Teresa

I saw the family who moved in across the street.  It was spring and I noticed they had a young child.  We were on our track of life; they were on theirs.  A month turned into two and I was off for the summer and home every day with Jack (9) and Mike (almost 2), instead of teaching.  I still hadn’t met my neighbors across the street.  One weekday morning, I decided to make fresh blueberry muffins and take them over to introduce myself. 

I have always been a morning person and loved getting up with Rick to send him off to work.  Jack and Michael were usually "crack of dawn" type of kids so we were already up and the boys were playing in the den.  I baked the muffins and let them cool and then walked across the street; Jack stayed with Michael. It must have been around 11:00 a.m. when I rang the bell.   There was no answer so I left the muffins near the door and ran back across the street. Later, I had Jack bring a note to attach to the muffins.

Much later in the day, Teresa came across the street with her son, Aaron and met us. I apologized for disturbing them.  They came in and Michael and Aaron played for the first time.  Teresa thanked me for the muffins and we sat and had a long chat before our husbands came home. That was 13 years ago and the boys are still buddies and Teresa and I are still friends.

We share many interests.  Teresa loves books and is an editor.  She is a gifted, crafty woman; sewing, gardening, singing, guitar, the beach, shells, yard sales are a few of her favorite things.  Where I might know a little about a lot,Teresa is an expert at most everything she tries her hand at.  She is an impressive soul and kindred spirit.

Teresa was there when Rick died and tried to administer CPR.  What a nightmare for anyone!  How could I possibly begin to thank her for coming across the street and answering the call of friendship? I still thank her and she always tells me that it was an honor. I am so grateful that she was there; I think we both feel that we were bonded even more closely on that day.

I didn’t know anyone who had been widowed at forty.  It was difficult to know what I was feeling was normal.  People that knew me had no idea what to say to me except for Teresa.  My friend, Teresa would listen and just let me talk. She was so dear to me, a listener, a gem.  Teresa and I always got together over tea (our favorite, she’s a connoisseur) and just let me talk.  The poor woman spent hours and hours and days and days listening to me. When she did ask me questions, it was in the gentlest, non-intrusive way.  There is very little that can rock her boat.  She is a strong woman of God and lovely person.

For years after Rick died, Teresa would bring me the first rose bloom in her yard. She is an exquisite gardener and this was a treasured offering.  The first rose, continues to bring memories of Rick each year to Teresa.  Even if distance keeps her from delivering it to me, I know that the thought of Rick is there.  She is and always will be a true friend.

A Mother's Grief

About a week after Rick had died, my mom and I were sitting in the living room chatting.   She looked at me and said, “Jane, you marry whomever you want to, don’t listen to anyone.”  “Mom,” I yelled, “his body isn’t even cold in the grave!  She said, “I know, honey; I just want you to know that whatever you decide to do in the future, it’s up to you.  Don’t listen to anyone else.”

“Okay, Mom, where is all of this coming from?”  I asked.  “When your father died, everyone had their opinions about what I should do.  Peepop wanted to take care of us but I never really got along with him and I didn’t want to be under his care.  There were loads of people to offer advice but not a lot of people there to help.  Your Aunt Rose had said when I had married your dad that if Uncle Tom ever died, she would marry Dad (Jack).  He would never in a million years even consider going out with her.  Dad (Jack) was the one who was there to help me.  He was the one to take care of us because Jimmy was his brother.  He was having a hard time with the grief and it helped him to be around us.  It was the most natural thing that he asked me to marry him,” she explained.

"Peepop (my grandfather) was furious and thought that it 'looked terrible' for Jack to propose to me.  If I had listened to them, we never would have married.  It was what God planned for us.  Peepop refused to go to the wedding and forced Nanny(my grandmother) to stay at home even though she wanted to be there.  It wasn’t a good time,” she said.  “I want you to know that I’m behind whatever you decide and know that it is your decision.”  I was a flabbergasted, Okay, mom but to tell you the truth I’m not quite up to that yet.  I’ll be happy just to make it through the year.

