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Missing my wife
- Thread starter 1Lefty
- Start date
And another out of chronological order, but I think it belongs here -
It began on a Christmas morning Alesia woke me up at 4:30 or 5 o'clock. to start the turkey. We hadn't talked about what time we would eat, I anticipated a late lunch, maybe 3ish or so. Alesia had planned for a noon meal, so I got up. She always said that I woke up grumpy, I started the turkey, but every pan that could make noise, every piece of silverware was used to let Alesia know of my displeasure. She wanted to participate, so, the potatoes, the mac and cheese casserole, the greens, sweet potatoes, rolls and dressing, all were taken upstairs for her to stir or season, then back downstairs to the kitchen.
I had spent Christmas eve day, driving a cold, gray drizzling day, hours trying to find a deep-fried turkey but everyone was sold out. I spent hours driving all over town, in the Christmas eve traffic, finally having to buy a regular turkey. I felt that effort deserved some consideration. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got.
Our meal had a chill over it, rather than the joy and reverence that was appropriate. After the meal, we exchanged gifts, and I honestly forget what I got, but Alesia had asked for a shopping spree. I had saved up $250 dollars, rolled up in a pill bottle. I still can't explain what I did next - I pulled out the bills, rolled them around the bottle and fastened them with a rubber band.' I took it upstairs, and with more force than necessary, placed it on the dresser. Then I grabbed my pillow and told her I'd be sleeping downstairs. She cried, but I had done this before, partly to punish her, but also to limit my anger, prevent it from going further.
That night, she called down to me "Honey, are you warm enough down there?" (I really wasn't.) "Do you want an extra blanket?" No, I couldn't admit it to her. I did slip upstairs to the kitchen the next day, to fix my coffee,and return back to the basement.I'm sure she heard me, but didn't say anything. Remember, I wake up grumpy. At noon, she called down to me again, "Honey, I'm getting ready to eat. Do you want me to fix you a plate ?" No, I would fix a sandwich from the refrigerator when I got hungry. At some point, I got on my computer, and waiting for me was this email titled
Merry Christmas Bob
Merry Christmas Honey: Your wife wants you to know that you took this depressed, deep in despair person and through you I became a funny sometimes silly, but most all loving and grateful to God wife. Thank you again and again and again.
Your Loving Wife,
Alesia".
Alesia made it hard to stay mad, and easy to apologize. My pillow and I went back upstairs. And I told her I was sorry. No argument, n.o recriminations, no anger, just a hug of forgiveness. And there was no carryover in the next few days, either. In fact, she gave me most of the money back "Here, we probably need this for bills." It was love as usual again.
After Alesia passed away, I wanted to save every card, every photo, every note, even grocery lists from her. And then I searched for emails. There were many of them, and I printed them out. I flagged that one as special, it showed Alesia at her best, and Bob at his worst.
We both had each other's passwords for everything, neither of us had anything to hide, so I opened her Hotmail account, to get messages I sent to her.Then I saw her Drafts folder, and out of curiosity opened it. There was an email to me, dated Christmas, the same as her other email It started telling me how hurt she was, but it was never completed and never sent. She chose to send the one that affirmed our love.
If I could have one day to relive with Alesia, one day to make different choices, to act differently, it would be that day of Christmas, 2009, our last Christmas.
It began on a Christmas morning Alesia woke me up at 4:30 or 5 o'clock. to start the turkey. We hadn't talked about what time we would eat, I anticipated a late lunch, maybe 3ish or so. Alesia had planned for a noon meal, so I got up. She always said that I woke up grumpy, I started the turkey, but every pan that could make noise, every piece of silverware was used to let Alesia know of my displeasure. She wanted to participate, so, the potatoes, the mac and cheese casserole, the greens, sweet potatoes, rolls and dressing, all were taken upstairs for her to stir or season, then back downstairs to the kitchen.
I had spent Christmas eve day, driving a cold, gray drizzling day, hours trying to find a deep-fried turkey but everyone was sold out. I spent hours driving all over town, in the Christmas eve traffic, finally having to buy a regular turkey. I felt that effort deserved some consideration. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got.
Our meal had a chill over it, rather than the joy and reverence that was appropriate. After the meal, we exchanged gifts, and I honestly forget what I got, but Alesia had asked for a shopping spree. I had saved up $250 dollars, rolled up in a pill bottle. I still can't explain what I did next - I pulled out the bills, rolled them around the bottle and fastened them with a rubber band.' I took it upstairs, and with more force than necessary, placed it on the dresser. Then I grabbed my pillow and told her I'd be sleeping downstairs. She cried, but I had done this before, partly to punish her, but also to limit my anger, prevent it from going further.
