Saturday, November 26

Home from Thanksgiving at Mammoth. There was snow on the side of the road, but it didn't snow on us and the roads were clear. Cold—40-50 degrees. One problem: Snow melt slid off the condo roof and slightly dented the hood of son-in-law's car.

Son-in-law took the grandson skiing while Daughter 1 and I walked around the town and along some trails. The air was fresh and clean and cold.

A very different Thanksgiving, with a grocery store dinner instead of a day spent in the kitchen. Daughter 1 made brussels’ sprouts and asparagus to go with it. The turkey was good and moist, the gravy and mashed potatoes were also good. The stuffing was wet and stodgy, and the cranberry sauce too jammy. But we had a very good time. Besides eating, we did a jig saw puzzle and played a rummy game. 

Drove back today, Saturday.

Our young British cousin arrives from her Thanksgiving cruise tomorrow morning. Son 3 will pick her up from the cruise ship with his little girls, and I will meet them at his house. That way I will get to see his older daughter before she returns to Berkeley.

Busy, busy, keeps me connected to the world.

Missing Ren a lot. Still. 

So up and down, up and down. I wonder how long this will last. Or, when I will realize a new normal that I can live with? 

 Saturday November 19

Last night Don Cucos with Daughter 1. I drank the regular margarita and felt quite tipsy. We came back home and planned the meals for Mammoth next week—Thanksgiving.

Tonight, dinner with old friend and her husband. She cooked risotto with lemon, basil, olive oil, and shrimp. Very good and cooked perfectly. I’d like the recipe. She also made an apple gallette which was very tasty.

One thing notable is I could talk about Ren without getting maudlin. It was quite a lively conversation—not at all awkward. 

The drive out to there house at night felt intimidating. The car headlights "starred out" as they came towards me. The freeway wasn’t so bad, as tail lights are not as bright as headlights. However, there was a lot of traffic, so I had to pay attention. Knowing the route made it easier.

I don’t really want to go to Mammoth for Thanksgiving with Daughter 1 and family, but it will probably do me good to get away. I bought waterproof boots today, so at least my feet will stay dry if it snows.

Are these the first steps towards resuming my normal life? 

Friday, November 4, ctd.

  After the niche-side ceremony, we drove to The Smokehouse for lunch in their private room. Many people had Manhattans in honor of Ren, and I had a G&T. (He liked those too and not as strong for this lightweight!) We ordered from a fixed menu that was generally good, plus the Boston Crème Pie for dessert. The wife of Son 1 gave me printed cards she'd had made with a prayer and Ren’s name on one side, and a picture of BVM on the other. Very sweet of her. I handed them out to everyone. The lunch was generally upbeat, and it was great to see the family all come together.

Son 1's family had to leave afterwards to attend their youngest son's “Parents’ Weekend” at UCSB. (Cancelled his first year because of Covid restrictions.) They were all there for the niche ceremony, which was the important one. (Their daughter, at school in Zurich, sent a lovely email expressing her appreciation of Ren.)

 That evening the rest of us attended the Burbank Art Club opening reception. My high school good friend and her husband were also there, as were Ren's cousins and their spouses. The Art Club had created a lovely display honoring Ren with his photograph and a book where anyone could write a few comments. The president said a few kind words about Ren's enthusiasm and his service to the organization. At the end of the presentation, we all sang along to “On the Road Again” accompanied by a guitar and led by a singer. It made me cry quietly, but Son 3 noticed and came over to put his arm across my shoulders. 

 Friday, November 4

The niche-side celebration was a blur. (But later, I remembered more and I do write about it below. Read on!) I remember images: the hot sun, the flowers around Ren's photograph, my family arrayed in front of me on folding chairs. My brother and his wife had driven from Oregon, and I was glad we had selected a wheelchair-friendly location. Family spoke, I spoke, and we shared good memories.  The youngest granddaughters shared tears and drawings to illustrate how much they would also miss Ren. It was a moving time, but I held it together. I couldn’t hold the urn for long though, so Son 2 stood next to me and held it when I tired. I didn’t expect it to be so heavy. I had lost weight, so I'd probably lost muscle too.