I didn’t know anyone who had been widowed at forty.  It was difficult to know that what I was feeling was normal.  People that knew me had no idea what to say to me.  I found myself trying to make my friends feel comfortable with me.  Many people would ask me how I was doing and I would begin to cry.  I am quite literal; if you ask me that question I presume you are really looking for an answer.  “I made you cry.” I would hear over and over.  I tried to explain, “You didn’t make me cry; death is sad and hard to take.  I think there are a certain number of tears that have to fall before I won’t cry”

Over the weeks that my mom was with me, she shared many stories that I had never heard before.  She was widowed at 29 and she had walked through grief.  She had four children and had to survive for us.  Listening to her stories made me stronger;  I knew I would make it through this to the other side.  These were stories that I don’t think I would have ever heard under other circumstances. My mom shared her most precious gift; she shared her life, her memories, her love and her loss.

Forever

One of the first things that you will read in any grief book is not to make big changes in the first year.  My urge to purge was great.  I had to start; it was more because I felt that we were just thrown into Rick's illness and time stopped, nothing proceeded as usual.  It seemed like forever since I had gone through my own closet and dresser and drawers around the house; I felt like everything was a mess. I kept the advice close in my thoughts. As I went through things, I focused mainly on my possessions, not Rick’s.

Rick and I had a plan to get rid of our debt and to move to a larger home.  I decided to give myself a “pass” on not making this big decision because it was already a part of the game plan. Our time-line to move was about a year and that was what I was keeping in my head. We were very cramped in our little home even without Rick.

One thing I had saved in all the years we were married were the birthday and anniversary cards that we had given each other.  I had a box of memorabilia from when we were dating and I kept just about every anniversary and Valentine’s Day card.  I came across these in the bottom of a drawer.  Oh! What a Treasure!  Rick was a mushy guy with cards, not so big on saying things. He felt I should just "know" about his love but he made up for it in the area of greeting cards.

As I began to read the cards I was moved in a powerful way. I was sitting in a puddle of tears after about five of them: they were so touching to read. I felt such an assurance of our love for each other as I read.  I found many I had kept from his family and later gave them back to each.  I think it is important to know that the one who has died understood your love for them: this was why I gave them back to his mom, brothers and sisters.

When I was in high school, we had a family gathering in the spring in our backyard.  It was a barbecue and everyone was there.  Everyone in my family is a lot of people.  We were enjoying the weather outside and each other when my mom sent a message to all of us that she wanted to talk with us.  We gathered around the picnic table and she said, “I want you all to know that I know that each of you love me.  When my mother died, I wasn’t sure that my mother knew how much I loved her.  I want all of you to be assured that I know.”  My grandmother had died at least eight years before so this was something that must have been bothering her. 

We were all rather stunned as this was not my mom’s usual style to make announcements of love at family gatherings.  “Mom, we know that you love us too,” we said.  “That’s all that matters,” she said.

Two years ago, my mother was dying of cancer; she was diagnosed with four lesions in her brain.  It was inoperable. I flew up to see her at my brother’s in Syracuse  She was having difficulty walking and had just gone through radiation.  She was feeling the radiation and her hair was beginning to fall out. I shaved her head before I left; it was falling out in clumps. She was tired and dragging but tried to keep a stiff upper lip.

I was there at my brother’s house for four days; each day I was looking for the right moment to say it.  How do you say goodbye to your mother?  Leaving meant that I might never see her again.  As I was getting ready to leave, she was sitting on the couch;  I was putting my shoes on and hopped on the couch next to her and leaned over to her and took her hand. “Mom, I know that you know how much I love you.”I said through tears.  She said, “It’s all that matters, isn’t it?”

When Rick died, I knew that we loved each other and that there was nothing left unsaid; this alone was a huge consolation.  The cards allowed me to hear his voice again and his words soothed my pain.  I still have my precious memories packed away in the attic: some were saved and others tossed but he will always and forever be in my heart.