That night, she called down to me "Honey, are you warm enough down there?" (I really wasn't.) "Do you want an extra blanket?" No, I couldn't admit it to her. I did slip upstairs to the kitchen the next day, to fix my coffee,and return back to the basement.I'm sure she heard me, but didn't say anything. Remember, I wake up grumpy. At noon, she called down to me again, "Honey, I'm getting ready to eat. Do you want me to fix you a plate ?" No, I would fix a sandwich from the refrigerator when I got hungry. At some point, I got on my computer, and waiting for me was this email titled
Merry Christmas Bob
Merry Christmas Honey: Your wife wants you to know that you took this depressed, deep in despair person and through you I became a funny sometimes silly, but most all loving and grateful to God wife. Thank you again and again and again.Your Loving Wife,
Alesia".
Alesia made it hard to stay mad, and easy to apologize. My pillow and I went back upstairs. And I told her I was sorry. No argument, n.o recriminations, no anger, just a hug of forgiveness. And there was no carryover in the next few days, either. In fact, she gave me most of the money back "Here, we probably need this for bills." It was love as usual again.
After Alesia passed away, I wanted to save every card, every photo, every note, even grocery lists from her. And then I searched for emails. There were many of them, and I printed them out. I flagged that one as special, it showed Alesia at her best, and Bob at his worst.
We both had each other's passwords for everything, neither of us had anything to hide, so I opened her Hotmail account, to get messages I sent to her.Then I saw her Drafts folder, and out of curiosity opened it. There was an email to me, dated Christmas, the same as her other email It started telling me how hurt she was, but it was never completed and never sent. She chose to send the one that affirmed our love.
If I could have one day to relive with Alesia, one day to make different choices, to act differently, it would be that day of Christmas, 2009, our last Christmas.
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First off, I think you are such a brave strong person. I'm sitting here in awe of the strength and honesty you are showing on here. The way you write is so expressive and vivid. I would love it if you could continue to share your story, and if you need to talk to someone at odd hours of the night when you think no one is up or around, you can feel free to pm me anytime. Plenty of huggles to you.
Thanks for the encouragement. I think it was my first post in this thread describing Alesia's expression as a child in a photograph - sweet and open, like she was saying "Hi world, let''s be friends". I guess this is my way of at least introducing part of the world to a spectacular person we lost too soon. I admit to being biased, but that doesn't mean I'm wrong. And in one of my other threads, I was advised to do something to honor Alesia, so this is my effort to do that.
Back to December 1997, Alesia and I married a few months, and just getting closer by the day, like we'd known each other forever. Family was vital to both of us, she had left most of hers in the north, vowing never live where she had to drive in snow again. So California was where she felt comfortable, and Vegas was warm also, dry, almost never snowed. But we had THAT talk, where I explained the financial facts with the renters, but also that I had several older relatives, that Uncle Gary was getting older, with no children or anyone to care for him, that one nephew had Down syndrome and a brother-in-law with MS. She knew enough about Kansas City to know that it had winters almost as bad as what she'd left 15 years before.
But there was no argument, no resistance, no discussion even, she just looked me in the eye and said "I'm going where you go". So that decision made, Christmas was a time spent driving around, looking at the lights and buildings we probably wouldn't see again for awhile. Her friend (our friend) cooked a huge dinner, ham and turkey, potatoes, stuffing, greens, 2 or 3 different desserts.
The packing took place into January, and when we hit Kansas City, it was snowing, had been for a few days and the new was blowing around the old. "Does it always snow like this?" "No, usually it's worse". She knew right away that I was kidding. We got a hotel room for a few nights, watched the Super Bowl, celebrated my birthday. We made a few calls, decided to stay with one of my sisters for awhile, their basement would be our own private space. They lived several miles out of the city, in a quiet small town, with fields and pastures and woods.And mice. Alesia saw one in the basement, and we were in another hotel that night. That was one instance where there was absolutely no compromise with Alesia. "Bob, I'll live in a trailer house as long as you're there, but I will not live with mice."
A few days later, we were in an efficiency apartment, in a complex I'd lived in before. Nothing special, but carpet, a refrigerator and stove. And you could hear the neighbor sneeze. But my tenants had been notified, and were looking for another place to live. The contents of the trailer had to be unloaded into a storage unit (oh yes, we'd have to reload and unload them again when we got the house back).