SOME MEMORIES FROM THE NICHE-SIDE CEREMONY

On Friday November 4 we held a niche-side ceremony for the immediate family. One of the directors, (that someone said could have been out of central casting) was a very stiff and formal man whose solemn expression never varied. He led our procession of cars up the hill to the area where the niche was located. Everyone there except two granddaughters—too far away in university to attend. The director introduced himself and welcomed us. Ren’s urn rested on a small table and was surrounded by flowers. His framed photograph had been placed on top on top of the urn. 

First, Daughter 1 spoke of how much Ren meant to her. She told the story of the two rose bushes they chose together: Mr. Lincoln and Mr. Kennedy—one red and one white. Unable to decide between them, Ren bought both of them for her, and he helped her plant them in our garden. She wove a story of her understanding, as an adult, of how it was possible to love two fathers at the same time, just as she had loved those two very different rose bushes. Very moving and very well done.

Then I read aloud excerpts from sympathy cards that illustrated how people saw Ren—from those who knew him as a young man to those who only encountered him at family gatherings. His talents, his kindness, and his interest in them shone through. Somewhere in there I read from "Funeral Blues," but it was hard.

Son 3 spoke of how Ren inspired him, and he focused on their shared interest in cars—especially his Triumph—and also Ren’s example of raising kids not born to him.

Son 2 talked about Ren giving him advice not to quit his job, who, instead, followed Ren's example of taking risks, as in running his own business and marrying a woman with five children.

Son 1 spoke of the example Ren set of entrepreneurship in his store, and his consulting business. He reminded us also of Ren’s last-minute donation of $1500 to enable Son 1 to attend Stanford, which changed his entire life—from meeting his wife, to the children they had, and to Son 1's many years as a Stanford employee. 

The son-in-law spoke of Ren being a saint for marrying me with five children!

Daughter 2 spoke of Ren’s calmness in teaching them all to drive, and of making sure she and Daughter 1 had cars to go to college—Volkswagen Rabbits.

My brother said Ren told him at our wedding that he loved me very much, and that he wasn’t intending to discipline the boys or girls, but just support wherever he could. He didn’t intend to try to be a father, as they already had one.

Wife of Son 3 came forward to say a few words of appreciation.

Finally, Grandsons 1 and 2 spoke of Ren’s kindness and generosity in talking to them, listening to them, and showing interest in whatever they were doing.

Afterwards Son 2 stood beside me as I placed the urn in the niche and put a small toy Mustang in with it. In my speech I said Ren’s heaven must be a wild and rocky road with 4-wheel-drive Jeep. But all I had was a toy Mustang and thought it appropriate because he never got one, even though he wanted one. He even had a Mustang savings account!

Daughter 1 had saved a selection of music that Ren liked and played it as we entered and as we left. The last song was Willie Nelson’s “On the Road Again,” which title will be inscribed on the niche tablet when it is finally finished and installed. (The urn bears the phrase, “You may be a redneck if . . .” the footnote to all of his emails. He would fill in the full phrase with varying funny endings.)

 

Wednesday, November 2

Today’s big activity was giving two of Ren's cousins all of the phots and other memorabilia from his mother's side of the family that Ren had been storing in his office closet. We held back on his father's side items in case any of those relatives are interested in them. I have a feeling they won’t be, but you never know. I’ll ask.

 Otherwise plans for Friday’s event at Forest Lawn are firming up. Son 1 and family will be here (except for their daughter who is at school in Switzerland, so too far.) Son 2 and his family except one daughter who has just left for New York and her first year at university. Daughter 2 will also be here. Son 3 and his family, and daughter 2 and her family will also attend. My brother and his wife will drive down from Oregon. Afterwards all 20 of us will all lunch at the Smokehouse restaurant in Burbank.

We plan for all of us to attend the Art Club show that evening from 7-9. Ren was past president and current web master for the Burbank Art Association. They will present a short tribute to him. 

Saturday we rest.

Sunday I will host an Open House from 1-4 where others, cousins and close family and friends will come. Son 1 and his wife must drive back to San Mateo for work, so can’t be there. A good friend from San Jose might drive down. Other cousins and good friends will attend. It will be a busy weekend, but the family will help with it all.

 In between all the preparations, life continues.

The paperwork seems to be easing up. However, I’m still waiting for CalSTRS to send the first check from Ren's pension so I know I can cover the monthly bills!

