November 18th, 2006 by Atomictumor
Pigpen is sleeping on his air mattress on the floor in here. We were watching Batman Begins, which actually turned out to be a lot better than I thought it would be, and towards the end we heard him talking in here. Me and Mom headed in, and he hadn’t puked (thankfully), he was just sitting up and confused. He had fallen asleep on the couch early today, around 6:30, which I figured was OK after last night.
I hopped down on the floor and cuddled up to him, with his permission. I rubbed his head. I asked if he was afraid.
“Yes”
I asked what he was afraid of
“Nothing” (which for him is no-hing… he tends to say hing instead of thing, which is one of those things that are too cute to correct. BJ was wholeheartedly behind the ‘hing’.)
I sat with him until he fell asleep. We said our prayers, the good ol’ “Now I Lay Me”. He likes to repeat it after me, line by line. Then we ask for blessing on Mommy, Daddy, MastaG and Pigpen, Mamaw and Papaw, Grandma and Grandpa, and all of our aunts and uncles and cousins and friends and family. Its a pretty big net at the end there.
We asked God to say hi to Mommy, and to tell her that we love her. Pigpen seemed a little better.
—
I don’t seem better. My moments of frozen ‘its all over’ thinking, that I described in my last post, happen more often. I noticed that Mom caught me in one while everybody else was watching a movie. I was holding a pen, part of a pack of cheap-o pens I bought BJ a few months ago. She was always bitching about how pens tend to disappear in this house, so I figured it was a good gift. She was amused. Jesus, I miss her.
—
OK, wanna know whats troubling me? I don’t know if she’s dead yet.
Yeah, to the state of Tennessee, she died of brain death at 12:30 on November 17th, 2006, what will always be the blackest day on my calendar. Just, wow.
But, that whole organ donor thing. They were keeping her heart beating until then. BJ Kilpatrick was dead, but her body was still alive. As much as I am not letting it, its starting to fuck with me.
When will that heart stop? When exactly does the heat that I would give any possession I have to be against right now chill?
I called the hospital and spoke with Crystal today to find out when it was going to happen, or if it happened already. This was at about 2. It hadn’t happened yet, but she said it would today.
Has the heart stopped?
WHY DOES IT MATTER?
Thats a rhetorical question. You can answer in the comments all you want, but it won’t help. Thats whats starting to get to me, I get comfort from you, but it doesn’t sooth me, or calm me.
And the grief hasn’t hit yet. I’m as dry eyed as… uh… sandpaper. Or something. Potato sandpaper.
I’m hurting in a different way. In a entropic frantic way. Like there is a tiny centrifuge in my head, little bitty, but generating odd waves felt all over.
Until I have those moments of absence, when the void of her hits me.
—
Before I was reading this, I was on a laptop bag website that Emily was kind enough to send. Another friend sent me a link to some stuff about grief, but I’m too self absorbed right now to read about somebody elses grief.
You know what tho? I really wonder about that old man in the hospital, the one who cried in the quiet room with me and Mom and Bos. I’m sure I wrote about him, I just don’t remember what I said.
See, his son is an anesthesiologist, was BJ’s anesthesiologist during both of her surgeries. He spoke with mom, with his wife, in the quiet room. He was dealing with the grief of his mothers imminent passing, and his fathers fear, and anguish, and pain. His father rarely showed it, he was a smiling old man, who asked about BJ every time I came through. He gave me a prayer book that I have yet to read. I don’t know if I’m ready for prayer books yet. Maybe on the other side of whats coming up.
Anyway, I wonder about this Doctor, and his father, and his dying mother. If I’ll see them again, if I’ll see how their story ends.
But stories don’t end in real life, do they? They keep happening. The fall of the Greek civilization flowed directly into the Hellenistic period, which flowed right into the Roman republic, and empire, and the Frankish and Byzantine empire, and on and on. Stories in real life have chapters, but not endings.
Until you die.
