Little signs everywhere

The past few days have been so incredibly hard.  I wake in the mornings and reach out for Pascual only to touch the cold side of the bed.  Full wakefulness just reminds me that it’s not all a horrible dream.  I lay there dazed., numb.. completely empty of all emotion.  Then the tears come... gentle and silent like a tranquil tide.  Each wave is followed by another until I am crushed under the weight of emotions so deep and mournful, I will surely drown.  

I need to get up.  I have to shower.  I should get dressed.  But what is the point?  I pull the covers over my head and burrow down deeper to the safety of my cocoon.  I’m entitled.  My husband just died.  I am becoming a beautiful butterfly.  I’m just in the liquified goo phase.

Calls to coroners, funeral homes, crematoriums and medical examiners all gratefully turned over to my cousin Karl to be handled by him.  Overwhelm is the word of the day.

The baby is fussy.  He has finally learned to fully walk and say Yayo (Pascual’s Grandpa name) 4 days too late.  He keeps looking over our shoulder for Pascual.  He is sensitive to the energy in the house. We’ve been going on lots of walks and giving him lots of extra attention.  But our nerves are raw and his screaming is hard to take at times. We tag team him.  It’s getting easier to manage.  He is typically a happy baby and very easy to soothe.  So we give extra cuddles.  

More calls and cards and checks and flowers arrive daily.  The generosity of people is incredible:  I tried to tell Pascual  that we had a large network of helpful and caring people.  It bothers me that I have to prove him wrong now.  If he had just let me reach out a few week ago, our world might be different today.  

For whatever his reasons... he kept all these things inside.  I knew he was sad.  I knew he was hurting.  But even his therapist didn’t know how bad he really was.  I thought he would snap out of it.   

The things I found in his phone search history haunt me. The exact details of his death as described in the emotionless detailed accounting by the coroner guts me to my core.  In this moment I realize, with his OCD he had thoroughly researched every kind of suicide.  Ruling out any type where I might be sued by another party.  He chose one of the most difficult and slow painful ways to die... all so I would be safe.  Doing it at a hotel so I wouldn’t be the one to discover his body.  Going the extra mile of disengaging his I phone locator so we couldn’t find him and stop him before he succeeded.  

The shopping list and receipt for the Home Depot in his briefcase for the tools he needed to do the job.  The unused things in a bag on the floor of the car.  Still sitting there in the car in front of my house, with the 2 large bags of cat food he told me he would buy next time he went by the feed store.  

His lack of a note, the fact he chose a date 4 days before my birthday... both indicators that he was no longer in his right mind.  The man who loved me would have thought of those little things.  The overdue library books on depression hidden in a pile on his side of the bed.  Cryptic posts on his Facebook page that I never saw because I was off Facebook for 6 weeks after my surgery.  

Guilt eats at me.  If I’d only checked his phone history.  If I’d only read his Facebook posts.  If I’d only not taken my pain pills or even had a surgery,  I might have been aware.

None of these things bring me comfort.  Nothing I could have said or done would have changed anything.  He wanted to keep it secret.  He wanted to Kill himself.  He was ill, he was in pain and he needed emotional support and medication.  This is the reality.  Men often do not ask for help.  There is a stigma surrounding male depression.  A man isn’t a man if he can’t handle his feelings and business.  

I am here to tell you that is crap.  It takes great strength to ask for help.  If my loss and my words can stop one person from taking their life, it’s worth the breath to say them. 

If you are hurting, if you are feeling down, if you have thoughts of suicide, please call the National suicide prevention hotline at    1-800-273-8255  

Please don’t let your family be the next one like me, second guessing and wondering about every single thing you said or did that might have changed your mind.

Birthday thoughts

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Birthdays have always been a big deal to me. My parents always made it special.  My mom always made the best homemade cakes.  Lovingly decorated as a turtle, or rocking horse or flowers.  There were huge parties with lots of presents and ice cream and me surrounded by family and friends.  

In my early adult life, I had partners that were good at making things special and others that struggled with my birthdays are special concept.  I told my ex husbands that there were only a few days a year that I wanted, needed, required to be treated like a queen.  Anniversary, Mother’s Day and my birthday.  Not too much to ask for 3 days out of a year.  I think a huge celebration on the day you arrived on the planet is the best way to honor the Life well lived.  

