My husband died more than six months ago already. Many firsts have come and gone…my first birthday without him, his birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas, starting a new year knowing that many more firsts and new responsibilities were yet to come. Now the yard and car and house maintenance that he used to do are my responsibilities. With an acre yard and a 17-year-old car with 220,000 miles on it (and that’s the newest of the 4 old Volvos I was left with, with the other 3 all not working at once until recently), I’m at least thankful that the house is only 7 years old and fairly maintenance free (though the morning I came home from leaving his body at the hospital, the heat was out so the first thing I had to do in my new life alone was to arrange a repair).
John’s mother continued to live with me for six months, using a webcam to monitor her when I was at work or church or shopping. She was at the best possible stage of her decline during those months, able to get herself between her bed and her chair with the help of her walker, just enough memory-challenged to be content with eating, sleeping, watching TV, and occasionally having a lucid day when she was able to enjoy reading. Even her incontinence helped the manageability of the circumstances since she didn’t even try to tackle getting into and out of the bathroom when I was gone and she wasn’t aware of the fact that her daughter-in-law was the one changing her diapers. She had always been pretty much a loner and didn’t try to leave even her room, much less the house, by the time I had to leave her at home alone. The webcam and monitored home burglar and fire alarm system made it workable for as long as possible. Then she got sick, had to go to the hospital, and then to a nursing home. I hate that for her and at my last visit, though she doesn’t know who I am, she did complain about so many people being there and I can tell it’s hard for her to get used to. I think every older person dreads the possibility of having to go to a nursing home, as I know she did. Both she and my mother talked in ways that indicated that they believed they were already in a nursing home when they were actually living with their children, I suppose because they knew at some level of consciousness that they weren’t in their own homes anymore and the assumption that going to a nursing home was likely so ingrained that that’s what made the most sense to them. And since they didn’t know that the people there with them were their own children anymore, they assumed we were nursing home caregivers.
She seems to be shutting down more and more, giving up, and I wonder how much longer, at 92-1/2, she’ll last. Her strong constitution that pulled through the infection and disruption to being on her medications has made me thankful that she didn’t die while I was trying to care for her the best I could, but her existence is now so much more boring and stressful emotionally that I wonder if her oft-stated wish to die (like every time I brushed her hair and hit a snarl) may overtake her physical strength. I do hope she isn’t miserable too much or for too much longer. Perhaps she’ll be encouraged by seeing more of her other children and grandchildren and will adjust better over time.
Now that Mom Greenwood is gone from my home, I’m facing the expressed likelihood that my in-laws may want to relieve me of the use of some of Mom’s furniture that we incorporated into our combined household. We gave away our kitchen table and chairs when we moved from Maryland to move in with her over 15 years ago, but now a sibling-in-law may need Mom’s set that we’ve used since she moved in with us, and my place as an in-law is being felt. I say this not complaining, just facing another aspect of my new reality. Furniture that we couldn’t find interest in among the siblings when we moved from the big house to this house may now be taken, so the pieces my children took from needing to put it all somewhere rather than sell it may even be wanted back. I hope this question is settled soon and for good.
Another aspect of being the in-law left behind after years of taking care of my mother-in-law is facing alone the scrutiny, criticism, and judgment by my husband’s siblings of how her funds were handled during the years of our combined household. All I will say on this subject is that it’s not pleasant to go through having to account for decisions I didn’t make and circumstances I wasn’t in control of, after the fact and without all the facts, and being put in a defensive position now makes me feel more like an out-law than an in-law. I’m just very thankful that I had six months of mourning my husband before having to face this new round of challenges. Ultimately, I’m thankful that the period of caring for my mother-in-law is over, and that her other children can be more actively involved in her life than they were for the past six years.
As I continue through my first year as a widow, I’m aware of many semi-conscious thoughts and issues yet to face. Sorting through what I think and what I feel is usually a proactive compulsion for me, but I know that so far I’ve on some level chosen to delay too much of that until the time feels right. I’ve done some journaling and much talking to God through my tears. I don’t think I’ve stuffed down emotions that are always ready to overflow whenever I feel free to express them (and I’ve found that showers are as much emotionally cleansing as physically so), but I haven’t been ready yet to deal with everything head-on. The realities of life, both good and bad, easy and hard, either with another person or without him, continue after someone dies. John wasn’t perfect when he was alive, and though we all know that about ourselves, and he not only knew it but had grown to be open about it more than most people are, that fact leaves behind realities for others to deal with and sort through and come to terms with. As much as I loved John for 37 years and 7 months, and as happy for him as I am that he’s been granted the great gift of leaving this world behind and going home to be with his Father and his brother Jesus, I am left behind with the unfinished business of his life and of our life together. Things I assumed we’d continue to work on and grow in together now linger “out there” for me to make sense of or to find a way to “hate what is evil, cling to what is good.”
Tomorrow an old friend and his wife are returning to my church to repeat the marriage workshop they have done there and at another congregation I was at a few years ago. This year I will go only to the Sunday morning worship session and the afternoon session about dealing with death and divorce. Then I have a time set to get with them personally to seek their help with my journey through this unfamiliar territory of mourning the loss of my husband and learning how to live without him. I feel ready to be more proactive in facing the future and in coming to terms with my new reality.
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Precious Promises 