Thanksgrieving - Reflections on the Second "First"

I won’t lie. Prepping for my second Kahuna-less Thanksgiving still tugs at my lonely heart. 588 days without him cannot erase the love and memories of the 18,108 days we shared.

I shared my thoughts on a second Thanksgiving on my Tales from the (Widow) Hood Blog. 

You can read it HERE

We Wish You Were Merry, Christmas - an Ugly Christmas Sweater Tale

Grief is my constant companion this holiday season. It’s the ugly Christmas sweater of human emotions - and hard to ignore. People see you wearing it and aren’t sure if they should complement you - “Gee, you look great!” - or pretend they don’t notice. You smile - even laugh occasionally -  knowing that hideous sweater is drawing attention, when all you really want is the beautiful cashmere number you loved and wore for so many years.

I'm pretty sure I owned this sweater in the '80's!

I won’t lie. These “first” holidays are tough. Family and friends are doing what they can to help soften the heartache, and I sincerely appreciate their kindness - and their invitations to join them for a bit of holiday fun. If only I could flip a switch and turn off the grief. I feel terribly guilty when I don’t accept an offer…

Last night I made it halfway to a long planned event, then pulled into a parking lot and sat with my aloneness, before turning around and heading back home. I knew I wasn’t really going to be alone - several of my “villagers” were awaiting my arrival - but I just couldn’t do it. In that moment I missed George too much - a Friday “date night” kind of occasion. Without my Kahuna in the driver’s seat, telling me I looked beautiful. Dancing to the slow songs, my head nestled in his chest, and swinging to our trademark moves when the music was right. I couldn’t face it – alone. I drove home, sent an apologetic text, and took off my party clothes in favor of pj’s and some hot tea. Charlie stayed close by, as he does when I’m “mopey”, and I imagined Friday nights of my past life. Oh what a difference.
 

One invitation I didn’t turn down was the delightful Christmas program of my firstborn Grand. Now a seasoned actor at 4 and a half (he was a donkey last year) Master M had a lead role as Joseph in this year’s Christmas performance along with the other 3-4 year old wiggly, giggly tots.

He had been practicing loudly recently, and nothing was better than his mash-up of song lyrics - "We wish you were merry, Christmas" - (and a perfect tile for this blog!); and "Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle on the way." In my lap sat my youngest grand - Sweet Baby K, a vision in her Christmas plaid party dress and black patent Mary Janes.

But even that event tugged at my broken heartstrings...

Driving, alone, to the church brought back memories of last year’s program. It was my first public, solo appearance, and I recalled the sudden outflow of tears as I walked in to see our then 3 year old grandson perform his first Christmas carols. George was in the hospital last year, on dialysis, awaiting results of the multitude of tests that would eventually reveal the deadly truth. Being at the church without “Grandpa” last year was a gut-punch - and the foreshadowing of what would soon become my new, unwelcome reality.

Let me assure you that I do allow happiness and joyful moments to take center stage now and then. I get out of bed every day, find distractions to keep me busy, and play Christmas music loudly. I’m looking forward to Christmas Eve with the family, and Christmas morning with the Grands, eagerly opening Santa’s bounty. I talk to George regularly, and know how much he hates seeing me suffer through this Blue Christmas without him. So I push through the sadness as best I can. Memories of fifty Christmases past remind me how fortunate I was to be given the gift of friendship and love with my Kahuna.

In a few days I will mark the eighth month since That Day, when I kissed my Kahuna goodbye - four months after his oncologist told us, “George, it’s not good news.” George’s first words to me after The News? “Honey, I’m sorry.” He knew he was giving me the ugly Christmas sweater I didn’t want to accept. He hated it too, and vowed to let me return it - by fighting for his life. While the outcome was not what we were prepared for, I will always love him for the gifts he gave us all. Acceptance. Kindness. Generosity. Compassion. Dogged determination. And most of all, unconditional love.

