I did it. I made it through another day. Heck, I even got some stuff done around here too. School work was completed, boys were signed up for baseball, death certificate was faxed to some government entity, beds were changed, and the fridge cleaned out. I didn't bother to cook though. I ate ice cream for dinner instead. And now I'm listening to my new roomie sucking her finger while she sleeps. This new roommate is a snugly one, though in a different way than the one who preceded her. This new one doesn't snore and isn't nearly as hairy either. I'm pretty sure she wouldn't appreciate being woken up for a late night chat and snack (which Bill was always up for) so I might need to make some revisions to my usual schedule. Yeah. That's how it is with just about everything. Revisions.
So I thought of some things that I'm going to have to learn how to do now. I try not to think too much because one thought always leads to another thought which leads me to this really insurmountable place where I cannot fathom escaping from. But sometimes I do think and then I have to make a list. Lists are really awesome. It's also a good thing when I remember that I kind of like to be independent and learn to do new things. I have to check my oil--better remember to keep paper towels in the car for that. I have to scrub the mildew and moss off of the vinyl fence. I have to play catch with Jon (Jack throws too hard for me now) and hit ground balls to him. I'm really pretty awesome at that. I have to clean the chicken coop. I have to figure out how to clean the chimney. And the gutters. I am responsible for all toilet disasters. Do I have to keep reading Dickens to the kids at bedtime? The attic--it mocks me with its vermin and detritus. I'm afraid of that place. I will have to change an electrical socket. That's what YouTube is for, right? I will have to be a grandma by myself. But I won't have to share babies with Bill, the Baby Hog. On paperwork, I have to leave the spot that says "spouse" blank. There's plenty more. Trust me on that.
Tomorrow I'll get up. I'll throw Bill's work coat on over my nightgown, shove my bare feet into my muck boots, and make my way out to the woodshed to feed the dogs and the cat. On to the chicken coop to check how my ladies are doing after a night's sleep. Then I'll load up the wheelbarrow with half a bale of hay and head out to the field to feed the cows. I'll rub Bud's curly forehead and let Sissy lick my hand. Then I'll pause at Bill's grave and tell him about my plans for the day. I'll tell him that I miss him and walk up the hill to the house alone.
1 comment:
Oh Julie. Bill's coat. Bill's grave. Being able to throw to Jon, not Jack, who needs someone like Bill to catch -- No! not someone LIKE Bill -- he needs BILL.
As you know, my wonderful husband also is our oil changer, electrical outlet fixer, and repairer of porch steps. The practical ways he shows his love and caring are so important, and surely each one you do yourself you will miss Bill that much more. Being capable and having Youtube will help you get those jobs done -- yes. But who knew that it would ever take bravery or resolve, too? I know you've got those, and I'm sending more by prayer.
Wish I could be there to walk through the house and around the farm and fields so you could point out the things he had been working on, what you will continue, what he loved about that place.
Somehow, This will be ok. You will be ok. It will all be ok. But oh boy, walking by that grave with Bill's coat on -- those are some hard steps, my love.
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