Hold Me

I wanted to be held tightly and often. To feel safe in his embrace. To smell him. To hear his heartbeat.

It was not uncommon for me to stop him in his tracks on his way to the fridge and say, "Hold me. Please?"

I reached for his hand in the car whether we were going two miles or twenty.  Our son, if he was in the backseat, would groan. "Again, Mom? Really?"  But I think he secretly enjoys the affection between his parents.

For most of the interim between scheduling the surgery and actually going through it, I had tremendous peace and seldom cried.  I had such peace,  peace that only God gives. And crying is cathartic, and certainly not the antithesis to peace. It's just that I didn't feel the need to cry very often.

Three times was all I remember crying before surgery.  The first time was when we sought our pastor's counsel and he asked me how I, as Paul's wife, was holding up.  Instead of saying, "Fine," I reached for Kleenex as salty tears ran down my cheeks. "It's hard," I said. "I don't want to lose my husband."

The second time was at our Thanksgiving table. Our tradition is to have each person express five things they're thankful for. Well, I had barely said "Paul" before the lump in my throat gave way to hot tears.

The third time was the day before surgery.  Our daughter, who had come home from Florida for a two-week Christmas break, had returned that morning. I deeply wanted all my birdies under my wing for the big event, but she had to go back, and she had said everything she wanted to say to her daddy.
I was feeling emotional.

Paul and I were standing in the living room and I threw my arms around his waist.  With a small, shaky voice I said, "Hold me, honey. I'm scared."

"Not a bit! I'm ready. I'm not looking forward to the pain afterward, but I'm not at all scared--"

"I said I'm scared!"

We both laughed. A simple misunderstanding broke the tension but not the hug.

"Oh, I thought you were asking me if I was scared."  He stroked my hair and held me a little tighter.

"I love you so much!" I said.

"I love you, too."

Glued His Chest Back Together

Yep, my post for "G" in regard to the theme of my hubby's heart surgery is GLUE.

Pardon my first world ignorance, but I had no idea that surgery and glue could be used in the same sentence. I mean, when a doctor practices his craft, I'm not picturing Elmer's  in his hands.

Neither of us thought to ask how Paul would be sewn up on the OUTSIDE when it was all over. I assumed stitches, and was okay with that. But as we found out after the fact, the aorta was sewn up with stitches, the sternum was put back together with wire, and the skin on his chest was glued shut.

I joked, "Honey, if you come unglued, I'll come unglued, too!"

Turns out the glue is a medical grade Super-glue type stuff. That's as technical as I can be without googling and linking and all that.

I've never seen a better looking scar, either. Clean and straight.  And nothing to be removed or to have fall out!

What will they think of next?

Fatherly Feelings

When I asked him what he was most afraid of when facing heart surgery, my husband said, "It's not death. If I die, I'll be in heaven. And if I live, I live."

He paused and gathered words to express deep emotion.  "My biggest concern is for you and the kids. Mostly the kids, because I know what it's like to live without a dad at their age."

His dad died in 1992 at the age of 68. A sudden, massive heart attack.   Paul was only 26--younger than our oldest son is now.   Gone was Paul's earthly hero. No more conversations. No more watching the Orioles together. No more showing off his kids--and oh, how Dad loved his grandchildren. No parent left to lean on in hard times. No one to call when the plumbing acted up. No dinners to have together or restaurant tabs to fight over.  No Christmases, Easters, or Thanksgivings with his dad at the table.

Paul didn't want his own children to experience adulthood without their father. That was more troubling to him, I believe, than leaving me a widow. We had the conversation a few years ago about remarriage if one of us should die.  We've given each other our blessing to do that. We only had that conversation once. Once is enough.

One of the things that was most attractive to me about Paul when I met him, and first started getting to know him, was how fatherly he was. He wasn't looking for a girlfriend. He was looking for someone to create a family with.   In fact, when he proposed to me, he asked, "Will you be my wife and the mother of my children?"   (Unbeknownst to him, those were the exact words my father used to propose to my mother in 1961 !)  In his heart, Paul was already desiring children. He is such a natural with babies, energetic with toddlers, creative with kids, wise with teens, and happily helpful to our adult children.

