Friday, October 27, 2006

Teeny tiny steps

Steve never mentioned it, but he cleaned up the dog poop. I happened to look outside one afternoon, when he'd said he was going to do something or other, and saw him pacing around the yard, scooping the dog doo. Yeah, it was the kids' responsibility, and he'd never been a huge fan of the whole dog concept. But he really did like that dog--doglet, as he called her, 'cause she's on the small side. And he just quietly took care of it.

He did that a lot. I wonder sometimes if on some level he knew what would happen. So many things were mine to deal with, with help and support from him, but the net result is that I'm fully competent to run the house and handle the finances and all kinds of things. I still don't know how to drive in the UK, but that's solvable and not pressing.

An odd thing: I expected that I'd be drinking fairly heavily during this time. I'm not. I really, really thought I would be just downing bourbon and vodka; that's the image in my head of what happens when you grieve, you drink. For some reason, it's not what I do. I'll have some wine now and then, but that's really about it. I don't feel completely pleased about it, either--mostly I am, but I also would love to just be unconscious sometimes. It feels like a drain rather than a help, though. My sleep pattern is so screwed up that alcohol just sounds like a stupid idea. After Sept. 11, I noticed that Steve and I were both drinking more, and a lot of other people I talked to were, too. So partly I expected to be in something like the same pattern.

Knitting is inching along. I did go to Javaroom for about an hour Wed., which seems to be what I can manage logistically, and looked at a new knitting magazine and did a bit more on the same damn sock.

These are two pictures of Steve taken in Tokyo during an interview with a technical magazine. He died the following week. His company was kind enough to make a CD for me. I see how jet-lagged he is, and his beautiful eyes.


Blogger Carole said...

Steve sounds like a wonderful, caring husband. I'm glad you have those memories, at least.

4:00 PM  
Anonymous witchypoo said...

He was a such a beautiful caring person and such a handsome man.

4:18 PM  
Blogger Lucia said...

The first thing I see in those pictures is his wedding ring.

I didn't drink after Taz got sick, either. Partly because I don't drink much anyway, but mostly because it seemed pointless. Everything would still be there when I woke up.

I'm with Carole: he did all those things just because they were there for him to do.

4:21 PM  
Anonymous Suzanne said...

I see what you mean about his beautiful eyes; windows to the soul. It is probably beneficial to be present to your grief rather than drink your way through it. Tying one on might not bad for counterpoint, especially in the company of friends.

7:16 PM  
Anonymous Erica said...

He has such kind eyes, and a wonderful smile. Like Lucia, I keep seeing his ring, and that smile, and it's clear that the two are connected.

9:23 PM  
Blogger Ruth said...

His eyes are beautiful, but his smile is what draws me into those pictures. He looks so very contented.

11:12 AM  
Blogger The Crafty Weasel said...

It's funny, like Lucia, his wedding band was also the first thing I noticed.

I still feel so sad when I remember you, which is sort of often as recently all of a sudden I hear of people/relatives of someone, unexpectedly dying.

I read in one knitter's blog that her friend last year was diagnosed with cancer. She is in her 30's like me. And just a couple of weeks ago she lost her husband and two boys in a car accident.

I read these things and it's so overwhelming, that I feel such admiration for survivors like you Liz.

A big big hug!!!

4:48 PM  
Blogger Jena the yarn harpy said...

That's love. It's wonderful to have those little memories that seem so trivial on the surface.

I'm glad that you have those very recent pictures of him. He looks engaged and excited and you're right, his eyes do sparkle.

1:31 PM  

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