Tag Archives: death

Thirty Two Years A Friend – In Memory of My Beloved

mac-laughing-cameoAugust 30th marks thirty two years of friendship, now lost to this world. I still count the years even though my beloved has been gone these past few years. He is still the best friend I ever had. He was a kind gentleman with a pleasant (and oft corny) greeting ready.  My beloved always respected the boundaries of marriage when I was married to an abusive man, and was always kind to me. He was just a friend, then a friend in need, and then my beloved friend indeed. He was the last of his line, sixth or seventh generation Californian of 100% Scottish descent. He would say he was all Pict. He was handsome to me but, he felt self conscious about his Scottish nose. Always humble about his looks as well as his brilliant mind. He left behind a handsome body without an ounce of fat and a brilliant mind. Dust now but always alive in my mind.

I was an ugly woman during my pregnancy but, he always had a kind word for me. My ex insisted his five months pregnant wife go with him to chop and haul firewood. In retrospect, I think he had hoped I would miscarry. I was horribly naïve in those days and believed everything I was told. I returned home spotting blood, with an extremely severe case of poison oak that lasted until I gave birth and they could shoot me up with steroids. It was nasty, oozing and ugly and covered 80% of my body.

How my beloved could say I was beautiful pregnant is beyond me. He saw things in people I never could. The things he saw were truthful; it just took time to show up. I became beautiful because he loved me into it. I wanted to be the best I could be because it is what he deserved.  My heart and mind were changed because of his enduring kindness and love. He never yelled at me, threw things at me, called me names or put me down. He was capable of great anger and I did make him mad on occasion but, he always chose kindness.

My beloved was a tactical man, a warrior. He was finely honed in body and mind, he drove himself ruthlessly. He could ride (m/c and horses), shoot, track, capture, break/fix, cook and specialized in ECM. He could drop a cocky CHP officer in less than 6 seconds and leave him wondering what happened.  The army believed he had cheated in survival school because he gained weight and sent him through again. (Duck roasted on hot rocks in the sun can be tasty). He served the country he loved both in the military and privately for an alphabet agency. He lived with the knowledge that forever alters your life when you see the evil that men can do.  He often said as long as there was evil in this world, there was a need for men like him.  He suffered from PTS but hid it well from most people. He was a gifted engineer and at one time a critical piece of 80% of all computers in the world was a result of his work or design. He was brilliant and he gave his brilliance to others making several other people millionaires. He gave his wealth away.  He loved people.

One year before his death, as his health began to degrade; he purchased two small life insurance policies in addition to the one he had carried for decades. It made the difference in my life now so I would not have to struggle and lose everything we had worked for. I can still keep and drive his truck that is overpowered with an 8 liter engine.  It hauls around our grandchildren of the heart and pulls the RV he never wanted to own.  (Sorry honey, when you don’t stick around, wives do stuff!) He cared enough to plan for my future without him. He lived on adrenaline.  His high school year book quotes him as the most likely to die before age 30, his tired body quit him at 52.

He loved children and spent his time caring for those thrown away by their parents. Because of his upbringing and early days of extreme hunger, he never let anyone leave his presence hungry. It was not uncommon for him to feed 12 people at lunch time or dinner. He often took someone with us for Saturday or Sunday morning breakfasts. It was expensive but, as an automation engineer, it was how he chose to spend his money. It fit with my Italian ancestry, to feed someone is to love them.

He was not perfect, just perfect for me. He could not and would not practice a work/home life balance. He could not pull back and rest so when he caught pneumonia and the call came to assist someone, he went. I begged him not to go, I went with him and watched as he heaved up the water from his lungs and begged him with tears to go to the hospital.  He was stubborn to the very last and refused.  He expended his very last reserve serving others and died the next day on his terms.

   Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. John 15:13

You were the greatest love and lover I will ever know. Rest now my love, my gorgeous man.

The angels danced in delight and Jesus must have been waiting for you as you took the express lane to heaven and your eternal reward.  You touched so many lives and where you were was a better place because of you.  You are still missed!

