6 months

It has been six months. Some days, when my emotions continue to feel fresh and raw, it doesn't seem possible that so much time has passed. Other days, I miss Joe so much it doesn't seem possible that so little time has passed.

Last week, Nancy, one of my best friends from college came to visit me with her youngest son. It was so good to see them. Her son and I have bonded in his one year of life. Even though they live on the other side of the state, that little guy has provided me with much needed cuteness therapy during some rough times. And Nancy. She's just wonderful. I've known her since freshman year of college when I called her "Bun Nancy" because of the bun she often wore on the top of her head. Nancy has been so supportive throughout this crazy journey. She's cried with me. She's cried for me. She's made me cry... :) Mostly though, she's let me be me. She hasn't tried to change me, or rush me, or push me. This is how she's always been. Even when she has an opinion that might differ from mine, she's always been able to state it in a way that doesn't make me feel like a horrible person. I'm just left feeling embraced. I'm also left feeling strengthened because without actually verbalizing it, Nancy makes me believe that she trusts that I can do it - whatever "it" may be. If we zoom out and look at the even broader picture, Nancy trusts that God will help me do it. This has been such a comfort to me, at a time when I feel as though my life has been turned upside down and my self-esteem is shaky.

At one point during her stay, Nancy told me that she was excited for me. Now if just anybody came up and told me that, I would roll my eyes and my brain would shout, "Crazy Alert!" But Nancy is Nancy, and so instead, I thought, "Hmmm. That's kind of neat." And then one evening we were singing a praise song, and afterwards, Nancy pointed to these words...

You are faithful to answer
With words that are true
And a hope that is real

...and she said, "This is why I'm excited for you."

After Nancy and her son left to fly home, I spent the weekend with my parents. I returned to my house on Monday, and it felt pretty empty this week. I feel so blessed though, because I have people like Nancy and my family in my life. And this week, I got so many reminders that I really have an amazing support system. It makes me feel really grateful.

In the widow world and probably the grieving world in general, the monthly and yearly milestones since losing your spouse are called sadiversaries. I'm not a huge fan of that term. It doesn't allow for the possibility of celebrating love, life, and memories. Yes, there is a huge possibility for sadness, but there should also be the possibility for joy. I think it's possible. I really do.

In that light, I wanted to share some of my favorite Joe memories. One sweet. The rest, funny.

Colored Pencils

Weeks before we would be celebrating our first Christmas together, Joe kept bugging me about what I wanted. "Oh nothing." I kept replying. So Joe would continue to bug me. Finally, one day I gave him an answer. I'm a kid at heart and I like to pretend that I'm an artist, so I said, "I'd like some colored pencils and a coloring book." A nice simple request. I liked to think that I was a low-maintenance girlfriend.

Christmas day, Joe handed me a huge rectangular package. I'll be honest. In my mind I was thinking, "Well, of course he didn't listen to me and get me what I requested even after bugging me so much. He had to go and be a bigshot and get me what he thought I wanted." I had no clue what was in the package. By the weight and shape of it, I thought it might be a framed picture, which seemed rather random.

Joe surprised me. He got me colored pencils. One hundred colored pencils, in a lovely wooden box. It was beautiful. I gasped. I sighed. I kept opening and closing the box so that I could amaze myself with all of the beautiful colors. I ran my fingers over each one. I closed my eyes and took in the lovely scent of one hundred colored pencils. Oh bliss. Eventually, I discovered that I also got a coloring book and lots of beautiful stickers. Joe did listen, and he knew me so well.

Department Store Pie
This is a story that I made Joe tell me over and over because I found it so funny.

One day, Joe was shopping with his mom at a department store. As humble as he was, Joe had this way of walking into a place as though he owned it. (I constantly made fun of Joe for this. At some point, he started telling me that he was the Crown Prince of Taiwan as a sort of explanation.) Without being snooty about it, he would suddenly act as though rules did not apply to him. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t think rules applied to him, it was more that he assumed that those rules did not exist. As Joe and his mom wove through the department store, they found themselves in the cosmetics department. One of the counters had this lovely summery display complete with a table that held an uncut pie, plastic ware and plates. Being a lover of food, and because the pie looked so delicious, Joe proceeded to cut himself a huge slice. Joe’s mom kept saying, “Are you sure you’re allowed to eat that? I think that’s just for display.” To which Joe kept responding, “Of course I’m allowed to eat it. That’s why they have it here.” As Joe forked big bites of Banana Cream Pie into his mouth, a clerk approached him and said, “Uhm. That pie has actually been on display for days.” Of course it was too late, and so Joe proceeded to finish his pie. Count on Joe to not wait for the pie to be offered, to not notice there was no waste basket near the table, and to not care that the pie was still whole.

The Laundry Room

Joe and I lived in the same apartment building in Philadelphia for a year. It was laundry day. We grabbed our bags of dirty clothes and headed down to the laundry room in the basement to do our laundry together. With clothes in hand, Joe looked at the digital display on the first washer and said, “Oh, this one is broken…” Then turning to look at all the other machines, Joe said, “Wait a second. This one is broken too. Hey...I think they’re all broken. They all say don E, don E, don E. What does that mean anyway?” When Joe turned back around, I was crumpled on the ground laughing so hard that tears were streaming down my face and no sound was coming out of my mouth. I needed to compose myself and stand up before Joe realized that all the machines said, “Done.”

Silliness

One of the things that I loved most about Joe was that even though he seemed pretty reserved when you first met him, he could be so silly. Just look at the pictures. Joe would purposely act like a big silly dork and make me laugh and laugh. There were his stories of being the Crown Prince of Taiwan. There were also the stories about how he was not only the voice of P. Diddy, he wrote all the songs. But of course, Joe was never interested in fame, which is why the world thinks that P.Diddy is a black man. Speaking of which, when Joe was a kid, he told his mom that when he grew up he wanted to be a black man so that he could drive a nice car. :)

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At our local Target, there is one set of automatic doors and one set of manual doors. Joe would purposely stand really close to the manual doors and go, "These doors are broken! Why aren't they working?" I'm sure he was trying to embarrass me. And maybe he did a little, but mostly he just made me laugh.

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Even after Joe was diagnosed he was silly. One night, we watched Chariots of Fire. After the movie, Joe disappeared upstairs. The next thing I know, he is back downstairs dressed in white and pretending to run while humming the famous theme song to the movie. Joe then proceeded to re-enact the whole movie, with costume changes, in five minutes. It was so funny. I wish I had a video of it.

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As always. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for loving Joe.

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Pour Out My Heart

Here I am once again
I pour out my heart
For I know that You hear
Every cry
You are listening
No matter what state my heart is in

You are faithful to answer
With words that are true
And a hope that is real
As I feel Your touch
You bring a freedom to all that's within
In the safety of this place
I'm longing to . . .

Pour out my heart
To say that I love You
Pour out my heart
To say that I need You
Pour out my heart
To say that I'm thankful
Pour out my heart
To say that You're Wonderful!

©1995 Mercy / Vineyard Publishing
Words and Music by Craig Musseau