Slice of Life

Echoes of a Celebration

~ rdicarne ~ 12 Comments

May has arrived, bringing a specific memory of Chuck and a smile to my face. Chuck’s birthday is May 17th; he would have been 70 this year. Chuck loved his birthday. Once May 1st hit, he began the countdown to his birthday with childlike exuberance.

We would always spend a weekend in Atlantic City, NJ, to celebrate, and by now, Chuck would have called his casino host at the Golden Nugget to book a room, hoping she would upgrade us to a suite for his birthday. Next, he would create an itinerary in his head and share it with me several times.

His list included:

  • What time would we leave on Friday (I had to be sure to be ready to go as soon as I got home from school)
  • What offers he was getting from the casino (free play money, birthday money, food comps)
  • where we would eat each day of the trip
  • how much money we would bring to gamble
  • What snacks he would be packing (He never went anywhere without water and snacks in a cooler bag. You never knew when they would come in handy.)
  • what time we would leave AC to come home on Sunday

I didn’t always have the capacity to share in his excitement until it got closer to the actual day of departure, but watching his genuine joy made me so happy (even when I was hearing it for the umpteenth time and wasn’t quite listening as intently as he expected).

There will not be a casino trip this year; in fact, I haven’t been to a casino since our last trip together last August. I don’t know if or when I will visit a casino because it was so much of a “we” thing rather than a “me” thing, but the memories of our casino adventures bring me more happiness than sadness. For that, I am grateful.

Standing in the Silence

~ rdicarne ~ 14 Comments

There are many different religious traditions and opinions about visiting cemeteries. Being raised Catholic and still a practicing Catholic, I routinely visit cemeteries for holidays, other special days, and sometimes at the spur of the moment. When I was young, I was intrigued by the very old gravestones at the cemetery where my paternal grandparents are buried. I wondered about the time period in which these people had lived and felt a twinge of sadness when I came across a child’s grave. Chuck and I would make our cemetery trek to St. Dominic’s Cemetery, where my parents and grandparents are buried, and to Resurrection Cemetery, where his parents and sister are buried, bringing flowers, sharing memories, and saying a silent prayer before we left. Sometimes we felt sadness, but mostly it was reflective and cathartic.

Last week, Chuck’s headstone was set on his grave. I received a message late Tuesday afternoon that it had been placed earlier than expected, and on Wednesday after school, I took a ride to St. John Neumann Cemetery to see the stone. I wasn’t sure how I would feel or react to seeing his name (and mine) etched in stone, but it was somehow very comforting.

I know that Chuck is not in that grave, that his body is present, but his soul is in heaven, yet, with the setting of the stone came the peace of knowing that Chuck’s name is sent out into the world every time someone reads the memorial. Some people who read it will have memories of Chuck; others might wonder who he was, like I did when I was a child visiting St. Dominic’s.

Standing at Chuck’s grave, looking at his name on the stone, brought me a sense of connection. The stone was one last gift to my beloved, honoring the bond that remains between us. It turned out better than I could have hoped, and I think Chuck would approve because it is simple in design, just the way Chuck lived his life.

Some days, when I visit Chuck’s final resting place, I cry and feel deep sadness, thinking about the huge void his passing left in my life. Some days, it is a silent cry with tears gently rolling down my cheeks. Other times, it becomes an ugly cry that has me retreating to my car so as not to make a spectacle of myself. But last week, I felt calm knowing I would keep his legacy and story alive.

Love Lives On…

Wishing and Hoping

~ rdicarne ~ 27 Comments

wish – verb

: to have a desire for (something, such as something unattainable)

What do you wish for?  When you were a child, you might have wished for a day off from school or a special present from Santa. As we get older, our wishes change. Maybe it was for the perfect job, a raise, or a promotion. I used to wish I were thinner or that we would hit the lottery.  Sometimes I wished for perfect weather or for my favorite team to win.

Can wishes come true?  Some can if you are willing to set an intention, work hard, and be patient.  Others are only pipe dreams. Since my life was turned upside down in September, I have found myself wishing for the impossible.

Widow Wishes

I wish I understood the level of grief that came with losing your spouse, so that I could have been more helpful to those widows I know who came before me, but you can never understand until you walk that path.