 Tuesday November 1

One month today. I can’t believe it’s been a whole month. I am still stunned; I am still hurting; I am still so sad—for Ren’s death, for the past year of chemo pain and sickness, that we didn’t have more time together.  It was too quick at the end.

Daughter 1 and I visited the niche today after I made the final payment on the funeral/cremation/niche cost. She is making the arrangements for the “un-funeral” on Friday, so it was good for her to see where it will take place. She ordered and paid for flowers for the urn. We can place something inside the niche with the urn. I’m not sure what, if anything, to put.

Son 2 came over yesterday to copy some slides for his slide show of Ren. He said son 1 and family will be here Friday for the family gathering at the niche, but that they couldn’t make Sunday due to a conflict.

 Busy week, but I wonder what I will do next week when all the business end of it is finished. How will I carve out a life for myself? How will I find balance with half of me gone?

 People are so kind. I had a long and comforting email from cousin in Devon, UK today, and a surprise email from a former professor/mentor who wrote some kind and moving words. Kathy, a former colleague, was another one who wrote a lovely note. 

So many people have reached out to me: taken me to dinner, to lunch, talked on the telephone, texted comforting words, sent plants, flowers, and cards. I know now not to hesitate to do the same. There is no one way to express solidarity and sadness. 

It all helps.

 

 

Sunday, October 30, 2022

 Quiet day. I awoke at 4:30 am, and it occurred to me to look in the garage for the dishes Ren inherited from his mother. Sure enough, they were still wrapped safely as they had been when he packed them up in 2006! Poor cousin! I’m not sure she’ll be thankful for all the things we’re passing on, but better to give them to her than the trash collector.

 Feelings of annoyance that Ren has died came over me several times today. Not at Ren himself, but at Luck, or God, or the Fates who took him from us. Sort of: “That’s enough! Now send him back!”

 My brother called. They will drive down on Thursday, so they can be here Friday noon for the “not funeral.”  We will place Ren’s urn in the niche. I will read a poem, “Funeral Blues” by W.H. Auden. Others will say something about Ren. I hope no tears. I’m afraid of starting and not being able to stop.

 Tomorrow I must take Ren’s last paintings into the Art Club show. He'd signed up, paid the entry fee, and fully intended to have them displayed. Then I went to the bank to get a cashier's check for Forest Lawn cemetery.

I must buy Thank You notes.

The busier I keep, the less I brood. 

 Friday October 28

I spent the day in Ren’s office going through the tax returns trying to find out if he had taken the minimum distribution from the IRA. Ren had paid by check some years, but I can't find any records for two of the years. If I can't find them, we would owe penalties. I am annoyed, as the company didn't send a check automatically as other companies do, our agent never bothered mentioning it, he can't seem to find records for those years, and he told me it was our responsibility anyway. I will have to research further. 

Annoying, but not catastrophic. A good focus for my deep-seated anger at losing Ren.

Daughter 1 and her husband took me to Centannis for dinner. I ordered the pasta, but it was a bit hard and a bit too much. But the company was nice. I still couldn’t finish my wine. For some reason, I’m just not enjoying alcohol. Helen, the English owner/hostess is returning to England in January. Too bad. She is such a welcome face and voice as we walk in the door.

 So many things to do. 

Some things I’m putting off—like getting rid of Ren’s clothes. First the cars and books, then the mess in the garage, But, before either of those, I need to distribute to Ren's cousins the artifacts he has gathered from his side of the family: photographs, history, family trees, etc. And various dishes his mother had collected from the old aunts and her mother. If only I can remember where Ren stored those dishes . . .

Keeping busy stops me thinking too much. 

 Thursday, October 27

Busy day. For the open house to honor Ren, I plan to hang as many of his paintings as possible. I went exploring at Empire Center for a frame for the second Italian monastery painting. Ren framed the first one, so I was trying to find a matching frame. No luck. Michael's, Target, Marshalls, Macy’s and back to Michael’s. They will custom frame it for not much more than what a regular frame would cost. I paid an “Expediting Fee” so it will be ready before the open house a week from Sunday.

Spent all afternoon trying to figure out how to transfer all the autopay bills from the old credit card to my new credit card. Ren’s hand-written passwords are not always clear. Was able to cancel Firestone wine club. It was only two bottles every couple of months, but I don't drink much, especially now.

