The Big Day Arrives

Well, I had put a contract on a house but still had to sell my house on Poplar.  The “for sale” sign went up right away and I was ready.  Anne held an open house for realtors; it was a crazy market.  Small ramblers like mine, three bedroom and one bath homes were going quickly.

It sold in a week for $5000 more than the asking price by an older couple with grandchildren.  They didn’t even ask for a home inspection.  The realtor said that they had just lost another contract across the Boulevard and were anxious to get a contract.  It was a great relief to me.

I was left to pack the house and planned to use a moving company to actually move the majority of my things over to the house.  My brother, Dan was moving to Syracuse with his fiancé and was working for a local moving company.  He got me a good price and he was one of the crew on the day of the move.  This way he could make sure everything went well.  My brother, Mike rented a truck and we moved all the yard things over on that.

The day of closing was a bit harried.  When we arrived for the final walk-through the seller wasn’t out of the house.  I made it difficult to inspect because there stuff was still in the house.  I was very frustrated with her.

After closing, it still took her two and a half more hours to get her things out of the house.  Toward the end of her move, she started to put things on the lawn of the next door neighbor’s house.  I was so relieved when she finally left.  The boys loved the house right away.  We had a ton of family and friends who helped us on the move day.  A friend of the family brought all of her family and their girls basically set up my kitchen for me.

It was not as bad as I thought it would be.  As we slowly unpacked our things, we could see that the memories of Rick were still with us.  The memories were in our hearts and in the furniture and treasures of a life together.  They were just in a different place but we didn’t lose anything in the move.

And the Grief Goes On...

Tom, Diane and I thought it would be a nice idea to continue to meet on the same evening for awhile.  We weren’t quite ready to give each other up.  There is a restaurant in the area that is easy access to the Beltway.  The Grief Group continued to meet at Grevey’s.  Yes, I know it so corny but true.

We met about four weeks in a row after the grief group ended.  Tom and Diane told me that they were dating the first week we met at the restaurant.  I told them that I saw the way Tom looked up at Diane at that first meeting and I wasn’t surprised at all.  Tom’s girls were having a hard time dealing with the thought of their dad dating but Tom said they were all grown and had lives and he wanted one too.  I was very happy for them, a little jealous but happy.

It wasn’t long before they called to tell me they were getting married.  They invited the group to Tom’s for a barbecue and made the announcement.  It was encouraging to be able to celebrate their decision.

It would have been sweet to be swept off my feet by someone but I wasn’t quite ready to think in those terms.  I had two young boys and I would need to figure many things out before I went down that road.

It was terrific to hear the updates from our friends as time passed.  One man in his seventies was busy playing Senior League Baseball.  He was having an awesome time.  Another gentleman who was really struggling during the official meetings had decided to take a car trip to Florida to visit friends.  He had made the plan and was getting ready to leave soon.  Tom had retired and was planning on spending loads of time with Diane and Diane was shutting down her organization that she had worked on with her husband, Dan..  It was a school reform organization and she realized it was time to let go.

The barbecue was a type of send off party.  I saw Tom and Diane once after that; we enjoyed a dinner together in the summer before school started. Then Tom had to have surgery on his back and he was laid up for quite a bit.  We fell out of touch after awhile.

These were “little while friends” who had played an important role in the healing of my heart.  We had touched each other with our stories and our compassion but in the end, we were meant to return to our lives.

The Hard Work of Grieving

The Grief Group was hard work; it forced us all to look into our memories and deal with our feelings.  I made Jack go to a group too.  It had taken place in the fall at the same facility but of course, it was for children.  He was madder than a hornet with me.  I was concerned about him and I didn’t want to get down the road and think, “Gee, it would have been a really good idea to send him to a grief group, too bad I didn’t.”

When it was over he told me, “You know it sucked, Mom? I hated going.”  I said, “Jack, it was a grief group.  Were you expecting it to be fun?”  He wasn’t quite as amused as me.  He made several projects to memorialize Rick and brought in some pictures to help share his feelings.  Jack was very proud of the choices he made and what he shared about his dad.  In the end, it was good thing to do, even if he went kicking and screaming.  Sometimes the mom just has to be the mom.

I brought my grieving hat to share with the group at one point.  They had a good laugh.  I told them that it people what it was.  The shrink later explained about desensitizing myself to Rick’s death by talking about him and letting the feelings go.

We bonded over our grief in that room.  It was hard to listen to the stories, most were tender and raw.  With all the grief spread out all over the room, it didn’t seem as overwhelming.  It was encouraging to know that I wasn’t nuts and that others had similar thoughts and feelings.

