Stuffing…

Well I made it. My first holiday without David. Suffice to say, it was one hell of a roller coaster ride. The morning was the usual routine. Honestly, it did not even really feel like Thanksgiving. I was not cooking a meal here, so the house didn’t have that Thanksgiving smell or the usual hustle and bustle it always had. David was always the turkey guy and he would be flying around the kitchen, getting this and that ready. The kitchen would be a myriad of smells and sounds. This morning, the kitchen was sadly silent…

But it did not stay that way for long. I was having Thanksgiving over at the In-laws and was in charge of making my stuffing. David loved that stuffing. I used to have to make a double batch, so he could enjoy it for an entire week. And he would eat it every damn day, never tiring of it. At first I thought it would be hard to make it again, because it became so quintessentially David during the holidays. He would come up with any excuse to make it, from now through December....and as many times as possible. And as I began, the smell reminded me so much of him. But it felt kind of good to be chopping away at something. Continuing traditions. Moving forward. And as I cooked, I actually smiled. Because as I looked around, I had dirtied a billion dishes to make that one pan of stuffing. And I remembered how it used to make David absolutely insane that I could dirty so many dishes for one meal…let alone one mere dish. And I laughed. And as I cut up the onion, I pulled out one of his latest contraptions to help dice up the onion quickly. David was always all about the efficiency and making everything as easy as possible. He was like that before cancer, and even more so after his diagnosis. His thought was that there is no use wasting time doing menial tasks when you could streamline or buy a tool that could make it faster and easier! And funnily enough, it did. It actually worked, and that got a smile out of me as well. And I thought to myself, maybe this day isn’t going to be as hellish as I originally thought it was going to be…

Yeah, not likely. I keep forgetting that grief is like a river that ebbs and flows continually. And you never know when you’re going to hit waves or worse yet slam into rocks. Today was no different. Not shortly after feeling like I may actually survive this day without the tidal wave of pain or tears. I was knocked down once again. Alec had a mini-meltdown in the morning after talking to Nana, who just recently returned home. Alec is having one hell of a time transitioning to her departure. He is unable to differentiate between going home, or away for a while and death. For him, it is all one and the same. So, he tends to refuse to talk to her since she left and also talks less about David as well. Not surprising I guess. Regressions should be expected and are part and parcel to this whole childhood grief thing. Two steps forward, one step back. But damn it sucks. To see the fear in his eyes. So terrified that someone else he loves is going to leave him. It breaks the heart. So, as I am talking with Nana he basically gets hysterical and tells me we have to stop talking to her because it is not “fun.” I asked him why it wasn’t fun, and he says, “because it makes him sad.” Can’t argue with that, I guess. And I am still continually amazed sometimes at how well he can express himself for an almost 4-year old boy. But we got through that moment and then went over to the In-laws to begin the next leg of this seemingly endless day.

That was tough. Tougher than I ever imagined. That house. God there are so many memories there…so many amazing moments. And my heart just aches. He lived with his parents when we met, so our courtship was there. And then the first couple months of our marriage as well, before we got our first apartment. And as I roamed around the house, the memories just hit me like a ton of bricks. And the crazy thing is, I am there twice a week to pick up Alec because they watch him while I am at work. And yet usually it is run in, grab the kid and then run home to get dinner, bath and night-night in. But today was different. I was there. For hours. And the memories surrounded me like a blanket. They were so wonderful and warm. And then as I became lulled by their warmth…they dug in and ripped my heart out. Everywhere I looked there were memories of us staying up late watching movies, having tea by the fireplace, long walks, long make out sessions, and you can imagine the rest. The start of our new life together, and then all the subsequent 16 years of holidays, celebrations, and all of the other little precious moments that make up our life. It was all there. And as I looked out the leaded glass window, I could picture with such clarity Dave flying down the driveway like he always used to. He was so excited and happy to come home to me. He would fly in and whip out of his car like a banshee and come running into the house to see me. His face would be alight with so much love and life. And he would give me the most tender and passionate kiss and then he would grab my hand and we would be off doing whatever crazy thing we had planned for the night. Those memories are so beautiful. And as I stood there staring out the window, the pain just washed over me. The desperate longing and sadness. I missed him so much I swear my heart was going to explode. And then behind me I heard this toy start making music. For no apparent reason. I was standing alone in that room and as my mind was drowning in one of those dark grieving moments…I believe it was David just saying, “Hey, babe. I’m here. You’re not alone my love…even though you can not see me.” I turned around and smiled. I could just feel him there. The toy did not make the noise again and I am not even sure how how it did it to begin with. But it does not matter. Because I believe my love was just reminding me that I was not alone, no matter how isolated and sad I may feel. But god how I miss him.