I had a situation the other day that although it was unintentional, caused me much pain and sorrow.  It was innocently done, but it hurt.  I had to ask myself the why of the hurt.

            Kevin died August 5-5 months and 21 days ago.  At times it seems like it just happened; at times I feel like it’s a dream and I’m going to wake up and he’ll be here.  I find myself hearing something outside, look out the window and yes, there is a part of me that still expects to see him walking down the steps, beer in hand.

I have been so very lucky with my friends and family who don’t think I’m some sort of wacked out person for still feeling things like this.  He was a major part of my life and always will be.  

Sometimes the hurt is so deep, so raw, so gaping that I simply can’t talk about it or share it with anyone. That’s when I go within, shut myself away as much as possible and wait to climb out of the hole.   I was finding it harder and harder to climb out though and finally asked for some help.  Let me advise anyone reading this: before you put chemicals in your body, try diet, exercise and homeopathic treatment.  It worked for me. I still tend to cocoon a lot of the time, but that is my way of dealing with this.  I won’t say I’m still not sad because I am.  I still wait for him to come home and I think he will probably always be standing there in the shadows. 

It hit me a couple of weeks ago though that I was living life without Kevin.  I was doing it.  Just like he said I could, should and would.  For once, I’m glad the grumpy Swede was right-again.  So, here I was feeling a little better about myself, my life and knowing that the future would be so much different than I had always imagined, but that I was lucky I had a future.   I was making plans again.  Fixing things at the cabin, getting the inside finished like we wanted to before he got sick, doing more artwork, writing…all of it.  I remembered-out of the blue-the first time he heard “I Hope You Dance” years ago and told me that he thought of me when he heard it.  I’d forgotten that.  He always did have more faith in me than I did.

I work off and on at a small tavern/pub in Jamestown.  I do not bar tend nights-couldn’t handle that-but on Saturdays.  I’ve always liked the day drinkers, aka as the “DD’s”  because they are generally working people just out for a few beers, some conversation and nothing else.  They aren’t looking for their soul mate, they are not forlorn, or sad or angry.  These customers are just plain everyday people looking for a bit of companionship on a Saturday afternoon.  It’s good for me to get out of these woods once in awhile, too.

            I met a family of men several years ago and through the years have developed the utmost respect for them.  The youngest is about my age and the oldest…over 68 I’d say.  Five brothers who run a farm, work full time and treat everyone with respect and dignity.  They come in, buy rounds of drinks, talk, laugh and generally cheer everyone up.  It’s hard to be in a bad mood when the "boy's" are in there.

            I always enjoyed when they came in, until the other day.

These men had met Kevin and although they did not become “friends”, they were friendly with each other.  Being blue collar workers all their lives, they had much in common and I was one of the things.  He loved me, they all liked me and had respect for Kevin and I as a couple.  Kevin didn’t come to the bar very often when I worked because he always said he hated it when the boyfriend hung around all day because the girlfriend was the bartender.  He said if you couldn’t trust the person that loved you, well, you shouldn’t be together.  We never, not once, had an issue with that.  Okay, once it was close, but it was resolved quickly.

Anyway, last week the oldest got it in his head that his one brother and I should start seeing each other.  I was polite, said I was not ready for that and tried to make light of it, hoping he’d drop the subject.  However, he kept it up and kept it up for what seemed like hours. Here were all of my regular customers listening to this and not knowing what to do or say.  One friend did try to lighten things up for me by making a joke but John still wouldn’t drop it. I was trying to bar tend, trying not become upset there, but it was hard and it was totally unfair.  HE DID NOT HEAR ME! I think if he had stopped and really looked at me and my reaction, he may have realized how he was hurting me.

            I came home and cried.  I was mad, I was sad and I wasn’t sure why exactly.  This man was totally in the wrong for assuming I was even interested in his brother.  I do not flirt, never have and it’s just not a “vibe” I give off.  I was told that by a good male friend, so I believe it's true.  So where did this come from?  His mind I think, knowing his brother was single, had mentioned I was a great person, and…well, you can figure out the rest for yourselves.