Home Again

I told my mom the next morning that I had to go home.  She was perfectly fine with whatever I wanted to do.  At any other time in my life I probably could have stayed and savored the water, the views, the solitude but I felt somewhat in limbo, not knowing where I stood in my life.  I am a “have at it” kind of gal.  If there’s a job to be done, I prefer to face it head on and get it over with. 

The boys were okay with going home too.  We packed up our things and left after lunch.  I wrote a thank you to Mary and Bill in the guest book they kept in the house.  It was a beautiful place to be; as I close my eyes and look back I see the yellows of my room, the blueness of the skies and water and dazzling night sky filled with stars.  The worries whirling around in my head could not be calmed by them.  I needed to get my house in order.

The drive back home always seems shorter to me, no matter where I travel.  It only took about an hour and a half.  We missed rush hour and the boys were in the backyard playing in no time.  One of the first things I did was to drive to the medical facility and bring back all the boxes and boxes of medical supplies we had been provided.  There were so many things left unopened.

I called my sister in-law, Christine and asked her about all of the drugs that I had for Rick.  My cupboards were full.  She said she would drop by later with Danny and take a look.  When she arrived and looked, she was astounded at the vast amount of items in “the pharmacy.”  As a pharmacist, she had seen so many sick people or spouses of patients who arrived in her pharmacy looking for medication to counteract the effects of chemo or other symptoms of disease.  She would be so sad to have to tell them that one pill might cost around $300, which they couldn’t pay. One bottle that she had in her hand was an anti-nausea drug that she told me was worth at least $1100.  I had a load of pain-killers which she said was the street addicts’ drug of choice and was worth almost as much.   We took load after load into the bathroom so that she could flush them down.  It was against the law for them to be re-dispensed or given to anyone else.  It just seemed like such a waste.  I also felt extraordinarily fortunate that Rick did not have to suffer without these drugs.

The medical supply company had come and removed the hospital bed, the bedside commode, the wheelchair and walker.  It felt great to reclaim my home.  I needed to do some spring cleaning and when I am in the antsy state of life cleaning is a great outlet for that energy.

I located the insurance policies and tried to contact the companies.  Rick and I had purchased the life insurance almost 15 years before and the company had changed hands several times.  I got out the policies and looked them over.  I almost keeled over when I read the beneficiary clause that  named my brother in-law instead of me.  I went ballistic; I was in a total panic.  How could we have made this mistake?  Oh dear god, tell me it isn’t true.  Tell me that I will have money to raise my boys with.  My mom came in and read it and she said I should call the insurance agent. 

Now this man must have been a hundred because he was quite elderly when we had purchased the policy from him.  When I called the number on the policy, a woman answered the phone and named a different insurance company and told me he had retired 11 years before.  Luckily, she did have his phone number and I was able to get him at his home.  He asked me to look for particular items within the policy and in  about ten minutes, he was able to assure me that I was fine; I would be the only beneficiary of the two policies.

Mom suggested a cup of tea to calm myself with.  We sat down and had a cup and my mom started to tell me about the night that my father died.  It was weird because I had never heard this tale before.  I would think she would have shared this prior to this moment.  I knew I had take it as it was being offered.

Karen and Paul dropped over to visit with my mom and to see the kids.  Michael Sean and Jack were thrilled to see their cousins.  They headed out back.  It seemed too calm and quiet in the house without Rick to concentrate on.  It felt extremely strange.  Karen decided to go with me over to the funeral home to retrieve the death certificates.  I would need them to submit the paperwork for insurance, to close accounts held in his name, to contact Social Security.  We drove over and she was telling me about how things were going over there.  Her children were taking Rick’s loss very hard.  They had known a lot of children who died and now it was their uncle.

I dropped Karen off and told her not to be a stranger and then went home.  My mom was putting dinner on when I arrived home.  The boys were out playing in the backyard.  I had brought in the mail with me.  There was a gigantic envelop for me from the Social Security Administration.  I had spoken to them a week before.  They just happened to call the day after Rick died.  When I got on the line, the woman was telling me that he was approved.  I told her that Rick had died.  She was pleased to tell me that since Rick had been approved, it would only be a case of changing out the form.  I still needed to send an additional thousand documents but at least the ball was rolling.

