I’ve had several widow friends ask me for ideas regarding how to mark the anniversary of their spouse’s DOD, date of death. My typical answer is usually “Whatever comes natural.”
Last year when I was approaching the first anniversary of Rebecca’s death I wanted to just ignore it—pretend that I was unaffected. As the days approached however I couldn’t help but recall the roller coaster of emotions that I was feeling the previous year on the days leading up to Rebecca’s eventual death. I remembered hearing those words from the doctor that Rebecca had slipped into a coma while being transported to UCSF and that she wasn’t going to make it. Still I held to the belief that I would be able to ignore that date, September 29. Sure enough though on the evening of September 28th the anxiety was building up far too much and I knew exactly what I needed to do to appease my grief.
Early the next morning I packed my bag, got a sitter for the kids and headed to San Francisco. I wasn’t sure what exactly I was going to do but I wanted to be in the place where Rebecca was when she actually died. I drove the whole way up there, about a 3 hour drive, unsure of what I was doing. It was like an automatic response. I wanted to walk those same steps of the hospital where I paced back and forth on the 13th floor bewildered with what I should do. I wanted to eat the same crappy food in the hospital cafeteria. I wanted to walk up and down Parnassus Ave. I wanted to go and pray in the small grove of trees west of the hospital where the UCSF student housing was. It’s hard to say what I was looking for. Perhaps I just wanted to cling to those last few moments that I was able to hold Rebecca’s hand. I’m not sure. It was just what I felt like I needed to do.
After I got there I walked the places I wanted to, eat the food I wanted to, and did what I wanted to. All of that was done in about 30 minutes. I sat in the hospital cafeteria eating my salad and pie asking myself (and Rebecca), “Now what?” That was when I decided that I wanted to take flowers and notes of appreciation to the staff on the 13th floor. Throughout the first year after Rebecca had passed I felt very strongly that despite the fact that Rebecca was unconscious during her whole stay at UCSF she was always appreciative of the kindness and grace that the hospital staff offered to her and me. With that thought in mind I walked down the street to a flower shop, bought 3 large bouquets of flowers and a fist full of Thank You cards. I wrote personal cards to Dr Chung and Dr Peters. I wrote personal cards to the 3 nurses who cared for Becca directly. Then I wrote one to the entire ICU staff.
I took the flowers and cards to the person at the front desk on the 13th floor. I was so overcome with grief that I muttered a few words, handed her the stuff and walked away sobbing like a fool. I figured once she saw the cards it would all be self-explanatory for her and what she should do. I walked away feeling like whatever I just did, I was finished. So, I jumped in my truck and drove home.
I felt like I would make that an annual event. Then this year came. I couldn’t make the drive up there today but tomorrow I will make the trek to San Francisco. Once again I will offer some flowers and chocolate covered almonds as a token of my appreciation. Hopefully it will help the staff to realize while they can’t save everyone I, personally, will forever be grateful for the kindness they showed my wife during her last few day of her mortal probation.
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Thursday, September 29, 2011
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Olfaction
Of all the five senses it is the sense of smell that is the slowest for our brain to recognize. Yet at the same time certain smells stay with us the longest. In fact most biopsychologists agree that ‘smell memories’ seem to be stored in a different part of the brain than that of visual, hearing, taste and touch memories. This is why when we go ‘home’, wherever that might be, certain odors can bring back a flood of memories. When we have a smell memory our brain can release certain neurotransmitters to either attract us or repel us from certain environments, people, objects, etc. This is why, for example, when I return to a place like New York or West Virginia, places full of distinct smells, I can almost instantly be reminded of many different memories.
For me, this time of year has many smell memories—some good and others not good. The one in particular that seems to stand out the most is the smell of stargazers. They have a very distinct, powerful smell and this happens to be the time of year that they blossom. Rebecca carried stargazers when we got married. So every year while she was alive I could walk through a store and as soon as I smelled those stargazers I would have a pleasant moment of remembering our awesome wedding day.
When Rebecca passed away I had to choose which flower arrangements to have on her casket. Before even opening the book to look at all the flower arrangements I immediately asked the funeral director if he had an arrangement of stargazers. He did. So without ever looking at anything else I knew that was what I wanted over Rebecca’s casket.
As I said before, stargazers have a very distinct and strong smell. I remember standing over Rebecca’s casket looking down at her. I wanted to touch her face. I wanted to smell her hair. I wanted to kiss her lips. Of course I didn’t do any of that because that wasn’t Rebecca. All I could see was the shell of the person that used to be my wife. All I could smell were those stargazers.
