Crazy Sexy Cancer

Like a random picture in an attic box, at some point we are all just forgotten.

- Crazy Sexy Cancer

#Blessed

I have the most amazing in-laws who still love & celebrate with me after the death of our Steve. #Blessed pic.twitter.com/in2r15nwch
— Kiki Marcus (@KikiMarcus) April 28, 2014

Holy Sonnet XX: Death, Be Not Proud

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee

Mighty and dreadful, for thou are not so;

For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow

Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.

From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,

Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,

And soonest our best men with thee do go,

Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.

Thou'art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,

And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,

And poppy'or charms can make us sleep as well

And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?

One short sleep past, we wake eternally,

And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

 - John Donne

All Those Precious Rings

When Steve asked me to marry him, he proudly put a one point something carat diamond on my left hand, kneeling in Rockefeller Center on Christmas Eve. I was facing away from Steve looking at the tree and the ice skaters when he got on bended knee. After he called my name and gently tugged on the corner of my coat, I turned to face him. I thought he had slipped and fallen. I started to kneel on that cold pavement to help him to his feet when I realized he hadn't fallen to his knee... he was on bended knee.

The only part I can remember of what he said that night was "I've waited for you my entire life..." After that all I hear in my memory is the inner dialog of "ohmygawd. ohmygawd. ohmygawd."

We chose simple, plain, gold wedding bands. I'd heard horror stories of wedding bands slipping off in the ocean, never to be seen again. If that ever happened to us I wanted to only mourn the emotional loss of the ring, not the financial.

I wore those rings up until about six months ago.

When Steve died, I put his pinky ring, which he received as a gift for his confirmation and wore every day of his life, along with his wedding band on a chain with a cross, which he also received for his confirmation and wore every day of his life. It was a rather large clump of metal to bang between my breasts. Kinda made my chest feel like some sort of jingly bongo drum set. After a week I took the cross off the necklace, along with the pinky ring, leaving just his wedding band to bounce over my heart.

And that's where it stayed until about seven months ago, when I started dating. Even after I started dating I wore it more often than not. Even now I'll still swing it over my neck for no apparent reason except I like the comfort of the weight.

For Christmas in 2011, my second set of holidays without Steve but my first set of holidays without my father, I had best gift I could have received. I was invited to New York to spend Christmas with my in-laws. I spent a few days alone in the city (and if you need to ask which city, get a life. There's only one city in New York referred to as THE city) visiting some of our favorite spots before heading up to join the family. I tried to take a picture or two of places that meant something to us. I stayed at the same hotel we stayed at during our last visit. I visited the house he grew up in, his cousin kept me company via text the entire time, dropped in on Sister Flora who has been such a God send to the family.

And I did a bit of shopping.

I stopped in to Tiffany & Co., where Steve bought my first piece of jewelry not related to our marriage. It was a Christmas gift that I still wear on my right hand thumb to this day. Now Steve gave me many sparkly jewels over the years, and each means something different to me. But there was something special about receiving that little blue box with the white bow. So on the 23rd of December in 2011, I walked into Tiffany's completely out of my mind thinking I'd be able to see anything, let alone buy something. And yet, the first counter I walked up to, I found exactly what I didn't even know I was looking for. It's two rings, one in yellow gold, one in white gold, intertwined so they can't be separated but still swing freely of each other. I knew I needed it for that day in future when I was ready to take my wedding band and engagement ring off, but didn't want an empty finger. I wanted a ring that would hold some meaning while I transitioned from married to widowed. A ring that I could, even later, move to another finger and still like it. What better than a ring that looks like two entwined wedding bands?

I know the exact day I took off my wedding band. I was in Rome for what would have been our tenth wedding anniversary. At dinner on our anniversary, overlooking the Forum Boarium, Steve's ring in my hand, letting the necklace slip through my fingers like flowing water, it occurred to me to place my band on the chain along with his. The rings naturally fell in together forming a smaller circle inside a larger circle. And all the sudden, it made sense to me. I slipped the necklace over my head, took my new double band ring I had been wearing on my right hand in the meanwhile, and placed it on my newly naked left ring finger. When I walked out of that restaurant I felt a little emptier. I felt a little lighter. I felt a little giddy. I was ready for something new.

By March of this year, I had moved that double band back to my right hand and was wearing a big chunky thing on the middle finger of my left hand. I even went back to New York to experience the city not immersed in memories but to help show them off, give vision to the words I'd been speaking. I even managed a picture, which says more than all these words put together can say.

Cause you see, a little over a week ago, I got a surprise parade just for me. An entire bagpipe band marched down my street. Two of the most amazing, heart-stealing, little girls held signs expressing love. My piper got on bended knee in my front yard and asked me to marry him.

And as Doug placed the one carat blue sapphire ring on my left ring finger... I replied with a resounding yes.

Man of the Hour - Pearl Jam

My father died a year ago today. One year and two weeks after my husband died. Often, my grief for Dad gets entangled with my grief for Steve.

I wish it was less complicated.

It isn't.

Missing - Everything But The Girl

There are many versions of this song out there. I've always been partial to remixes, though.

I had dinner with my in-laws the other night. I saw them last at Christmas, when I also spent a few days in New York City revisiting old places and times. All of which are connected to Steve. This song was cycling through my head when I visited Steve's old neighborhood. Cousin Frank was at work that day but managed to text me the entire time I was in the old neighborhood. Amongst a dozen other reasons, I love him for that.

Seeing Steve's family a week after his death anniversary has me revisiting my last visit with them. I never feel like I'm able to say what it is I want to say to them. I never feel like I have enough time with them. I wish I could find the words to tell them how much my love has grown for them in the past two years. How much I want to give Steve back to them. How sorry I am that for ten years we didn't visit as often as we could have, as much as Steve wanted to visit.

I never knew how wonderful my in-laws were until we were no longer, technically speaking, in-laws. What a fool I've been.

Dad

My father died July 29th. Exactly two weeks after the one year anniversary of Steve's death. Exactly two weeks ago today.

Every night after Steve died, shortly after the nightly news ended, my father called to check in on me. I was used to talking with Steve five to ten times a day when he working out of town. So those calls from Dad following Steve's death were a life-line. They kept me tethered when I feared I'd just float away.

Not long after Steve died, and only half joking, I told Dad he had to wait a year to die. I explained I wasn't sure I could bounce back from the two men in my life dieing inside a year. I felt like an ass for saying those words to him but the reality was, I had reason to fear. He was on the losing side of COPD. And none of us had illusions about what that meant.

Dad promised he'd hang in for me.

I reminded him of our deal in December when he broke his hip. And I wasn't joking one damn bit as I sobbed and crawled into his hospital bed to lay alongside him. I had made it through the holidays at that point but had no idea the worst three months were still ahead of me.

Dad waited until a few days after the one year anniversary of Steve's death to tell me of his latest, and last symptoms. He didn't want to worry me when I was so scared about a date on the calendar. But I did get to spend some time with him near the end. I got to do it knowing it was near the end. I'm grateful for that time. For that full year of time.

I just wish I had thanked him for keeping his promise.