Merry Christmas, Darling. I miss you, and at the same time I “see” you. In every ornament on “our” Christmas tree. In the twinkling lights that adorn the home in which we celebrated so many holidays past. I hear you singing along with Bing’s White Christmas – the song you had to hear on the radio to denote the official start of the season. I feel you with me, and still sleep with your pajamas in my arms. I watch your memorial video to remember how much you were loved by so many, and will play The Night Before Christmas video I recorded, with you reading to the Grands last year. And I’m wearing my cashmere underneath the ugly Christmas sweater. Just for you.

Christmas 2016 

The "First" Christmas Blues

A year ago today. Our annual New York City trip to visit "Paula‘s Tree" and all the Christmas splendor the Big Apple has to offer. 

11/30/2017 Paula, George and Paula's Tree.
AKA Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree

George had not been feeling well. He’d seen an army of doctors since September, trying to figure out why he got winded so easily. Cardiologist. Pulmonologist. Internist. Nothing conclusive. New medications. No help. He just wasn’t himself, and we didn’t know why. It was enough to make me consider canceling our trip. But George wouldn’t have it. Besides, we were looking forward to showing our favorite NYC Christmas highlights to Sister-in-law and a lifelong dear friend. 

Radio City Music Hall Christmas Spectacular. 

Those five days in New York City would be the last. Last visit to Paula’s tree. Last Radio City Music Hall Christmas Spectacular. Last days unaware of the killer cancer that had been missed by doctors for months. Less than a week later, my world as I knew it ended. A year ago today…

I thought I could handle it. I thought surrounding myself with the memories and memorabilia of Christmases past would bring me comfort. I knew it’s what my Kahuna would want me to do...

He loved – I mean, LOVED Christmas. The music. The lights. Oh the lights! The tree we decorated together every year, while Bing Crosby dreamed of a White Christmas and Nat King Cole roasted chestnuts on an open fire. So many memories of so many Christmases together. As we adorned the tree, we would reminisce about the early years. We had both come from families who gathered - for food, for comfort, and to share the Christmas spirit. We loved carrying on that tradition for so many years, and always looked forward to a house filled with family and friends, culminating with our huge Christmas Eve dinner.

In 2016, we had decided to change it up a bit. That Christmas Eve party, we announced, would be our last. I sent everyone home with a memento from the bazillion decorations I had collected over the years. We made plans to start a new tradition with our immediate family. We would have a destination Christmas 2017, at a charming cabin nestled among snow-laden pines. The cabin was booked in the nearby mountains, grand baby number three had made her arrival, and we were ready to go – until The News derailed not only Christmas, but our entire life. As Christmas 2018 approached, I felt good about my decision to rekindle the Christmas Spirit – I KNOW it’s what George would want me to do.

I spy a blue glass ornament peeking from behind

Today I opened each box and carefully unwrapped the treasures, tucked away for safe keeping two years ago. It was different this year. Instead of heartwarming memories of Christmases past, I felt the heartbreaking reality of my new Christmas. I tried adding Christmas music to lift my spirits – until Pandora chose Merry Christmas, Darling, by Karen Carpenter, followed by All I Want for Christmas is You. A double whammy! Will I ever feel holiday joy again?

Got ornaments?

I pressed on. As Charlie watched, I readied the 10 foot tree for the arrival of friends I invited tomorrow for a tree decorating party – a strategic maneuver to ease the daunting task of ornament hanging! I opted to place all of the glass ball ornaments on the tree myself earlier this week. They aren’t fancy, but those old, tired glass ornaments are precious to me. They were the first ornaments George and I bought in 1974. A symbol of our first Christmas together. We always put them on the tree first, before all the fancy-schmancy ornaments took center stage. I don’t think anyone ever noticed them, but George and I knew their history. Now they mean even more to me.

I truly believed I was ready to embrace the holidays, knowing George was with me - thankful that I was moving forward. But with every peek into one of the storage boxes, I felt his absence. The biggest gut punch? His Christmas stocking. I left both of ours unwrapped, and said goodbye to that childhood carryover we both loved.