Back to December 1997, Alesia and I married a few months, and just getting closer by the day, like we'd known each other forever. Family was vital to both of us, she had left most of hers in the north, vowing never live where she had to drive in snow again. So California was where she felt comfortable, and Vegas was warm also, dry, almost never snowed. But we had THAT talk, where I explained the financial facts with the renters, but also that I had several older relatives, that Uncle Gary was getting older, with no children or anyone to care for him, that one nephew had Down syndrome and a brother-in-law with MS. She knew enough about Kansas City to know that it had winters almost as bad as what she'd left 15 years before.
But there was no argument, no resistance, no discussion even, she just looked me in the eye and said "I'm going where you go". So that decision made, Christmas was a time spent driving around, looking at the lights and buildings we probably wouldn't see again for awhile. Her friend (our friend) cooked a huge dinner, ham and turkey, potatoes, stuffing, greens, 2 or 3 different desserts.
The packing took place into January, and when we hit Kansas City, it was snowing, had been for a few days and the new was blowing around the old. "Does it always snow like this?" "No, usually it's worse". She knew right away that I was kidding. We got a hotel room for a few nights, watched the Super Bowl, celebrated my birthday. We made a few calls, decided to stay with one of my sisters for awhile, their basement would be our own private space. They lived several miles out of the city, in a quiet small town, with fields and pastures and woods.And mice. Alesia saw one in the basement, and we were in another hotel that night. That was one instance where there was absolutely no compromise with Alesia. "Bob, I'll live in a trailer house as long as you're there, but I will not live with mice."
A few days later, we were in an efficiency apartment, in a complex I'd lived in before. Nothing special, but carpet, a refrigerator and stove. And you could hear the neighbor sneeze. But my tenants had been notified, and were looking for another place to live. The contents of the trailer had to be unloaded into a storage unit (oh yes, we'd have to reload and unload them again when we got the house back).
I had started work in February, the apartment far north of the city, my workplace was far south of the city, adding up to a drive of an hour each way. I had to wake up at 4:30 (yes, grumpy) in order to get ready and then be to work by 6. Alesia woke up with me, sometimes making my lunch for me. Then we kissed, I left, and she stayed up to watch the early morning news, to make sure there had been no accidents on the highway I took to work. And if there was time, I called her when I got to work. And if the sunrise had looked colorful and interesting to me, I would tell her to look out the window to the sky.
Valentines Day was a wonderful event, we splurged and went out for steaks. We exchanged cards, a kind of card neither of us had given before, one addressed to Alesia, but written especially for the wife, and mine written especially for the husband. We were married, we really were married.
Winter was gradually leaving, and the woods and grassy patches near the apartment started to get that vibrant green they get, just before spring is completely there.
Alesia started walking, some days hobbling as her knees reacted to the weather. Sometimes she would walk to a convenience store, a half mile away, just to challenge herself, trying to time it so that if she couldn't make it all the way back home, I would be along soon on my way home from work.
Spring is also a good time for garage sales and country auctions, and we went to several. If there were doors, I bought those, I had already seen the interior of the house. Alesia looked for baskets she could decorate, or anything she could use in decorating the house when we moved in. At one outdoor auction, at a farm miles out of town, it took two days to sell everything. There was farm equipment, rolls of wire and fence, contents of sheds and barns and rows of folding tables. A lot of old newspapers and magazines, sometimes scraps of cloth, cut out for quilts, but never sewed. Alesia walked up and down the rows, maybe seeing jars she could use as kitchen decor, maybe a cast iron pan perfect for cooking catfish or chicken, sometimes telling me "Those are nice plates, my cousin collects those" or point out to me stoneware crocks, something I collected. But she paused at one spot, and I had to walk around her to see what she was studying. It was a circular tray, the kind you might find on top of an old dresser. Some rings, broken bracelets, a small, beaded bag, some earrings. "Anything good?" I whispered. If you find a treasure at an auction, you don't tip off the other bidders that you're competing with. But she crinkled her nose as she shook her head "No, not really" And walked along. But I saw her head twitch and partly turn back toward the tray.Then the auction began, and even with her swollen knees, she stood beside me as we watched them trying to convince someone, anyone, to buy this broken hammer, or two buckets of rusty tools.
Then the wind started blowing a little harder, gray clouds started rolling above.At first a sprinkle, then a minute or two of rain. The clouds would move enough for the sun to appear, then close and repeat the sprinkle and rain. After a few times of this, the real rain started, huge drops, clattering on the barn's tin roof, and thunder in the distance. The machine shed and barn filled with people coming in from the rain, and Alesia went to the truck. I had grown up going to auctions like this, and some bad weather is a good thing. A lot of the other bidders will leave and your chances of scoring something at a low price are increased. The rain let up long enough for the auction to start again, then the rain started again. It continued that way for another hour and a half or two. I bought a few things, ten dollars for homemade shelves, but made with the most beautiful walnut wood that the area had to offer. Then rain, and more people left, the auction continued, then rain again, by this time I was soaked.