—
I was talking about Emily’s link, and why I left it to write this post. I had Pigpen asleep for 20 minutes or so, and was clicking around on this thing, when I heard him say “if I die before I wake… I pray the lord my soul to take…”.
He was asleep.
I put my hand on his head, and I told him I love him. I told him Mom loves him. I told him Mom says he’s a good good boy.
His breathing got deeper, and he settled to sleep. He hasn’t moved since.
—
BJ is really dead. I love, loved, her so much. So much. People that had been in committed relationships and whatnot always told us that we had something they didn’t. I don’t know what that meant. I don’t know.
Love couldn’t save her from this. TV, and the world, and art tries to teach you that love saves all, that love binds us, and that love holds things together. My love didn’t stay.
10 years we had. I saw us growing old. I saw us looking at our grandchildren, in decades to come. I never, never, never saw a future without her.
I’ll never hold her again. For the rest of my life, I’ll sleep without resting my arm on her hip. Oh man.
This isn’t supposed to happen.
You don’t get sick out of nowhere, and die. Not when there’s all… this. Our lives. Our futures.
BJ, my BJ. I hope you’re there. I hope you’re on the other side. I hope I can do this. Without you. For the rest of my life.
With nothing but pictures, and sounds. And memories. No smells, no touches. The world hasn’t found ways to spike those senses yet.
—
OK, bring it on. I’m ready.
November 18th, 2006 at 11:26 pm
you said songs speak to you more than poetry, i’m the same…but this quote has always struck me pretty hard:
Wendell Berry, “The Journey’s End.”
“Where I am going I have never been before. And since I have no destination that I know, where I am going is always where I am. when I come to good resting places, I rest. I rest whether I am tired or not because the places are good. Each one is an arrival. I am where I have been going.”
just imagine it set to, um, some great Tom Waits tune? maybe a sweet melancholy Uncle Tupelo?
i wish for peace for you and yours.
healing sprinkles from seattle,
jana
November 18th, 2006 at 11:30 pm
You know what, AT? BJ’s story will never end either. She lives on in your love for her, in the stories you will tell about her and the memories you have of her, and most of all in her children.
November 18th, 2006 at 11:35 pm
AT, you don’t know me and I will not bore you with my own story of how I know this stuff, but I will take this risk and tell you:
Once your boys go to your mom’s you will be able to let a lot of this stuff out. Right now I think you may be holding on to being OK for them, and once they are away you will be able to feel this from the tips of your toes to the roots of your hair. You are being a great father and keeping them from the depths of your soul’s blackest night. They need that safety from you and they also need you to do this so they can come back and feel the healing in you. That helps them begin to heal.
And this will come in waves for a long time, but it’s good to ride this first bunch without your children witnessing the rawness of your pain. Sorry for the crap analogy, fill in with whatever makes more sense if you want.
And sorry for the lecture - I really just want to send you peace and strength, and courange and admiration, and prayers and blessings and hugs and love from NH.
November 18th, 2006 at 11:39 pm
I keep almost popping in Anodyne, Jana, but something stops me. Its a breakup album, and just doesn’t seem right. Thanks for the poetry, enjoy yourself in the great NW
November 18th, 2006 at 11:53 pm
I think my biggest fear for anyone who is grieving is that they get mired up in “shoulds” - how they should feel about their loss and how they should feel about the remaining people around them. And if there’s any time in your life when you deserve to focus solely on your needs and the needs of your children, now’s it. Grab any positives you can eke out of anything you can, and let the rest go.
I don’t know about anyone else, but I don’t comment to try and soothe or calm you. I don’t know you, so I’d be a smashing failure some way or other if I tried. I comment because I want you to know that you’re heard, and that your words and experiences matter. If comfort happens, that’s wonderful and I’m glad.
November 19th, 2006 at 12:22 am
Well, I’m afraid that came off wrong in the writing… I don’t mean to discourage anybody from posting, because it means the world to me.
I mean, theres a very large part of me that realizes that this stuff, the writing, and the commenting, and the immediacy of this does some folks a whole lotta good. The grieving process is a human condition, and draws us together intimately.
