Reality is setting in at new levels

Hi my friends,

It has been a long time since my last post. I tried to compose many times, but I had no words to share. Today I will just start and see what comes out.

My wonderful sister Pam, who stayed with me all summer is enjoying a well deserved winter life in Florida. Tom's and my amazing families have settled into their school, church, work, and family routines after much fussing over me this summer and fall. They and many friends attacked my property and home like a swarm of ants, raking, trimming, repairing, and cleaning until it sparkles like a jewel at the corner of Howe and Francis. I am overwhelmed with gratitude and love.

How am I doing? Everyone is asking that question with love in their heart and maybe a little curiosity. I think that I am doing well. I have no concept of where I am supposed to be in the healing process . Logic dictates that it would have to be totally different for each individual. Sometimes, I can go for a few hours without thinking about Tom. Sometimes I am happy, sometimes sad...each with a different twist from the old self I used to be. There is no pattern; no good day/bad day. The first six months after his death, I describe as a wakeful nightmare. I kept thinking I would wake up and he would be there. Recently, the realization that this is permanent and irreversable has reached new depths. It's pretty hard sometimes, but they pass. I think that the parts of my brain that would not believe are now believing. It is a hard pill to swallow.

I have a feeling that the new level of grief is in part from the fact that all summer and fall I faced and challenged myself (with wobbly knees) to master all that my Tom was responsible for in our partnership as homeowners. With lots of help, I am understanding more about all of the fuels, starting,and maintenance of all of the machinery, all of the battery changing, trimming and trash remembering, so many tasks that were easy and fun for him. All of my out of door tasks in our partnership have been completed with lots of help. Everything is done for now. I did it all and now I have an expectant feeling of waiting for the unknown challenges of winter season without my partner, Tom. I am hunkered down and waiting now in my "fort." Our wonderful home of protection and warmth that Tom and I created together. To say I miss him would be a complete understatement. I find myself with time to explore drawers, closets, basement and workshop...things I didn't have time for during the busy, mind-clouded days of spring, summer and fall this year. It hits me many times a day how deliciously rich our life was. I must say that I truly knew how lucky I was, but not to the degree I understand now. Maybe the exterior and interior activity around our home this year is a metaphor for the superficial, "crazy-busy, keep my mind off it" kind of grief, and the deeper "stop the madness, let yourself be quiet and think and feel" kind of grief.

In my life with Tom before he got sick...if I had given up keeping so busy thinking about projects, things to acquire, keeping material things perfect, thinking about tomorrow, about next year, all of the tasks that keep our mind and body occupied...if I had backed off on that expenduture of energy and focused in on the wonderful people in my life, could my life have been even juicier, richer? I can't help but think the answer would be yes. Is this one of the things I am supposed to learn from this experience? One of many, I expect.

My gosh that got pretty deep. I am fine, really. I love you all and know that you love me. Give the people you love a big hug. Hold their hand any chance you get. Linda

Tom's Birthday

Tom was born sixty-one years ago today. He loved to live. He loved God and his family and his friends. He taught us lessons. Laugh. Be kind. Don't gossip. Be a good listener. Never give up. Be honest. Take care of yourself so that you can take care of others. Do your best in everything. Be respectful. So many. Happy Birthday Tom. You are my hero. I love you. I will do my best to live a life that you would be proud of. We all will. And to that, I know you would say, "Outstanding!"

Four months today

It was four months ago today that Tom Hundt died. I still struggle with denial. I know intellectually that he is gone, but there is a part of my brain that just can't seem to accept it. We were together so long and enjoyed each others company so that we did everything together. Truly, a part of me did not survive when Tom left.

I grieve our past life and routine things that we did every day. I grieve the fact that we will not be old together. When I see senior couples, I often wonder if they know how lucky they are. I feel envy.

I miss his volume, the space that he took up in this world. I miss the mass of him moving around me, appearing through doors, the words,"I'm home." I long for the feel of the shift in our bed when he would sit on it to join me for the night.

We were pretty tuned in to each other. I miss wondering if he is hungry and being happy to create meals for him, then watching him enjoy them. I miss his comments on what I had prepared because I knew he wanted me to feel good about what I had just done. He cared so much about what I was feeling and I as I said, we were tuned in to each other. Part of us lived to make the other content and secure.

Overall I think that I am doing okay. One can never plan on how to feel in a situation like this...it just happens and you let it. I find that if I am not busy around the farm that I am reaching out to my wonderful family and friends. Everyone is ALWAYS there for me. I am trying to handle life with strength and courage and dignity and basically just trying to"gut it out" because that is what Tom would want me to do. That is what he would do if things were the other way around.

People ask me what my plans are. I have no plan. It's as if I am watching a movie with the sound turned off. I am waiting for the sound to come on so that I can fully engage and participate in what is going on. It will take time, as everyone says, and I can feel that that is true. In the meantime, I am so grateful for the comfort and security that Tom so carefully arranged for me and for the gentle, patient people I love that surround me.

Creating a new normal

I have been experiencing, over the past few weeks, an expectant feeling of returning to normal or the old routine. I now have gotten my brain wrapped around the realization that I can never go there again. It is quite overwhelming and I find myself in denial quite often. Surely, this will pass and I will have that old comfortable feeling again. It is becoming clearer with time that I need to create a new normal. I think that won't be something that I can get a paper and pen out and figure out with lists. I think that I just have to keep getting up each day and go through it and see what happens. It takes patience. That is one of the things that I pray daily for...that and courage. Tom and I leaned on each other for forty years. I am feeling a little off balance.