Finally, the auctioneer worked his way through the folding tables, trying to sell the stacks of old magazines, now heavy and stuck together. There were so few bidders, and so little interest that they started bunching piles together, some went for fifty cents, some a couple of dollars. Finally, he had a pile that didn't draw a bid, so they piled more on it, mops, embroidered dish towels, and finally, the round tray Alesia had been looking at. I got the whole pile for a dollar, picked my purchases, paid up, and headed to the truck. I held the tray behind some dish towels, "Here" I handed it to her. "What's this?" "Just because I love you" and she shrieked and I was soaked to the skin, but she gave me hugs and kisses that made every minute worth it.
Valentines Day was a wonderful event, we splurged and went out for steaks. We exchanged cards, a kind of card neither of us had given before, one addressed to Alesia, but written especially for the wife, and mine written especially for the husband. We were married, we really were married.
Winter was gradually leaving, and the woods and grassy patches near the apartment started to get that vibrant green they get, just before spring is completely there.
Alesia started walking, some days hobbling as her knees reacted to the weather. Sometimes she would walk to a convenience store, a half mile away, just to challenge herself, trying to time it so that if she couldn't make it all the way back home, I would be along soon on my way home from work.
Spring is also a good time for garage sales and country auctions, and we went to several. If there were doors, I bought those, I had already seen the interior of the house. Alesia looked for baskets she could decorate, or anything she could use in decorating the house when we moved in. At one outdoor auction, at a farm miles out of town, it took two days to sell everything. There was farm equipment, rolls of wire and fence, contents of sheds and barns and rows of folding tables. A lot of old newspapers and magazines, sometimes scraps of cloth, cut out for quilts, but never sewed. Alesia walked up and down the rows, maybe seeing jars she could use as kitchen decor, maybe a cast iron pan perfect for cooking catfish or chicken, sometimes telling me "Those are nice plates, my cousin collects those" or point out to me stoneware crocks, something I collected. But she paused at one spot, and I had to walk around her to see what she was studying. It was a circular tray, the kind you might find on top of an old dresser. Some rings, broken bracelets, a small, beaded bag, some earrings. "Anything good?" I whispered. If you find a treasure at an auction, you don't tip off the other bidders that you're competing with. But she crinkled her nose as she shook her head "No, not really" And walked along. But I saw her head twitch and partly turn back toward the tray.Then the auction began, and even with her swollen knees, she stood beside me as we watched them trying to convince someone, anyone, to buy this broken hammer, or two buckets of rusty tools.
Then the wind started blowing a little harder, gray clouds started rolling above.At first a sprinkle, then a minute or two of rain. The clouds would move enough for the sun to appear, then close and repeat the sprinkle and rain. After a few times of this, the real rain started, huge drops, clattering on the barn's tin roof, and thunder in the distance. The machine shed and barn filled with people coming in from the rain, and Alesia went to the truck. I had grown up going to auctions like this, and some bad weather is a good thing. A lot of the other bidders will leave and your chances of scoring something at a low price are increased. The rain let up long enough for the auction to start again, then the rain started again. It continued that way for another hour and a half or two. I bought a few things, ten dollars for homemade shelves, but made with the most beautiful walnut wood that the area had to offer. Then rain, and more people left, the auction continued, then rain again, by this time I was soaked.
Finally, the auctioneer worked his way through the folding tables, trying to sell the stacks of old magazines, now heavy and stuck together. There were so few bidders, and so little interest that they started bunching piles together, some went for fifty cents, some a couple of dollars. Finally, he had a pile that didn't draw a bid, so they piled more on it, mops, embroidered dish towels, and finally, the round tray Alesia had been looking at. I got the whole pile for a dollar, picked my purchases, paid up, and headed to the truck. I held the tray behind some dish towels, "Here" I handed it to her. "What's this?" "Just because I love you" and she shrieked and I was soaked to the skin, but she gave me hugs and kisses that made every minute worth it.
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Thank you for your reply Lefty, your words really are moving. I read your post just now, and I'm really sorry for your beautiful Alesia, i'm sure the love you had for her was more than what most people ever get to experience in a whole lifetime. For that, both you and your wife were very lucky. I really like the beatles, mainly because they figured out how to turn simple lyrics into very deep life lessons that we can all relate to during certain periods in your life. Again, thank you. Oh, and Lefty, take a sad song and make it better, i'm sure Alesia will appreciate it when you meet each other again.