One year I didn’t have a spouse on my birthday., we split up the month before.  My sister in law Krissy threw me a party that year, bless her and her beautiful heart.  

I met Pascual the winter before my 40th.  He had just moved to Chicago a few days before my birthday so he couldn’t come to my big 40th bash.  I was disappointed.  Every year since then he worked so hard at making sure he created the perfect birthday for me.  

It usually started out with his beautiful voice singing softly in my ear in English and Spanish.  Then I would get up and there would be a lovely sappy sentimental card, and a joke card, flowers, candy, and a fun day planned.  He usually worked from home and would prepare me a special breakfast and lunch and then take me out to dinner.  Then on the weekend (if my birthday was a weekday) we would go wine tasting.  The last several birthdays I have spent with Paskie,  all the kids and Mom and Teen wine tasting.  They were fun days filled with laughter, sappy cards and lots of wine.  But they were all days I had planned.  One time he said to me “You know... SOMEONE might want to plan a special surprise for someone’s birthday if she didn’t plan the whole thing for herself.”  I laughed and said “ok I won’t plan it.  I want the wine tasting with family on Saturdays but you can plan the Sundays festivities.” 

One year it was a museum to see an antique jewelry exhibit.  Another year it was a shopping spree at my favorite scrapbook store.  There were weekend getaways, trips we took to celebrate both our birthdays.  His in March, and mine in April.  Every one planned with surprises and special touches, always with a lovely card filled with loving words, and wishes of spending our birthdays together for many years to come.  

His birthday this past March I was only 2 weeks post op on my knee replacement.  I didn’t have a card, and couldn’t go get one.  I made his favorite dinner.  It took me all day.  Resting after each step of the food prep.  High on pain pills I managed to pull it off and have it waiting on the table for him when he came in.  China, candles, wildflowers from my backyard.  He took one look and his face lit up.  Thank you darling!  He hadn’t been expecting anything because of my recent surgery and limited mobility.  He was very appreciative of my efforts.  “It means a lot, more than you know.”  This was the last birthday I would have with him.  I’m so glad I made the huge effort to complete the meal.  He was a simple guy.  Never expected a lot but always gave excessively.  He was happy with whatever he got.  I tried to make them all adventures and outings for him.  Like his birdwatching birthday.  That was super fun and he was so happy!  We agreed for my birthday we would do the same, a quiet meal at home, and then take a trip to celebrate both when travel bans are lifted.  We were going to Maui to hike in Hana to the waterfall with my new knee.  

Today I woke up after a restful 7 hours of sleep.  No birthday song sang softly in my ear with a Spanish accent.  

A table covered not with birthday, but condolence bouquets.  A box sits on the table filled with homemade cookies from my sweet friend Sue Brown.  Condolence cards and birthday cards cover the fireplace mantle.  It’s a wierd bittersweet birthday.  Started with sad lonely tears as I woke missing him so much.  Hugging his pillow and breathing in his scent.  I thought it would comfort me but it just made me feel more lonely.  I know in the fog of his pain he never thought about how close the day of his death was to my birthday or how deeply and negatively it would affect me.  He just wanted the pain to stop.  But regardless.... my birthdays will now and forever be shadowed by the anniversary of his death.  Each birthday that ticks down to the time when we would have retired and started our globetrotting life will be a special kind of painful because he’s not here to celebrate them with me.  They will get easier.  The sharpness of the pain will dull.  But the sparkle and shine of each one will be dulled by the ghosts of faded dreams with him that will never happen.  

Today I am numb.  I can’t feel anything.  My eyes, which I thought were completely dried out of tears, are flowing again.  My heart is filled with a mixture of the joys of well wishes from friends and an aching loneliness for the one who has been beside me and filled my soul for the past 15 years.  They were quick years.  A lot happened during them, but they blew by in a flash.  I’m trying to stretch  out the memory of them so I can walk through them slowly and savor each moment.  In future I will have all these memories to hold on to.  But today, in this moment, all I feel is an empty aching loneliness that doesn’t feel like it will ever end.

