Marker in place

On Thursday, October 18, Ed's grave marker from the Veterans Administration was installed. The cemetery called me Friday at noon to tell me, and I immediately went to the cemetery to see it. I had been dreading this day but upon seeing it, instead of feeling dread and becoming hysterical as I thought might happen, I felt a sense of peace and calmness. I shed only a few tears at the sight. It was just as I had ordered it, simple and dignified, showing his name, rank and branch of service, birth and death dates, and a cross. It's a dark brown bronze with a simple raised design around the edges lightly brushed with a dark gold coloring, the same coloring that is used for the raised lettering. The marker sits on a light gray granite slab that is more than double the width of the marker, which sits on the left side of the granite. In the center of the granite is a dark bronze flower holder, which also has a cross on it. It just so happened that there were two red roses blooming on our garden rose bush that has hardly produced anything all summer following the harsh spring we had, and I clipped them before I left and put them in the flower holder. The right side of the granite has nothing on it, at my request. Normally, people buy both plaques at the same time when they buy two cemetery lots and have all the information put on the survivor's plaque as well, leaving only the date of death to be added; I chose not to do that. At the time I was ordering the marker, I recognized that it could be many years until my death (after all my father lived to be 80, my mother is 82, and I have aunts who lived into their 90s), and who knows what or where I'll be then. So I told the kids that if something happens to me within the next few years, my burial place is set; but if, God forbid, something happens to one of them and their family wants it, the space can be available to them.

I first left for the cemetery immediately after getting the phone call, literally grabbed my purse and jumped into the car and took off. I got about a half mile from the house when I remembered that there would be a flower holder to fill, so I turned around and came back--not as quickly as getting that far because I had to wait for a train to pass. That gave me time to get my head straight. I thought about asking someone to go with me, about taking a small flag and how to secure it in the holder. But when I pulled back into the driveway, those two red roses caught my eye. Then as I scurried around getting the roses cut and into stem holders and gathered some options for keeping them secured in the bronze holder since it has been so windy, I decided that this was something I wanted to do alone. Wednesday evening at the support group (another set of weekly sessions is in progress, this time right up until Christmas), the guy who bought my car told the group that his wife's headstone had been installed that day and he was ecstatic when he saw it. I didn't understand how he could feel ecstatic, but I thought maybe by going alone to the cemetery, I could just let myself feel whatever feeling came over me. As I said, I felt peaceful. Then, typical of me I suppose, I started to clean off the plaque because it had some dust spots on it. As windy as it was, it may be that the rose petals were blown off before the day was over, but I'm glad the first roses in the holder were from our garden.

I've been having a rough week emotion-wise, actually since Thursday of last week. My support group reminded me that the ups and downs of grieving can go on for a long time and it's only been 4 months, that this is one of those down times. One other thing that happened during the group session was more of a revelation to me. A new participant sitting next to me talked about how she was trying to find her identity after being caretaker and best friend to her 29-year-old daughter, who died after a long illness. That word "identity" jolted me. That is the subject of the SAT essays I'm working on. I started back to grading essays Thursday of last week. Frequently I've been bursting into tears in the middle of reading an essay but haven't found any particular idea I'm reading to be a trigger. After her comment it hit me--I can't believe I didn't realize this sooner--that, like anyone else who lost a spouse or someone close to them, I am re-defining my identity as I have to take care of things that Ed used to do and as I think about what my future holds. The future is not something I face easily. As the group re-convened after a break, another member wanted to continue to talk about re-defining yourself. After a few comments, I told the group about my revelation, that these identity essays must be getting to my subconscious mind, reminding me that I have a lot to figure out for myself. The two facilitators were nodding their heads so vigorously that they looked like bobble-head dolls. That must have been some kind of breakthrough for me because on Thursday of this week when I sat down to work on essays, I didn't cry but for one moment, and I didn't cry at all on Friday as I worked on them.

You might notice what time it is that I am writing this. I've been up since 3:30 a.m. with thoughts of Ed jumbling up in my mind. Usually I just talk out loud to him to get myself "unjumbled." This time I thought if I wrote this blog, maybe I could get back to sleep more easily. By the way, in my last blog I couldn't remember what Melissa's old car was. It just came to me, a 1999 Grand Prix. What turns the mind takes!