            Do some people really get over a loved one’s death that quickly?   Are some people so afraid to be alone that they immediately try to replace that person?  For me, that is just wrong! Right now, I can’t imagine another man in my life and I don’t want another one in my life.  It made me sad as well to think that anyone could believe I would or would even suggest such a thing.  It felt disrespectful somehow, to everything Kevin and I had together.  

If  John's girlfriend of 10 years died would he be back out on the circuit in less than 6 months?  What would that say about his feelings for her if he did?  That his love for her could just be shuttled to the back of his mind that quickly?  I try not to judge anyone because we are all different and have various ways of dealing with things, but I was not expecting to be broad-sided like this and I didn’t like it. I would have liked to get to know the family better and spend time with them, but as friends and nothing more.  I couldn’t be comfortable with them now.

            So by doing this, though totally unintentional and without malice, he took something away from me. I was just beginning to trust others again.  Do I have to watch what I say, who I talk to, who I laugh with because it may be misconstrued as something totally different that what it is?  Probably and I’m sad for that and the small minded people who might think that way.

            Perhaps, as well, I am just too sensitive to these things right now and have made much more out of it than I should. I know this won’t be the last time this happens to me. I'm sort of a likable person and there are many lonely people out there.  I will simply say I’m not interested in that sort of relationship and let them make the choice.  They can accept strictly friendship from me and be happy with that or not.

          It still makes me sad though.  It also made the loss of Kevin so much more…there again.  He is not here to protect me from this sort of thing so I have to shelter myself the best I can.  And you know, I know I can do it.

Poem-I Carry Your Heart with Me-E.E. Cummings

Short Story-Turkey Surprise

Published in The Post-Journal, What's Happening Western New York

                                  

Menu:  Roasted Wild Turkey, Mashed Potatoes & Homemade Gravy, Cornbread & Wild Rice Stuffing, Corn on the Cob.

Ummm...Sounds so good doesn't it? Well, let's "talk turkey".

One year I had the privilege to be involved in a very unique experience.  It was a first for all of us. The first wild turkey my boyfriend, Kevin had shot, a new stuffing recipe, the first crop of corn of the year in the stores. I should have expected...something.

I received the call at work. "Go get Josh," Kevin said excitedly, "I shot a turkey.  He can help me clean it."   I should have known I was in trouble when we first got there.  There lay the poor little gobbler-headless.  While my son and Kevin admired the poor creature and discussed the excellent hunting techniques involved in the kill, I wandered a little ways off.   I'm not a hunter, and even though I have been around hunters most of my life, I still don't feel very comfortable actually "meeting" my next meal.

While I was browsing through the trees, I spotted something blue lying in the leaves a few feet away.  "Oh good," I thought, "Bluejay feathers."  I walked over, bent down to pick up...the turkey's head.  "EEEyoo", I cried.  Then I looked around to make sure no one had noticed.  I non-chalantly walked back over to the guys and pretended to admire the turkey.

Okay, now came the part where we had to figure out how to clean it.  Well, obviously first we had to get the feathers off.  What  followed next was a 10 minute discussion on how to do just that.  Josh, Kevin and I all had different ideas, so we did the adult thing...called my grandma.  Grandma told us to dunk the turkey in boiling water and the feathers would come right out.  She was right, they did, all over my clothes, the table, Josh, Kevin, the cats...  Then the wind decided to kick up and help us out by blowing the rest of the feathers all over the place. Hopefully the neighbors didn't notice the feathers in their trees.

We got that step done and Kevin had the honor of removing all the lovely things inside a turkey.  No, they aren't in a neat little white bag like the ones in the store.  He was "game" about it and with alot of  "This is disgusting" from Josh, and a few "Don't you ever shoot another turkey!" from me, we cleaned it up, rinsed it off and I took it home to put into my freezer until Sunday.  We planned a real nice dinner with Kevin and I, his son Chalan and my son Josh.

Picture this...a log cabin in the woods on a sunny afternoon. The turkey is cooking.... it smells so-o-o good.  The corn is bubbling away on the stove, the potatoes are mashed and waiting for the gravy. Absolute perfection, right? It should have been....

We finished up the details of the meal and while Kevin carved the turkey, I made the gravy (only a little lumpy) and we sat down to dinner. We all helped ourselves to the food and dug in to eat.