Finding the gifts

My mom always teaches in her learning to be psychic classes, that the best way to move past a painful incident in your life and get to forgiveness, you must look for the gifts.  I have learned in the past 30 years that every painful thing has a gift in it.  I’ve decided it’s time to look for the gifts I got in loving Paskie.  The gifts we received in the loss of him will have to come later when I have more time and clarity.  For now I will focus on the gift of him.

He was a gift of unconditional love to me in a time in my life where I had almost given up hope.  He was the only man who ever looked deep enough to mine the diamonds in my soul.

He was a gift of humor from the very first day.  Silly jokes, funny sayings, and laughter!  So much laughter.  We laughed through our entire wedding ceremony because of something he said innocently that turned into a huge joke.

He loved and accepted my children as his own.  Gave all he had for our family so that we could live a beautiful life.  He never considered them burdensome or baggage from my previous marriages.  He just wanted to be part of a family and provided a stellar example to all of my kids on how a man can be kind, patient, strong, funny and responsible without showing a volitle temper.

His intellect was enviable.  I always told him I married him for two things.  His big heart and his big (wallet he would interrupt) brain.  He was so smart.  An IQ of 165, but he never made me feel inferior or stupid.  He teased me about my math skills, or lack Therof.  I never needed a calculator with him and his mental math skills around.

He could converse on so many subjects.  It’s what made him so awesome at sales.  He could sit at a dinner table with a prince and a pauper and they would all be laughing in 5 minutes.  He had a knack of fitting in with all types of people.  He was so well liked I used to say he was like Santa Claus.  People loved to see him arrive and hated to see him go.  He was the life of the party everywhere we went.

He was a polyglot.  His language skills were so convenient, but they were also cool.  I was always so impressed by the fact that he spoke so many.  He was the perfect tour guide in Europe.  My kids loved to hear him speak in different languages and were actually inspired to learn Spanish and French because of him.

He was fun! We went on so many adventures.  Hikes, camping trips, beach days, Disneyland trips.  When the kids moved out we started going on European adventures, but Hawaii was our favorite place.  I’ll try not to let the loss of him ruin the islands for me.  They will always remind me of my Big Kahuna!

We loved the same things... bargains, flea markets, garage sales, antique stores and thrift shops.  Neither of us was very into sports.  We both loved music and concerts, movies and opera, the symphony, wine tasting, museums, botanical gardens.  Camping was a favorite too.  We both loved the mountains and nature.  He loved sculpting and I loved art.  We had a dream to build a greenhouse/studio to house both our passions when we retired.

He was kind.  He captured bugs and released them outside.  He rescued everyone’s dying orchids.  Animals and old people were drawn to him like the Pied Piper.  He loved fish and animals and anything from the nature world.

He was an amazing cook.  He was truly famous for his French bread.  Any recipe he tried he usually cooked perfectly.  Except the eggs he cooked for me the first time that burned.  I tried so hard to eat them but they were horrible.  Something we always laughed and joked about.

He was patient.  He taught me to be much more patient.  I was NEVER patient when I was younger.  He just showed by example.  Teaching with humor and kindness.  Things didn’t rattle or phase him.

He was nurturing.  He could grow anything with his green thumb.  He loved flowers, like Ferdinand the bull, he could garden all day.  He took tender care of all of us whenever we were sick or hurt.  (Which happens to me a lot actually). He was cool under pressure, very skilled at nursing and had the most fantastic hands for massage.  His healers hands would get so hot when he was doctoring you or giving you a massage.  It always amazed me.  Yet he was so intimated to hold our grandson for the first time.  I encouraged him by reminding him it wasn’t much different from any animal baby he ever held.  The look of complete and utter love on his face in that moment was priceless.

He was humble.  Never overtly aggressive, my gentle giant.  But inside, he was quietly competitive.  He always strove to do his absolute best, working 8 to faint on his jobs.  Putting in long hours, not because it was required, but because he had a high degree of integrity and he couldn’t give anything less than his all.  He was never boastful or proud.  Just did his best and moved on to the next task.

He was loved.  So many people all over the world are heartsick with grief over his passing.  The same words spoken over and over, He was one of the best human beings I ever knew.  He was the nicest guy I ever met.  He was a diamond.  He was a once in a lifetime guy.