Back from trip, back to work, and baby update

Driving to Iowa on Sept. 26 and back on Oct. 9 turned out to be no problem for me. Once again I surprised myself with how easily I handled it with few breaks and no naps along the way. My days at Melissa and Mark's were filled with doing things around their house so that they could concentrate on the baby. I had my turns with Will, of course. A few people have asked me how it feels to be a grandmother, and I have honestly answered that it hasn't really sunk in yet. Perhaps because Will is such a good baby and his parents are doing so well with him, I find myself thinking--and worrying--about Melissa's recovery more than about the baby. Her blood sugars have been all over the place, and she has experienced some really high blood sugars that plummet so low so quickly that she breaks out into a sweat and feels ill. That scares her and me.

Because of that and because I kept finding more things I could do around the house, I never did drive over to Des Moines to see friends. I didn't make it to tailgating with friends in Iowa City either before the football game on Sept. 29. That was because I was up until 2 a.m. after Will's birth, so getting up early and driving with the football crowd to Iowa City and finding parking and walking to the tailgate spot just didn't happen. I did, however, take a drive Sunday afternoon by myself to see North Liberty and to find the Pearson building in Coralville, which is where I call into when I have a work question. Melissa has been suggesting that the fast-growing North Liberty would be a good place for me to move to--not so close to her that I'd just drop in but close enough to be there quickly if need be. I also drove around the west side of Cedar Rapids after church on Sunday to see how it's grown since I lived there back in 1976-77. Both places have spread out and are continuing to grow, but neither gave me the feeling that I "belong" there. I have thought that if a full-time job at Pearson were available to me, I'd have a reason to move back to Iowa and locate in the Iowa City-Cedar Rapids area. Everyone who talks to me about moving assumes I will move back to Iowa to be closer to Melissa. She wants me to move somewhere closer, but at this point I don't have the energy to start all over someplace where I don't know anyone, and it really bothers me to depend on Melissa when she has so much to cope with herself. On the drive back, I listened to all the Chicagoland radio stations and thought about how much I liked working at Elgin Community College, singing with the Elgin Choral Union, and taking advantage of all Chicago offers (despite the high cost of living). In short, I'm not ready to make a decision about moving, mainly because even just thinking about it makes me feel like I'm abandoning Ed and our last home. Wow, that's some pretty heavy thinking I just shared!

Planning my travel around Pearson's work requirements worked out fine. I did the new software download and computer check before I left; did my training on Oct. 10, the last available day for it; and started grading SAT essays yesterday. I'll be working every day for 12 or 13 days. I considered going back to Iowa after that and before the next scoring session begins, especially if Melissa could use some help. But for right now I have no concrete plans about when I will next make the trip (except I do know I will fly, not drive).

Will had his first doctor checkup yesterday; he is doing well. He now weighs 9 pounds 14 ounces, is 22 inches long. Before I left, he developed more than the usual "eye gunk" around his left eye that also started to appear around his right eye. The doctor suspects a very minor eye infection, not unusual in newborns, which is being treated with some sort of oil that Melissa puts on his lids and eyelashes 3 times a day, which then works its way to the eye as he opens and closes. Last night she reported his eyes already were looking better. They have the go-ahead to introduce a bottle (she started pumping several days ago). Will seems to want to feed off and on for hours, alternating with a little sleep (called cluster feeding), and letting you know with his wailing that he's ready to eat again (hence, I call him our own William, Prince of Wails). Unfortunately, his favorite time to do that is around 10 p.m. to 2 a.m., not good for Mark getting enough sleep to function well at work. So they will try to get him to move that cluster feeding to earlier in the evening and, at the doctor's suggestion, also use some formula at night so he feels fuller for a longer time.

The other news is that yesterday Melissa and Mark bought a 2008 Toyota RAV 4. A friend who works at the dealership got them a good deal. It's silver with gray interior. What a difference in roominess and ride compared with Melissa's 1999--I just blanked on what car she had, and Ed and I even bought it for her in Elgin, IL.

Ending this blog with a fact I can't bring to mind does not bode well for focusing on essays today. Let's hope some coffee and breakfast gets my mind working better.