I wish I didn’t have to experience this pain, but unless we died simultaneously, I would be leaving Chuck with the pain, and that seems selfish.

I wish I had more time with Chuck, but I know that was not up to me, and honestly, no amount of time would have been enough.

I wish I could see into the future and know when I will be reunited with Chuck, but that wouldn’t make the waiting and living any easier.

I wish I could learn to notice all the signs I believe Chuck is sending me, but I also believe he is near and watching over me, even when I don’t see them.

It is okay to wish, but wishing away your life is not healthy or productive. I am working on changing “I wish” to “I hope.”  

hope – verb

: to cherish a desire with anticipation : to want something to happen or be true

 My hope is to continue to work through my grief and learn to allow it to live beside me, not consume me. I had many hopes for the future. Now, that future looks different, but it is a future nonetheless.

Safe Haven

~ rdicarne ~ 1 Comment

It was going to be our stepping stone

from the red brick row house in the city with a cement patio and back driveway

to an aluminum-sided twin in the “burbs” with a fenced-in backyard.

Each move was meant to bring us closer

to the larger single home with a two-car garage we imagined,

but instead, the twin house on Carriage Drive became our forever home.

In this home, we hosted Thanksgiving dinners and Christmas Feasts of the Seven Fishes.

With folding tables and chairs, we packed in guests like sardines.

Still, there was always room for one more to join the chaos.

It is where the love of everything Philly shines with pride –

where yelling at the TV on football Sundays or at the Phillies or Sixers

was a common occurrence, but the love for the teams never died.

Here, our children learned to cook by watching their dad  

make delicious dishes with the special ingredient: love.

Grandchildren come here for sleepovers with Nona,

to watch movies, make crafts, play games, and eat snacks.

It is my safe space to come home to at the end of the workday,

where the love of my life welcomed me home with a smile.

Now, I come home to an empty house, welcomed only by the memories,

but the memories are still so sweet, and I still feel safe.

Cul-de-Sac Reflections

~ rdicarne ~ 3 Comments

I am from a cul-de-sac in a small town,

10 miles northwest of Philadelphia, where I grew up.

It is where we watched our children grow and pursue their interests,

where I established my 40-year teaching career in Catholic education.

I am from a cul-de-sac in a small town,

where we were once a young couple with young children.

Now I am the resident living here the longest (but not the oldest!),

with a house empty but for the memories.

I am from a cul-de-sac in a small town,

where neighbors look out for each other, especially when it snows.

It is where a neighbor, whose children have long been adults,

still has a basketball hoop out front for the kids.

I am from a cul-de-sac in a small town,

where we gathered to watch each other’s children go to prom,

get married, and have children.

And now we talk about the grandchildren.

I am from a cul-de-sac in a small town,

where I hope to live out the rest of my days,

knowing this is a circle where

everyone looks out for each other.

Day 31

~ rdicarne ~ 7 Comments

At the start of this challenge, I wasn’t sure if I would be able to write every day for 31 days this year, but I made it! 

Thank you to the staff at Two Writing Teachers who provide us with this wonderful platform for 31 days in March and every Tuesday throughout the year. Thank you to all of the other slicers who encouraged and inspired me to write.Thank you to all of you who read and commented on my writing across several different platforms. 

Thank you to all of you for allowing me to share my grief journey with you, to give you a glimpse into what a wonderful man Chuck was, and to be vulnerable in a safe place. I appreciate all of your kind words of support. 

I look forward to continuing my writing journey on Slice of Life Tuesdays. 

If you are interested in flexing your poetry muscles, join some of slicers at EthicalEla.com in April. We are writing poems every day. I am hosting on 4/12.

Thank you Chuck, for always being my biggest cheerleader and continuing to inspire me from up above!

Another Sign

~ rdicarne ~ 4 Comments

Today started out a little shaky.  I had a scheduled appointment to have my car inspected and an oil change. It had to be done today because the inspection sticker was set to expire at the end of the month, and I would not be able to take it on Monday or Tuesday. Yes, I know, I was cutting it close, but believe it or not, this is the first time I have ever done this myself. (I’ve been telling you I was spoiled!)

