Thank You

My tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why
I got out of bed at all
The morning rain clouds up my window
and I can't see at all
And even if I could it'd all be gray,
but your picture on my wall
It reminds me that it's not so bad

I want to thank you
for giving me the best day of my life
Oh just to be with you
is having the best day of my life

-Dido

One Flew Over theCuckoo's Nest

Because he knows you have to laugh at the things that hurt you just to keep yourself in balance, just to keep the world from running you plumb crazy. He knows there's a painful side... but he won't let the pain blot out the humor no more'n he'll let the humor blot out the pain.

- Ken Kesey

Top Ten Lists from Steve

Steve used to make up Top Ten Lists a la David Letterman. I used to print them out and keep them on the fridge. Eventually they got replaced by tons of pictures of us gallivanting around and having a life.When we were dating, these things kept me in stitches.

January 15, 2001.

The top ten reasons why I'm really into KiKi...

10: Cute nickname is helping me forget horrible memories of former Knicks great Kiki Vandeweigh.

9: That "Natural Born Killers" coincidence.

8: Lives in Richmond but is not actually a southerner.

7: Totally got the "Bugs Bunny stoned on ether" reference.

6: Evidently looks pretty damn good to drunks.

5: "Oy Vey!" no good. "Keister"... no problem.

4: Day 10 and she's already "slightly worried" about my penis.

3: Not a blond

2: Digs Shakespeare, but her special request song is "Papa Was A Rolling Stone"

...and the number one reason I'm really into KiKi....

1: "Theme Night" 'nuff said.

April 28, 2004

The TOP 10 reason why I STILL love Kiki!!!!!

10: 3 years 3 months and 25 days and she is now mightily concerned about my penis.

9: Actually has great taste in clothes.

8: Actually tastes great out of clothes.

7: Thinks she's hiding the fact that she agrees Favre should play at least another 3 or 4 seasons.

6: Has totally bought the "You'll look great in a Mustang, honey..." thing.

5: In a scientific feat that has rocked theologians and creationist worldwide, she summarily proved the theory of evolution by causing her husband to evolve from a Neanderthal to a Hetero-erectus. (Hell I ain't no Homo!)

4: Banana Bread. 'nuff said.

3: Hi daddy! SHUT THE FUCK UP RODENT DOG. Coffee daddy?

2: 100.5 lbs of babygirl is a hell of a lot better than, well, ANYTHING.

And last but not least, the number one reason why I STILL love Kiki....

1: She's the sweetest most beautiful wife: A friend, a lover and a soul mate with whom I want to share my life, love and adventures with always....

Happy anniversary, honey. I tried to make my own Top Ten list this year, but I find I haven't the creative juices for it. All I know to do is make every decision based on what you would want - you took such good care of me. So I sent myself flowers. And I'm getting a mani/pedi later. And I'm going out for a nice dinner and drinks tonight. But I missed you so much. Which is good because that means I have so much to miss.

I love you.

In the Face of Fear:

... Buddhist Wisdom for Challenging Times. That's the name of the book I'm currently reading. I bought four others.They're a bit on the thinking side. Something my brain isn't very good at these days. Thinking. Processing. Remembering. I'm having a difficult time with all those. Thank God for friends, family and blogs.

This book is an anthology of contemporary Buddhist teachers and writers, a collection of essays building one on another guiding to a new ways of looking at the world and processing the world around us. Or, as it says in the introduction:

We have the freedom to choose how we react to the world, and if we choose wisely, we can find joy, love and happiness even in difficult times. We can transform our world by transforming how we experience it.

I'm looking for a little of that transformation right now. I don't want the death of my husband to be the thing that changed my life in such a way that it shuts me down, that I shut others out, that I give up on experiencing life. That would not be a what Steve would want for me.

My life go better the day I met Steve. The day we joined our lives together it became better yet. He made me want to be a better woman. For him. For those around me. For myself. He enriched me in ways I may never be able to fully comprehend, let alone discuss. The only way I know how to truly honor him is to keep moving forward. Become that better woman. Find my joy in life again.

