Kara and I always talked about everything; every plan, struggle, joy-filled part of our days were fuel for conversation. During the last few weeks of her life, we talked less about the near future. She would encourage me and tell me that I would do great. She even joked that I could do life without her but she could not live without me.
When I began to think about what to do this summer, I mentioned to her that the kids and I might take a long road trip…
When Kara and I were first married, I was very independent. I was 5 years older than she and had more time to create who I was; simply, I was selfish. Early on in our marriage I had a really hard time using the “we” and not the “I”. This led to a lot of arguments. It seemed to take years of conscious effort on my part to live life in the plural. But I did it. I became a “we” and an “us,” and that shaped how I made decisions, how I spoke, and what I did on the weekends. This became a natural and joyful part of my life, to continually include the feelings and opinions of another in all decisions.
Last weekend we had our first major “first” without Kara: Story turned 6. She wanted a few friends and a Rock Star Birthday Party. No games—just a 6-year old hangout party. So that is what we did. Harper and a friend made all the decorations. I asked a neighbor, “What snacks do rock stars eat?” Her reply, “Laxatives and celery.” We opted to stray from the theme a bit for better snacks. Mickey made the cake according to Story’s specifications—lemon cake with lemon frosting and eyeballs.
Kara has written about the long goodbye, and as much as it is heart-wrenching it is also peaceful. As I write I am watching Kara wrestle to sleep. Her sleep is mixed with moving pillows for comfort, sitting up to relieve pain, taking medication, or trying to communicate with me. But sometimes her sleep is the quietest and most peaceful event of her day. My long goodbye is full of watching and reliving memories of our life together.
There are things in life that are simple, things you can do without thought. Empty the dishwasher, done. Fill each car with gas, boom. Make a meal, pow. But when a person you love is fading, nothing is simple. People who have walked this path tell me that grief is all different but it seems to be all in the same direction.
