Today’s the day

This is over 40 years ago, but is the image that was always in my head. (Photo by BobbaLew.)

Wednesday, April 17th, 2013, the one-year anniversary of my wife’s death.
My beloved wife of over 44 years died of cancer April 17th, 2012. I miss her dearly.
As I recall, April 17th last year was a Tuesday. We had taken my wife to Hospeace House outside Naples, NY, on Monday April 16th.
Hospeace is a hospice. We had tried to do in-home hospice, but it became messy.
Hospeace could be more punctual about medications.
My wife lasted there a day. She was dying before we went there, although I wasn’t aware of it.
I still haven’t computed it.
I thought I’d be bringing her home from hospice, but no one ever gets out of hospice alive.
I know my wife is dead — her ashes are under her father’s sugar-maple on our property — but I keep feeling she’s still alive.
This is despite her being gone a year.
Lots of things happened over that year.
A lot of lawn got mowed, plus my mower was fixed when it went sour.
And I’m still alive despite not being compulsive about cleanliness like my wife.
I also have the new camera I considered upgrading to.
That was because my previous camera failed.
I also purchased a newer car, trading the two cars we once drove.
So far that is my only step forward. Most of my surroundings are just as my wife left them. Her “to-do” list, in her writing, is still on the kitchen counter. It includes a funeral-home. (Our safe-deposit signature-card at the bank has her signature.)
It isn’t that I’m attached. At least I don’t think so.
It’s just that so much needs to be done, and I don’t have the wherewithal to do it.
It took 10 months just to make that car-purchase.
What bothers me is I’m very happy with my new car, yet my wife will never see it.
No doubt I’ll get a letter from Rev. Max Bishop. I got one at three months, then six months. He probably has me in a tickler.
Sorry I disrespect his concern, but I feel he makes a living writing these letters — and they’re probably in his computer. (Copy/assemble.)
I guess he heads bereavement-counseling for Ontario-Yates Hospice. I live in Ontario County. Ontario-Yates Hospice is what we used. —Yates is another county.
Rev. Max is almost an hour away.
He suggested I call, so I did, and I got a machine.
I left messages twice, but no response each time.
I was devastated at first, but now I guess I no longer am.
I still cry a lot. Every day feels sad.

Her daffodils are up. (Photo by Bobbalew.)

After the death of my wife I became aware of a simple truth.
More-often-than-not partners in a long marriage rarely die at the same time.
Usually one dies first, leaving the other alone.
My wife and I always thought it would be me that died first.
My wife was sturdier stock than me. Her mother is still alive at age-97. Most of the women in my wife’s family lasted well into their 90s. I predict her mother will make 100; and she still lives independently.
But my wife got cancer. I’m told it was not my time yet.

• “Tickler” is a bank-term, or at least was. —I once worked for a bank. We kept a “tickler” in the loan department to tell us when loans came due.