I was telling somebody that its kinda like when you went on an overnight trip in high school with classmates, like a band trip, or something. For those days you do that, the people you normally associate with one thing become something else. When you get back to normal life, a shadow of that remains, and brings them closer to you.
Or something.
November 19th, 2006 at 12:24 am
I can’t say it any better than those who’ve commented above me here. I agree with them all. You’ll get through this. You need some time alone so you can let all of the walls around you down and grieve.
November 19th, 2006 at 12:26 am
well, i have to agree with you about Anodyne…and i’m a bit reticent to give this recommendation because it might strike too close too soon…but i’m a firm believer in the healing powers of well crafted lovely melancholy, so:
download (on your fancy pants new machine)
“i don’t think i’ll ever get over you” - colin hay
“lay me down” - connells
“bright smile” - josh ritter
boy, i’ve got a mix for you, if you want some new burned for you.
if you want a stranger to send you music, i’d happily oblige. just drop a line to
healyhutch at hotmail dot com
-jana
November 19th, 2006 at 12:48 am
No words of wisdom. No quotes or poetry. No advice.
Just I am sorry. I am so very sorry.
November 19th, 2006 at 12:51 am
Yeah, I was a bandie. “Or something” is right.
I didn’t feel discouraged from posting. (Hah! Just try!) The reason I came back tonight, actually, was to share that I think I’ve figured out why I’ve commented a few times. I never know what to write in greeting cards, I always feel stilted and awkward and I don’t do trite phrases or platitudes well. (Hence the naked-samurai-sword reference.) But I commented here, unasked, because this whole process, of you writing and everyone else reading, HAS been very intimate and personal, and I admire the hell out of you for that. And wanted to offer something of myself, though it pales in comparison, in return. Even if it’s just smartass or therapisty remarks, both of which apply.
And let me know when you figure out what it’s like to return to a normal life.
November 19th, 2006 at 12:52 am
You don’t know me…. I live in Western Canada…. I stumbled upon your blog through a link from VOX. Yesterday in fact. I read the pivotal post, and then was compelled to read back, and back, and back… and have been keeping up with you several times today. I just wanted to let you know that your writing has, and probably will continue to touch me. It makes me truly want to grab my loved ones and never let go. And man. Your boys. My heart is so heavy for them. Your little Pigpen… my Magoo is roughly the same age, and I just couldn’t imagine him losing me….. not being there to tell him myself that he’s a good, good boy. Or my Meister who is 12…at the age where he doesn’t want to admit that he still needs me… but I can still see the mommy -craving in his eyes sometimes. Just know that you’ve made someone think twice about what’s important in a day, through your sharing of yourself and BJ. And also…. you are one helluva writer. I’m hooked. Keep breathing.
November 19th, 2006 at 12:53 am
I agree with what Leslie wrote wholeheartedly; BJ’s story is ongoing b/c it lives on through you, MastaG and Pigpen. As for people commenting, I’ll just speak for myself and tell you that I would never flatter myself enough to believe that anything I write in here has or would somehow comfort you, but as Kate wrote above, I just want you to read how much you’ve touched complete strangers with all you’re going through; and the fact that I come here to check on how you’re doing as I would a good friend, and cry for you and your family as I would for my own family… well, I just think it’s important for you to know that we’re here standing beside you, in that virtual way. Take good care.
November 19th, 2006 at 12:57 am
I wish you much peace and comfort while you go through all the emotions that you will surely feel while the boys are gone. I get from your postings that you are an awesome dad. The boys are very lucky to have you. BJ will always be with you and watching out for you and her children. I believe that if you ask for some sort of sign from her now or in the future that something will happen to let you know that she is on the other side and everything is good. Hope you have a restful night and pigpen doesn’t get sick again. Keep giving them lots of hugs and kisses before they leave. flameslgs
November 19th, 2006 at 2:32 am
I keep wracking my brain — what did they teach me in minister/bible school. Not much on this subject. Truth be told, this will come at you from the right and left, sideways, and backwards, but will never really stare you down. Grief is unfortunatly like that. And that pain you feel — that heaviness that just sort of hangs in your chest — the knawing feeling, the stuff in your mind thats like broken sentences and that word you can not seem to think of (in a bad way) — grief. If Greif was a person I would help you beat the shit out of him. But God knows I have flet him, but never seen Grief in a dark parking lot.