Over the course of the eight week,s the focus shifted from memorializing to looking to the future.  This was important in the work of grieving.  I found it hard to let go of the dreams and aspirations that Rick and I had together.  For almost 15 years my future included him as a major player.  Allowing me to see a future without Rick almost seemed a betrayal.  There was something very powerful in me saying don't let go.  It is confusing; no one can answer the question when is enough time enough, for grief, for feeling sad and devastated.  No one gives you permission to be okay; you have to give yourself permission. This was one of the reasons for writing goals for the future; I'm not sure I dared to write a list on my own about a future without Rick.

We had the option at the last meeting to share our lists.  It was interesting to hear the thinking of others.  Each of us had a different take on the steps we might take.

Here is my list:

1.      Move to a new house

2.      Take sailing lessons

3.      Buy a sailboat

4.      Begin dating

5.      Remarry

The eight weeks dragged in the beginning but seemed to fly at the end.  The group became very comfortable with each other and we were sad to see it end.  I had become friends with both Tom and Diane; we planned to stay in contact with each other. It was cathartic to have done the hard work of grieving.

Good Grief ???

I decided in February to attend a grief group sponsored by the local hospital system.  Life with Cancer was the program at the hospital that helped when Rick was admitted to the oncology ward.  The grief group was for anyone who had lost a loved-one to cancer; it was eight weeks long and was moderated by a person who had been through the process before.

Good Grief for Adults, 8-week series
Join with others who have experienced the loss of a loved one with

cancer within the past two years to discuss and explore the grieving

 process, accepting and expressing emotions, dealing with children,

family and friends, role and lifestyle changes and coping with special

 dates.

It was a strange experience to walk into a room of people who had all lost someone.  Most of the people in the room were over 60 and had lost spouses.  A man and woman in their twenties had lost a parent and about ten of us were widowed.

When I came in the room there were only a few people that had arrived.  A very tall gentleman walked in at the same time and we sat down at the table and chit chatted while we waited to begin. 

Tom had also been widowed; his wife had died in March the year before. Tom was Catholic and Irish just like me; he was friendly and talking with him put me at ease. We exchanged some details of our losses and then the meeting began.

Megan, the moderator introduced herself and told the short story of her being widowed and how she had attended this group as a participant.  She then invited us to go around the room and share our names and quick story.

I always felt that I was quite fortunate in my circumstances.  Yes, Rick was dead and I had two children but I had two children, my reason for getting up in the morning, my reason for living, my reason for being happy with whatever God brought me next.  I sat listening to these people and my heart broke for them.  Many described their loneliness, their depression, their emptiness; I found it difficult to keep from crying right along with them.

Diane walked into the meeting late; I saw Tom look at her as she walked in the room.  She apologized for being late and sat down and joined in with introducing herself and then the meeting continued.  Diane talked about her husband who had suffered from cancer for three years who had only died in December.

I went last and told them about Rick’s cancer and quick death.  They were all horrified that I had two young children.  Several of them said how hard it must be caring for the boys alone. I was quick to tell them that my loss was a loss, no greater or less than theirs; each a huge burden that left a gaping hole in our lives.  Hearing how others coped with their loss made me look at my loss in a different way.

My mother used to always say, “It could always be worse!”  Live examples of that were sitting right across from me at the table. 

My mind was stirred by all the talk and discussion of those we lost.  We did one writing activity before we left and that was to make a list of five things we wanted to accomplish in the next five years.  We wrote them to ourselves and didn’t have to share them but the idea was to set some goals for our future.  As I sat there writing, I thought the list was a little out there.  Then, we were given exercises to complete and return at the next session. 

On Our Way

Buying a house can be a scary thing.  I came home from signing and had instant memory lapses of what I just bought.  These were not the days of digital cameras.  I tried to remember what I saw.  They were the smaller details as this house was similar to Karen’s and Paul’s home without a large addition they had in the back.

A fair-sized living room and dining room were to the left as I walked in.  There was Berber carpet going up the stairs to the second floor.  To the right was a small powder room, nothing fancy or redecorated.  Down the short hall was the kitchen, my favorite room.  It had a vinyl floor, bright and shiny with light oak colored cabinets and a new counter top.  The sink and appliances were all new.  It was spacious and had a great closet for a pantry with louvered doors.

There was a small family room to the right with a brick fireplace; the back wall had sliding glass doors that led to the sunroom.  This is where I was excited to get started decorating.  This room was surrounded by four sets of sliding doors and topped with two skylights.