I’m not sure what happened to the flowers that draped Becca’s coffin. I believe they were left at the cemetery. However when I came home after the funeral I remember stargazers being all over my house. For weeks I would come home and immediately be overwhelmed by the blast of the smell of stargazers as I walked through the front door. I’m certain that it is the very intense experience of having them at Becca’s funeral that created a new smell memory for me.
Now when I walk through a store, someone’s house, by a flower shop, anywhere that stargazers might be I am overcome with a wide range of emotions. I immediately want to cry. In an instant I am back at that moment, standing over my sweethearts coffin preparing to close the casket. To me it smells of death and of love. When I smell it you may think I want get away from it. However that is far from true. I’m drawn straight to it and usually stand there smelling the flowers for long moments. I’m sure to passersby I must look like a very strange person standing there in the middle of Costco (or wherever I happen to be) holding the flowers practically up my nose, eyes closed, taking large deep breaths. When I smell that flower I can just taste the memory.
I’ve met many widows who have talked about how they still keep their husband’s deodorant, cologne, soaps, toothpaste, old worn shirts, etc. For me though, the second most powerful smell that reminds me of Becca is that of her purse—how strange is that!! When I smell it though, I smell her makeup, her hair, her lotions, her spending money (I actually do miss that sometimes). There is just a wide array of different smells in her purse that remind me of her…I love it!!!
I do keep her body lotion, Allure by Chanel, in my truck. Whenever I am driving and want to have a memory of her I pull it out and take a deep breath. It offers a moment of satisfaction however nothing seems to be as strong as those stargazers.
For me, this time of year has many smell memories—some good and others not good. The one in particular that seems to stand out the most is the smell of stargazers. They have a very distinct, powerful smell and this happens to be the time of year that they blossom. Rebecca carried stargazers when we got married. So every year while she was alive I could walk through a store and as soon as I smelled those stargazers I would have a pleasant moment of remembering our awesome wedding day.
When Rebecca passed away I had to choose which flower arrangements to have on her casket. Before even opening the book to look at all the flower arrangements I immediately asked the funeral director if he had an arrangement of stargazers. He did. So without ever looking at anything else I knew that was what I wanted over Rebecca’s casket.
As I said before, stargazers have a very distinct and strong smell. I remember standing over Rebecca’s casket looking down at her. I wanted to touch her face. I wanted to smell her hair. I wanted to kiss her lips. Of course I didn’t do any of that because that wasn’t Rebecca. All I could see was the shell of the person that used to be my wife. All I could smell were those stargazers.
I’m not sure what happened to the flowers that draped Becca’s coffin. I believe they were left at the cemetery. However when I came home after the funeral I remember stargazers being all over my house. For weeks I would come home and immediately be overwhelmed by the blast of the smell of stargazers as I walked through the front door. I’m certain that it is the very intense experience of having them at Becca’s funeral that created a new smell memory for me.
Now when I walk through a store, someone’s house, by a flower shop, anywhere that stargazers might be I am overcome with a wide range of emotions. I immediately want to cry. In an instant I am back at that moment, standing over my sweethearts coffin preparing to close the casket. To me it smells of death and of love. When I smell it you may think I want get away from it. However that is far from true. I’m drawn straight to it and usually stand there smelling the flowers for long moments. I’m sure to passersby I must look like a very strange person standing there in the middle of Costco (or wherever I happen to be) holding the flowers practically up my nose, eyes closed, taking large deep breaths. When I smell that flower I can just taste the memory.
I’ve met many widows who have talked about how they still keep their husband’s deodorant, cologne, soaps, toothpaste, old worn shirts, etc. For me though, the second most powerful smell that reminds me of Becca is that of her purse—how strange is that!! When I smell it though, I smell her makeup, her hair, her lotions, her spending money (I actually do miss that sometimes). There is just a wide array of different smells in her purse that remind me of her…I love it!!!