I was home and looking at getting things together.  I can do this.  None of this would be easy but I could get started on the mountain that was before me.

The Urge to Be Home

I have to get home.  I have to get going on figuring out my finances.  I have to call the insurance companies.  I have to pick up his death certificates.  I have to make a list.  I have to call Social Security.  I have to figure out what I’m going to do with the rest of my life.  I have to move.  I have to get a million things done.  I have to go for a walk or I’m going to lose my mind.

“Mom, do you mind watching the boys while I go for a walk?”  I asked my mom. Mary and Bill had left about an hour before.  We were hanging out in the family room.  Jack and Mike were playing their Game Boys in their room; I got dressed and walked out in the sunshine of the late afternoon.  This was such a lovely island.  Even though it was spring there were a lot of people around.  I waved as I walked by to people who were about their homes. The road was poorly paved and wound around the island.  It was a beautiful view of the water near its edge on the northern tip of the island.  I could see right out onto the Potomac: it is much wider in this area south of DC.  I stood and just stared out over the water, a gentle breeze on my face.  I kept walking.

I took the road that split the island in two on the way back.  These houses were off the shore.  I saw one large house that had just been built; it looked like a mausoleum of sorts.  There were huge golden statues of half-naked people in their front yard.  It was a bit gaudy and out of place on the island.  I could not clear my head of the million worries that were bearing down on me.

I passed a house with a lifeguard chair in the front yard.  This was a beach motif; I liked it.  It made me think of our backyard at home.  Rick and I had put so much time into it with limited funds but we had it looking pretty great, all facts considered.  It was inviting and welcoming when you walked out the back door.

I had taken a derelict table from my neighbor, Mary.  I stained it and placed it in a discreet place in the yard.  This was my potting bench.  It was against a part of the privacy fence that was on one side of the patio.  It was perfect.  I kept my garden tools hung up on the fence and beneath the table were my extra pots, fertilizer, potting soil and odds and ends.  The best part about its location was the fact that it was secluded.  There was a large maple tree in the yard and its branches covered the table; it could be raining out and I wouldn’t even feel a drop. 

Yard sales were my best place for locating gems for my yard.  I bought two cheap would crates, about six inches high a foot wide and three fee long.  I filled the bottom with plastic to keep the soil from going through the slats and filled them with potting soil and then planted snap dragons in them.  They looked great.

We had a very old shed in the yard when we moved in.  Rick and I were on a tight budget; I knew there was no new shed in our future.  I gave it a fresh coat of stain and then painted the hardware a shiny black.  When we moved there was no fence in our yard and people frequently cut through on their way back from the store.  We had a two year old at home.  I wanted him safe and I wanted to be free from worry about him.  There was one great weeping willow in the yard and the willow and a plum next to it that gave sublime shade. We later put a jungle gym under those trees.

Rick had found an old tire and hung it in the tree for Jack and later Michael.  Jack could swing for hours on that.  It was great fun.  One year the plum tree gave fruit.  They were small but delicious.  I made loads of plum jam that year; it was my first and last attempt at anything quite as domestic.  I stuck with gardening.  We had two Adirondack chairs that were near the shed: Rick and I sat and watched the two boys play while we chatted in the evenings.  It was a terrific backyard.

I made it back to the house and walked in the through the laundry room.  It was pretty quiet in there.    Jack was still watching shows.  I asked how they were doing and went up to my room.  I threw myself the bed, thinking that I needed to go home but I would handle that one tomorrow.  The tears came again.  I was grateful that my mom was there to handle the boys.  I was having a hard time handling me.

Fishing With a Stranger

There is nothing like being on the water.  Steve’s friends had left us a stocked refrigerator.  I made tea for Mom and got the boys some cereal.  The boys came out and wanted to watch television.  I took my walk and returned to them getting dressed.  My mom sent them into the bedroom to get dressed and washed up for the day. 