Still feeling a great emptiness where Ren should be. I found myself tearing up as I stared at the frames in Michael’s--no particular memory, just a wave of sadness. But as I was in a public place, I was able to control it and take care of business. 

Later, I ate well because I have to. I felt that mild clutching in my chest a couple of times. Stress? And strangely, I have a pain on the right side at my waist area. Gallstones? Appendix? Hope not. 

Am I feeling phantom pains now?

 Wednesday October 26

Yesterday was not a good day, but it ended successfully. 

Mileage from United still in dispute—had to shrink and resend PDF files. 

Thought I’d forgotten to enclose Death Certificate and Birth Certificate in Social Security envelope. Jumped out of bed at 5:30 am to hunt them down. Steamed open the envelope, gathered them all, then reread the instructions. It said to include them, “if boxes are checked.” They were not checked. Taped the envelope to mail. 

IRA guy called to clarify instructions on paperwork. 

Then spent a frustrating hour on the phone with AT&T asking why the cell bill was about $50.00 higher for the same two phones, same service. Was told to go to the physical store to get access to the old account. I asked them to switch me back as it was cheaper! No go. "They don't offer that account anymore." 

I called customer service from the actual store, and finally got someone who knew what she was doing who moved me to a service that was some price as the old one but with more data—which we/I don’t use much. 

In between I felt dizzy and fell in Ren’s office—scraped my arm—and got the car washed after mailing forms to Soc Sec and IRA people. Then the really relaxing part was my credit card arrived in the afternoon. I feel secure again!!

 Today I slept in until 7:15, ate and took a long phone call from a childhood friend who lives in London, Ontario, Canada.  She will be 80 in three months. Her health is not great, but she always sounds chipper. We caught up on our news—of course I described Ren’s death. She lay with her mother as she died, so similar to me. She said she felt she had done everything she could for her mother who was 97!  

I feel the same with Ren, but he went too soon. 

I cry more easily now. “Wind Beneath my Wings” by Willie Nelson had me sobbing, but usually I shed just a few tears then I move on, albeit with a heavy heart. 

When I drove home from AT&T, I saw Ren’s truck in the driveway and thought, “Oh Ren’s back!” 

Just a flash, but it was jarring. Strange.

Saturday, October 22 

My husband has been gone for three weeks.

Three weeks ago today, my husband died.  

My husband has been dead for three weeks.

 

How difficult it is to write that last line. There is something about the word “dead” that is so final, so devastating. He is gone sounds softer, gentler. Indeed “gone” reflects my emotions more than the other word. You see? I cannot write it more than necessary. It doesn’t change the facts. He’s not coming back. But it eases the psychological burden. My psyche expects him back. My psyche feels him in bed beside me when I roll over in the night. I feel a certain impatience that he’s still gone. The space beside me yawns in expectation of his return. I wait to tell him things: the construction fence is down on the burned house on our walking route. He would be interested; he’d speculate. Further down the street, the “Beethoven” house still looks as derelict as ever. The construction fence is still up and the window at back is still broken. It’s not clear what they will do with it. I want to discuss with him the minutiae of life in our neighborhood, life in our family, programs on television (but not politics).

For instance, the other night I watched Rick Steves’ program about the evolution of art in Europe. For the intro to the show, Rick is standing in front of the Milan cathedral. We were there! We rode the elevator to the top to wander among the carvings that workmen had crafted even though no one could see them from the street far below. Nooks and crannies revealed gargoyles and saints, arches and crenellations, all intricately carved.

And then I remember the unfinished painting Ren left by his office door of one such statue and gargoyle that he wanted to reconstruct in oils. And I feel the sting of his absence once more. No. Sting is too mild. It is more like a gut punch, a reminder that our duet is now a solo. No longer will we laugh together, gossip, plan, travel, smile across the room, read side by side, eat side by side, ride side by side, walk side by side, sleep side by side. Now I journey alone.

One thing I was wondering. Why did those long-ago artists produce such intricate carvings on the top of the Milan cathedral? If no one could see their work, why did they work so hard? If not for earthly rewards, was it for the glory of God? Was their faith so steadfast that they had confidence God would see and approve? There is something to be said for that. I wonder if people today had more faith in an unseen being who kept watch over them, would we see less crime, more generosity towards others. Would the dark, hateful, and often racist comments uttered behind closed doors cease? 

