It’s been well over a month since my last post. My previous four posts were more personal than anything I thought I would ever share online/publicly. And it got to a point where, for several reasons, I was unable to write anymore, not least of which is that I was becoming afraid of demoralizing those who were following Diane’s condition as well as myself. And as I’m sure many of you reading this already know that a LOT has happened. Some good, some very bad.
For anyone who may not know, and to address the primary bad happening, I am very sorry to report that my wife, Diane, left us on December 23, 2015. Did Christmas happen? It seems to me like it did not, although I hope that all reading this had a good holiday even as I know many of you were meditating on our shared loss as I was.
It’s been a long up-and-down month for me since we lost her. My heartfelt thanks to all who attended the funeral and to all who have offered and rendered assistance to me and my family since our loss. You all know who you are. It is pretty standard to approach the bereaved at a funeral and say, “If there is anything I can do, don’t hesitate to let me know.” Even as this sentiment is expressed with sincerity, what usually happens is that most people fade away with no more being said. And I get this. Being around someone who is going through a loss can be difficult and depressing, and many people probably think (rightly perhaps) that, “he just needs time to himself to process things."
This is NOT what has happened to me. Many of you have texted, emailed, sent cards, met me for lunch, done small favors, kept me company, kept me busy, and any number of other things that have made my travel down this lonely corridor much more bearable.
Thanks so much to you all.
There is of course much to put in order in my house. My step-daughters, Nicole and Tara, have been very helpful with this, particularly in gathering up Diane’s clothes and carting them to charitable organizations where they could be of use to others and not be such a raw reminder to me.
The house is obviously much more empty now, in many different ways. I have had to put some things away in storage, at least for now. Our smiling faces in wedding pictures lead only to tears in recent weeks. They may come out again later as a reminder of the happiest day of my life, but they are too hard to look at for now.
One thing that turned up as I was going through the house was a finished (sort of) jigsaw puzzle depicting an iconic scene from what was probably Diane’s most favorite classic movie, “Gone With The Wind.” We spread the pieces of this puzzle out on the dining table in early summer last year. There it stayed for what must have been most of a month as we nibbled away at this 1000-piece monster. She would find a few matching pieces as she ate breakfast, I’d find a few more as I was waiting for my first delivery runs for the day to come in. We’d sit together at the table in the evening until we got cross-eyed looking at the jumble.
In the end, it seemed the joke was on us, as what we actually had was a 999-piece puzzle. When all pieces at hand were joined together, there was gap in the right center of the puzzle. Diane got in touch with the puzzle maker to try to somehow get the missing piece, but there were any number reasons why this would be very difficult, including that this puzzle was discontinued.
In the end, not sure what to do, but unwilling to just chuck it all in the trash, I stored it sandwiched between two pieces of foamcore.
A week or two ago, there it was, looking back at me as a bittersweet reminder of my much-loved wife and one of the many joyful times we had together. It occurred to me just then that this was a symbol of much of our marriage. Just as marriage is the most significant team effort of our lives, this puzzle was one of many smaller team efforts within that marriage.
Just as this was not a perfect puzzle, we were by no means a “perfect” couple. Our compatibilities far outnumbered our differences, but it’s certainly not as if we never disagreed on anything. But we were always two people who could discuss rather than argue.
It also struck me that the missing piece in the puzzle is symbolic of Diane, the missing piece in my life.
The puzzle now hangs framed in my office, with the inscription, “A ‘perfect’ team effort – Diane and Brian Drumm, Summer 2015."
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