Tomorrow would have been our eight year wedding anniversary. I'm taking one friend out to dinner and another friend out for drinks. Both places we'll be going are places Steve and I frequented on special occasions. Places that require a tie, my best heels, reservations and that damn AmEx card. The people I'm taking have seen me through some of the roughest moments.

Jordan was here within an hour of the phone call that changed my life. She accompanied me the next day to gather Steve's belongings from DC, never once leaving my side. She didn't leave my side for weeks, actually. Putting her life, her husband, her five children on hold while I found the strength to stand again. She went with me to Venice. The last vacation my husband and I planned together. The one that fell on his birthday. The one that we had five different medications in case I had bad moments. Moments that never came because she was with me. And while I did cry, I also laughed. I laughed a lot. I imagine that week was a lot more work for her than she ever let on to me. I'm eternally grateful to have a friend who would give up so much at a time when I had so little. I can't think of anyone other than my husband who I'd rather get drunk with at a place as fancy as the Jefferson.

Dan is one of those nice Midwestern boys that remind me of my formative years growing up in Indiana. Steve and I took an inordinate amount of pleasure at making him blush. Dan listens to me prattle on, doesn't matter if I make sense or not. And those Midwestern sensibilities keeps him from ever letting me know when I've made a total ass of myself. Which isn't so good for me and future encounters with the general public - but helps me save face when I'm desperately trying to make sense of some new challenge or just trying to blow off steam from facing too many challenges in a row. He was home for the summer when Steve died but since coming back to Richmond I don't think there's been a week I haven't seen him. We get together for Packer games, dinner, or to keep me company as I pack for the trip I mentioned above. I must've been looking pretty rough that week; he showed up or made me go out at least three times. Dan may be a Midwesterner born and bred, but he's coming along just fine as a nice Southern gentleman and I can't think of anyone who has earned a steak dinner like he has.

These are just two people who have helped me reassemble my life. Gratitude for having them in my life doesn't do justice to what I feel. The thesaurus isn't helping much with that self expression, either.  But I am starting to "find joy, love and happiness even in difficult times" with people like this around me. I can't think of a better way to pay homage to my husband's life than to celebrate our marriage with those who also knew and loved him. People who love me, too.

Twelve Weeks

The first week after Steve's death was chaotic. I hardly slept, never ate, was constantly on the phone and/or had 3 people around me minimum. What I remember of that time comes to me in snapshots - most of them blurry. What I've been told is I behaved in a way that would have made Steve proud. I behaved like a lady. And in that first week, that's all I needed to get done.

At three weeks I had to tell people 'I know it looks like I'm functioning but I'm not.' I was still deep in the throws of shock. Everything I did was on automatic pilot. Process paperwork, shave my legs, have dinner with friends; just keep moving while attaching no intellect or emotion to any of it. But I kept doing whatever needed to be done.

At seven weeks the shock had worn off but I had lost hope. Hope and thankfulness and love. I wandered in a dark cloud trying to make sense of what was left. And I kept doing whatever needed to be done.

At nine weeks I was finally able to mourn my husband. I had to leave the country to do it. There was nothing else to be done, so I did nothing else.

Today I am functioning. Well, the shock is long gone. I have hope for some kind of future even if I can't envision it yet. I still mourn Steve. I cry every day. I didn't know a person could cry this much and not fall down with the dehydration. I keep doing what needs to be done. It's just now I can do it with intelligence, hope, love and thankfulness. Sometimes, though, I'm not a lady. Make no mistakes; my husband would totally get behind that idea.

Yoko Ono

A lot of phraseology is created between a couple. Those few words that can be said between two people in a crowded room to get an entire idea across. Families can have them as well. Things said between parents and children that become catch phrases. Things you keep saying to one another at Christmas gatherings years after those children have families of their own.