A short bit here, we had gone to yet another auction or two, and our purchases had to be taken to the storage locker sometimes late, after standing most of the day in a crowd, the spring thaw provided slushy mud, and what was advertised as "Lunch available on grounds" really meant trays of tiny cinnamon rolls in the morning, hot dogs at noon, coffee all day, and sodas. But Alesia hung in with me, without complaint ( other than an occasional "Brrrrr, it's cold"). Or the warning "You are NOT going to put that stuffed deer head on any of MY walls" Got snowed on at one sale, but she was by my side, her hands in my pockets. After we'd unloaded at the storage shed, and returned to the apartment, she might pull off her shoes, rub her feet and knees, maybe ask "Do they ALL last all day?"But she never missed one if I went. One of them was in my sister and BIL's area, so she stayed to play with the nephews, while I went down the street to check out the sale. After 45 minutes or so, my brother in law came running down "Bob, your wife needs to go to the hospital", We both ran back up to the house, Alesia holding her stomach, rolling side to side in the chair, moaning. She was able to walk to the truck, and all the way to the emergency room, she kept saying "Honey, I'm so sorry I made you miss your auction. Did they have anything good there?" "No," I told her, " not at this one, I was already getting ready to leave."
At the emergency room, they poked and prodded her, "What side does it hurt on?" , "Does it hurt when I push there?" And the decision, without an MRI, CAT scan or anything similar, was that it wasn't her appendix, she wasn't pregnant, and if the pain had been on the other side, it might have been her gall bladder. I think phenegren (?sp) was what they gave her, something to calm her stomach, and some pain medication.She still had a few bad days, but eventually she felt back to normal.
We hadn't had a lot of savings to start with, and the auctions and other purchases were bargains, but still we were going through what was left of our bankroll. Alesia didn't mind shopping at the grocery warehouse, or the store that sold the lower priced varieties and generic brand. Usually if the name is "Always Good", it's probably not.
But we made it, and Alesia started looking for a part-time job, something to use her computer skills from home. The newspaper was absolutely full of them " Earn $800 a month from home. It's easy!" And I'd already seen warnings on the internet and even TV about these scams - sometimes they wanted a processing fee up front, or attend some $100 seminar. And I tried to warn Alesia about the dangers, but she was persistent, she called, and called, got brochures in the mail. All I could do was shrug my shoulders, but I didn't have any better ideas myself. So she called some more, and in the mix of scams, frauds, and whatever other hazards were out there, Alesia actually found a legitimate one. A database coordinator, using her phone skills, computer skills, a lot of it could be done at the hours she chose. There was a woman about her age that was her supervisor, they got along great and had lunch, once a week, written off as a business meeting, of course.Alesia was proud, rightly so, that she had followed her own intuition and judgement, and accomplished what she was told couldn't be done. And she was gracious in her accomplishment, there was never any "Well, I was right, and you were wrong" But she did ask "I am helping, aren't I baby? It's not all on you to keep us going." And that was what brought her satisfaction, knowing that WE were building something wonderful together, something that it took both of us to do.
The paychecks came just in time, the renters were due to leave in days, and although we had more than a month at the apartment, I was afraid it would take all of that to make the house pleasantly livable again. I'd already been inside a couple of times, and could see it hadn't been taken care of. Crayon marks on the wall, a medium size dog inside "Oh, we didn't think you'd mind", melted candle wax in the carpet, broken doors. And no damage deposit because they were family.
At the emergency room, they poked and prodded her, "What side does it hurt on?" , "Does it hurt when I push there?" And the decision, without an MRI, CAT scan or anything similar, was that it wasn't her appendix, she wasn't pregnant, and if the pain had been on the other side, it might have been her gall bladder. I think phenegren (?sp) was what they gave her, something to calm her stomach, and some pain medication.She still had a few bad days, but eventually she felt back to normal.
We hadn't had a lot of savings to start with, and the auctions and other purchases were bargains, but still we were going through what was left of our bankroll. Alesia didn't mind shopping at the grocery warehouse, or the store that sold the lower priced varieties and generic brand. Usually if the name is "Always Good", it's probably not.
But we made it, and Alesia started looking for a part-time job, something to use her computer skills from home. The newspaper was absolutely full of them " Earn $800 a month from home. It's easy!" And I'd already seen warnings on the internet and even TV about these scams - sometimes they wanted a processing fee up front, or attend some $100 seminar. And I tried to warn Alesia about the dangers, but she was persistent, she called, and called, got brochures in the mail. All I could do was shrug my shoulders, but I didn't have any better ideas myself. So she called some more, and in the mix of scams, frauds, and whatever other hazards were out there, Alesia actually found a legitimate one. A database coordinator, using her phone skills, computer skills, a lot of it could be done at the hours she chose. There was a woman about her age that was her supervisor, they got along great and had lunch, once a week, written off as a business meeting, of course.Alesia was proud, rightly so, that she had followed her own intuition and judgement, and accomplished what she was told couldn't be done. And she was gracious in her accomplishment, there was never any "Well, I was right, and you were wrong" But she did ask "I am helping, aren't I baby? It's not all on you to keep us going." And that was what brought her satisfaction, knowing that WE were building something wonderful together, something that it took both of us to do.
