Monday, November 5, 2012

It's Gauzy and Fuzzy Here Where I Stay

Today is November 5.  Eleven months ago, on December 5, my son Joseph passed away from colon cancer.  He was 36 years old.  He battled this evil that is cancer for nearly two years.

I was only just starting to get reacquainted with my adult son, husband, with his own child when he became ill.  

I am mostly still in the place of his illness.

Oh, I have tried the various pathways suggested by the travel agents of Grief .  The glossy brochures that  arrive in the mail every three months indicate that there are must see stops along the way.  They caution that my journey will be like no other.   "We're sorry," they say, "but we cannot tell you how long you will be gone or if you will ever come back."   They instruct  "to pack wisely to ensure that you have everything you need."

I have not committed to the next leg of this trip yet, though.  I prefer to stay where I am, at least for just a little while longer.

It's gauzy and fuzzy where I stay, here in the place of his illness.  For in the place of his illness, I can see his smile, hear his voice, feel his hand in mine.   For in the place of his illness he is still here.

Last November 5, I wrote this:
"Tomorrow my family is getting together for picture day.   It's supposed to be a beautiful sunny day.  Everyone is meeting at the park near where Joe's house is.   We are all hoping that Joe can make it.  But, if all he can manage is a few minutes in his back yard, we will be grateful for that."

 Joe did make it to the park that day.  What I remember most about that day were the few precious moments I had with him, just he and I, sitting in his car, keeping warm, being quiet, watching from the inside looking out.

As I write this, I am struck by how special it is to be able to jog my memory with that piece I had written one year ago.  

As I write this, I am also struck by how regretful I feel that I did not start writing about these types of moments so many years ago.   

Perhaps it would be easier to move along on this journey if I had.   

I wonder what two year old Joey and I were doing on November 5,  1977?  

Memories fade so quickly.

I wistfully miss my Joey and painfully anguish that I did not have enough time with Joe. 

I have created a page for Anna's Diary.  It can be found under the Tab titled Anna's Diary.
I have posted all of the entries to date there, starting with January 1, 1929.

Here are the catch up entries from Anna's diary.  I suddenly realize how important a diary can be.

Wed. October 30, 1929
Club met at Olives.  Girls all masked and completely surprised hostess.  I dressed in father's clothes.  Brought all the girls home as it was raining and very nasty out.  Stayed with Helen.
Thurs.  October 31, 1929
Charlotte here for laundry.  Nasty weather.  Went to Elsie's for a few hours.  Slept with Junior in afternoon.  Kept him up late to greet Halloween children that called.
Friday, November 1, 1929
Home all day.  Junior went to Elsie's to play after Violet came home from school.  Corinne stopped in for supper.  No school.  Went home at 9:30.
Sat. November 2, 1929
Home all day long.  After supper we got dressed and went to 360 as Jewel is giving a bridge for the committee girls that gave her the banquet.  We stayed over night.
Sun.  November 3, 1929
At 360.  Awoke late.  Everybody still in bed.  So went back to bed.  Hung around till four then came home.  Made supper for Jean, Junior and myself.  Read paper then bed.
Mon.  November 4, 1929
Went to Mary's for lunch.  Then brought Junior to 360 and Rose, Mary, Children and myself went to Branford.  Home at six.  Supper at 360.  Then home.
Tues.  November 5, 1929
Election Day.  Jean home.  Went to NY to buy tickets for Club girls to see "The Little Show" at Music Box.  Rosalie with me.  She bought a coat. Camels hair with beaver collar. 


  1. So sorry for your loss, Lyndagrace. It's almost tangible through your words and your post can't have been easy to write. I hope you'll begin to find a way forward in the days to come, and that Joe's tragic passing will, in time, not exactly fade but take its place in the journey of your life and that of your family. Take care.

    1. Thank you for your kind and comforting words, Susan.

  2. It was painful to read this. If sharing your pain can help you a little bit, I will be coming now and then... Thank you for sharing, even though it hurt me, too; it is good to be reminded that moments are precious.

    My own daughter is 6 and I am almost 35. She is reading aloud in her room, and I think I will go and read with her rather than spending too much time at the computer. But I will be back.

    1. One of the messages I hoped to get across with this post is how precious time and memories are. Thank you for letting me know you are there.

  3. I thought about you this morning when I saw that it was the 5th of the month. It surprises me now that I didn't' know you last Nov 5 - odd how years unfold. I can see the value in keeping notes about the days - things jog the memory when time changes the perspective and takes one's course in new directions. Hugs to you today -- Ross too.

    1. Thank you for thinking of me JT. It touches me that you do.

  4. I think you've discovered one of the blessings of writing things out--even if you don't consider yourself a "writer." I also think that there may be more memories locked in your head than you imagine--even if not date specific (like November 5, 1977). If you pick up a pen or put fingers to keyboard and just let your mind wander around your past and your children's pasts, you might be surprised at the depth and detail that come back to you about those moments.

    1. Well, I just might have to resort to hypnosis to unlock some of those memories. I do agree writing may at least bring about a sense or feeling about some special past experiences. I should "write" more, I really should.
      Thanks MM.

  5. I found you by clicking on a few random blogs over at NaBloPoMo and I am going to add you to my list of must reads. I love how your mind works, how the words flow. I want to know more of your journey. And more about Joe. I am so sorry for your loss and the loss of your family and Joe's friends. My words cannot bring peace or comfort, but I give them anyway. Because it is what we do. But it's not all we can do, so I will be praying for you on this journey of grief and remembrance. God Bless.

    1. Hello Tamara,
      I am happy that you are here. I want to let you know that your words absolutely do provide comfort and peace for me during this most difficult time.
      Thank you.