05 pm
Your words touch my heart.
Your experience makes me hug my kids a few moments longer when I tuck them into bed and close my eyes and count to ten when they push my patience.
Your strength gives me the strength to be the better person that I know I can be.
Someone once commented a while back that you should seek help - that’s what all of us here are - your support.
You are truely a hero to your boys.
November 17th, 2006 at 10:10 pm
AT, I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but I can remember what I went through. I’m here for you, today, tomorrow, whenever. I wouldn’t know you if I backed my car into yours in the Wal-Mart parking lot, but I’m here. And I will be here, reading your words, shedding tears, and lighting candles. God bless BJ, and God bless you.
November 17th, 2006 at 10:11 pm
I don’t know that anyone could forget her, you made her so real and complete to all us strangers.
I hope you sleep tonight.
November 17th, 2006 at 10:12 pm
I will remember.
I will never forget.
AT and family — Thank you for sharing these very private moments, and for giving us one of the most valuable lessons that life has to offer. You will all be in my thoughts for a very long time to come.
With love,
Skye
November 17th, 2006 at 10:17 pm
I read your post earlier today and couldn’t figure out what you saying, I mean I knew it but it wasn’t sinking in. Until I read your 445 ish post. Thanks for putting it in order. I read your writings with such interest and I know you are you going through your own pace at this. Please take time to grieve, I know you have the world on your shoulders, but if you don’t do it, it will be extremely hard in the future. I am personally glad you are allowing donations, I sent a check after checking with Mrs. Eaves the other day.
Remember it took you and the lovely Mrs. BJ to bring those children into this world, it will be tough to do it alone. I feel like I know you for some strange reason, and when I travel to my second home, I will pass by thinking there is that family that fought the fight and made me stronger for watching from a far.
God Bless you all.
November 17th, 2006 at 10:18 pm
My God.
I came here through another blog and this just breaks my heart. I don’t know you, but I’ll pray for you and your kids.
November 17th, 2006 at 10:18 pm
Oh man, I am so sorry. I was widowed at age 33. This is so hard. I’m so glad that you have your little boys but sorry that you’ve lost your darling wife. Really very sorry.
November 17th, 2006 at 10:26 pm
I’m so sorry.
You have no idea how many people you have touched.
November 17th, 2006 at 10:30 pm
When someone you love dies, it’s hard to balance your need to survive and the instinct to fall apart. Please don’t be discouraged if you can’t strike that balance for a while, or maybe ever. There is no right way to handle this, but you’re doing an awfully good job so far. Sending oceans of strength to you and yours.
November 17th, 2006 at 10:33 pm
I am so sorry, AT. We have all been praying for you and your family. Those prayers will never stop. Thank you for sharing this experience, my life has been touched…forever.
November 17th, 2006 at 10:34 pm
Though we did not meet her face to face we will never forget GAC at Team Swap.
Still here praying and not going away.
November 17th, 2006 at 10:36 pm
My kids are getting a wee tad annoyed with the over-hugging lately. ’sokay with me, I’d rather irritate them than take them for granted.
I’ve said before, your story inspired us to get our wills notarized and have the Schiavo-talks. Not that it makes things a tiny bit better for you, but your story has touched and moved some random family in New Hampshire. And will continue to do so.
And — this is important — there is no such thing as the right way to grieve. However you’re feeling, however your kids feel, anyone… whatever you feel, that’s what is right for you. There are obviously wrong ways to act, and if your grief pushes you to run naked through town wielding a Samurai sword, I’d suggest you curb that impulse. But there’s no such thing as a wrong way to feel.
November 17th, 2006 at 10:39 pm
I am still here, cousin. I knew you before BJ, before almost everything, and I plan to be around for a lot longer. If you ever need someone with whom to discuss inane matters of very little importance with to get your mind off of things, you have my e-mail and my phone number. Heck, I might even be able to handle important discussions.
November 17th, 2006 at 10:39 pm
I came back to read again, for the 3rd time today, your posts that have made me cry each and every time. You have no idea the changes people are making to their life/love perspectives through and by your incredible openness with your honesty and candor (and humor, and realism, and sadness, and everything that shines through your words on my screen). Thank you for that, and I’m SO sorry. Take good care, AT. Good care. Jules
November 17th, 2006 at 10:47 pm
I am so very sorry for your loss. I have been profoundly touched by you and your story and your powerful words. Don’t hesitate to reach out, if we can help, we will.
I will continue to pray for all of you, and I know that now you all have your own guardian angel.
November 17th, 2006 at 10:50 pm
AT, when you get the arrangements finalized, please drop me a line or post them on the blog. Grandma, Grandpa, my Mom, and Aunt Nun all want the details.
November 17th, 2006 at 11:08 pm
AT,
Donna and I , living in Kingsport, never had the chance of a lifetime to meet a couple like you and BJ. Your Love for your wife reminds me of how passionate I feel for My Love.
God bless you and your family to give you the strength to carry on. Your one heck of a courageous Man and I have NEVER in my 50 years of life read someones mind the way you allowed us to feel your stunning heartfelt pain. You have left me , with “The Beauty”in a state of mind I can not describe, almost to the point of inspired to live life in a much better way.
God Speed to BJ and if you ever need anything, sincerely, call on us!
Paul and Donna Herrmann
November 17th, 2006 at 11:32 pm
Speaking of the beauty, I went digging around my archived files for some pictures I knew I had of BJ. Some really cute ones of Pigpen rolling around on the ground at SuperT’s rehearsal dinner, and a couple of the two of you at the wedding. If you want them, when you want them, let me know. She looked great in blue.
God Bless
November 17th, 2006 at 11:39 pm
A peaceful night to you and your family. And remember your own beauty and how it shines all over the world. You are amazing. Love from NH
November 17th, 2006 at 11:40 pm
Yeah, that’d be cool. Send em to any thing with @atomictumor.com after it, if its cool. Thanks.
November 17th, 2006 at 11:51 pm
I am a stranger to you, but you and your family are not strangers to me. I have followed your story all the way. (coming from a link on another blog) I have prayed for your family. When I read this morning, I cried. Your writing is so poignant and real. God Bless you and your boys. I will never forget BJ.
November 18th, 2006 at 12:19 am
I also have been following your story after linking from another blog, and have been praying for GAC’s recovery. Without you realizing it she has given you this last couple of weeks to prepare for this. Your mantra “nothing to fear, nothing to doubt” will get you through the hard times & the diamond sounds like a wonderful remembrance of your family gem. God Bless you and your family.
November 18th, 2006 at 12:22 am
AT, this is Dawn(Navada’s sister) I know that we weren’t that close but I wanted to let you know that my thoughts and love are with you through this difficult time. I still remember my first thought when I met you and BJ. I thought to myself, “Man, I really want a love like that”. You two are genuinely two of my favorite people. BJ was a beautiful person, amazing wife, extraordinary mother, and a wonderful friend. I raised a glass to her tonight, in honor of her life. It felt like the right thing to do. I can’t say that I know what you are going through, and I won’t even pretend that I do, but I am here for you if you need anything. I can’t do much from here in Clarksville, but whatever I can do please let me know. My e-mail address is midnightdawn081280@yahoo.com. I also think that the lifegem thing is an amazing and beautiful idea. If you need anything just let me know. Much love, Dawn