The paychecks came just in time, the renters were due to leave in days, and although we had more than a month at the apartment, I was afraid it would take all of that to make the house pleasantly livable again. I'd already been inside a couple of times, and could see it hadn't been taken care of. Crayon marks on the wall, a medium size dog inside "Oh, we didn't think you'd mind", melted candle wax in the carpet, broken doors. And no damage deposit because they were family.
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A few random thoughts, because my mind is scattered today -
When I was single, kissing a woman was like" Ok, her mouth is doing something, and my mouth is doing something back". With Alesia, there was no doubt, I had been KISSED. Absolutely kissed. Nothing held back, a kiss like it had been that way forever, had always existed, like there had never been any distance between us.
And Alesia never embarrassed someone, or told a joke at their expense, but she would tell a joke on herself, and laugh the loudest. She had the self-confidence to do that.
And one evening, I was in the basement, and she called me up to the bedroom, she was propped up in bed with the VCR remote in her hand, and she started the tape. It was a tribute to the blues, on the Austin City Limits show. "You don't have to watch it now, if you're busy" but I loved the blues, and I loved the woman that cared enough to tape a show I would have not even known about otherwise. Of course I watched it.
Then, after that was a show called Sessions at West 54th, another music show, and this was one of my all-time favorite songwriter/musicians, John Prine, an hour long show, and when it was over she asked "Well, did your baby do good?" "Um, HMMM" was all I could answer. "Well, gimme some sugar then" and she got the kiss and embrace she deserved. It was only when I took the tape from the VCR that I noticed it was something she had taped for herself. But we hadn't had any blank tapes, so she did the best she could to make sure she could record the shows for me.
And those are a few of the reasons life is so hard without her.
When I was single, kissing a woman was like" Ok, her mouth is doing something, and my mouth is doing something back". With Alesia, there was no doubt, I had been KISSED. Absolutely kissed. Nothing held back, a kiss like it had been that way forever, had always existed, like there had never been any distance between us.
And Alesia never embarrassed someone, or told a joke at their expense, but she would tell a joke on herself, and laugh the loudest. She had the self-confidence to do that.
And one evening, I was in the basement, and she called me up to the bedroom, she was propped up in bed with the VCR remote in her hand, and she started the tape. It was a tribute to the blues, on the Austin City Limits show. "You don't have to watch it now, if you're busy" but I loved the blues, and I loved the woman that cared enough to tape a show I would have not even known about otherwise. Of course I watched it.
Then, after that was a show called Sessions at West 54th, another music show, and this was one of my all-time favorite songwriter/musicians, John Prine, an hour long show, and when it was over she asked "Well, did your baby do good?" "Um, HMMM" was all I could answer. "Well, gimme some sugar then" and she got the kiss and embrace she deserved. It was only when I took the tape from the VCR that I noticed it was something she had taped for herself. But we hadn't had any blank tapes, so she did the best she could to make sure she could record the shows for me.
And those are a few of the reasons life is so hard without her.
The day of the renters moving out, Alesia and I drove over to see the general condition of the house, what we had to work with. Holes punched in walls, the refrigerator with old spills and old food, the water turned off but the toilet still used. And the old tires, broken furniture and various items they no longer wanted were piled at the front of the house.
Alesia took care of the calls the next day, getting the water turned back on, electricity, and phone turned on. When I got home, we went to our house, our new home, picking up pails, sponges, cleaner and disinfectant, rubber gloves, tools. A few minutes with the vacuum proved there was no hope for the carpeting. I started ripping up carpet, foam padding and layers of dirt.
Alesia had asthma, so she would soak down the sink, stove and inside of the refrigerator while I was tearing up carpet. Bending over, pulling up nailed down carpet and stapled foam padding, while the grime swirled up, is exactly as hard as it sounds. When I was ready for a break, Alesia came back in and worked at the areas she'd had soaking earlier. I mopped the hardwood floor (surprisingly very nice), and then pulled staples and nails still in the floor. Alesia stayed inside as long as she could, then back outside. With fans blowing the air outside, and no furniture moved in yet, we sat on the steps leading to the upper portion of the house, the bedrooms and single bathroom. We ate our supper from some drive-thru, and planned for the next evening's tasks.