I do keep her body lotion, Allure by Chanel, in my truck. Whenever I am driving and want to have a memory of her I pull it out and take a deep breath. It offers a moment of satisfaction however nothing seems to be as strong as those stargazers.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Validation
I think it is validation that I am constantly seeking. Yesterday afternoon I went to a podiatrist for the first time. I’ve been having problems with my feet, ankles and calves hurting really badly. I told him that the pain started a few months after my wife passed away. I explained how I was just so beside myself with grief that I would literally stay up until 3, 4, sometimes till 5 AM pretty regularly. I would put the kids to bed and then sit in my living room in prefect silence for hours just weeping. Finally after a few weeks of that I decided that I needed to start exhausting myself so by the end of the day I would utterly collapse from extreme exhaustion. That’s when I started running. I HATE running!!! It was all I could do though. I felt like Forrest Gump, “Run Forrest, run!!!” There was one night in particular I remember. My dog was just a puppy at the time (we got her about a week after Rebecca died). We had already ran that afternoon but it was midnight and I just knew my body wasn’t tired enough to sleep. It was pouring rain outside, I mean really coming down hard. It didn’t matter though, I knew the alternate was sitting up crying for the next several hours. So, I laced up my shoes and grabbed the dog’s leash. I remember opening that front door and my dog just looked up at me with her tail tucked between her legs and sad puppy dog eyes. I could tell she was just thinking, “You’re not really going to make me do that are you?” I just said, “Sorry honey, I gotta’ do it. I don’t have a choice.” So, we ran in the rain. We were both entirely soaked after only one lap around the block. She was a good sport though and stayed right with me. When I finally finished I brought her inside. I felt so bad for her that I dried her with towels and tried to blow dry her. I’m not sure if she hated the rain or the blow drying more. Either way though I’m certain she must have thought, “Oh great, I got a whack-job for an owner.”
Anyhow, about the podiatrist, I explained how shortly after I began running my legs started to hurt. My calves felt like they were going to explode, the movement on my ankles was very limited and my feet were just killing me. It didn’t matter though, I kept running. It was the only thing I could think to do at the time. I thought I could ‘push’ through the pain but after about two months my legs got so bad I could hardly walk. Needless to say, I had to stop running—my body just couldn’t handle it anymore. As I explained my situation to the doctor, someone I’d never met before, he turned to me and asked, “Were you training for a half marathon or a full?” I said, “A half.” He explained, “I know exactly where you are at. My first wife and I built this office together. She worked the front desk and did the billing while I started out as a young doctor.” He went on to tell me that she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer a few years after they started the practice and at the age of 35 she died. He said, “My whole world was turned upside down. I felt like when she died, I died (truer words couldn’t have been said). I got a dog a few weeks after my wife died and decided to start training for a half marathon. By the time the race came I was ready and completed a full marathon instead. I know exactly where you are.”
I just wept as I listened. He told me it took him 10 years before he felt ‘normal’ again. The funny thing is that he was such a nice, such a happy-go-lucky guy that I would have never guessed he had experienced any of this. He was just a very open, very gregarious person. While he was kind and talkative, he was real. That’s what I appreciated. He didn’t mince words or try to tell me that when he got remarried (10 years after his wife passed) things were all better. He told me that even now he feels that she plays a big role in his life. Everyday coming to his office he is reminded of her. He told me that while it has now been over 15 years since her passing he still keeps certain office files that she maintained. He said, “I’m still not ready to let everything go. So, I just have the office girls work around those files.” He told me, “I can still hear her nagging me when I am building molds for people’s feet ‘You’re using too much plaster. You’re going to have to clean that mess up later.’”
I just loved that experience!! I think what is at the core of what I loved most about the experience was the validation that I felt. I believe it was CS Lewis that called grief one of the most private emotions that people can feel. I believe this is why I seem to naturally gravitate to my widowed friends for support—they ‘get’ it. Without words being spoken there just seems to be a consensus of “yes, I understand.” This is why when I have an experience like I did yesterday it is almost like finding a precious treasure or discovering some undiscovered territory for the first time. For a brief moment I can connect with someone else’s grief and together, just by talking about our experiences, we can have this perfect moment of complete validation. Something that says, "You are not alone."
Anyhow, about the podiatrist, I explained how shortly after I began running my legs started to hurt. My calves felt like they were going to explode, the movement on my ankles was very limited and my feet were just killing me. It didn’t matter though, I kept running. It was the only thing I could think to do at the time. I thought I could ‘push’ through the pain but after about two months my legs got so bad I could hardly walk. Needless to say, I had to stop running—my body just couldn’t handle it anymore. As I explained my situation to the doctor, someone I’d never met before, he turned to me and asked, “Were you training for a half marathon or a full?” I said, “A half.” He explained, “I know exactly where you are at. My first wife and I built this office together. She worked the front desk and did the billing while I started out as a young doctor.” He went on to tell me that she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer a few years after they started the practice and at the age of 35 she died. He said, “My whole world was turned upside down. I felt like when she died, I died (truer words couldn’t have been said). I got a dog a few weeks after my wife died and decided to start training for a half marathon. By the time the race came I was ready and completed a full marathon instead. I know exactly where you are.”