I got to the dealership on time and went into the office.  Of course, I had to go back out to the car to get my insurance and owner’s card because I didn’t know I needed to bring them in. (duh) When it was my turn to step to the counter, the service manager said he wasn’t sure whether they could do the work today because their systems had been down for 30 minutes, and they weren’t sure when they’d be back up. Cue the tears. I apologized for my mini meltdown, explaining that my husband died six months ago and he normally took care of all car-related things. To make matters more complicated, I had to attend the funeral of my cousin in three hours. I told him I would take a chance and wait to see if the system came back up.  

Once seated in the customer waiting area, I began thinking of what I could do if the work couldn’t be done today.  A nice man tried to make small talk, saying he had called his wife and said it might be a long wait, etc.  I was having trouble talking without letting the tears spill, but he was so kind. We had not been sitting there more than five or ten minutes when the service manager came up and said they were good to go, the computers were up and running. I told the man that my husband must be looking out for me.

About an hour later, my car was ready to go.  I decided to say hello to our salesperson, Diego, before I left, because when Chuck took the car for service, he would talk to everyone in the showroom! While telling Diego how much I am enjoying my car (bought it new in July), I mentioned Chuck.  Just then, Diego said he got the chills.  Now I may be watching too much of The Long Island Medium, but that seems to be a sign of a deceased presence.

I paid for the service and drove out to the parking area, where I pulled into a spot and put all the papers neatly in the glove compartment, when what song came on the radio but “Magnet and Steel.” (Those who have read some of my earlier posts will know the significance of this song.) That was my sign that Chuck was with me today when I tackled another one of those dreaded “firsts.”

There are those who may think I am crazy, but I believe our loved ones are sending signs from the other side.  

A Widow’s Creed

~ rdicarne ~ 11 Comments

Six months down, a lifetime to go. Being a widow is hard. Taking on new responsibilities is hard. Living alone for the first time in my life is hard. Moving forward is hard. Being happy is hard. All of these things are hard, but not impossible.

Some days, it would be easy to give up, plant myself in front of the TV, and veg out. Some days I am up to the new tasks, but don’t always feel confident. Chuck was always my biggest champion, and he believed I could do anything I put my mind to, whether it was true or not. Sometimes I think he believed in me more than I believed in myself.

I am trying to overcome limiting beliefs that crowd my mind, especially on days when I am sad or tired. This is the most difficult thing I have ever had to do in my life: learning how to live without my best friend and partner. Even though I don’t like or want this new life, it is all I have.  If I truly want to honor Chuck, I need to make the most of it. We were a team, and our motto was “We’ll figure it out.” I know I can figure this out with my faith, family, and friends, but more importantly, with myself.

I am working on believing in myself more.  Over these past six months, I have learned and continue to learn new things about myself every day. I started a list of things I believe (or want to believe) and still need work on.

  • I believe I will always miss Chuck immeasurably.
  • I believe he is close by and watching over me.
  • I believe life seems unfair sometimes.
  • I believe I am strong enough to take care of myself.
  • I believe I have a supportive community of family, friends, and neighbors.
  • I believe I am intelligent and still have gifts to share.
  • I believe I will be happy again in some form.
  • I believe God has a plan for me.
  • I believe in the power of yet.

Now I need to keep repeating these until I believe them without hesitation.

It Finally Hit

~ rdicarne ~ 8 Comments

I’ve hit a wall, and it’s getting late.

Have nothing to write, but my streak is at stake.

Been thinking about it most of the day

It’s hard to believe I have nothing to say.

I think it’s time to close my eyes,

That idea seems oh-so-wise.

Perhaps I’ll dream through the night,

and wake with something new to write.

A Calm Day

~ rdicarne ~ 4 Comments

Yesterday felt heavy because it was another first without Chuck. I loved watching my granddaughter dance and seeing my whole family, but I felt the weight of Chuck’s absence.

Today was really a day for rest. After attending mass this morning, I came home feeling lighter. There were a few signs that Chuck was near, and I felt peaceful. While I did plan to get a few things off my “to-do” list, only a couple were accomplished, and that’s okay.

Breathing in positivity is a lofty goal these days. Grief can keep challenging thoughts on a loop in your head and beat you down if you let it, and some days I do, and that’s okay.

Today I was reminded of how fortunate I am to have so many supportive people in my life. For the first time in a long time, my soul feels replenished. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but for today, I am thankful for the calm.