A long time ago before I met him I did an exercise in one of my moms classes where we made a chart of things we wanted and things we wanted gone from our life.  I did the exercise and put the chart away in a drawer.  Flash forward a couple of years.  I’m married to a Pascual now.  I find the chart.  On it, all the things I said I wanted were things that were pipe dreams for me when I made the chart.  None of them were in my life at that time.  And the things I didn’t want were the things my life had been full of when I made the chart.  I looked and was shocked to see that I now had everything on that chart that I had dreamed of, plus many more I’d never even considered.  All of these things were in my life now because of Pascual.  He made all my dreams come true and I never even knew it until I found that chart. That’s how much my life changed for the better because of him.

What a life we lived darling!  How blessed We all were to have lived for a short time wrapped in the warmth of your embrace.  We are better people for having known you.

Random 3 am thoughts

I will forever miss your smile, your big laugh. The twinkle in your eye when you danced with your bouncy step I could never follow.  I wonder who will rub my legs or shoulders now when I have anxiety attacks and restless legs, or hold me in the night when I’m cold because their body heat is like a furnace.

How will I go on when I know that you aren’t just at work or on a business trip and won’t be walking through the door shouting “Hi Darling” ever again.

Little things like taking out the trash cans and recycling, nagging me about what is and what is not compostable.  Who will I argue with about not hoarding food as I try to Tetris one more thing into the freezer.

Who gets the 98 T-shirts you wouldn’t donate, and what about all of your Aloha shirts? Not to mention the piles and piles of papers in the office that you refused to throw away.

Who will drive me home at night because I can’t see in the dark?  Or guide me through foreign airports without a hitch.

What will I do at the end of my day when I want to talk it over and only an empty placemat stares back.

How will my crazy technology glitches get fixed now?  Where will I find a perfect plus 1 for all events who fits so seamlessly into any group with a beautiful friendly smile, corny joke, and cheesy 80’s dance steps?

Who is going to say loving things to me in 6 different languages, real phrases not just food words.  Who will sing the many versus of the Hola Tobias song when only you knew the words.

Never again will I see your huge grin and dancing eyes when they spy a Spanish ham, chorizo or horchata made from chufas? Or hear you tease me about Chistorra.  What about Your Kings Cakes and pan de Pascual? Will I always see you playing air guitar when I hear the Gypsy Kings?

How will I complete the  Nativity set in true Spanish style?  I don’t know what animals and figures we still need.

Your friends and family mourn your loss greatly.  Many sad, tearful, sleepless nights are spent wondering why.

My future has been erased.  Our carefully made plans completely blown apart.  You were my compass.  You were my true north.  I have no sense of direction now.

Where will I ever find the love to fill the hole that’s been blown through the middle of me at your passing.  Where do I find another soul mate, a perfect match, my half Orange when I’ve already had the best God could send me? How will I ever find another person to measure up to the incredibly high bar you set.

All of this is but a small amount of the things that made you my husband.  We were soul mates, partners, adventure buddies, best friends....  I’m half of the whole now.  I have to learn to be a half again.  Until I do, I will get up every day, put one foot in front of the other, breathe in and out and try not to remember that for 15 years, I had it perfect.

He’s gone... my heartbreak.

This is the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to write.  Thursday afternoon Pascual lost his job.  He drove from the office to a hotel where he took his life.  He had been worried about losing his job for months and was consumed with grief and worry over the Corona Virus.  He had been very depressed, and in hindsight I see little signs now that I hadn’t seen before.  There is no way to express the sadness we all feel at his loss.  The world lost a wonderful human being.  I lost my soul mate, my kids lost a Dad, his parents lost their only son, and his sister her big brother, and little Toby his Yayo. What will we do without our Paskie.  How will we go on?  Who will I share my adventures with now?  How will I survive without his smiles and jokes and the tender way he loved me?  I will never be the same.  There is a huge hole where my heart used to be.  Now I am surrounded by my family.  There will be some dark days ahead.  I look forward to the day when we can recall the good times and laugh.  Right now, all I can do is cry and wonder why such a wonderful man could think that death was preferable to the beautiful life he had.  I am numb, and hollow.,,we are all completely stunned.  Please pray for us.