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Filed under Grief, Marriage, PTSD

Mortality

Sorry for the break in posts. A few weeks ago I was arguing with God about my own mortality. The two men I have loved most in this world and who loved me, mostly unconditionally, have gone to be with their maker. (my Dad and my Beloved) I do not fear death, I do not seek it, but the fear is in the how and not the why or when. I have been very ill and the rampant infection in my throat threatened to completely close off my ability to breathe. Three trips to the emergency, $1,500.00 in co-pays, several prescriptions and a lot of sleep later, I am on the road to recovery.
Obviously, God did not see any validity in my arguments to just take me now. I have a fire insurance policy (that pre-paid free salvation plan provided by Jesus). I have a high tolerance for pain but, this was beyond my ability to handle.
I have a new understanding for the folks in my life that suffer with chronic pain. It takes a very special person to be able to function with constant severe pain.
My remodeling efforts have been put mostly on hold until I can build my immune system and stamina back up. About all I manage day to day is taking care of my own basic needs, tending the chickens (picking up the eggs) and the cats. Thank heavens the bee’s can take care of themselves for a few weeks, I’m praying the wax moths died out in the drought and won’t find them!
I wanted to finish up the cement work out front and end the mudworks. I’m 1/3 of the way through preparing the first floor for new hardwood flooring. The patio needs to be torn up (overhead is causing water damage to the wall and the cement is all cracked). I need two windows replaced and the eves cut back (head bangers). Oh, and the drainage pipe is plugged about 20′ in. That is a must before heavy rains. I guess God wants me to finish up some of these projects before I’m done with this temporary home. My daughter certainly votes for the finish category! I’m thinking broke just writing this list.
I have to constantly do something; it’s hard for me to sit still, even if I need to in order to get better. This week my main agenda will be paper destruction. Those little piles of paper that seem to collect everywhere in my house. I swear they mate and reproduce at night!

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Filed under Grief, Life Lessons

Peckish About My Lost Pict

It’s been nineteen months since my beloved was called home to help out Jesus. My beloved was always serving others, I don’t know of a time when he refused to help another. He had the gift of mercy down pat. Me, not so much. I struggle with a sense of right and fair.
I am constantly reminding myself that God never said life would be fair but that we should be. Mercy was my beloved’s best quality and the one that often frustrated me. You see it cost him his life, he kept nothing back and gave it all to others. He tried to follow Christ’s teachings as much as he could. I go from missing him terribly to being furious with him for not balancing his energies and saving something for himself.
I have come to grips with the realization that the people that manipulated him into helping them move while he was suffering from pneumonia will never express remorse or apology. I am choosing to believe that they cared for him and feel remorse; they too may have problems dealing with his loss at 52 years.
My beloved did not love perfectly, but he loved me. Our marriage had a couple of bumps in the road and one rocky patch where I almost gave up. I’m glad I didn’t. He was so sick and was making bad choices, everyone said I should leave him and cut my losses, that the illness would only get worse. For better or worse, right. We made the choice to love each other and our marriage found a new plateau. I loved nothing better than just laying in bed, feeling his arms around me. Now, I have good memories and no regrets. My mother is in her eighties, I may have twenty three plus years left to find peace and balance in my life. I’m working on it!
This emotional tug of war saps my strength. If only I could just wash the emo away with a good cry!
I saw a grief counselor for a brief time. She said people who love deeply, grieve deeply and I should be kinder to myself. I get depressed from time to time but refuse to stay there. He would hate that. I have his ashes on the floor next to my shoes. Mostly because I have to wait to do what I want with them. For now, when I behave badly, I simply roll him over in his grave, laugh, and go on as he would want me to with a, “Top of the Day to You” and a “I live to serve”.
St. Patrick’s Day was a big holiday for my Celtic lover. We didn’t celebrate St. Patrick as much as all things Celtic; he was all Pict as he used to say. He was seventh generation native Californian but still all Pict. His ancestors lived in the mountains and were sheep herders and lumbermen and later a purveyor of fine (and not so fine) Scots whiskey!
My Great Scot is gone (for now) and so ends his pict line. The little Irish girl in me abstained from the yummy soda bread and the St. Paddy’s fixin’s, maybe next year. I did wear green and an Irish sweater, drank pots and pots of tea, and cried for his loss. Maybe next year I’ll bake the Soda Bread with currants.
Sleep well my love; you have earned your rest!
Ti Amo, Tanta Ti Amo Mi Amore!

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Filed under Grief, Marriage