Jane's Closet

[HAP]

Dear friends,

My wife’s sister came over this morning to help me clean out Jane’s armoire and one of her closets. It was a physically and emotionally wrenching experience that served to remind me of both our pas, and the future her NET cancer stole from us.

We were about 30 minutes into the armoire when I found the two sweatshirts. One had the Australian flag on it, the other the flag of New Zealand. Though she had never been to either, we both dreamed of going there after we retired.

Some day, perhaps, when I am done with fighting to help find a cure for NET cancer I may take that trip. I’ll see the Sydney Opera House and the Great Barrier Reef. I’ll walk the mountains where the Lord of the Rings was filmed and do all the other things we talked about.

But the way things are I can’t bring myself beyond the perhaps and the may. My time is not my own. What money I have is committed to this more serious quest. I cannot even bring myself to think about buying a car despite the 100,000-mile mark that is approaching too quickly on my Focus’ odometer. NET cancer needs the money more than I need a new—or even a used—car.

My current car runs. It gets me where I need to go. New wheels can wait. Australia and New Zealand can wait. Jane is gone and so many of our dreams are gone with her. I don’t think I could look at the things we wanted to see there and be happy in her absence. I feel cheated and angry and hurt.

After my sister-in-law left I walked back into the room we had been working in. The armoire was empty and I had closed it earlier. But we had only gotten through about half of the closet. It was still open and I could smell her scent in the room. I put my head down against the clothes bar and howled for about 20 minutes.

My mind went away as it had so many times these last two years. I feel better for a while afterward—but even though I am alone I feel embarrassed by it. I am, for that space of time, a three-year-old throwing a temper tantrum—a mindless creature caught in rapids that overwhelm everything. It is not a good feeling.

I took the things we had boxed and bagged to a local charity group. They will make sure they all get good homes with people who need them. There were sweaters and winter coats and scarves as well as blouses and pants and sweats. The new owners will not know the stories behind each one, nor how and why they have come to them. And that will be a good thing.

And some day, I will, if I am not too old and decrepit, fulfill our travel dreams. And that, too, will be a good thing.

But first we are going to kill NET cancer—and that will be the best thing of all.

Peace,

Harry

[mfh]

Harry, you are a brave man. I do know what it feels like to wail as arms are wrapped around clothing in a closet. I do not know what it feels like to donate clotI hes because I have not had the courage to do that yet. I know the lost dreams...and to date can not fathom going to those places we dreamed of seeing...who knows...maybe some day.

No need for embarrassment...though I understand it. I think you are brave. You are an adult whose heart has been ripped out of your chest; whose soulmate has died; whose dreams have been dashed against rocks...and who has done so much to prevent another from going through this. All good reasons to howl with your head on the clothes bar. I am so sorry your dreams and my dreams have disappeared.

Peace to your heart,

Mary

[HAP]

Dear Mary,

I don't feel brave or strong. But thanks for your kind words. They are a beacon today in a huge darkness. I just keep telling myself I have to keep moving forward. It was what Jane said every day in the hospital: I have to keep moving forward. It was her mantra, then. Now it has become mine. The difference is Jane was brave--I'm just stubborn.

Peace,

Harry

[mfh]

Harry, I do understand. I don't feel very brave either. Sometimes i feel like that 3 year old but in the big picture we are doing the toughest thing life has called on us to do...surviving and working on thriving. I KNOW Jane is proud of you....you ARE moving forward every time you put your feet on the floor in the morning, everytime you run a race for Jane, every time you put a pair of slacks or shirt in that bag to donate, every breath you take...I can't believe how hard this journey has been. I have never known this kind of pain through many losses...so I think we are brave just to go on. Stubborn works...but even that takes courage.

Sleep well.

Mary

[kayc]

Harry,

I know what a terribly hard thing that was to do...I tackled it much too early on. The hardest was cleaning out George's trailer that he stayed in while working away from home during the week...everything in it was him, and I "howled" as you put it so loud I'm sure you could hear me clear down the street. In retrospect I should have left it sit a year before even trying and should have had someone with me. The closet rod with his clothes on it broke about 2 1/2 weeks after he died so I tackled it then, but I still kept some of his clothes, the ones that most reminded me of him, and sent one of his sweaters to each of his kids. I donated to a cause I knew would mean esp. much to him. I know some have had quilts made out of their loved ones' belongings but I felt George would want others to make use of his things as he always cared about everyone and their needs. It's esp. meaningful this time of year when some so badly need warm clothes.

I hope you continue to see the needed results from your quest for Jane.