Remember, this was our first taste of wild turkey. It was good, similar to tame turkey, but a little "wilder" tasting. I buttered my corn and took a big bite. I love corn, and we all know how wonderful that first ear of corn tastes.  I looked over at Kevin with a smile in my eyes, the corncob in my mouth and he said with a grin..."You have a worm on your corn."  I suppose Chalan really didn't mind the corn I spit at him. I'm just thankful that it was a whole worm.

Being the good sport I am, I just threw that cob away and bravely took another one.  I checked this one really really well.  With the worm memory still kind of fresh, I took a bite of the mashed potatoes.  Musty.  I had just bought them the day before!  What was this, a jinxed meal??  Well, with all that to contend with, we finished up eating, complimented the cook (which wasn't me) and that should be the end of the story.    Wrong.

Kevin was slicing off some more breast meat to send home with Chalan, when he called me over. "Do you know what this is?" he asked.  It was some dark jelly looking stuff near the breast.  "I have no idea", I said, "just don't cut into it." We didn't know, maybe it was supposed to be there.

The next day I received a phone call at my office from the turkey hunter himself, laughing hysterically.  At first he wouldn't tell me what was so funny. "You know that jelly-looking stuff we found in the turkey?" he asked.  "Yes...." I said hesitantly, with this funny feeling in my stomach.  I should have known I was in trouble by this time, but being the optimist I am, I let him go on.  "It was full of... " more hysterical laughter, "parts of grasshoppers, little red berries and grass." "Oh..." I said, "Grasshoppers???  Parts???"  Flashbacks of the worm danced through my head.

By this point I was laughing.  None of us had thought to remove the gizzard when we cleaned the turkey.  How were we to know???  I suppose my grandma thought one of us dummies would have had sense enough to take it out.

Menu: Roasted Wild Turkey garnished with Grasshoppers and Berries, Cornbread  & Wild Rice Stuffing, Musty Mashed Potatoes with Home-made Lumpy Gravy, Corn on the Cob with Freshly Boiled Worms.

Well, at least the poor turkey had his last meal ...and the last laugh.

Forgetting

As if I didn't have enough going on, my little brain is worrying that I'll "forget" things.  Not the everyday stuff, the things that went on in my life with Kevin.  I know how stupid that is, and I'm almost positive that is this something everyone goes through after a loss.  It doesn't take away that fear though.

I don't want to forget his stories-some were so funny and some were very sad.  I don't want to lose that mental picture of the first time he played guitar for me.  We were here and he just casually walked out with a guitar in his hand and played "I'll Be Your Baby Tonight" by Bob Dylan.  I hadn't even known that he could play or sing.

There were so many facets to Kevin that so many people never knew.  He didn't share himself easily with people.  He was smart, far smarter than anyone could imagine.  He had the best laugh, straight from the belly.  He was funny, when he actually laughed like that, he would cover his mouth and get this surprised look, like "Is that me?"

He often talked to me about obscure things, things he questioned.  Like love.  He said that he didn't understand what people meant when they said they "loved" someone.  He said that using the word just didn't make it real to him.  He asked the age old question-"What is love?"  I think, because of his illness and mine, that he did finally understand what love truly is.

He absolutely could not stand it when people said "I love you" as a good-by.  It drove him nuts.  That and using the word awesome to describe something miniscule.  He always liked Garth Brook's interpretation of what awesome was and yes, I think he would describe Shania Twain as awesome-especially if she had a note from me :)

Or the time he was in the outhouse (pre-plumbing days) and there was a bird that has a call that sounds like "birdie, birdie, birdie" and he finally yelled out "I know you're a goddamn birdie, shut up!"

The time he rescued a little blue bird from the cat, tossed it in the outhouse to keep it safe from Eb and the little bird promptly flew down the hole.  Guess what, he tilted the outhouse back and got that little blue bird out of the...well, you know.

See, I don't want to lose the little things. 

Then there are all those things I didn't do.  Things I didn't say or in my mind, say often enough.  Things I could have done differently or better.  

Grumpy old Swedish fart-face that he was.  I miss him and wonder sometimes, how I can get through without him.

I wander, looking, searching, wanting that connection again.  Wanting him to just come home to me.

Kevin