Portends and Omens, Last Things and Unfinished Business

I'm not saying I believe in this sort of thing and I'm not saying I don't. I'm just saying sometimes coincidences take on a personal meaning that can't be ignored. When a trauma strikes--and they do strike and strike hard--sometimes the otherwise unrelated events leading up to them at least seem to have happened as a warning, as a chance to prepare. And it doesn't matter if you believe it or not; I'm just putting them out there to give you something to think about. At the very least, it might help you understand how my grief works on me and maybe give you some insight to your own.

The Tee Shirt
This year for Christmas, Toni and I got each other matching tee shirts (and a coffee mug for her) that said, "In My Darkest Hour I Reached For A Hand And Found A Paw." I'm not sure how she found them (she was always looking up dog things on the internet), but we both loved the quote so much, getting them was a no-brainer. Each of us at different times and for different reasons had found it to be too true.

So when the day came for us to go to the emergency room, Toni decided that was the shirt she wanted to wear. I don't know why. And it isn't like she was insistent about it. It only took on a special meaning for me after the fact. I cannot say she planned on wearing it knowing she was going to die that day. I don't think she was planning on that at all.

At any rate, that was what she was wearing when the ambulance whisked her away. The next time I saw her she was in a hospital gown. Her clothes had been put in a plastic bag, and I didn't give it another thought. Until a couple of days later when I opened the bag of clothes and realized that her shirt and bra weren't in there. Of course. It's SOP in an ER when a patient comes in with cardiac and respiratory failure to cut the clothes off a person: time is everything and you can't waste it by carefully undressing someone.

I got over it. And I still have mine, which has taken a new and deeper meaning unto itself.

The License Plate
Every year, sister Patty sends us a Christmas package loaded with all kinds of goodies, some fun, some practical and some just plain touching. She's always been thoughtful like that. We have also tried to do the same for her. (Gifts for Patty usually have a Wizard of Oz or Star Trek theme.) This year among the goodies was a Personalized License Plate which made Toni sob uncontrollably. Toni was a sentimental person and some sentiments just went waaaay deep in her heart.

The plate had the names of our four boys that were no longer with us on the one side against a fluffy cloud, blue sky background, and the four that were still with us on the other. Why this particular gift, this particular year? Well, here we are just a few months later, and on our mantle I have Toni's memorial candle in front of that plate, neatly and evenly separating the living from the dead. How could Pat have known, that Toni's death would fall right in the middle? 

The Black Cat
On the last day I would take Toni to work the week before she got sick, an unsettling thing happened. For a year or two now I had been tracking the progress of a neighborhood cat. By progress, I mean avoiding getting killed on the gravel hauler racetrack known as Martinsville Road. The cat was young, not fully grown when I had first noticed her/him. And every time I saw the cat running from one side of the road to the other I was happy it was still alive. And ever more fearful for its future.

When I dropped Toni off in the mornings, it was always very early and dark. I needed to get to my job by 7:30 and it was just under an hour round trip to make that happen. We'd get to her job--on a good day (not often enough to suit her, btw)--sometime before 6:30, so that she could either nap or play solitaire on her iPhone or both. Anyway, on that morning as we were snailing our way up the quarter mile to Judd Road over the pothole infested dirt road we live on, I saw something black in the headlights in the middle of the road. My heart sank a little bit, but it might just be debris. We had been having all kinds of wind storms. As we got closer, I saw the two tell-tale yellow eyes looking at me. The cat had been hit. Very recently. And creepily the eyes were still open and looking at me, bright as anything. I carefully drove around it and went on my way. We rode in silence the rest of the way in. The image bothered me all day at work.

As would sometimes happen, I was let off early from work that day and I rushed home. I could only think about that cat and what kind of bloody mess would greet me as I turned down Martinsville after the cat had flattened by repeated hits by the truckers. I was amazed to find the cat exactly as I had last seen it, the only difference being the road dust had now covered its eyes. I stopped the car, got out and moved the cat off the side of the road to prevent any future horror. Rigor had fully set in by now so it was easy to do. And I somehow felt better. I went home and waited until it was time to go get Toni.

On the way home that night, Toni said, "That cat really disturbed me." I had no idea it had bothered her that much. I thought I was being silly, but now I felt vindicated. I told her I had moved it and she scolded me for touching a dead animal, and I countered that it was freshly dead and I washed my hands real good when I got home.

Of course we all know that black cats crossing our path is bad luck. Having one die IN your path is worse. In just over a week, my Toni would be gone. The story isn't all sad though. During the week Toni was sick, I saw another black cat at least twice in the same vicinity. A litter mate? So it turns out I may have been tracking two cats all along and the other one is still out there. I hope that one has better luck.

The Jigsaw Puzzle
The last jigsaw puzzle Toni and I were working on is still in the living room waiting for me to finish. And I will. Someday but not just yet. It's an old-timey scene of the inside of a general store. And it was a lot of fun to work on. (Not all puzzles are....) Here's what makes just a little strange.