Jack was very antsy about getting outside.  I told him I needed him to wait for me.  We all went outside together.  There were two steps down to the grassy area that led to the sea wall and dock.  The dock went out quite far.  Michael wanted to go down next to the water, so I lifted him down to the rocky shore and he began throwing rocks into the water.  There is something so therapeutic about tossing rocks in the water.  I tried to show him how to skip a flat stone.  He loved trying.

My mom came out and sat in an Adirondack chair that was facing the water.  She wore her grieving hat and had her book.  It was really relaxing here.  Jack told me that he wished he had remembered his fishing pole.  I agreed that it would have been nice to have.  Jack came down and joined us on the shore, skipping stones on the water.

We heard a car pulled up in the drive.  I helped the boys up and we went to take a look.  It was Mary and Bill, the owners.  I went up and introduced myself and thanked them for their kindness.  They both came out to the area by the water where we had been.  I introduced my mom and the boys.

Jack walked out on the dock and Bill walked out on the dock after him.  He asked Jack if he wanted to fish.  Jack was thrilled.  He walked with Bill out to the shed and got set up.  In the meantime, we, ladies, went inside to make lunch with Michael who found his Game Boy and started playing.

Mary, Mom and I sat at the table by the huge picture window in the kitchen.  We sat and chatted about how they knew Steve.  I thanked Mary again for her generosity.  Mary has the type of personality where you feel as though you’ve met her before. My mom chatted with Mary and found out she was from New Jersey too. Mary had been a nun who left the convent.  Their children were all grown and off making their ways in the world. 

I went over near Michael and sat down.  I was feeling overwhelmed again.  I looked out the window and saw Jack on the dock with Bill.  They were standing side by side.  At any other time it would have been an endearing view, but it wasn’t to me today.  I was hit with the sadness of watching my son fishing with the wrong man, a kind and generous man, but he wasn’t my son’s father.  I just let the tears run down my face.  It should have been Rick and not this stranger that stood beside my son. I missed Rick and I ached for the lifetime that my boys would miss out on with their dad.

Michael looked up from his game and saw me crying. "Oh Mom, what's wrong? Don't cry. Oh, that's right, Daddy died." he said and leaned into me on the couch.  I would be crying a good long time.

Cobb Island

My mom told me that she was going to stay with me for a few weeks on the day of the funeral.  What a gift!  I was really rather shocked but so happy that she would be there with me to face the beginning of this new life.

Steve called and told me that his friend had offered their house to me and the boys. It was on Cobb Island in Maryland.  I never heard of it, but it sounded fine to me.  We planned to leave in a few days and of course, my mom would join us.

My mom and I went out shopping again.  I needed new clothes; everything I owned was falling off of me.  We were in the department store and walking toward the ladies section when I said, “Mom, I need a grieving hat.”  My mom replied, “Every widow has to have a grieving hat.”  I found a straw hat that I loved and told Mom she needed one too.  Remember, I said, “If you can’t have a sense of humor then all is lost.”  We had fun laughing and carrying on. it had been such a long time since I laughed or had fun.  I was looking forward to this adventure on Cobb Island.

Neither of our cars was new, but they were in okay shape.  I knew I needed to replace them with one reliable vehicle as soon as possible; it would have to wait until we got back.  I drove the Camry to Cobb Island.  It was spring and it was gorgeous in the DC area.  Mom kept “oo-ing” and “ah-ing” over the forsythia, cherry trees and the flowers everywhere. It wouldn’t be spring in New York for a few more weeks.

Each spring since Jack was a baby, we played “Forsythia.” A game I made up when he was two.  Whoever sees a forsythia bush and yells forsythia, wins.  When we hit the road we started playing.  Michael couldn’t quite say forsythia.  It came out a little more like forcynthia which made us all laugh. It was a battle between the two boys in the back.  Jack called the bushes on the passenger side and Mike claimed the ones on the driver’s side.  They tired of it by the time we were getting on the Toll Road. 