[enna]

Dear Harry,

I have been following your POSITIVES post but have not really offered any thoughts but I have been inspired. Your journey is somewhat reminding me of ‘Man of La Mancha’ – you know the guy – the one who transformed himself into Don Quixote de La Mancha. As the quote goes:

To dream the impossible dream

To fight the unbeatable foe

To bear with unbearable sorrow

To run where the brave dare not go. etc. etc.

I have learned about NET cancer from your bravery for putting it out there for us.

I have read about how dedicated you have been in the fund raising and runs you have been involved in in Jane’s honor.

I am learning (only a little over five months of losing the love of my life) about now not being able to follow dreams that we were making together.

I am learning that it’s ok for me to have Jim’s clothes in his drawers and hanging in the closet – I have screamed out just opening a drawer – and I don’t know if I’ll ever pack his things up and donate them – I’m not there yet – but you are indeed BRAVE.

I hang onto the clothes bars and wonder why Jim is not here and there are tears -

You are on a journey that is selfless – and this inspires those of us on a similar one.

And as Mary said you do NOT have anything to be embarrassed about –

You are grieving and it is NORMAL – and if it’s not, then someone is sure fooling us –

Good for you for thinking about what Jane would have wanted – things to go to those who are in need.

I changed a few pieces of living room furniture this past week and donated the pieces going out to Habitat for Humanity – one of Jim’s favorite organizations –

Your car will take you where you need to go until it is time to get another one.

You will discover new dreams that will take you on a path that will move you forward to new beginnings. Thank you for all your positives as your heart aches.

Anne

[Guest babylady]

harry -- i couldn't bring myself to pack up john's things. a friend did it for me. there were clothes that john hadn't worn for years. he was a pack rat. all his things are boxed up and ready to go to charity. there must be about 20 or more boxes. trying to get myself to pack up some of my own things.

i know about crying, wailing and sobbing. one day i cried for 10 hours. i'm crying now. when john was diagnosed i realized that adults make noise when they cry. i thought only children did that.

yesterday for the first time i only cried for a few minutes -- thought i was making progress but today i'm back to hours of crying. i can't seem to move forward. i do what i have to do.

i feel like i'm living in a different world. the world is going on around me, but i'm not part of it.

hugs,

arlene

[Wifflesnook]

It's six months today since Pete died which means his Grand daughter is exactly six months and one day. Their anniversaries will always be linked and somehow We have to cope with that. Our fridge has just broken and I've ordered another which should come tomorrow. The old one has to be taken away but before it is I have to remove fridge magnets (all meaningful) and take Pete's motor bike helmet and gloves plus a cap off the top where they have been since last November. I left them there as I've left so many of Pete's things as I want to live in a house that looks as though he is still here. Other things have had to change. Like Anne I've had to buy some new furniture as when he was in the lvimg room in the huge hospital bed I had to get rid of an old sofa. But I've done the minimum. I've been helped in this by this forum giving me permission as it were to do what I can do and leave anything else until I'm strong enough. All these things are stabs of pain aren't they? No one but us knows the pain which we have to live with daily. Most of it is borne by us alone. But at least we can talk about it here and although nothing really seems to help I'm sure that sharing does just a tiny bit. So I know, and I feel total empathy for you because I'm just the same. Peace.

[mfh]

Jan, I know you and Anne and others wonder how you survived these past months. So do I. I do understand the birthday-death connection. I turned 70 the day after Bill's burial. It was also Easter Sunday. Forever connected as your little granddaughter's birth and birthday celebration will always be connected to Pete's death.

Strange how getting a new fridge can become something that brings forth tears. Who would have guessed? Like you, I have left the house pretty much as it was. I got a couple of new chairs but put Bill's in his office (where he died and where I meditate about half the time). I have his picture in a couple of places and my painting of him as well. They will stay put forever as far as I am concerned as I sit here today. Put all those magnets back up on the new fridge if that feels right and put the cap back also.

Yes, we do get it each in our own way with lots of overlap on the circles in which we live.

Peace, Mary

[kayc]

Tell me about it...I recently replaced my 35 year old refrigerator and as I was pulling it out, I remembered the last time George pulled it out to clean behind it...it never stops.

[HAP]

Dear friends,

It has been a very difficult weekend. Friday night I got a note that an old friend and former colleague had died from the brain cancer he has been fighting for two years. Saturday night, I received word that one of the patient pillars of the NET cancer community had also died Friday night after her ten year battle with the disease. The active NET cancer community is very small and very tight. Every loss carries a very high cost, not only emotionally but in terms of getting people to pay attention to a disease most people have never heard of as well.

I feel tonight like I have not felt in many months: distraught and empty. I also learned tonight that Facebook wants me to pay for the NET cancer posts I do to the tune of $50 a day--or more.

