Strength Restored and Zeal Renewed

Strength restored and Zeal renewed https://doctorphyl-heartofpalm.blogspot.com/2019/07/strength-restored-and-zeal-renewed.html

Strength restored and Zeal renewed July 1, 2019

I try to begin each day strong and healthy, emotionally in tune. But some days that's not so easy. Like today in fact. It is the fourth  anniversary of Bob's death and it is long enough ago for me to analyze what I felt that day.

I woke to a desire to find a photo of my husband to post on Facebook, to get my friends and family to check in with me with some love and support. I am feeling so alone today.
All the photos in my  gallery show him ill and I decide I can't use any of them. I choose instead to take a photo of a framed picture of both of us. The photo is old; we both look so young. Meanwhile I miss my exercise class, but I am determined and I get to the later class.
I have made no plans for today except for fortifying myself with whitefishsalad and a mini everything bagel from Zabars. I do try.

It was a Wednesday. Bob had not eaten or drunk liquids for the past three days. His lips were wiped with cold wet q tips. I told Steven he could go home at four o'clock. At 4:45 Bob took his last breath and I was told he was gone. I was numb. I felt so alone as if half of me was missing and I couldn't find the part that was me. The mortuary phoned  me and informed me they couldn't get Bob to New York until Friday. Then comes Shabbat, so the funeral can't be until Sunday. My first reaction was that the time would permit Bob's brother to fly up from Florida; my second was that this is the way Christian spouses I knew from the Alzheimer's group waited as a matter of routine.. How did they get through  those days in between?
How would I?
At my synagogue, the rabbi had resigned and was unavailable; the new rabbi won't start until August first. The cantor was comforting another grieving family. Would I meet with the education director whom I had never met? She's an ordained rabbi, Lori Feldstein Gardner. Sure. I met with her on Friday; she had the flu. I was so impressed she got out of a sickbed to help me. I had been so quiet for two days, I spoke at her for two and a half hours, telling her everything that is in the book! She used a whole box of Kleenex as she listened attentively and spoke very little.
I told her that Bob had never spoken of his last wishes when he was healthy, except that he purchased two additional plots in the same cemetery where his first wife is buried. He told me he wanted to be buried with me. But after the diagnosis,  in  the early part of his illness, we had attended his Aunt Frances' funeral. As we sat in the chapel listening to her nieces and nephews laud her praises, Bob turned to me and said, "I don't want that."
When the service concluded, I asked him, "What do you want?"
"I want the Jewish War Veterans to play Taps and I want a graveside service."
When we arrived at the cemetery, Bob looked at the American flag draping Aunt Frances' coffin and said "Just like that."
I phoned the Jewish War Veterans, Dover, NJ chapter, but I was informed they don't have any veterans left who could provide that service. But the US Army did. I phoned the cemetery committee in Chester, New Jersey and we scheduled the service for eleven o'clock. I phoned Bob's favorite diner and asked if we could reserve lunch for about thirty guests. I was busy making arrangements, calling relatives. Bob's  son couldn't believe his father had told me, not him, what his wishes were and said his wishes didn't need to be followed since he was already ill when he made them known.
I invited all who attended the funeral in New Jersey for lunch at the diner and we sat shiva after lunch and for  the next three days in our apartment in New York.
The caring committee of the synagogue took care of everything, from sending a huge food platter to bringing extra chairs and seventeen people to the Shiva service at seven o'clock each evening. I remember feeling such gratitude because all of the people who arrived, knew me, liked me and were fond of Bob and knew him as well. We had been members for the past thirteen years, but much of the time we were in Arizona.
What I remember not feeling was sad. Relief that he was at peace came first. Relief that our long ordeal was over came second. Gratitude for my son Steve who supported me all through Bob's illness is the first feeling that overwhelms me today and I miss that he is not with me now. We have spent this day visiting the cemetery together each year before this one. Bob's best friend Elliot and his wife Ronnie came with us, but now Elliot is gone too.
Many have reminded me today to remember the good times. I don't need a special day to do that. I tire my friends out with stories about our times together every chance I get. We shared so much ; we traveled and experienced so much together. We watched and helped my daughter and each of Bob's three children when our grandchildren were born. We spent two weeks with each  of the children, cooking and helping care for newborns.
By five o'clock I knew I had to do somethng to ease the melancholy, so I walked to the river. As soon as I saw the water and heard the small waves dashing the stones at  the water's edge, I knew I had made the right choice. When I saw they now restrict the path to walkers and the cyclists have a different path, I was so pleased. I didn't have to attend to my safety. I walked to the pier, I watched the boats and the barges on the river and now, after a lobster roll at the pier cafe, I feel peaceful.