If we thought we were being watched, would we all hold ourselves to a higher standard? No doubt. In this day and age of electronics and cameras, we are all being watched and listened to anyway, and it behooves us to adhere to our better selves. If we did, perhaps the world would experience less turmoil. 

Perhaps not. Like Ren, I am a bit of a skeptic. Like Ren was, that is. 

There is it again. The sucker punch that reminds me he is gone.

Wednesday October 19 

Minutia Squared: 

Yesterday AT&T to get phone changed to my name—1½ hours. Chase bank to get a new credit card—1 ½ hours plus. Today opening a new account to roll over Ren’s IRA to me. 2 ½ or 3 hours on Zoom!! 

Another 10 mins to find out Ren’s pension might not be switched to me for almost three months! I asked the man on the phone how I was expected to pay my bills. He suggested I submit a Death Certificate as that usually hurries along the person handling the account. Thank goodness I don't have children to feed!

Then I spent an hour or more trying to find out how many miles Ren had on our Chase Bank United credit card (now cancelled), so they can be credited to my United membership. Next, I have to get my signature notarized for them and upload it with a copy of the death certificate. I had to Google for notaries in my area.

I was mentally exhausted by the end of it all. I keep wondering what else will crop up. Like, what if the pension is not switched to me? How will I live? Sell the house? Where will I live?

If all goes well, (and I don't have to find a paying job), I am still wondering what useful thing I can do with the rest of my life. I can’t just hang out here doing nothing. I won’t rush anything. I hope the answer will come. The house seems so empty now—and quiet. Daughter 1 visits regularly, and her energy is uplifting. Anyone else who visits also takes me out of myself and my thoughts.

My British relatives have responded: Lovely cards from a cousin in Devon yesterday. Cousin in Kent texted this morning; Niece in London yesterday; cards today from cousins in  North Harrow, and their daughter and husband. Their son has texted several times. Cousins from Harrow-on-the-Hill have called twice, texted several times, and sent a card. Even another cousin's teenage daughter sent me a PM through Facebook. Uncle B & his daughter also called. So kind of all of them.

 

Ren was well-thought of by many people. It is so very sad that his last year was really miserable with the chemo side-effects. 

But how were we to know that the chemo would not work, that it wouldn't give him another remission? 

We hoped.

 

 Tuesday, October 18

I called Chase credit card, and after I identified myself, the woman offered condolences on the loss of my husband. They knew? How? I asked if that’s why my card was refused, and she said yes. She explained that since Ren was the primary card-holder and had died, the account had been closed. My argument that CA is a community property state did not move her. I was considered just another signature on his card, as if I were an employee. I realized they must monitor Social Security Administration as the funeral home notifies them of all deaths. Bingo. 

I am annoyed, outraged, and irritated that Chase Bank did not bother to notify me that the card is no longer active. They are quick enough to tell me if they suspect fraud, but left me hung out to dry when I lose my husband!

Why don’t they tell you these things before snatching away your lifeline?

Maybe I should go back to a cash-only existence. 

My card with the largest credit line is now no more. Thank goodness I still have the Citibank card, but I wonder for how much longer. 

I drove to my local branch of Chase Bank, where one of the young account managers was very helpful in helping me apply for a new card. I withdrew cash to (hopefully) tide me over until it arrives. And I put son 3 on my two checking accounts, so if I am disabled, he can still withdraw money.  So, pins and needles until the new card arrives.

 

 Monday October 17

Today the death certificates were ready, so son 3 drove me to get them. Afterwards we went to dinner at Wood Ranch. 

When I tried to pay with my Chase credit card it was refused. Weird since I had paid the full owed amount on the 1^st of October, and it worked fine on the weekend. The server tried again, but no luck, so I gave him my Costco Citi card which worked fine. Son 3 tried calling the number on the back of the Chase card, but they were closed by that time.

Very quiet after son 3left, but my brother’s phone call kept me amused and talking.

Found out the mother of my daughter's friend died last week of Parkinson’s. She was close to 80, I’m guessing. Still, sad for her daughter who had a complex relationship with her mother. Daughter 1 and son 3 will go to the funeral. As will I—if I feel up to it.

Cancelled lunch with my good friend tomorrow so I can go to the bank and sort out the accounts and credit cards.