Jack had his Game Boy in the back seat with him and Michael wanted to play.  They began bickering and I didn’t have the patience for it.  I pulled over to the next Wal-Mart and purchased a Game Boy with games and batteries for Michael.  I wasn't going allow my two sons to drive me crazy.  Jack thought I was insane to buy Mike the Game Boy.  I desired peace throughout the land; I didn't care how much money it took.

We arrived at the island and made our way over the one bridge that gave access to the island.  We passed the post office, the restaurant, and the store on the way to the house.  It was exciting to see all the different homes and know that our borrowed home was around the corner.  We drove into a gravel driveway and parked under the trees.  The key was hidden on the outside of the shed in the yard. 

We unlocked the door and stepped into the washroom and walked through to the kitchen. It was beautiful and welcoming.  The front room looked out over to where the Potomac River meets the Wicomico River on the Western Shore.  The view was fantastic.  The boys were running around looking at the bedrooms and making plans for the one they wanted.

My mom preferred the bedroom downstairs; she could do without the steps.  I was upstairs and it was heavenly.  The room was painted a pale yellow and was filled with soft blues.  The bed was king sized; it had gorgeous linens.  When I got up on the massive bed, I sank my head into a mountain of pillows while looking out the large picture windows that looked out over the water.  It was awesome!  I felt soothed by it all.

On our first night at the house, we decided to drive over to the bridge restaurant that we saw on our way onto the island.  Jack was thrilled to have seafood, something I don’t cook and we enjoyed the view of boats on the water and seagulls sailing through the air.

After dinner, we drove around the island just to get a feel for it.  It wasn’t very large and perfect for taking a long walk.  There was a whimsical feel to the island; people decorated with all types of themes, a hodgepodge of sorts.  We crept along the road and looked out at the cottages and houses; the island was quaint. There is one road that goes along the outer shape of the island.  We crept along the road and looked at all the cottages and houses.  We saw houses with beach themes, Italian statues, nautical themes, gingerbread, and everything type of home from gorgeous new homes to simple shacks.

When we arrived home, I got the boys settled watching one more cartoon and then sent them off to bed. They said their prayers with me. "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep.  Guide me Jesus through the night and wake me in the morning light.  God bless, Mommy and Daddy and all the buddies that we love.  Amen."  Then I put my thumb on Michael’s forehead, made the sign of the cross and said, "God bless you and keep you." and kissed him.  Next was Jack, I blessed him and said, "God bless you and keep you" and kissed him.  “Love you, boys,” I said as I closed the door.

 Mom and I had a cup of tea and read a bit.  We were both exhausted and decided to head into bed. “I’m glad you came, Mama,” I told her.  “Me too," she said.   Love you, goodnight.” she whispered.

I started my lonely trek upstairs to my room, the yellow room.  I had never seen anything quite like it. I loved the huge windows that looked out over the water.  It was fabulous.  I could see the lights of boats moving out on the water, as well as lights from the different shores that opposed the island.  When I turned off the lights and settled in the bed I was able to see the stars too through the skylights in the ceiling. The stars were so bright out in the country. I was thinking how much Rick would have loved it but that wasn’t meant to be.  My sleeping pill was beginning to kick in.  I closed my eyes to the day.

Self-Mutilation

The day after Rick died.  I was so restless; I had to do something.  I put on my running shoes and walked out the door.  I started walking and didn’t stop.  I made a loop, up the hill, through Karen’s neighborhood and around the back way to our house.  It was a good mile and a half.  As my feet pounded the concrete I said, I have survived one day without him.  I have survived one day without him. I have survived one day without him.  I have survived one day without him. I have survived one day without him.  I have survived one day without him. I have survived one day without him.  I have survived one day without him…

On the second day, I did the same thing.  I tried to walk as fast as I could; I wanted to feel pain.  I wanted to hurt.  I felt that if I could hurt, then perhaps my heart would stop breaking.  As my feet pounded the concrete I said, I have survived two days without him. I have survived two days without him. I have survived two days without him. I have survived two days without him. I have survived two days without him. I have survived two days without him. I have survived two days without him. I have survived two days without him.  I have survived two days without him. I have survived two days without him…