I just wept as I listened. He told me it took him 10 years before he felt ‘normal’ again. The funny thing is that he was such a nice, such a happy-go-lucky guy that I would have never guessed he had experienced any of this. He was just a very open, very gregarious person. While he was kind and talkative, he was real. That’s what I appreciated. He didn’t mince words or try to tell me that when he got remarried (10 years after his wife passed) things were all better. He told me that even now he feels that she plays a big role in his life. Everyday coming to his office he is reminded of her. He told me that while it has now been over 15 years since her passing he still keeps certain office files that she maintained. He said, “I’m still not ready to let everything go. So, I just have the office girls work around those files.” He told me, “I can still hear her nagging me when I am building molds for people’s feet ‘You’re using too much plaster. You’re going to have to clean that mess up later.’”
I just loved that experience!! I think what is at the core of what I loved most about the experience was the validation that I felt. I believe it was CS Lewis that called grief one of the most private emotions that people can feel. I believe this is why I seem to naturally gravitate to my widowed friends for support—they ‘get’ it. Without words being spoken there just seems to be a consensus of “yes, I understand.” This is why when I have an experience like I did yesterday it is almost like finding a precious treasure or discovering some undiscovered territory for the first time. For a brief moment I can connect with someone else’s grief and together, just by talking about our experiences, we can have this perfect moment of complete validation. Something that says, "You are not alone."
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Who We'd Be Today
I haven’t shared with many people the fact that Rebecca was pregnant when she died. She was very early in the pregnancy (less than 6 weeks). In fact she hadn’t even gone to the OBGYN yet. After Rebecca passed away I didn’t really give it much thought. I was simply so overcome with grief and the loss of Rebecca that losing a barely developed embryo didn’t seem to bother me. However it was after the year mark that I heard this song by Kenny Chesney that the loss of that child really hit me. I started to think about how Becca was just a month into the school psychology program at Fresno Pacific when she passed. Had she lived we would have had another baby. She would be close to finishing her program. The whole thing made me wonder who we’d be today and how differently our lives would be.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Thoughts on Remarriage
Many people have asked me if I plan on remarrying. I suppose on an abstract/theoretical sense remarriage is a possibility. I have been on a few dates since Rebecca died and even had a pretty good time. However I find on the practical level the idea or remarriage scares me. It scares me for several reasons really. First and foremost I think about my children. I have to be practical and remember that while for Elijah there will be some memories of his mother, for my girls the memories will be very limited. So, this means that should I decide to marry again, the woman that I marry will have to be a mother to my children. This is not a divorce situation where a father figure (or mother in this case) can kind-a/sort-a be floating around in the background with occasional support payments. This woman will have to be the mother that my children will know and look to for love and guidance. She will have to be the one to teach my girls about their female….body/system. She will be the one to help my girls through preparing for marriage. She will have to be willing to care for my grandbabies as her own. She will essentially take on every aspect as a mother figure to three young children in an instant. This is no small task and will require a tremendous amount of work, patience and love.
Additionally, I have to be married to this woman. There is a reason that second marriages (both for widowed and divorced people) have a 70% failure rate. It is tough!! When I married Rebecca I wasn’t very experienced in relationships. Sure, I dated many girls but I think the longest relationship I ever had was about 3-4 months. I’d like to think that I was just better at sifting through the girls that weren’t very…interesting but who really knows. The truth of the matter is that I had no idea how rude, backstabbing, gossipy and just flat out mean girls can be (I’m not saying all girls are like this). Rebecca had told me about some of her friends and how purposely mean they were to their husbands. I usually just shrugged it off for the most part and would say something like, “That’s why I didn’t marry any of your friends.” Now though, as I’ve started to deal with woman on a different plane, I’m starting to be confronted with some of these characteristics. Anyone who knows me would know that I don’t do very well when people are mean. I don’t take kindly when people are purposely hurtful or vindictive. Since Rebecca’s death, I’ve had the unfortunate experience of being verbally abused, gossiped about, lies told about me, and a few girls just nagging me. These things do not sit well with me. Unfortunately it’s made me more of a pessimist regarding remarriage.