As I have been going through the thousands of pictures I could either scan or that were on my laptop, Toni's PC, her old laptop, her iPhone, and her (new) camera, I came across one of the last puzzle's box cover. Now, Toni was excited about her new camera and was taking pictures of everything. Mostly of the dogs, but other things too. And I found a couple of pictures of a previous puzzle. Maybe she was going to start documenting our puzzle adventures? Or maybe she just liked the puzzles enough to immortalize them. I'll never know; I didn't get the chance to ask her. Whatever the case, once I do finish it and put it up, I will have a permanent reminder of what we were up to when she left. Almost like she knew I would like that.

The TV Shows
Over the years, besides our love of movies, we had a host of TV shows that were must-see every week. Shows would come and shows would go, and reruns would work for some but not for others. But we would always find new ones to take their place. This year however, saw the end of more of our shows than ever before, to the point we were actually and actively discussing what to do about it. American Horror Story, Bates Motel, Bones, Castle, Grimm, Salem, Teen Wolf and The Vampire Diaries all ended or were ending soon. I still have recordings of most of them to watch. Again, someday but not yet. Out of that list, Toni only saw the last episodes of American Horror Story and The Vampire Diaries. I'm glad see got to see the Vampire Diaries because Damon was her favorite eye-candy of all time. No one else ever came close. Except maybe Clark Gable and she did get to see Gone With The Wind one last time the week she was off work. (I secretly recorded it for her, even though we have it on VHS...hmmm, how did I know?)

Some of "our" shows are still on. I don't know how I feel about them. I have a backlog of The Walking Dead. We have all kinds of Walking Dead stuff. PJ pants for me, a tee shirt and blanket for her, matching coffee mugs, artwork and more. We were going to have a Walking Dead party for two with all our stuff; don't know what to do about that either.

Last year Prince and George Michael died, two of her all time favorites. At least Donny Osmond is still alive.

The LSA Building Trees
The LSA Building where Toni had spent most of her waking hours for the last 40 years is going to be getting an addition. To make room for this, a good number of trees would need to be taken down. Some of these trees had been there since before Toni started to work there. Toni was very saddened by this. It was a personal loss to her. She didn't think she would feel the same about the place. She was not looking forward to going back to work and not seeing them there. As it turned out, she never lived to see it. Part of me is glad for her. Her memory of her workplace was intact, if short-lived. As I said, she was a sentimental gal, and it may well have hurt her deeply to see her beloved trees gone. Knowing it was going to happen seemed hard enough. I feel sad for the people who have had to go back. 

There were still so many things we had planned to do. Now I have to come up with new plans. I still plan on doing some of the things we were going to do. I don't know how much fun it will be. Some things I will do because they need to be done, mostly things around the house. Some things I will do because I want to do...for her, for her memory, in her name. Whatever I do, it will be part of the new plan. Because in spite of all these subtle warnings, I didn't plan for this. I didn't plan to be on my own. I didn't plan for her to die. But I suspect, even if all of these things had made clear to me that Toni was going to leave me here at this point, I would not have been prepared. I just hope I learned enough from her to make the best of things. That's what she always did. That's what she would expect of me.

But I don't have to like it.

What ifs

When someone close to you dies, at some point you will be surrounded by a cloud of What Ifs. I thought I would share my cloud with you. In hopes that it might fade away. I don’t think that it will, but…what if it did?

What if the car heater hadn't failed the week before she got sick? What if driving to and from work--and then sitting in the parking lot for a half hour--in 20 degree cold made her sick, or at least made her sicker? What if I had gotten it fixed at the first sign of trouble when she asked me to instead of waiting until it gave out altogether?

What if I hadn’t fed her a donut that fateful morning? Or what if she didn’t take all those meds the night before? What if I made her take her insulin before we left for the hospital?

What if I had noticed she wasn’t breathing just a little sooner? Or what if I had tried to get her out of the car to give her CPR even though I didn’t think I could? Or what if I had flagged down a passing car to help me? What if I gave up hope too early? What I didn’t try hard enough? What if…

What if…I failed her in the worst way possible when she needed me the most?

I often wonder—the last moments I was with Toni play like a movie over and over in my head—if between the time her heart stopped beating and she stopped breathing and the time her brain shut down, if she heard me desperately calling her name? When I saw her lifeless eyes staring at nothing, something happened inside me. It wasn’t panic exactly, but it was very much like it. Did I freeze? Not exactly. But it was like I knew there was nothing I could do. Did I give up too soon? I want to think I didn’t; I want to believe there was nothing I could do. But the fear will haunt me for a long time—maybe as long as I live (probably)—that maybe I could have done something more.

It hurts me that she is gone from me. It hurts more to think that maybe she didn’t have to go. Such is the nature of What Ifs. They will tear you up from the inside out. I hope and pray that this cloud leaves me be. Toni would want me to be happy…eventually. Once the grief plays itself out. I hope to honor that wish of hers.

Someday.

By the Numbers

Numbers have fascinated me ever since I can remember. They have ended up playing an important role in my professional life. And so I present some vital statistics regarding Toni’s life and death.