I am hoping and praying for you. The pic of BJ pretty much says it all. She was and is a great woman.
November 19th, 2006 at 2:34 am
Sorry, but I can’t not say it….AT, I think you will not be offended cuz I warned you about my inappropriate sense of humor, BUT I can’t stop myself…
So this one time at band camp…….
November 19th, 2006 at 5:58 am
Don’t be too scared of what’s coming, AT. Something tells me that BJ will be helping you through it from the other side.
You’re in my thoughts.
November 19th, 2006 at 6:48 am
Nope, folks, I’m not scared of it, and I have no problem with grief. In fact, I’m subscribing somewhat to the thinking that the harder you take it, the more you love them. Well, no, intellectually, thats dumb, What I am subscribing to is that I wouldn’t trade any bit of the grief coming up for a second that I spent with her, even our lamest, worst second. So I welcome it. I’ll consider my grief just as much a part of life with BJ as my greatest joy was in living with her.
And band camp jokes… didn’t see THAT coming! All we need is for somebody to bust out a “BJ” joke. Actually, I told you guys about her friend Lucky, they were joking about starting a design company called “Get Lucky with BJ”.
Oh yeah.
November 19th, 2006 at 7:39 am
Whoever said you had something they don’t was right. I don’t know you, but it is obvious from reading all about you and BJ that your con nection was something few people get to experience in their lifetime. I only wish that if I passed right now, such time and care would be taken to writing something like this about me from my spouse. You will be in my thoughts and prayers as you head into your season of grief.
November 19th, 2006 at 10:16 am
AT, that something that you two have is called pure love, and it radiateslike sunlight. I know couples who fight, and take each other for granted. They are the ones who can never have what you have. I am not perfect, nor is my wife. However, the writing of your story sure has helped to to help get past my times of taking the wife for granted. Hopefully, i won’t fall back into my less than mindful patterns. Keep writing. Don’t stop.
November 19th, 2006 at 10:38 am
Thats the point man. If people reading this realize that pure love is real, and that they might just have that person beside them already, like you and your ‘chick, then this might be worth it.
November 19th, 2006 at 1:59 pm
Here’s what’s going to get you through this: you obviously love those two kids more than life itself, and they’re half her, you know? As they get older, little mannerisms and things they have will invariably remind you of her, so in a way you really haven’t lost her. And in a way, you should try like hell (not that you wouldn’t already) to hang onto memories of her, so you can share them with your kids. Who didn’t have as much time with her as you did, and will be curious what she was like.
What I am subscribing to is that I wouldn’t trade any bit of the grief coming up for a second that I spent with her, even our lamest, worst second. So I welcome it. I’ll consider my grief just as much a part of life with BJ as my greatest joy was in living with her.
I lost my dad five or so years ago, and it was really rough. I mean, obviously you know you’re going to go through a lot of grief and agony with this, but I think you’re doing the right thing by being with the pain, instead of trying to deny or run from it.
Ultimately, what eventually helped me the most was thinking about what Dad would have wanted me to do. I know your BJ wouldn’t have wanted you to succumb to any sort of self-destructive impulses over her death, and you know she will always love you.
Meanwhile, some song suggestions of my own…
“Invisible Sun” - Police
“Day in the Life” - Beatles
“Stephanie Says” - Velvet Underground
You really ought to get some early Flaming Lips albums, too. My own favorites are “Priest Driven Ambulance” and “Hit to Death in the Future Head.” “Halloween on the Barbary Coast” might be a good song for right now, too…
November 19th, 2006 at 7:39 pm
please read my blogs. (practically begging)