A new phrase was created shortly after the death of my husband that everyone in my circle, family and friends, grasped the immeidate concept as soon as they heard it.

"Don't Yoko Ono it."

I wear my husband's wedding ring, pinkie ring and cross around my neck.
"Don't Yoko Ono it."
They're afraid I'll never be able to take them off again. It's been a little over 11 weeks since my husband was taken from me and the only time I've removed his rings and cross was for his viewing. They promptly returned around my neck the day everyone left and I had to go write a very large check to a kind man dressed in a black suit. That was the same day I picked up my husband's ashes.

I only drive his car now. It makes me feel closer to him, as proud of that car as he was.
"Don't Yoko Ono it."
They want to know if I'm going to sell off my car. Why does a single woman need two well maintained Toyota's that are both less than 10 years old with less than 75K miles on the odometers? Except they're both paid off and I don't need the extra cash selling a car would bring in. Yet. Or maybe ever. I haven't quite figured that one out.

I still have Steve's dirty laundry sitting next to my bed. I keep his clothes in plastic bags to hold in his smell, though I realized they only hold the smell of the plastic bags now, his scent long gone.
"Don't Yoko Ono it."
What are they afraid of? I'll stuff his clothes full of towels, prop the fake Steve in bed and cuddle with it? Talk to it? Try and take it out to dinner on our 8th wedding anniversary which is quickly approaching?

Three weeks after my husband died I made it my mission to throw out just one thing. One thing just to prove to myself I wouldn't turn into Yoko Ono. So I decided to throw away my husband's underwear. I could donate his clothes, people will wear them. But not his underwear. I couldn't bear the thought of his underwear sitting at the Salvation Army, people walking by and laughing "who would buy used underwear?" while it sat there gathering dust. No one wants used underwear even if it's been washed. So I pulled them all out. Sat them all down. Looked them all over. Then gathered them all up in my arms and wandered the house crying for an hour. 

Underwear is such a personal thing. And for a wife, for this wife, the easiest way to boil down that the man I loved and cared for was truly gone. Every pair of underwear he had, I bought. I like the look of the boxer briefs. Boxer briefs with color and design - cause men should feel they look hot under their clothes too. Every week I washed his underwear. As I folded them, I checked for wear. I put them away. I packed them each week for his business trips. I unpacked them again when he got home. I started the entire process over from there. And my husband? He thanked me at every stage.
"Thank you for washing the clothes, baby."
"Thank you for putting everything away, sweetie."
"You're such a good wife for packing me up, darling. Thank you."
"I'm so happy to be home. Thank you for unpacking my suitcase."

I walked around that house with 20-plus pair of boxer briefs in my arms sobbing uncontrollably. I couldn't throw them away. I couldn't throw away my husband, throw away nine and a half good years with my husband, throw away the daily love and concern for my husband. I was totally gonna Yoko Ono this shit.

Until his brother called. Butch, the oldest and toughest of the four boys. The truly streetwise New Yorker who made his mark on Wall Street. The brother I thought never liked me and would be relieved to have me out of the family. The brother who calls me the most often, who verifies I have my bases covered, who tells me I'll always be a DeRose. The brother who listened to me that day sob and scream and beg for my husband to come home.

And then he got me laughing. That DeRose family trait of cry as much as you need, so long as you follow it up with gut busting laughter. One of the traits of Steve's family I've admired most. Butch did that for me. Thinking he was making a quick check-up call while running errands, Butch sat in a parking lot on his cell phone, and made me laugh. And while I'm certain I made his day, and perhaps even his week, all the harder for him; before we hung up I was able to throw away my husband's underwear. And I was ok with doing it.

With the help of family and friends, I'm so totally not going to Yoko Ono it.

Fahrenheit 451

And when he died, I suddenly realized I wasn't crying for him at all, but for all the things he did. I cried because he would never do them again... He was part of us and when he died, all the actions stopped dead and there was no one to do them just the way he did... The world was bankrupted of ten million fine actions the night he passed on.

- Ray Bradbury