Dr. Tiscione told me later that in some tribes in Africa, woman mutilate themselves when their husbands die.  I could completely understand them.  Walking was a form of self-mutilation for me.  On the third day, I did the same thing.  I walked out the door and kept going.  My feet pounded the concrete and in my head I said, I have survived three days without him. I have survived three days without him. I have survived three days without him. I have survived three days without him. I have survived three days without him. I have survived three days without him…

People thought it was great that I was walking.  What a terrifically healthy thing to do when one is mourning.  On the fourth day, I did the same thing.  I walked out the door and kept going.  My feet pounded the concrete and in my head I said, I have survived four days without him. I have survived four days without him. I have survived four days without him. I have survived four days without him. I have survived four days without him. I have survived four days without him…

The days turned into weeks and then months and then a year. I walked every day for 18 months until I ripped my Achilles tendon and had to stop.  I had lost weight and looked great but what did it matter? I had lost Rick.

Goodbye, Ricky

The morning of the funeral, Patty, my sister told me that she was planning a breakfast at a local hotel after the service.  My sweet sister, she had always been there for me and here she was again, taking care of me  We had the funeral service, burial and then this small reception afterward.  I was dressed and prepared for the day very early.  I was ready to get the show on the road.  Michael and Jack were dressed and waiting on the couch when the limo arrived.  I walked out on the front step and remember seeing a sea of cars in the street and people standing all over my front lawn.

Jack was pretty excited about the limo.  He was bouncing up and down on the seats and then had his face up against the window.  I loved that he was being a normal 12 year old today.  Michael was in my arms and looking out the window.  My mother in-law was talking to him. 

When we arrived at the church, many people were already there.  Steve met us walking up to the building.  I told him, I just wanted to go in and didn't want to talk to anyone.  He brought us back to the community room and I sat there with Michael.  He had been up early and it was getting to be his nap time.  He was three and a half but still took a nap at the babysitter’s.  I sat at the table with Michael on my lap, his head on my shoulder and was greeted by my family as they came into the room to walk in together when the service started.  This would be an extremely large procession of both Roszels and Mulherns.

I could look out the door and see across to the side door of the church.  Hoards of people were arriving.  In the middle of the crowd were men walking in with vestments  over their arms and hanging from hangers.in their arms, some young, some old.  These men were all priests who came to con-celebrate the mass with Steve.They were directed to the room next door.

Imagine my sister in-law Eliza’s shock as she was changing her son’s dirty diaper and this group of men barged in the door.  I am sure they were as overwhelmed with the smell as she was with surprise.  She began to apologize to them and one said, “Really, I think you were here first, no worries.” She quickly picked up the baby and headed into the safety of our room.

All in all, there were 28 priests that con-celebrated the funeral mass with Steve.  My pastor had walked by the door of the room I was sitting in with my sleeping son up on shoulder and went to greet his fellow priests.  He never even acknowledged me.  I was saddened again.

I wanted this to be a celebration of Rick’s life.  I truly felt that if I believed in my faith; it was not a time of sorrow but a time to rejoice in fact that Rick was called home and that I would see him again one day.  The music began   (Here I am, Lord) and the altar boys led the priests and Steve in procession.  The sound of them singing as a group still gives me chills to remember.  They sounded like a choir of monks; their voices made my spirit float into the church.  It was hard not to smile.

We followed them in and I was met with the faces of many friends. Rick’s casket was already at the altar.  Michael had fallen asleep on my shoulder and I carried him into the church that way with his feet dangling and his head in the crook of my neck, with his rosy cheeks of sleep and a face of innocence.

 

I had thought ahead.  I brought Michael a Game Boy to play during the service.  He woke when I sat down when we arrived.  Jack was on the other side of him next to Matt.  He was great during the service and it didn’t really matter if he wasn’t.  He was surrounded by relatives and any one of them would have grabbed him and put him on their lap.

On Eagle's Wings

I can’t imagine how difficult it was for Steve to celebrate this mass.  Rick was his baby brother.  He talked very openly about Rick’s life and our faith.  The service was uplifting and hopeful and seemed to fly by.  My mind wanders back to the music which has always been my love.  It is such an important part of the liturgical celebration and filled me with contentment and peace.

