The Other Goodbyes

Grief at the time of death is expected. The unexpected grief from the other goodbyes would bring the swells of sadness to the surface as I would have to let go of another thread of the cloth that bound Mike and me together.

When Mike first died, I couldn’t find the last necklace he had bought me for Christmas. I had put it on the bookshelf next to my bed, and it was gone the following morning. I was devastated as I searched the area for it. A few days later, I was sitting on the floor, crying, next to my bed when I spied it under the bookshelf. It’s a Mobius infinity pendant inscribed with “I love you,  I love you more.” I was relieved to find it because I didn’t want to lose another part of Mike. I wear it daily, though I have gone through a few chains. I’m not a jewelry person, but this necklace is priceless.

Moving from the house we were renting to a new one was another hard change. It had only been 2 ½ years since Mike’s death, and my emotions were still raw. I would be leaving the last place we would ever share as a married couple. Although I had always been the one to look for houses, it just wasn’t the same. It was back to making all the decisions and second-guessing myself. I worked with a real estate agent for a bit but found a house not far away that was being rented by the owner. Ironically, when we moved to Phoenix in 2001, we could get a loan for a home with minimal assets. Now that I had some money put aside, the banking regulations made it impossible to afford. I’ve been in the same rental for the last six years. I’ve walked by the old place, but there is no attachment to it anymore.

Sixteen years ago, Mike went to the shelter to get a cat for us. When he returned with a kitten, he said it had a twin. I made him go back and get the other one. I’m not one to take animals to vets because that is not how I was raised. After Mike died, anytime I would take a cat to the vet, I’d find myself crying, sure that I would be told that she was going to be put down. That was never the case. It finally dawned on me that I was emotionally overwhelmed because it brought up the memory of taking Mike to the hotel where he died. Completely unrelated, but my heart didn’t understand that.

In April 2019, I took Stella, who had not aged well, to the vet, knowing that she would have to be put to sleep. I kept making the appointment and canceling it because I couldn’t deal with the sadness of letting go. Finally, I knew it was the humane thing to do. A friend, whose son had died four years after Mike, offered to come with me. They gave me a choice to stay with Stella when they gave her the shot. I had to stay because I wasn’t there for Mike when he died, and this was another part of him that I was letting go of. It was excruciatingly painful to watch her go, but I don’t regret it. I was able to recover more quickly. Her sister, Bella, is still alive and well, but I dread the day I must let go of her.

There have been many changes from who we were as a couple to who I am today. I know that I will have to deal with more goodbyes in the future, and I will still feel the waves of grief roll over me. The memories, though, are what I can hold on to, and for that, I’m genuinely grateful.