Life goes on.

 

Saturday, October 15

Son 2 and his wife arrived to sort out more boxes in Ren’s office closet. We found a lot of Ren’s memories that his mother had kept: photos, his birthday cards from age 2 and up, valentines cards, even some really old cards from the 19-teens. Daughter-in-law will take them to antique stores in Orange County. She is also inspired to make a little display with photos of Ren from babyhood on up. I am not sure he would have approved, but perhaps he would be pleased anyway.

More minutia: Auto club on Monday for car mileage numbers and also to tell them not to include Ren on the auto insurance for next year. Little things like that keep catching me out. I find myself impatient for him to get home, to return to where he belongs, as if he’s on a trip. Only he’s not going to return. The brain knows, but the heart is having a hard time accepting.

Some of the family had lunch with me at the Smoke House to try out the desserts for the lunch after the niche-side ceremony. We had a pretty cheerful lunch considering. 

I paid with my Chase credit card.

I feel really sad but able to carry on and do what needs to be done. 

Awfully quiet after they left, though.

 

 

October 14

Today I did not walk. I did get up a little after 6 am and went through a bunch of manila envelopes that Ren had in his office. Daughter 1 had them lined up on a bin for me to get to when I was ready. A lot of them, actually most of them, were old tax returns. I put everything older than 7 years to be shredded. Daughter 1 came over and put out the trash cans—the recycle one was stuffed with papers, with more on the bench. She then helped me shred some of the docs but the shredder over-heated, so we had to stop.

After she left, I went through the remaining ones and tore off the sensitive info for shredding while recycling the rest. I was hoping less paperwork would mean the shredder would last longer, but I only did half of them. Tomorrow.

I typed up notes of which businesses I have called and what they said. It’s beginning to get confusing—so many notifications! When we get the Death Certificates, I can begin to knock off some of them. I hope.

And overall, I could feel depression coming on. I just felt down all day. The house was quiet and empty, and I felt lethargic. The neighbors next door sent flowers, and three condolences cards came. One said Ren could be curmudgeon sometimes—a friend from the fishing club—and that made me laugh. He said other nice things too, but it felt as if he knew the real Ren!

A nice tribute from the Art Club today. I sent it to the kids. It is interesting to know how others experienced him.

What will I do or be without him?

 

October 12

 Ren’s body was cremated today between 6:30 and 8:30 am. I was walking on Fifth Street between 6:45 and 7:30 thinking of Ren and my loss. I met the old Italian, Sal, who was walking his dog. He asked how I was. We discussed the various plans others had made after losing their spouse. He lives with his son, and it turns out another son lives next door. His sister-in-law sold her $3 million house and moved into a home to be with other people. I was thinking of that, but I’m not sure I’d like to give up my independence and space.  Maybe when I’m older . . .

Son 1 remarked via email that the cremation has a finality feel to it. He said it gives him and “overwhelming feeling of sadness,” echoing my words to him in June.

With all the children gone, the house is quiet and empty. When I went out for my walk I had to turn on the alarm as no one is in the house now. I wore Ren’s ring on my middle finger today, the place I put it when we removed it before they took him away. I’m glad I stayed with Ren until they took him, feeling his warmth at his collar line even as his face grew cold. 

It is so quiet and empty here. I have to find a way to continue my life without him. 

I’m just not sure how to do that.   

 

 

October 11

 

Daughter 2 drove back to the bay area this morning, so the rest of the day and evening was spent completely alone. I had asked the children to give me the time so that I could process my loss, the trauma, the grief without a lot of distraction.

I spent most of the day dealing with pension, mutual funds, and lining up matters to be taken care of when we receive the death certificates.

Ren’s primary care doctor, Dr. Park, called to express condolences, and I had to fight tears. It's still hard to believe that he’s really gone. It seems as if he’s just away on a fishing trip and will return in a couple of days.

But he won’t.

 

October 9

 

Bad night followed by a laid-back day. Very low energy. I phoned Ren's oldest friend to let him know. Nice man. He was saddened. He said he’s known Ren since elementary school. Ren’s passing reminded him of his own mortality, as it does many of us. My lovely English Cousin called too, to ask how I was doing and to send his love to all the family. His wife spoke to me too, of course. Son-in-law is in Germany by now to surprise his father for his 80^th birthday.

