Eighteen Months

Today it has been eighteen months since Tom died.  It doesn't even seem possible that it has been both so long of a time and so short of a time.  That is 546 days, or 13,104 hours, or 786,240 minutes, or 47,174,400 seconds.  But who's counting?  Well, I am.  Not nearly as much as I used to, but I am a count-er.  Eighteen months is a milestone.  I'm not quite sure exactly how I feel, perhaps a bit numb.  Perhaps the tears and the sorrow will come later.  It has been such a growth process for me.  I found on Facebook Memories today, the post he made two years ago today:

"In a moment my life has taken an unexpected turn and shook me to the core. I have been diagnosed with appendix cancer. It feels surreal as if I am watching a movie outside myself. Moments pass and will never return and I wonder what is ahead. I say "how could this happen" but there is no answer. I know only how to move forward in spite of fear and that's what I will do. Having hope, faith and finding moments of peace and serenity."

Who knew that six months later he would be gone.  He did move forward in spite of fear, with hope and faith, finding moments of peace and serenity.  I admire his courage and strength as he fought so hard against the evil bastard that took his life.

There is a Facebook challenge these days posting photos of spouses and tributes to them.  It makes me glad to see happy married couples, while at the same time, it saddens me because my husband is no longer alive.  Tom was a wonderful husband and we had a great marriage--not always perfect--but great.  We had our happily ever after and stayed together until death parted us.  We were blessed.  I am blessed to have so many great memories of our lives together.  So here is my response to the FB challenge, from the occasion of my mom's 90th birthday photo shoot:

I talk about Tom, I post about Tom, not because I am stuck in the past or not moving forward.  I am rebuilding my life without him.  I talk and post about him because I want to remember him, that I want to keep his memory alive for me and for our family and friends.  He walked this earth for sixty-two years and he had a big impact on many lives.  His life mattered.  What he did with his life mattered.  The tragedy would be that he is forgotten, that his love and laughter and music and acts of kindness, and even his shenanigans, are not remembered and cherished. All of our lives are better because he lived.  This isn't just something that is said in the immediate aftermath of his death, but for the rest of our days on this earth.  We each carry a piece of his spirit with us.  I happen to carry a very big piece of it with me.  I have the "Tommy Aura" attached to me and I am proud to be the guardian of it.  So please, please talk about him, laugh about him, remember him, bring up his name.  Do not worry that it saddens me, because it doesn't.  It brightens my day and lightens my spirit, because I see that he lives on in the lives of those he knew and loved. I think that is what each of us we would want when we are gone--to be remembered.

As I move forward I carry him in my heart, and in the drum ash urn that hangs over my heart.

Stepping Out

I must say that I've felt, not stuck, but stagnant, lately.  I've been moving through death duties.  I've been selling some of Tom's things, giving others away to family and friends, and donating things.  I've been very good at living in the moment and not worrying too much about the future.  But here's the thing, I feel like I want to see some forward progress.  And recently I've thought that perhaps I should take some action to move forward.  The problem is, I don't know what it is I want to do, or should do, or am supposed to do.  Throw me a bone here, Universe!  How about a clue?  Its not like my brain is working at its regular capacity. 

Like many, I look for those big AWESOME signs, for big AWESOME direction.  Yeah, that's not happening.  But here is what does happen when you ask the Universe for some help.  Little tiny baby step clues.  So subtle that if you aren't paying attention you miss it.  And here's what happened.

Lately I've been thinking about Phoenix, our nan-sun conure that we brought home the year after we married.  I miss him.  I had donated his big cage last summer (almost a year after he was gone), but I kept forgetting to take his travel cage for donation.  And on Monday I had things to take for donation and remembered to put the cage in the car for donation.  Except when I got to Goodwill, the truck was full and I couldn't leave anything.  And that was also the case at the other donation sites.  Then yesterday I was scrolling through Facebook in the afternoon (not something I am usually doing in the afternoon) and there is post from the Marin Humane Society that they have a 20 year old conure who needs a new home.  His family is moving and can't take him with them.  And he is really unhappy and depressed.  The average life span of a conure is about 25 years.  Phoenix was 19 when he died from a cancerous tumor on his wing.  This bird, known as Big Bird now, is about a year younger than Feenie.  I had thought of getting another conure but wasn't sure a 25 year commitment is something I could face.  But this guy, I can do that.  So I went to see him immediately.  He seems sweet, but was withdrawn (as I would expect).  I came home and talked to Zora about it.  She was not Phoenix's biggest fan, mainly because he was so loud.  I expect that this guy will be too once he is settled in.  But his personality seems, as least at this early stage, similar to Zora's.  After sleeping on it, I decided to adopt him and he will be coming home within the next 24 hours. 

This is stepping out for me.  Opening my heart to another being that needs love and attention.  This guy is grieving the loss of his family and I most certainly understand grieving.  This is the first major decision I've made since Tom has been gone.  It is my first step into my new life.  And I have to say, I am a bit nervous about it.  I have a feeling that Phoenix and Tom had a hand in leading me to him.  Its a tiny little baby step, but it feels like a huge leap.

So Big Bird has a new home.  But first order of business is to get him a new name.  I just don't think Big Bird fits him.