Regrets

Now that my wife has died, I find myself doing things she would have preferred, like:
—1) Getting to bed at a decent hour.
Before she died, getting to bed was scattershot; sometimes by 10, often much later, sometimes after midnight.
I now try to conclude things before 10 p.m.
10 p.m. has become a line in the sand.
Some things don’t get done before then.
Mañana.
Which is what used to happen, but often bedtime would be delayed.
—2) Hot meals.
Now that I prepare my own supper I find I’m eating meals that were just cooked, that is, hot.
Before my wife died, suppertime was scattershot. My wife bewailed she was cooking meals that might not get eaten for an hour or so, and thereby go cold.
She got so she’d eat before me, so her supper was hot.
Now I’m eating supper as soon as I finish it, which means it’s still hot.
—3)
Probably my greatest regret is I never convinced my wife I had recovered so well from my stroke.
I was in the habit of depending on her — it was the roles we were playing.
No great tragedies yet; I haven’t run out of anything.
I forgot to purchase cole-slaw once, but that’s the only failure.
I make it a point to make sure all the stuff I need for showers is in place before I turn on the shower.
I have two showers; I have to move stuff to the shower I’m using. I no longer have a wife to cover for me.
This covers a lot of things.
My brain is working all the time to get things done as needed.
If I drop things, there’s no longer a wife to complain to about how clumsy I am.
Just pick the damn thing up!
Spill water or juice, and mop it up!
Same with milk — and I try to avoid making messes like that.
I can.
My wife used to worry whether I could get by if she were gone.
So far so good. —And I’m approaching six months.
This doesn’t mean I’m not devastated. I am, and I’m heartbroken.
I also find I’m doing things my wife wouldn’t do, her being a order-out-of-chaos freak.
—A) My wife used to rinse out plastic-jugs I might later use, with soapy hot-water; for example, milk-jugs.
I don’t have time for dish-soap. What I do is rinse ‘em out with plain hot water.
That seems to be good enough. If it weren’t, I’d get sick, which I haven’t.
—B) I also find myself mowing the immediate backyard with my big zero-turn mower, 48-inch cut.
My wife mowed it with our small trimming-mower, 20-inch cut. She concluded the zero-turn was too injurious, since it was heavy and left divots in the grass where it spun.
The zero-turn takes perhaps 15 minutes, the trimming mower over an hour.
The zero-turn is not that injurious. I can’t spare 45 minutes.
When I couldn’t get the zero-turn in there — a heavy doghouse was in the way —I used the trimming-mower.
But that doghouse is gone; no longer in the way.
—C) Sheets and towels.
My wife used to launder the sheets and towels every week.
I don’t think they matter that much, so I don’t.
Both may go two weeks or more unlaundered. I’m still alive! And my abode is not a disgrace.
I try to avoid letting the sheets go too long, and the towels depend on that they were used for.
If I was wiping raw chicken-juice onto a towel, I figure it needs to be washed soon.
I have a cleaning-lady, and I haven’t heard complaints yet about how messy my house is.
If anything, I’ve seen much worse. I’ve had friends here I hafta clean up after.
My obsession with cleanliness is heritage from my wife.
I find myself cleaning up dog-hair and leaves from the floor.
And pointing out dusting that needs to be done.

• My beloved wife of over 44 years died of cancer April 17, 2012. Like me she was 68. I miss her dearly.
• I had a stroke October 26, 1993, from which I pretty much recovered.
• My “zero-turn” lawnmower is my 48-inch riding-mower; “zero-turn” because it’s a special design with separate drives to each drive-wheel, so it can be spun on a dime. “Zero-turns” are becoming the norm, because they cut mowing time in half compared to a lawn-tractor, which has to be set up for each mowing-pass.