Timothy Birdnow

I buried my wife on Saturday.

It was a beautiful day, cool but not cold and clear, just the sort of day Cathy would have loved.

We had a visitation in the church lobby with photographs and a slideshow and a good-sized crowd came to pay their respects. In fact, people Cathy used to work with DECADES before showed up! Cathy touched so many lives and always for the better and was much beloved by many. She had no enemies at all, which is a testament to her gentle and sweet nature. Everyone loved her. Even people from the nursing home she was in showed up to pay their respects.

After the visitation we held the funeral, and it was a beautiful service indeed. How could it not be? Cathy and her sister basically planned the same service for their mother years ago and we largely recycled the readings. I was in no shape to make decisions and so let her sister plan it all. Naturally I accepted the credit when people told me how lovely it was!

The priest's sermon was spot on too; he captured the true nature of my little Catbird (I used to call her that and when I discovered there was a GRAY Catbird would often call her the old gray catbird, which often was followed by a flying shoe in my direction...) He was most impressed with the Thanksgiving where she invited homeless people to her place for a dinner (to the horror of her parents of course); Cathy had a huge heart! (You know she did; she married me, after all.)

She had suffered greatly for the last few years, with her pain rising asymptotically as the end neared, but she hardly ever complained and she prayed to God not for relief but for strength to endure it. She accepted the suffering as a badge of honor, as a way to please God and mitigate sins - her own and others. I was humbled by her presence; she truly was a saintly woman.

At any rate after her funeral we went to the cemetary and while everyone else left Cathy's sister and her husband (my old friend) and I watched as they lowered her urn into the Earth. It was heartbreaking but it gave a kind of closure to the matter which you don't get these days in traditional funerals. Too bad everyone had already left.

We went to a nice Italian restaurant that Cathy had always liked and had a find luncheon. I talked to old friends I hadn''t seen in a long time, and friends I still see, and relatives long overdue for my attention. It was comforting, even if I did just want to be quiet and shrink into the shadows. I'm glad everyone had a good time but I was in no mood for social intercourse. But it had to be done.

At any rate yesterday consisted mostly of me watching television and trying to pass the long hours, although I did sneak over to my house to post a few things. I'm going to start reversing the process I just undertook and move things back home. Granted I'll do it much more slowly so as not to put myself back in the hospital.

Oh, did I mention I was in the hospital for five days? I feared leaving, feared Cathy would pass away, but she held on until I got back and then went quietly, like a candle being blown out by a gentle breeze. She died comfortable and I believe was happy, at least to go with me by her side. It was with the gentlest sighs that she left this mortal world. Almost like blowing a candle out.

She waited for me; that is the greatest love I can imagine.

Anyway I am now at loose ends and wondering where to go from here. I didn't realize how much of my life was rooted in our marriage and how now that she's gone I have to build a new life. I don't expect it to be any great shakes; I'm getting old now and my health is poor and I won't be getting a new job or doing volunteer work or whatnot. I suppose I'll get back to writing and whatnot. I still have my father to worry about, after all. But I may just take off one of these days and drive until I am hungry for home.

What is tough is the little things. For instance, since she was cremated we saved her socks. She had a pair she bought for herself off Amazon, featuring Grumpy Cat from the internet. She passed away in Grinch socks (She hated the commercialization of Christmas and everyone called her the Grinch for not loving the crass commercial holiday). I was looking at those this morning and it punched me right in the heart. So did her Tweety Bird shirt, and the Jack-0-Lantern shirt she used to wear around Halloweeen. I suppose I'm going to have to get used to the little gut knifings like that.

And then there are the endless inquiries into my emotional state. I know everyone means well, and in fact it probably does actually help, but my 'druthers are to just be left alone and work through this myself. The problem is it's all stock phrases "I'm o.k." "don't worry about me", I know it'll get easier" etc. I would prefer a much more honest "this sucks and you got a raw deal" even if Cathy wouldn't necessarily agree. I could then say "damned right" which is much more how I feel about the matter, but the kind words are actually heartfelt and people don't know what to say - and they actually probably do help. It gets you out of the cycle of anger and sadness by making you say "I'm o.k." "don't worry about me", I know it'll get easier"; it gets you thinking this way in time. All of these cultural traditions have a good and noble purpose, I am certain, but they are a pain in the poste5rior. Nobody knows what to say to a bereaved person anyway so we all fall back on the cliche's. They are cliche's precisely because they are the best thing to say. But they often ring hollow on the ears of the person who lost someone.

At the funeral I had two attractive young widows come up to me to tell me how it's going to be and offer comfort. They had informed opinions and when they said it I could trust it was true. And of course my father had lost his wife five years ago (my mother) and when he told me it would get easier I believed him.

At any rate I need to think of this as a new beginning, not the end, but that's hard to do. It's going to take some time before I can really think about such things.

I am reminded of the movie Castaway starring Tom Hanks where, at the end, he realizes he will never resume his old life and is at a four way juncture in the flat plains of Texas. One way seems as good as another. And he narrates, saying he just has to wait to see what the wind will blow ashore, as he did on the island. My life is definitely like that now.

Cathy is now gone but she will always be a part of me, the better part. Time will tell what God has in store for me, but it surely will be unlike anything my old life gave me. Time will tell.

Posted by: Timothy Birdnow at 11:33 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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