It had a partially finished basement where the boys could hang out and the other side had a nice wash area.  There was terrific storage space with a crawl space that was completely dry and enclosed.  I would finally have enough room for our things!

Upstairs were for bedrooms and two full baths.  The master bedroom was so enormous compared to Poplar Rd and had a big walk-in closet.

The house was eight doors down the street from Karen and Paul.  I was happy that everything just fell together.  The house was a clean palate with neutral colors everywhere.  The landscaping would need work but that would wait.

I brought the boys over to see the house and they immediately fell in love with it.  The novelty of being down the street from their cousins was enough to seal the deal for them.  We were on our way. 

The Tamarack Estate

Each day brought me closer to the one year mark.  In January, I began the walk in my head of all that Rick had gone through.  Valentine's Day arrived with nothing from my Valentine but my Dad and Mom sent me a package and my brother and sister in-law sent me flowers to ease the pain.  They were very sweet gestures.

Valentine's Day had always been a day for the girls in our family.  With a household full of boys, it was the one day that my dad made a big deal out of my mom, Patty and me.  My mom got the giant candy heart with so many piece of chocolate.  Patty and I got the medium sized heart with a silk flower on it filled with chocolates and all the boys got a small plain red heart with candy.  When I got married my dad no longer sent the valentine to me.  On this Valentine's Day, it meant a lot to me.  I was still his valentine.

Rick was always one to look either forward or backward and say, "What were we doing a year ago today?  I wonder what we will be doing five years from now?"  I found myself asking those questions often to no one in particular, just me.

By April, I had called Anne Johnson, the real estate agent to take a look at the house so that I could follow her recommendations.  I wanted to move over the summer when I was off from school so I wanted to start looking in May for our new house.  Anne had her eyes on the market for anything in the neighborhood we wanted that might pop up.

One day, Karen called me to tell me that a woman down the street had put her house on the market and was selling the property herself.  Karen said to grab the local paper to see the listing that was in there.  I called Anne and told her I was going to go look at it.  It was scheduled for Sunday and I wanted to go alone.

It was pouring rain the afternoon of the open house.  I walked up the drive to the front door and there was Kathy Monteclavo; I knew her from going to neighborhood Pamper Chef parties.  She looked as bewildered as I felt.  As she opened the door we greeted each other and I said , "Kathy, I'm not positive I'm buying yet."  She laughed and said, "That's good because I'm not sure I'm selling."  Our laughter broke the ice; she encouarged me to take a look around and I did.

My criteria for the house was that it had to be in good shape.  As a widow, I wouldn't want to be doing major repair jobs.  They had a fire the year before in their dishwasher that cause quite a bit of damage.  The kitchen was brand new with new appliances.  Her decorating left a lot to be desired but the house was growing on me the more I looked.  I thanked her and told her that I would be in touch.

I went home and called Anne and told her that I wanted her to see it and give me her opinion.  We made an appointment to go the next day after school.  Anne liked everything about it but encouraged me to insist on the home inspection which I got.  We went to her office and signed the contract and then she told me she would call Kathy and just to hold tight.  Everything was finalized the following day but was contingent on the home inspection.  The ball was rolling,  The whole nine yards and all the way around...

Ruthie Ropig, Rocks and Memories

The day before we moved into Poplar Road, Rick was painting Jack’s room.  Jack did not want to move and had said as much.  Rick said “What letter do you want me to make on the wall?” “A W!” cried Jack.  That was all it took, he loved his new room.  As soon as Jack could see that his same things were in the new house, he was okay with it. 

There were so many memories in this house we called home for 10 years.  Rick had planted a Blue Spruce tree on the side of the house.  It was as tall as Jack at two years old.  It had grown to about eight foot by the time Rick had died.  “We can always come see the trees, Jack,” they will still be here.  We had also planted a redbud, and a sycamore and many, many, many bushes.

Ruthie Ropig was a statue that stood in the middle of the triangle of garden by the front door.  I had been at a flea market in Leesburg and saw it.   I wanted her so badly.  I came all the way and told Rick about it; he told me to go back and get it if I really wanted it.  I drove like a wild woman back to Leesburg to get it before someone else snatched it up.  I loved it.

Jack and I would sit on the front bench in the evenings waiting for Rick to arrive home after his 14 minute commute.  I usually had supper waiting for us as soon as he walked in the door.  One day as we were waiting for Rick to arrive, Jack noticed the statue.   “What’s her name, Mama?”  “Her name is Ruthie Roszel,” I explained.  “No it’s not!” he said.  “It’s Ruthie Ropig!” “I don’t think I like that name,”  I said.  However from that day forward she was known as Ruthie Ropig. 