More than once I questioned my decision to “feel” Christmas this year. I went through the motions, as if completing a chore. I wanted to feel joy, but it wasn’t there. I closed the still half-packed boxes, carried them back to the garage, lit a fire, and cried. Damn you, Grief. You’re the Grinch, stealing my Christmas. But I’m going to persist…that's what George would want. 

Today's decorating efforts. Mixed emotions. 

Tomorrow, the light and love of friends will fill this house and lift me up. Christmas Eve will once again gather us all here to remember, to laugh, and count our blessings. Thanksgiving taught me I can feel happiness when surrounded by loved ones. And that’s when I feel George. He wants me to continue with the traditions we both loved. I may occasionally give in to the sadness this holiday season will bring, but I vow to honor my Christmas-loving, Santa-playing, Stocking-filling soul mate. 

Merry Christmas, darling. All I want for Christmas is you.

We were so happy. A week later we were so sad. 

Save a Seat for Grandpa

I’m into month five of my Kahuna-less life. The finality – the emptiness - is sinking in. I have adjusted to the sound of silence in our home. Charlie has altered his routine to include an almost daily midnight walk upstairs to spend part of the night in our bedroom – something he never did when George was here. He sleeps on the floor on George’s side of the bed, and his presence as I round the corner toward the bathroom each morning is a welcome sight.

LPM's birthday, 2017 at Disney California Adventure. Our happy place. Cheers.

I am adept at pushing my grief further behind the façade of normalcy, but have yet to experience a tear-less day. My lifelong penchant for remembering the details of “what we did one year ago today” is now a pain-inducing reflection of how beautiful my life WAS, and how quickly our happily ever after became a nightmare of unthinkable proportions.

I also find joy. I know George wants me to be happy, and I am doing my best to please him. The joyful distractions are a constant reminder of my most cherished possession - my extraordinary village. Daughter, Son, Son-in-Law, Nieces/Nephews, Sis-in-Law, Cousins and Friends, Friends, Friends. Paula’s Angels. They deserve a future blog post! I cannot imagine surviving George’s loss without them.

There are three Angels on Earth who bring me joy with each smile, hug and “Hi Gigi!” - Mighty M, Rambunctious R, and Kewpie Doll K. The two youngest will only remember their wonderful Grandpa through our stories and photos. But M remembers...

Since That Day, M routinely poses questions – “Gigi, do you miss Grandpa?” “Gigi, do you wish Grandpa didn’t die?” I answer his questions honestly, and simply. We have also had more intense conversations, in which he has informed me, “My teacher said Heaven is way up high, so Grandpa can’t hear you,” to which I counter, “I’m going to keep talking to him anyway, because I think Heaven is at My House, like you told me one day.” After one particularly “heated” debate on this subject, I looked to the sky and said, “Hi Grandpa.” My Mighty M followed suit, and with a quivering lip said, “I miss you, Grandpa.” In that moment, I realized his questions to me were actually his personal feelings - "I miss Grandpa. I wish Grandpa didn't die." I knelt to hug him and we shared our love – and loss – of a wonderful man. M remembers…

George and I had a love affair with Disneyland. It was one of our first special dates, when admission and a book of tickets was a whopping $4.75. And parking was fifty cents! Today that will buy you a churro!

We introduced Nieces and Nephews and, later, Son and Daughter to the happiest place on earth. We loved seeing the magic of “Walt’s Place” through their eyes. Once they outgrew family visits to Disneyland, my Kahuna and I rekindled the child within us and continued our trips to the Magic Kingdom. We eagerly anticipated the day when we could start taking our grandchildren. Those adventures began when M and R were two years old. Sadly, little granddaughter K never had the opportunity.

Rambunctious R's first Disneyland trip.

Last month, seeking a distraction guaranteed to bring happiness, I made the decision to take M on a Disneyland adventure with “Geege” – his nickname for me. It was my first-ever visit to the park as the only adult, and at M’s ripe old age of 4 ½ , I was confident I was up to the task. Backpack, check. Water, check. Wet wipes for sticky churro fingers, double check! Ready, set, go!