I often think back to when Rebecca and I started dating and got married. I had no idea what the hell I was doing!!! We were just a couple of kids (21 years old) going to college in Hawaii. What a perfect place to fall in love!! We had no pressures from friends or families. Every night I would walk her to her house on Laie Point and we would spend hours visiting. Every day we were snorkeling in Hanauma Bay or Turtle Bay, hiking Laie Falls, going to the Dole plantation, surfing, cycling, skateboarding, walking out to Goat’s Island, eating at the Seasider or just enjoying the beauty of Hawaii. Every day was a perfect day in paradise. It was THE PERFECT PLACE to fall in love!! When I proposed to Rebecca I knew with absolute clarity that she was the girl I wanted. I know I am painting a reasonably good picture of what a fantastic courtship we had but words really don’t do it justice. It was perfect!!
With that image in mind, oh how different things are now. Now I’m faced with innumerable concerns. The naivety of my first marriage is behind me and I am faced with uncertainty. I know before I met Rebecca the prospect of marriage concerned me. I mean I came from a broken family myself. My parents were divorced when I was 7 and I was raised by a single father. I wasn’t all that secure or knowledgeable in what marriage should be like. However when I met Rebecca and as we grew closer all those concerns, doubts and worries seemed to melt away as if they never existed. That is the hope that I cling to now. That someday I will be able to meet someone who can put my mind at ease so that all of these concerns melt away, just like they did the first time.
Additionally, I have to be married to this woman. There is a reason that second marriages (both for widowed and divorced people) have a 70% failure rate. It is tough!! When I married Rebecca I wasn’t very experienced in relationships. Sure, I dated many girls but I think the longest relationship I ever had was about 3-4 months. I’d like to think that I was just better at sifting through the girls that weren’t very…interesting but who really knows. The truth of the matter is that I had no idea how rude, backstabbing, gossipy and just flat out mean girls can be (I’m not saying all girls are like this). Rebecca had told me about some of her friends and how purposely mean they were to their husbands. I usually just shrugged it off for the most part and would say something like, “That’s why I didn’t marry any of your friends.” Now though, as I’ve started to deal with woman on a different plane, I’m starting to be confronted with some of these characteristics. Anyone who knows me would know that I don’t do very well when people are mean. I don’t take kindly when people are purposely hurtful or vindictive. Since Rebecca’s death, I’ve had the unfortunate experience of being verbally abused, gossiped about, lies told about me, and a few girls just nagging me. These things do not sit well with me. Unfortunately it’s made me more of a pessimist regarding remarriage.
I often think back to when Rebecca and I started dating and got married. I had no idea what the hell I was doing!!! We were just a couple of kids (21 years old) going to college in Hawaii. What a perfect place to fall in love!! We had no pressures from friends or families. Every night I would walk her to her house on Laie Point and we would spend hours visiting. Every day we were snorkeling in Hanauma Bay or Turtle Bay, hiking Laie Falls, going to the Dole plantation, surfing, cycling, skateboarding, walking out to Goat’s Island, eating at the Seasider or just enjoying the beauty of Hawaii. Every day was a perfect day in paradise. It was THE PERFECT PLACE to fall in love!! When I proposed to Rebecca I knew with absolute clarity that she was the girl I wanted. I know I am painting a reasonably good picture of what a fantastic courtship we had but words really don’t do it justice. It was perfect!!
With that image in mind, oh how different things are now. Now I’m faced with innumerable concerns. The naivety of my first marriage is behind me and I am faced with uncertainty. I know before I met Rebecca the prospect of marriage concerned me. I mean I came from a broken family myself. My parents were divorced when I was 7 and I was raised by a single father. I wasn’t all that secure or knowledgeable in what marriage should be like. However when I met Rebecca and as we grew closer all those concerns, doubts and worries seemed to melt away as if they never existed. That is the hope that I cling to now. That someday I will be able to meet someone who can put my mind at ease so that all of these concerns melt away, just like they did the first time.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
More reminders
The other day I came home and thought, "Why is this house such a mess? Why hasn't Rebecca bothered to clean it?" I can't believe that it has been almost 2 years and the thought of wondering where Rebecca is at (not realizing that she is dead) still come into my mind.
Today I was doing some home maintenance and I needed to borrow a tool from my neighbor. We ended up engaging in a long conversation and they were recalling that this month will be the 2 year anniversary of Rebecca’s passing. I think they were just trying to comfort me by telling me that they think I do a great job with my kids. “They always looks so well put together, hair combed, cloths aren’t wrinkled, etc.” Inside I just laughed. While I think for the most part I do alright on presenting ourselves well, inside most days my heart just aches and selfishly I wish that I had passed and Rebecca lived because she would be doing much better than me.