We also had crazy things like big rocks.  Big rocks to anyone else were big rocks; to us, they told a story.  There was a large on at the end of our path to the drive.  It had been there since we moved in.  It was rather round and flat, just right for sitting on while mom planted impatiens.   There was another that had come from the lake on a trip up to visit my parents.  I took it from the lake shore.  Another was from the rock wall at 192 Groton Avenue where we grew up.

To anyone else these were insignificant things but to us they told the stories of our lives.  These were what Jack did not want to leave behind as we were thinking about leaving.  To my son, seeing the familiar, the cherished and loved were what made him feel good.  It was going to take some convincing to get him to let go of some things in order to move.

The Whole Nine Yards and All the Way Around

I love my realtor, Annie Johnson.  Rick and I were dreaming of a single family home and took a walk around the shopping center where we grocery shopped.  We looked in the window at the homes they had posted on the window.  We had only been in our townhouse for less than a year.  When we bought the townhouse we took an FHA loan so we only needed a small down payment.  We managed to wiggle our way into it.  Jack was about eighteen months when we moved in.

I read in the paper that the Feds were raising the ceiling on FHA homes due to the sudden surge in home prices.  First time buyers were being forced out of the market.  When we purchased the townhouse it was at $104,000; our purchase price was $104,000.  I was willing to gamble if we priced our home at $120,000, it would sell.  Rick was not the risk-taker; I was and I was ready to take a chance.

We walked into the office and there at the front desk was a warm, pretty woman of about 45 smiling at us.  This was Anne Johnson, born in Tennessee, y’all.  She talked faster than anyone I had ever met and ended almost every sentence with “the whole nine yards and all the way around.”  Anne was a character, a hard worker and understood our struggle. 

She agreed that my plan might work and came to the townhouse a few days later and made some recommendations for fix-up but it was in really good shape already so they were minor.  Anne had the house on the market in a week.  The MLS listing went in the computer at 8 a.m., the sign went up on the front lawn at 11 a.m. and we had a contract by that evening.  I was amazed and delighted at the same time.

Anne had been an interior decorator; her husband was retired military.  She took up real estate to put her three boys through college.  She had lived in the Sterling Park since her boys were young and knew every nook and cranny worth looking at.  We had two weeks to find a home and we saw plenty.   It was only after one contract wasn’t accepted that we found the house on Poplar Rd.  Rick was the one who saw the potential.  I knew what a coat of paint would do and some hard work.  It was the one and they accepted our contract.

Jack and Michael loved our house.  The backyard had nooks and crannies just right for using their imagination.  They had a fort with swings, a vegetable garden they helped their dad with, a secret hiding place behind they shed and up on the roof where they could stare over the fence.  Rick had a hammock that was hung right between two big maple trees.  We all climbed in and looked up into the trees and listened to a mockingbird that frequented our yard.

The slab of concrete patio was surrounded by a six foot privacy fence when we moved in.  We put up our own fence on the perimeter of the property to keep people from passing through our yard and Jack safe.  I had Rick cut the fence in half and put the top back on.  I kept the side that faced our neighbors up so we had privacy and the rest opened our yard up.  I stained it redwood.  I guess I felt like we did a lot with the little we had.

Rick hung a tire swing in the big maple.  Jack would swing for hours and climb the tree; he loved being outside.  They played baseball in the side yard and would hit wiffle balls over the roof of the house into the street from the backyard.

We had a small dining room.  My aunt had given me a beautiful mahogany table and chair set and I wound a dry sink at a yard sale.  My favorite memories are of having tea parties with my boys when Rick had to work on a day we had off from school.  I would make tea and crumpets and serve the boys tea in fine china cups.  They loved it.

Moving was in our plan and I was ready to move closer to family.  It was the right decision.  I just needed to contact Anne and get the ball rolling. Yep, the whole nine yards and all the way around!

Location, Location

Our house was located on a corner lot but backed to a town home community common ground.  This was quite lucky, since we knew that no one would build there and that we would maintain our privacy.  Our lot looked like a large wedge of pie; the crust was the street and the sides were my neighbors on one side and the common ground on the other side.  It had a very large front yard and smaller backyard but it was just right for us.

The location was perfect for many things one of which was having yard sales.  I would just put a sign out on the corner and get a ton of people. I had a yard sale after we had pared down our belongings. My boys thought a sale was great.  Both of them get very attached to their possessions but as long as I said they could keep the money from the sale, they were a little more cooperative about getting rid of things.