I am currently in Seattle, WA with my dear friends John and Mary Jane Currier. John was the Coast Guard Officer that spoke so beautifully at the memorial/military part of Tom's funeral across from the church. They live on Puget Sound. I have been here for five days and it truly has been a healing experience. I sit on their porch and look out over the water at snow covered mountains and a huge expanse of blue sky. There is a lazy parade of barges, sail boats, and ferries. I saw some seals the other day. Mary Jane spotted a pod of orka whales last week. I finally have the opportunity to clear my mind and fill it with memories of my life withTom. All of the thank-you cards are done. Bank, State of Michigan and DK Security paperwork is complete. Pam and other relatives are keeping up with things on the farm. I have no obligations. I thought I would crack under the lack of pressure. It has been a way of life for going on a year. But I am doing well.



I have had time to think about the blessing of having caring friends and family. I don't know how people do it without such support. It has made me step back and think how I can be of greater support to others. You all continue to be an inspiration to me. Love, Linda

Update from Linda

“I want to see Papa,” says Neva in a steady voice that she wants to sound like she means business. I get “that feeling” in the pit of my stomach and my eyes suddenly feel hot. I tell her again that Papa is in heaven and that I am going to find a special picture of Papa and her together to put in a frame so that she can look at him whenever she wants to. She seems okay for now.

Every person, no matter what their age, that knew and loved Tom are hurting, wondering, mourning, and coping in their own way.

By the calendar month, it has been one month. By weeks, it has been four weeks and two days. By days, it has been thirty-one days. By nights, it has been thirty nights. About ten times every day, it occurs to me that this is real and Tom is gone.

I remember in various ways…driving by the lumber company that he and I visited one hundred times as we remodeled our dream farm house together, having to circle “widow” on a dentist’s form because they got a new computer system, answering the phone to sobs when someone has just found out about Tom’s death.

I still have my moments every day where I just can’t handle the finality of it all. I guess that this is part of the process. I try to look at “the big picture” and understand that not many people don’t have to go through this to some extent in their life time. That helps because there is comfort in being part of a group.

I find that all of my feelings are intense. At any given moment I can be absolutely laughing my head off or feeling the crushing heaviness of loneliness or just plain being mad. Pictures of Donald Duck having a fit come to mind. Mad at a person, mad at the situation (whatever it might be), mad at complicated forms and those terrible answering systems where one has to hit number after number to get to the goal of talking to a person. The anger passes quickly though and I am not holding any grudges. It’s like pressure builds up and once it is released at the person or thing, I am better. I am surrounded with very patient people, the closest being my sister Pam. She is a rock and the truest example of unconditional love.

I am blessed with (I am thinking) the most amazing support system in the world…my amazing David and Laurie, the rest of my attentive and loving family, right down to my adorable grand-nephew, Noah, every single member of Tom’s big family, old and new friends, neighbors, members of the State Police, my garden club, people that Tom worked with that I have never met. I am overwhelmed with the love and generosity that people are capable of extending. I am taking a look at myself through all of this outpouring of love and respect for Tom and now myself.

Again, I try to think of how Tom would handle this whole situation. I am working and praying for more patience for one thing. Tom spoiled me totally. I feel like some of these emotions are growing pains (at 60 no less).

Spring is definitely here. His favorite flowers, lilacs are in their glory and will soon be followed by the peonies we transplanted a couple of falls ago, another of his favorites. Not all reminders are painful. I find myself smiling in remembrance more and more. Maybe I am getting there.

Love to all, Linda

Life at sixteen days out

Here we all are at the end of April and sixteen days since Tom died. I still find it hard to comprehend that I will never see him or touch him again. I am lucky that I have a few recordings of his voice so that I can hear him. One recording is on our answering machine. I get alot of teary sounding messages as, I think people are caught off guard at hearing his voice when they prepare to leave a message. I can't even think of taking it off right now. It is one of my treasures. The other recordings I have of his voice are on my cell phone. He took a motorcycle trip in June with some buddies and called me almost every night as he always did. He didn't happen to get me a couple of times and left messages. I usually erase messages because one gets so many, but for some reason I saved them. Boy, am I glad I did now. I of course saved every little "Missed ya, love ya" message after I found out about the tumor, but those first "Tom in love with me and without a care in the world" messages will always be cherished. Does anyone know how to preserve them? I am scared to death that they will accidently get erased.

I felt quite confident that I had learned some very wise lessons throughout Tom's illness. One of the things that I thought I had down was that I understood that I really don't have control of how things should go or at what pace or on my timetable. The big picture really has nothing to do with my plans. Well, after three months in various hospitals, two weeks at home with hospice, Tom's death, the visitation and then the funeral, I was ready to be in my home to take a big breath and think about our past together and just be. That was my plan. As it turned out, I spent four of the next seven days in the ER, hospital and my mothers apartment. She has had heart problems in the past and on Monday after Tom's funeral we had to call 911 due to pains and shortness of breath. Thank goodness she is okay and off playing cards with her girlfriends again. At 88 she is amazing.

Also within these sixteen days I have had the joy of spending time with loving friends and family. My neighbors are unbelievable. My cats are happy. My goats still wonder where I am (they are staying at my friends with 18 other goats). I have had to deal with funeral homes, the State of Michigan, banks, computers, sump pumps, and vehicles. I have also been confronted with a lot of firsts...grocery shopping for one, driving by our favorite restaurant, closing up the house for the night knowing Tom won't be letting himself in, running across his flip flops under the bench by the back door, to mention a few. Through it all, blessing after blessing presents themselves almost every day. Every day is still a gift.

I am not making any plans on how I am going to "get through this." I am just going to feel things as they come along. My relationship with Tom is not over. I feel him with me, I talk to him, and call on him for strength and courage and a small measure of his character to make me a better person. My friend Linda Fitzpatrick, who lost her husband Jim six years ago says that when she is asked if she is married, she always answers, "Yes, but my husband died." That is exactly how I feel. More later. Love and gratitude to you all. Linda