Anyhow, as my conversation evolved with my neighbors they were telling me about a widower who was so inept after his wife died that he couldn’t even run the washing machine. All his food comes from restaurants and he does zero cooking—don’t I wish I could afford that! They were laughing as they told me how on one occasion he forgot to close the rear door on his SUV and drove out of the garage breaking the door off his SUV Mercedes. Then on another occasion he totally forgot to open the garage door and backed right into it. While for my non-widowed friends these are probably very amusing stories, I couldn’t help but recall my own stories. I remember returning back to work shortly after Rebecca passed. On a few occasions I would be driving toward one city and end up somewhere totally wrong. I would drive for 15 minutes and think I had been on the road for 3 or 4 hours. I would have to make note of the time I left one UPS facility. It wasn’t uncommon for me to completely miss an exit and not even notice it for 30 minutes.
Then of course how could I forget the biggest wreck of them all. The time I flipped a UPS semi-trailer right into a power pole in downtown LA. I don’t remember what I told my supervisor but I do remember the fact was that I was just so angry cause I had driven by the correct street about 5x. I was so mad at myself cause no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t remember what I was doing. I could remember for brief moments but then my thoughts would just wonder and I would quickly forget where I was at and what I was doing. I got mad (at myself) because I just drove by the correct street…again. So I decided to make a quick u-turn before I got lost again. Well, you don’t make ‘quick u-turns’ with a 70,000lb truck. I flipped that trailer and it went right into a power pole (it had 15 lines running across it, I made sure to count after everything was settled). It was the next day that I told me supervisor that I just couldn’t do the job anymore. I’m just so thankful that nobody got killed or hurt but I just knew I couldn’t do that job any longer.
Widow-brain. It’s something that my non-widowed friends don’t understand. I’ve heard that divorced people can feel it to a degree but where I was mentally was just off the charts. I’m so grateful for people who would put notes on my front door reminding me of things I had to do that day because I was just so completely lost and confused.
Today I was doing some home maintenance and I needed to borrow a tool from my neighbor. We ended up engaging in a long conversation and they were recalling that this month will be the 2 year anniversary of Rebecca’s passing. I think they were just trying to comfort me by telling me that they think I do a great job with my kids. “They always looks so well put together, hair combed, cloths aren’t wrinkled, etc.” Inside I just laughed. While I think for the most part I do alright on presenting ourselves well, inside most days my heart just aches and selfishly I wish that I had passed and Rebecca lived because she would be doing much better than me.
Anyhow, as my conversation evolved with my neighbors they were telling me about a widower who was so inept after his wife died that he couldn’t even run the washing machine. All his food comes from restaurants and he does zero cooking—don’t I wish I could afford that! They were laughing as they told me how on one occasion he forgot to close the rear door on his SUV and drove out of the garage breaking the door off his SUV Mercedes. Then on another occasion he totally forgot to open the garage door and backed right into it. While for my non-widowed friends these are probably very amusing stories, I couldn’t help but recall my own stories. I remember returning back to work shortly after Rebecca passed. On a few occasions I would be driving toward one city and end up somewhere totally wrong. I would drive for 15 minutes and think I had been on the road for 3 or 4 hours. I would have to make note of the time I left one UPS facility. It wasn’t uncommon for me to completely miss an exit and not even notice it for 30 minutes.
Then of course how could I forget the biggest wreck of them all. The time I flipped a UPS semi-trailer right into a power pole in downtown LA. I don’t remember what I told my supervisor but I do remember the fact was that I was just so angry cause I had driven by the correct street about 5x. I was so mad at myself cause no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t remember what I was doing. I could remember for brief moments but then my thoughts would just wonder and I would quickly forget where I was at and what I was doing. I got mad (at myself) because I just drove by the correct street…again. So I decided to make a quick u-turn before I got lost again. Well, you don’t make ‘quick u-turns’ with a 70,000lb truck. I flipped that trailer and it went right into a power pole (it had 15 lines running across it, I made sure to count after everything was settled). It was the next day that I told me supervisor that I just couldn’t do the job anymore. I’m just so thankful that nobody got killed or hurt but I just knew I couldn’t do that job any longer.
Widow-brain. It’s something that my non-widowed friends don’t understand. I’ve heard that divorced people can feel it to a degree but where I was mentally was just off the charts. I’m so grateful for people who would put notes on my front door reminding me of things I had to do that day because I was just so completely lost and confused.
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