When I was little, my mom would tell us that we had to clean out our things and get them ready for the poor people.  In my mind, I could picture poor, unfortunate children with no toys or clothing.  I was prepared to give them everything I owned.  Every time I said that to my boys when they were growing up they would say, “I hate the poor people.  I’m not giving them anything.”  I don’t know how it happened that they came to be so selfish.  They had so much in comparison to me or my siblings but they didn’t want to give anything up.

Michael is still so damaged from my donating some of his favorite picture books to his second grade teacher that he still hasn’t forgiven me.  He is always making reference to some book I gave away.  I’ve had to go on Ebay several times to resurrect some obscure title from his preschool years that I “ripped out of his hands” to give to the poor people.

I used to have people just stop at my house and ask me if they could provide some service.  The very first time it happened it was a driveway company. A young guy in his early twenties knocked on my door and wanted to know if I was interested in having our driveway replaced.  It was a mess and I was interested but had little cash reserve.  I asked if he would allow me to pay him in two installments.  He said yes and off he went having only charged me $600.  He arrived the next morning and installed a beautiful thick driveway.  I was beside myself.  I paid him $300 that day and the balance the next month.  What terrific luck!  Had we called a paving company, it would have been at least $1200.

We also had people stop by asking for yard work which we usually declined.  However, two times when limbs had fallen from large trees, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to take advantage of our lucky location.

We lived in that small house for ten years.  During that time, we replaced the windows, the stove, dishwasher, washer, furnace and air conditioning.  We had transformed the outside with landscaping, new shutters, new fence and I had painted the house myself.  Even though I was looking forward to moving, we had many fond memories from the place.  In the end, it would be difficult to move…

A Night Out

We talked about Angela’s Ashes by Frank McCourt, Mike said he wanted to read it so I lent it to him.  I read it when my mom was with me.  I was in my room reading and got so depressed reading it that I would come out to her and say, “Mom, it has no redeeming value. It was doom and gloom and gloom and doom!  I did not like it.  I may have felt that it was too close to my grandparents’ lives; I didn’t want to imagine in my mind the hopelessness.  I was biased with my total Irish roots.

Mike was going to his mom’s house the next evening to play piano with a group that played together.  He described it as a classical group.  Most of the members were as old as his mom; he was the baby of the group but liked to play with them.  His family grew up on the mountain.  It may have been Rag Mountain.  I was so taken with the vision that he conjured up in my head that I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall.

He asked me if I played and I told him that I played guitar and sang.  He wanted me to play for him then and there in my house but I passed.  I told him that if he played his piano for me I would play my guitar and sing for him.  The deal was made;  I would drive out to his home and he would be my guest for dinner and then we would go to his house for a musical evening.

Mike lived in a circle of duplex homes. He complained about how the neighborhood had changed and that he wanted to move further west.  We took my van and drove to one of the local restaurants in town.  He had recommended it. It was Tarara Mill.  It was lovely.

Mike had a way of telling a story that would get me roaring laughing.  He had done the electrical job for this establishment and so he was pointing out his electrical talents and track lighting, very impressive.

The dinner was fabulous.  I enjoyed filet mignon and he had the fish followed by cups of coffee.  It was a slow relaxing feeling in the restaurant.  We just enjoyed the time to talk.

We drove back to the house and  there was the baby grand piano.  It dwarfed the rest of the room; it was beautiful.  I could have just spent some time staring at it.  Mike was an awesome player.  He played some Bach and Beethoven pieces.  He was so impressive.

I was feeling a bit out of my league.  This was sort of like I’ll give you a ride in my Lexus if you give me a ride on your Neon.  A deal was a deal though, I got out my guitar and tuned it up. Then I played sang him a few tunes.  House at Pooh Corner by Kenny Loggins and Four Green Fields by Tommy Maken and a few others.

Mike liked hearing me sing and I loved hearing him play.  It was just a fun evening.  We had truly enjoyed our time together.  I knew that we would probably see each other again as he would do the repair work I would need when I purchased a new home.

As much as I would have loved to explore a relationship or a few dates with him, I got the feeling that he was very used to playing the field.  I am sure that he looked at my sad life and saw a woman still dealing with her grief and her two kids.  I had a great time and that was the memory to keep and of course, his phone number which I used often in the future.

NOTE TO SELF:

1.      Beware of bad boys

2.      Intelligence is very attractive

3.      A sense of humor is essential

4.      Self-sufficiency is expected

5.      A lovely dinner with conversation and a treat at the end of the evening is a great date