October 15, 1959, Toni was born to Wallace and Virginia Thompson. April 1, 2017, Toni passed away. On July 14, 1989, we were married. On May 4, 1990, our daughter Niketa came into this world and left it again.

Toni had five brothers (four survive) and two sisters. Wally, John, Patty, Mike, Linda, Keith and Kevin.

In September of 1977, Toni started work at the University of Michigan in the Registrar’s Office. Nearly 40 years later (only six months shy) she was still there. We were married for nearly 28 years (3 ½ months to go), but were together for 30.

Not including the cough medicine, the antibiotics and steroids she was on during her illness, Toni took seven types of pills in the morning along with two types of insulin injections, and three types of pills at night plus three types of supplements and more of both insulins, just to get through the day. Some of them worked against each other and some worked against the conditions she had. It was always a delicate balance. Sometimes in the past medications simply stopped working and either the dosages or the meds themselves had to be changed. And when that happened there was always an adjustment period. I would guess most people who knew her didn’t know how much energy it took; I’m guessing they couldn’t tell. As I said before, Toni was always Toni; maybe she was just having a bad day. Or maybe it didn’t show at all. Oh, and she slept every night with a CPAP machine.

“Normal” glucose levels are considered between 80-130. On the morning she died, Toni’s was 456. Diabetic comas occur at around 600. I don’t have the data on her blood acids or potassium but they were equally as bad.

We’ve had eight dogs over the years, four of whom have survived her.

Our “farm” is about 5 ½ acres and the dream house we put up 15 years ago is about 1749 square feet. It is about a 25 mile commute one way to the Office of the Registrar.

The number of events in our lives cannot be counted and the memories that result from those events are almost as many. A life cannot be reduced to numbers any more than it can recounted in words. There is too much going on all the time. So memories are what we keep; snapshots that represent a greater whole. We can’t keep track of everything, so we hang on to what’s important: good, bad and mundane. Is the mundane important? Oh yes. It is what fills up most of our lives. While we might not remember individual mundane events, we remember that we did them every day, again and again, and they become part of the tapestry we weave. Individual threads that we don’t see when we look at the bigger picture, but make up the background that gives the rest meaning. I don’t remember a particular rainy day, but I can remember a lot of rainy days. We don’t remember each of those days we all spent in school, but I do remember being in school and what it was like.

I will never forget Toni, but I’m afraid I will forget the details of our life together. Sure I have plenty of reminders around me, but…well, it’s not the same as having her here with me. Nothing will ever be like that. But my memories carry me on, and as far as I can see, the number of them are endless.

Did she or didn't she...?

Yesterday I went on my first full-on, gotta-have-a-list shopping trip since Toni died. It wasn’t as difficult as I thought it might be. Maybe because over the last few months I’ve been making them alone anyway. Toni never liked shopping anyway (unless it was for jewels or antiques) and with her health getting worse, she REALLY didn’t feel like going. A curious thing happened at the checkout.

For months now, we’d been getting rebate slips from the Humane Society when we bought the heartworm preventative. I had collected 5 of them worth $12 each. I finally sent them in and got 5 pre-payed Visa cards in the mail. Of course there were all kinds of limitations on how you could use them and I’ve been wanting to get rid of them for quite some time now. So I determined yesterday was the day. I needed to buy more than $60 worth of stuff to make this work: you had to use the cards AFTER you use your regular payment method. So you buy $61 dollars of groceries, pay a buck in cash and then knock off $12 per card until it’s all paid. You with me? Why not buy $59 of stuff? Well after a time you start getting fees on whatever balance left on any of the cards. 3 cents left after 3 months, that’s a fee of X dollars. Monthly. I don’t think so. At any rate I wanted my free money and the time had come. But it meant I would have to do some quick math at the checkout. Subtract 60 from the total, pay that first and then make the cards do their work. Not really in the mood to that kind of math at Walmart.

I had loaded all of the empties (mostly Toni’s Diet Cokes, but my Vernor’s was well represented) into the back of the car a while ago. It ended up being a total of $10.90. Not bad. Remember that number. I finished shopping and headed up to the front of the store to begin the long and complicated payment process. The bill came to $130.90 including tax. Then came the miracle. Adding the $10.90 credit for bottles and cans that brought the total down to exactly $120. Jackpot! $60 on my debit card and $60 on the prepaids. It couldn’t be any easier. Holy Cow!

Now you may not believe in this sorta stuff, but Toni kinda did. And I’m beginning to wonder. Sure you could say it was just coincidence. But what are the odds that the bottle refund (of mostly Toni’s pop) would round off the figure to make it soooo easy to figure out my payment with the cards I wanted to use? $10.90 is such a random number and the total just happened to work out to a nice round even number? Hmmm. So either God was giving me a break because of…you know…or Toni was on the lookout. Either way. I was my happiest Walmart shopping trip ever. Although, when you think about Walmart, that really isn’t saying much, huh?

Peace to you my friends.