My sweet Mighty M remembers his Disneyland trips with Gigi and Grandpa. His favorites? Spinning in the teacups. Driving the Autopia cars with Grandpa.

Taking in the sights of It’s a Small World (cue annoying ear worm!). Holding on to Grandpa as we sailed down the waterfalls on Pirates of the Caribbean (Drink up me hearties, yo ho). Flying in circles with Dumbo the elephant.

Now that he’s reached the height requirement, M’s interests have expanded to thrill rides on the relatively tame Disneyland roller coasters (cue a green Gigi!).

As we enjoyed the familiar sights, my little man recalled previous visits – and clearly felt the absence of his familiar sidekick. “I remember Grandpa at Disneyland,” he commented. It wasn’t an unexpected remark, as he has felt George's loss deeply, and is processing it as best he can – with the comfort and guidance of remarkable Daughter and Son-in law. His comment prompted a conscious effort on my part to “bring” Grandpa with us throughout the day, thus beginning a series of enthusiastic exclamations as we made our way from one attraction to the next – Me: “Do you know who loved this ride?” M: (at first puzzled with my query) “No, who?” Me: “Grandpa!” His face lit up as we enjoyed each ride, and I silently fought back tears as we shared our wonderful day at a favorite place.

Fist bumps with Pluto. Grandpa's favorite character.

Guess who loved the trumpet player!

By end of day, M was asking, “Was this one of Grandpa’s favorite rides?” My heart soared as I saw my little man turning his grief for what he had lost into the joy of remembering the fun he had with Grandpa. As we waited in line for the last ride of the day, he turned to me. “Gigi, I think Grandpa is here with us.” I couldn’t hide my joy, as I said, “I think he is too!” He looked to the heavens and shouted, “Hi Grandpa!” Be still my broken heart. My sweet M had found joy too. “Gigi, I think Grandpa just touched my head.” I thought the day could not get any better.

But it did! As he climbed into the cozy compartment of Big Thunder Railroad and sat down, I asked M to scoot over to make room for me. With complete sincerity, he moved only slightly before exclaiming “I’m saving a seat for Grandpa!”

We laughed with delight and screamed with surprise at each twist and turn. I held my Little Man close, and remembered my Big Man. Always sitting beside me. Keeping me safe. Celebrating the joys of our past, and guiding me through the sorrows for as long as it takes. Honey, I will always save a seat for you.

Grateful? Thankful? Depressed

This weekend celebrates the transformation of Casa de Hultman into a "faux fall" spectacular. As a native SoCal girl it’s my way of anointing every room with the symbols of my favorite season - while the A/C combats the hot Santa Ana winds, and backyard citrus trees bear the ripening bounty of oranges, avocados, and tangerines on their perpetually green boughs. Throughout the house, orange, gold and auburn replace the cool summer hues. Pumpkins abound, and happy jack-o’-lanterns await their October addition to the rites of autumn. By November, bountiful cornucopias will take their place on the mantle.

NYC 2016. Central Park in Fall. Nothing like it!

Our 2016 NYC trip, and "real" fall color. Breathtaking!

Do I want to decorate this year? I have asked myself that question over the past few weeks - my heart still aching as I wander through our home - alone. Am I ready to put up the reminders of the season we both loved, in my Kahuna-less house? I wavered between avoiding every reminder of what I lost, and going into "full-on" fall decorating mode as a reminder of what used to be.

Friendsgiving 2017. Grateful. Two weeks before The News

After some joy-focused meditation, and the realization I had to accept my new normal (I have come to hate that phrase), I made the decision to pull out the fall décor. Every dried/preserved/imported leaf, pumpkin and seed pod! I marked the Labor Day weekend by festooning the house with its usual autumn splendor.