Walls were scrubbed, windows cleaned, wooden cabinets cleaned of years of grease and treated with wood polish. Every night, each weekend that we worked long days, the house started taking on a more livable appearance. I probably didn't tell Alesia often enough how much she impressed me, there was no quit in her. Even with the injuries to her knees, trouble breathing and hard scrubbing in uncomfortable positions, she wouldn't stop working till I did.
It paid off, we were able to start moving furniture into the living room and kitchen. Finally, one of the bedrooms was ready for a dresser, a bed, and clothes in the closet. We were eating at a table seated in chairs, not sitting on the stairs anymore. Even though there were still loads of furniture and house goods in our storage locker, we weren't staying at the apartment any more.
We were living at home.
Alesia took care of the calls the next day, getting the water turned back on, electricity, and phone turned on. When I got home, we went to our house, our new home, picking up pails, sponges, cleaner and disinfectant, rubber gloves, tools. A few minutes with the vacuum proved there was no hope for the carpeting. I started ripping up carpet, foam padding and layers of dirt.
Alesia had asthma, so she would soak down the sink, stove and inside of the refrigerator while I was tearing up carpet. Bending over, pulling up nailed down carpet and stapled foam padding, while the grime swirled up, is exactly as hard as it sounds. When I was ready for a break, Alesia came back in and worked at the areas she'd had soaking earlier. I mopped the hardwood floor (surprisingly very nice), and then pulled staples and nails still in the floor. Alesia stayed inside as long as she could, then back outside. With fans blowing the air outside, and no furniture moved in yet, we sat on the steps leading to the upper portion of the house, the bedrooms and single bathroom. We ate our supper from some drive-thru, and planned for the next evening's tasks.
Walls were scrubbed, windows cleaned, wooden cabinets cleaned of years of grease and treated with wood polish. Every night, each weekend that we worked long days, the house started taking on a more livable appearance. I probably didn't tell Alesia often enough how much she impressed me, there was no quit in her. Even with the injuries to her knees, trouble breathing and hard scrubbing in uncomfortable positions, she wouldn't stop working till I did.
It paid off, we were able to start moving furniture into the living room and kitchen. Finally, one of the bedrooms was ready for a dresser, a bed, and clothes in the closet. We were eating at a table seated in chairs, not sitting on the stairs anymore. Even though there were still loads of furniture and house goods in our storage locker, we weren't staying at the apartment any more.
We were living at home.
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After we had started to settle in, Alesia got to meet my family and friends a little better, and everyone got along, Alesia was sincerely part of the family. Her birthday approached, and of course I gave her a card, flowers and a gift. But one of her brothers sent cash. She fanned it, not to show off, but just to show me. "MMMMMM, I could stand a good steak for my birthday. I'm not the best on barbeque, though. How about you?"
"Oh, I can burn some meat, now." It was her birthday money, but she wanted something for the house, our home, that we could both use. We drove past clothing stores, jewelry stores, shoe stores, purse stores, Bed, Bath and Beyond, and all she had to do was say "Let's walk in here and see what they've got" But not a peep till we saw the sign for a hardware store. "Ooh, ooh, do they have grills?" And of course they did and she chose one that could also be used as a slow smoker. With a bag of charcoal, some mesquite chips, we had just about enough left for a couple of generously sized T-bone steaks, and with some potatoes on the side, I managed to put a nice celebration supper together, with a nice Baskin-Robbins ice-cream cake.
"Oh, I can burn some meat, now." It was her birthday money, but she wanted something for the house, our home, that we could both use. We drove past clothing stores, jewelry stores, shoe stores, purse stores, Bed, Bath and Beyond, and all she had to do was say "Let's walk in here and see what they've got" But not a peep till we saw the sign for a hardware store. "Ooh, ooh, do they have grills?" And of course they did and she chose one that could also be used as a slow smoker. With a bag of charcoal, some mesquite chips, we had just about enough left for a couple of generously sized T-bone steaks, and with some potatoes on the side, I managed to put a nice celebration supper together, with a nice Baskin-Robbins ice-cream cake.
After her birthday, we both had our jobs, and hospital insurance through mine. We needed it when her stomach pains happened again, and once again, after some intial probing, decided it was indigestion, gave her some pain medication and something from her stomach. And there were also trips to our neighborhood clinic, initially for asthma, but we had met the only female doctor there, and when Alesia told her about the severe abdominal pains she said "Oh, no. Uh, Uh, we're going to get to the bottom of this. If this happens again, go to the ER, call me, and don't leave until I get there."