I'm not going to give up, but for tonight I just want to rest.

Anne, I often feel--especially tonight--like Don Quixote. I sing the Impossible Dream with great frequency. It recharges my batteries. I think we all can find some solace in those words.

Peace,

Harry

[mfh]

Harry, I am so very sorry. You have been on my mind and I almost emailed you earlier to see how your weekend went in view of sorting Jane's closet. Two losses like this is so very difficult. I can certainly understand your feeling distraught and empty. We both know empty too well. Of course, you won't give up but rest matters and I am glad you will take a rest. The Impossible Dream is one of my favorites. I remember teaching in the inner city of Chicago where the kids told of murders they witnessed as a part of sharing the weekends on Monday morning...I made a huge bulletin board with some of the words of this wong..."and the world will be better for this, that one man, scorned and covered with scars, still strove with his last ounce of courage to reach the unreachable stars..." and then we spent days discussing this passage and the entire song trying to give these kids some hope. That was 1968...

As for Facebook. I think I heard that when FB tries to get you to pay...to have your people who like you create an interest list. Go to your site...and click on message and you should be add to interest lists. Not sure....Check that out...it may help...not sure. Worth checking.

Again I am so sorry for your losses and for the families of those who are also grieving these losses. WE are here with hugs and support.

Peace,

Mary

[ANC1117]

Harry,

Sorry to here of the losses. I can recall my father going into the hospital a few months after Celene passed and thought to myself how and if I could handle another death close to me. It has been just over a year since Celene died and I have not removed her things. I even dust off the necklace she left hanging in our bathroom. Some days I see her clothes, or her makeup, and cry, thinking how packed things up may make it easier. I know someday I will when the time is right. For now I am taking little steps as needed. You are taking those painful steps when you feel strong enough to take them.

Anthony

[mfh]

Anthony, it is 2.5 years since Bill died. His toothbrush is in his medicine cabinet, tools in his workshop, clothes in his closet, hat on the rack. They will stay there indefinitely. They comfort and sadden me but I would feel more lost if I moved them. As you said, we k ow when it is time. We are the expert on our loss. Peace, Mary

[Lina]

I have not gotten rid of Arthur's toothbrush either...it is still in the medicine cabinet. I did let go of some of his clothes, but not the ones he wore all the time, just some of the ones he had tucked a way for when his current supply wore out.

[kayc]

Harry,

About FB, I think I'd call it to the attention of the press...not good publicity for them to charge a charitable organization so much and per day at that! It's not like you're making money off of it! Good grief! I don't blame you for your weariness, and esp. following on the heels of such news, I'm sorry!

[mfh]

Just checking in, Harry, to see how you are doing today.

Mary

[HAP]

Dear Friends,

Things are better today. Two of our former students just had a baby this morning and they invited me to come visit them in the hospital. Nice couple. Cute baby. And the father is in love with his new daughter. All he could do was stare at her the whole time I was there. The mother said he has been like that since they found out she was pregnant.

After a weekend of death, this was the perfect antidote.

Peace,

Harry

[mfh]

Dear Harry, I am so pleased that you were in the presence of new life and an adoring dad. Yes, a great antidote. Peace, Mary

[kayc]

Harry, It is a reminder that life is a cycle...I am glad you were invited to witness this wonderful welcoming!

[ANC1117]

This may sound wrong to some, I do some traveling for my work so I took Celene's tooth brush and placed it in my travel bag. I plan to use it till it looses its effectiveness and then put it in the medicine cabinet next to mine.

Anthony

[Wifflesnook]

I wear Pete's woolly hat, when I walk our dog. It's a bit big for me but before I put it on I sniff it as it smells of Pete's hair. If there were not such a big height difference between us I think I'd be wearing his sweat shirts too, but perhaps it's just as well as I think I might be considered very eccentric. :-)

[mfh]

I turned one of Bill's shirts into my paint smock...it is comforting. His favorite jacket hangs on the back of the bedroom door along with his Door County Bentley cap. I guess it will be there for ever. It is memory, sensuality, presence.

Mary

[mfh]

Well, Anthony...whatever comforts....that is what matters. Mary

[Lina]

I sleep with Arthur's shirt every night. I rub it between my fingers as I fall asleep. I do not have the clothes he wore last, they were work clothes scrubs (he was an RN) and I suspect they were either cut off him while they were trying to save him or later at the autopsy. I wish they had given them back to me..at least his shoes...but they did not. They did give me his glasses and the things he had in his pockets and I have the shirt he wore earlier in the day before dressing for work and that is the one I sleep with.

I do not think there is any harm in these things we do or keep to help us feel close to our beloved.