There was one difference…

I struggled with the words used on decorative signage that had previously expressed my gratitude for this season of thankfulness. Grateful? Thankful? Blessed? In my current raw state, these words tugged at my heart. Don’t get me wrong - I am grateful for my village who is watching out for me and giving me space to grieve; thankful to my children and grandchildren for reminding me that George and I created a beautiful family; and blessed to have had so many years with the love of my life. But the predominate sentiment of this season of “firsts” isn’t found on any Pinterest page or home store shelf. Instead of Grateful, Thankful, Blessed, my sign would read Heartbroken, Lonesome, Depressed.

Stores abound with signage of the season. 

 As Daughter and I shopped for even more fall decor yesterday, I felt a tinge of resentment as the signage of the season bombarded my fragile senses and pierced my already broken heart. I turned my attention away from the words that imbued their sentiment, in favor of scented candles, metal baskets and dried flowers. Then I turned a corner to find this framed message...

This. Is/Was. Us.

"It was one of those love stories that people will talk about for years to come."

My Kahuna was suddenly with me. Reminding of me of all that I had been given in my lifetime. How grateful I was for walking into English class 50 years ago and meeting my best friend. How thankful I am to have found my perfect love. How blessed was the life we had together. And I realized he is always with me. He had led me to the Most Perfect Sign. Daughter saw me stop in my tracks and immediately offered consolation as I melted in her arms. I had the love story of a lifetime - and as I learned so suddenly - none of us know when our “lifetime” will end. The George and Paula love story is timeless. And life goes on, as do the seasons. This year of firsts will bring anguished tears of sadness, but I will surround myself with the decorations and symbols of the season my Kahuna and I cherished. And I will smile between the tears.

Keep Calm and Decorate, Decorate, Decorate!

I’m reinventing the meaning of Grateful, Thankful, Blessed this year. I’m not sure I can bear to see the words blatantly displayed in the house yet, but I know George is watching. He is GRATEFUL I am going to celebrate this season we both loved, THANKFUL I won't be alone, and BLESSED he made the most of his simple, yet meaningful life.

Here's to our favorite season, honey. Feel free to visit any time. I'll leave a candle burning for you.

A Hui Hou. - Until We Meet Again

May 9. Three weeks since I said goodbye. Aloha, my Big Kahuna. A hui hou. Until we meet again....

Today was spiritual. A part of George is now resting offshore West Maui, near Black Rock. We were together to send him off. The grands and I threw leis and we all shed tears as we said goodbye...

It started as a routine whale watch adventure. Yesterday was supposed to be The Day - on a sunset sail - but gale force winds and nasty weather forced the cancellation of all trips, with no availability for future sails until after we depart on Friday. I was heartbroken and just a bit desperate. Scott was prepared to go dockside and pay a captain of any sea worthy vessel to take us out before Friday.

Today’s weather was perfect. Calm seas and gentle winds. We had a whale watch tour scheduled for today and Alison decided to ask if they would allow us the opportunity to release our Kahuna on today’s trip. They said YES! It was a #kahunasign of what was to come...

About 20 minutes into the trip, the crew of the Pacific Whale Foundation gathered the rest of the passengers near the front of the beautiful catamaran as another crew member led us to the stern. The captain slowed the boat at Black Rock - the spot I had requested - a very spiritual spot in Hawaiian culture and one of our favorite viewpoints from our place here.

We held each other, said some goodbyes, and I released George to this beautiful spot. Max and Ryder tossed their leis after I sent mine to join George. We held each other even tighter as we watched them float on the gentle wake of the boat and waved goodbye.

As we watched the trail of ashes floating on the water, a huge pod of spinner dolphins appeared! Even the crew was caught off guard at the location and timing. They stayed and played for at least 30 minutes as we all marveled at their beauty and playfulness. Among them was a newborn calf - the smallest any of the marine biologist crew had ever seen. New life! Just as another life had been laid to rest.




Steven on the crew told me Hawaiian legend has guardian spirits who appear after the death of a loved one - an Aumakua. I think that was my #kahunasign that he is where he wanted to be. Aloha my love. Aloha a hui hou.