 He didn't want death to deprive them of what he has missed terribly for almost 30 years. His prayer was to live to be there for his kids and to enjoy the fun of being a grandfather someday.

Ear for Guitar Music in the Hodgepodge and A to Z Two-fer

My A to Z Challenge entry is combined with the Wednesday Hodgepodge today. I've been talking about my husband's heart surgery as  a theme of sorts. For the letter E,  let me just say that he has an ear for music, and I love his guitar playing. Before his surgery, I often got secretly choked up whenever he would start strumming a familiar tune. I know beyond any doubt that I would miss his music terribly and don't know that I could ever sell his guitars. His hands have been all over them, each guitar having a unique and beautiful sound. 

1. What does retirement mean to you? Are you planning for it, not thinking about it, looking forward to it, or dreading it?

Retirement means not having to work for someone. It means hanging up the hat that comes with a mandatory schedule and pleasing a boss in order to keep the paycheck coming. It means having more choices about how you spend your time, what you give yourself to that isn't necessarily tied to earning money. We are planning for it. My hubby has heard that the people who adjust best to retirement don't retire from something, but they retire to something. Something meaningful, a new adventure. He thinks about retiring every day, but is still at least five years from it. I'm not sure I'd know what to do if he was around all the time every day messing up my rhythm--haha!   

He wants to retire to building and selling guitars. A lot of personal satisfaction and a little cash.
But no boss.

2. It's International Guitar Month...do you play? Does anyone in your family play? What's a song you especially like to hear played on the guitar or a favorite song featuring the guitar?

Speaking of hubby and rhythm, what  a perfect segue to the answer to this question. He plays guitar very well.  I don't play at all. He has a small collection of guitars, and one of our spare bedrooms is now called the Guitar Room. It's also an office, but our daughter decorated it just for him one weekend when we went away for our anniversary! Guitar theme all the way. 

There's  a piece he plays that's my favorite called Bouree in E Minor, by Bach.  If I die before he does, I want him to play it at my funeral. He plays it more slowly than it's written, which I prefer. ( Shhhhh....Don't tell Bach I said that.)

3. What's your comfort food?  

I have a few: mashed potatoes, cereal, rice pudding, donuts.

4. What's one activity or area of your life where you absolutely never procrastinate?

Absolutely never procrastinate? Those three words and "I" might absolutely never be found in the same sentence. I'm going to say it's cleaning the lint trap in the dryer after every load. I'm kind of OCD about that. I've heard horror stories about dryer lint catching fire and the thought scares me to death.


5. Who does the grocery shopping in your house? Does your local store bag the groceries for you or is it a do-it-yourself kind of place? Do you like someone packing your groceries?

We both grocery shop. I hate it, he likes it (or doesn't mind). Our local stores will  bag the groceries unless you say otherwise. I prefer to bag groceries myself because so many baggers just don't know the importance of 1) separating glass jars from each other  2) not putting cleaning supplies with vegetables   3) a good weight to keep bags (or my arms) from breaking . I have a system . I organize things on the conveyor belt in the way I want to bag and unload them.  Don't mess with my system!

Have I just said way more about grocery bagging than anyone cares to read?



6. What's the coolest thing you've seen in nature?

Day after day, it's the sunset. No two alike. God's infinite color palette and His way with a celestial paintbrush positively take my breath away sometimes. This one was somewhere between South Carolina and Florida when my girl and I were driving  to St. Pete in late November. 

7. Share a favorite quote about home.

"Home is a place I've never been."  --said by a man named Dave from our old church, whose house burned three days after Christmas one year  (when an unattended, open pillar candle fell over on the dining room table).

He and his family made it out alive, unharmed,  they were able to rebuild, but in the year that they were homeless, Dave realized afresh that this world is not his home.

8. Insert your own random thought here.

Have I announced on here that my sister is expecting her second baby?  Little one is due four days after my birthday in August!