Be Not Afraid

The recessional song was the “Lord of the Dance”.  This was a song that I had played many times at St. Philip’s at mass.  It was Rick’s favorite of mine and of course, we had heard it on our first date.  It is such a lively song.  As we through the church up the aisle out to the vestibule and walked out into the sunshine of the day, Jack looked at me and said, “Mom, don’t you just feel great?”  I smiled at him and agreed.  There was a wall of people filing out of the church.

There were more people that I hadn’t seen at the wake.  I was feeling a bit overwhelmed at this point. For each day, it felt like I could meter out a certain amount of emotional energy. Each part of the services took a toll.  Once I hit overload, I had to turn it off.  I headed with the boys to the limo.  As soon as my mother in-law got in, we left for the cemetery and burial.

The Sterling Cemetery is at the intersection of Cascades Blvd and Church Rd.  Rick’s plot is at the top of the hill under a dogwood tree; a tree that was in bloom on that particular day.  I’m so glad that I picked that spot.  For years I have driven by with the boys in my van and yelled, “Hi Daddy, We miss you!”or “They’re rotten kids, Ricky; they’re driving me crazy.  How could you have left me alone with them?  We love you!”

The burial was quick.  We said our goodbyes and went to the restaurant.  I was beginning to feel the relief of the ceremonies being over.  I was sad but was also feeling very good about how things had gone.  More than 500 people came to the services; they were a great source of comfort to me.

 

Everything was over.  I was exhausted and it was time to go.  I took my boys and went home.

May 15th

The teachers at school were pretty embarrassed about the whole Valentine's Day debacle.  There were no more calls from Gary and things were looking up.  Our first date was on October 15^th; Rick, a hopeless romantic, told me he never wanted things to get old between us so we celebrated monthly on the 15^th. My sweet man would send me the mushiest cards each month and I would reciprocate as well.

On May 15th I happened to plan a first grade children’s mass and dinner for my class and their families.  I played my guitar and the children sang for their families. It was an evening mass and dear, Mary Stevens planned a dinner to follow the mass which she whipped up in the school cafeteria.  I invited Rick to come and I’m pretty sure that Steve and the pastor celebrated the mass.  It was a crazy night.  My students knew Rick and were talking to him.  I had to make the rounds at the tables and then it was clean-up time.  I started into the kitchen to help Mary and she kicked me out.  “Go, I can do it.  You and Rick have some time together. You’ve done enough for today.”

Rick and I were happy to get out of there.  We walked out of the building and I could feel the rush of cold air on me.  It felt great. I had run around so much that evening that I was over-heated.  The night air was refreshing. Rick walked me to my car and said he would meet me over at my apartment.  He followed me. 

We arrived at my apartment complex and parked.  I was so exhausted from the night.  I got out of my car and Rick stood at the side of his car and said to hop in.  I was a little confused.  “What?”  I asked.  He got back in the car and opened the passenger side for me.  “Come and sit for a second.” he said.  I was exhausted and dying to get into comfortable clothes but okay, I got in.

Rick looked at me very seriously and said, “I love you, Janie and always will.  Jane Anne Margaret Mulhern will you marry me?”  He handed me a box and I opened it to find a beautiful solitaire diamond.  This was the kind of moment that just took my breath away.  “Yes, Ricky,” I replied grinning ear to ear and we kissed and kissed and kissed. “Let’s go in and call your mom.” I said.  Rick told her and she said to come over that she had a bottle of champagne to celebrate.

We drove over and arrived at the house and saw Steve’s and Suzy’s cars outside.  We went in and there they were, along with Rick’s mom and Mary and Maurie Stevens.  Rick had told Mary earlier in the evening so that I would leave the school.  She called Rick’s mom and Suzy and told them.  They were just waiting for Rick to call and tell his mom.  They hugged us and congratulated us and tipped their glasses of champagne to us.  I was on my way to a lifetime of loving Rick.