The mortuary is making clerical errors that have me worried about whether or not they will cremate the right body when it is Ren’s turn on Wednesday! Cards from relatives and good friends continue to arrive. Bless everyone who took the time. It all helps.

One or more of the children have been with me every day and night since Ren left. I’m beginning to feel like I need some time alone. I want to process Ren’s death, his absence from my life, the hollow he leaves behind. Someone here almost constantly is distracting. I want to mourn in my own way, in my own time, without stifling or hiding my reactions/feelings because I’m under worried observation. I don't want to upset my children any more than they already are. 

I have to find a way to tell them to resume their normal lives without seeming ungrateful for their concern and help.

 

More Sorting

Today the focus was again on Ren’s books, both on the bookshelves and in his office. They include binders with notes from his 1963 City College classes and a binder of his lecture notes. All are obsolete now, so we tossed them.

Son 2 turned in my father’s BB pistol to the BPD at my request. (Son 3 had taken Ren’s rifles and pistol earlier.)

Son 2 bought more flowers and wine today, and daughter 2 went to an architecture conference in downtown LA. Son 1 called.

Daughters 1 & 2, Son 2 and I had dinner at Centanni. Memories of Ren, as he and I ate there a couple of weeks ago. The proprietor expressed condolences, and I controlled the urge to cry. 

Nice dinner. Afterwards we came back home and chatted. We will have an open house for friends and family and the cousins who want to come. Must figure out who to invite, and food and drink.

I am beginning to feel Ren’s absence. It’s beginning to sink in on a cellular level that he’s not coming back. I am still somewhat numb, and I dread the emptiness that I will inevitably feel, the companionship lost, a like-mind to mesh with. 

How will I manage to rebuild my life?

 

October 6

 

Several times today I found myself thinking, “I’ll have to tell Ren about this.” Or “Ren and I would enjoy watching that.” And so it begins, the giant hole he’s left behind following me around.

We’ve (with daughter 2 and son 2) finished clearing out the worst mess in his office and the books off his bookshelf. I am realizing what a lot of interests he had: The Classics from the ancient coin interest; the wagon migrations to the American West from interest in his great-grandfather; the American Civil War, and of course, World War II. He was also interested in the American West in general, and he was fascinated by various great men in history, like Winston Churchill. 

He also admired and read about artists like Michelangelo and Da Vinci and Modigliani. We have membership in the Getty, the Norton Simon, and Los Angeles County Art museums, as well as the Huntington Library, the Descanso Gardens and the California Eastern Sierra Museum, and the Mono Lake Committee. All of these were driven by Ren and his love of art and nature. 

The other side of this was his ongoing interest in computers, electronics, trains, and four-wheel driving, as well as traveling. 

I will miss him, his companionship, his sharing of jokes, and our laughter about the absurdities of life. 

What will I do without him? 

How will I manage to enjoy life without imposing on my children

 

Email to Writer’s Group

Hi Ladies,
I'm sorry to tell you that Ren died last Saturday, Oct 1, at 10 pm. It was far quicker than we expected, actually quicker than the hospice expected. Luckily all five of my kids were here that day, and we were all gathered around his bedside as he slowly slipped away. He was not in pain, but that day he didn't communicate with any of us, so we're not sure how aware he was. Despite that, we acted as if he was very aware, and one or more of us kept rotating in to talk to him, stroke his arms, and generally let him know he was not alone. And luckily there was no day-nurse (staffing problems), so it was just family at the end. Absolutely heart-breaking, but being together made it easier. Just as he passed, the doorbell rang, and the night nurse showed up. She confirmed his death and took over making the right phone calls.

My children have kept up a rotation of presence in my house, day and night, since his passing. This has kept me from thinking and sinking into any funk. I got them to start sorting out all of Ren's books while they've been here. My son the lawyer, accompanied me to the mortuary to settle details there. That was very helpful. According to Ren's adamant request, there will be no funeral. However, the family will gather at his niche when they place his urn inside. We're thinking about having an open house, but we haven't confirmed that yet.

So, needless to say, you guys will have plenty of time to write before our next meeting. I'll have to see how things go and how ready I am to resume regular activities once the kids resume their normal lives and I am by myself. Being an optimist, I imagine I might bounce a couple of times, but I will survive.

thanks always for your support,
Mary