And it did happen again, and again the poking and prodding, but our doctor had already been called, and walked in during the poking "Why haven't you given this woman an MRI, or at least an ultrasound? " The doctors stammered and explained there was no need to, they'd thoroughly checked that sideof her abdomen, and eliminated the most common causes.But it took our doctor to ask the most obvious question "Well, CAN"T you SEE, something is causing this woman's PAIN?"
Then she gave a minor anatomy class, that sometimes the organs aren't where the books say they are, or that sometimes extra weight can displace the organs. Bless our doctor, one of the sweetest ladies, but she had stiffened her spine, all 5'2", hands on her hips and eyes positively blazing, until Alesia was prepped and taken for more extensive tests. It was only minutes till the doctor stepped back through the doors, and tried to cover himself, "Well, um, her, ah, gallbladder's on the, ah, other side. It's full of gallstones, it, ah, needs to come out." Our doctor cut her eyes at me, looked over her glasses, then addressed the doctor "You SEE, now what'd I TELL you!" was about all she got out before he nodded toward the other side of the doors, where I couldn't hear details, but she wasn't afraid to raise her voice.
Alesia was wheeled out, given an appointment with a specialist the next day, and he confirmed that her gall bladder had to be removed. Her surgery was in a couple of days, and as they prepped her, as I held her hand, she started crying. The anestheseologist was beside her and asked what was wrong, she said "I'm afraid I won't wake up" and he rubbed her shoulder. He was confident and calm "I'm going to be working on you, nothing's going to happen, I haven't lost anyone yet"He smiled, and tried to get her to smile back.
There was time for a quick kiss, a squeeze of the hands, a short prayer, and they wheeled her away. We waited, my sisters had wanted to support me, too. The surgeon walked through the door, called my name, and motioned me through the doors. My heart was sinking. In an office, he offered me a chair, Then he said "The surgery went very well, your wife is fine, and when she wakes up, you can see her. There was one stone we could not remove, and she'll need another surgery for that. I'll let you decide to tell her now, or maybe when she's feeling better. There is a machine in the other surgery room that would have broken the stone so we could remove it, but your insurance has not authorized me for that room. " Then they wheeled Alesia out, the anestheseologist said "See, I told you I'd take care of you" Over night in the hospital, and then home. I still hadn't told her about the last stone.
And it did happen again, and again the poking and prodding, but our doctor had already been called, and walked in during the poking "Why haven't you given this woman an MRI, or at least an ultrasound? " The doctors stammered and explained there was no need to, they'd thoroughly checked that sideof her abdomen, and eliminated the most common causes.But it took our doctor to ask the most obvious question "Well, CAN"T you SEE, something is causing this woman's PAIN?"
Then she gave a minor anatomy class, that sometimes the organs aren't where the books say they are, or that sometimes extra weight can displace the organs. Bless our doctor, one of the sweetest ladies, but she had stiffened her spine, all 5'2", hands on her hips and eyes positively blazing, until Alesia was prepped and taken for more extensive tests. It was only minutes till the doctor stepped back through the doors, and tried to cover himself, "Well, um, her, ah, gallbladder's on the, ah, other side. It's full of gallstones, it, ah, needs to come out." Our doctor cut her eyes at me, looked over her glasses, then addressed the doctor "You SEE, now what'd I TELL you!" was about all she got out before he nodded toward the other side of the doors, where I couldn't hear details, but she wasn't afraid to raise her voice.
Alesia was wheeled out, given an appointment with a specialist the next day, and he confirmed that her gall bladder had to be removed. Her surgery was in a couple of days, and as they prepped her, as I held her hand, she started crying. The anestheseologist was beside her and asked what was wrong, she said "I'm afraid I won't wake up" and he rubbed her shoulder. He was confident and calm "I'm going to be working on you, nothing's going to happen, I haven't lost anyone yet"He smiled, and tried to get her to smile back.
There was time for a quick kiss, a squeeze of the hands, a short prayer, and they wheeled her away. We waited, my sisters had wanted to support me, too. The surgeon walked through the door, called my name, and motioned me through the doors. My heart was sinking. In an office, he offered me a chair, Then he said "The surgery went very well, your wife is fine, and when she wakes up, you can see her. There was one stone we could not remove, and she'll need another surgery for that. I'll let you decide to tell her now, or maybe when she's feeling better. There is a machine in the other surgery room that would have broken the stone so we could remove it, but your insurance has not authorized me for that room. " Then they wheeled Alesia out, the anestheseologist said "See, I told you I'd take care of you" Over night in the hospital, and then home. I still hadn't told her about the last stone.
