The Office and the Urn

November 17th will be a year since the death of my husband, Joel.  In some ways it feels like yesterday, and in some ways it feels like forever.            

A couple of days ago I went into the room we call “the office” to check something out on Joel’s computer.  The office was Joel’s room, where he spent virtually ALL of his time…for years and years. He lived there really.  He was surrounded with all of his sailing plaques, pictures and trophies.  He had his computer, and his TV, and his Bose sound system.  And, for a man who was a voracious reader….he had his beloved books.  He had everything around him that he wanted, or thought he needed; except his family.                                          

It just became automatic that Joel retreated to the office more often than not….especially in the last few years.  There was a time when he’d join in with whatever was going on with the rest of the family, but he pulled himself away more and more, and involved himself less and less; devoting his time to his little corner of the world. I consider it part of the depression I felt he was going through….even though he may have disagreed.  The more I speculated as to WHY, the more obvious it became that Joel didn’t want to talk about it.  He made it very tough....and very clear.                                                                                                                

As I sat in the swivel chair behind his desk, I thought about what had been happening at this time a year ago.  Joel had been diagnosed with Stage 4 stomach cancer.  He had lost 80 pounds and literally stopped eating.  Whenever I attempted to talk to him about it, the pain and frustration in his eyes told me to stop....if he didn't point blank say it himself.  I became an enabler….an unwilling enabler.  Joel gave us all no choice.                                                                        

For months I made my attempts to bring conversation out of him, urge...but not nag...him to go to the doctor, tell him how worried I was about him.  And what I got back was…”Hey, I don’t feel that sick.  I’m just not hungry.”  I guess he thought I’d accept that.  At the very least, it gave him more time between my appearances in the office to ask more questions.  I played a role I didn’t ask for, and I played it well.  Again….Joel didn’t give you choices.

From Joel's diagnosis to his death….it was three weeks.  Three horrible weeks in October/November that have been creeping back to me in spurts.  Last Halloween was spent very differently than this one.  While I answered the door for Trick or Treaters, Joel was in his office, ensconced in his hunter green recliner/rocker and God only knows what was running through his mind.  He wasn’t eating…just whatever liquids I kept pushing on him.  By now it had become a family crisis, with my kids completely involved….doing whatever needed to be done.                                                                                 All too soon, it was over….at least HIS pain. And honestly, that’s all any of us cared about. I will go on record now, saying to anyone who has gone through it, is going through it, or will have to go through it in the future… that my heart is with you....and my admiration, for the strength it takes to stand by and watch a loved one die.  Joel’s devastation was fast.  Many aren’t.                              

On the corner of Joel’s desk is the marbleized urn that holds his ashes.  I haven’t known what else to do with it.  The kids and I thought about spreading his ashes out on Lake Michigan where he spent so many of his happiest days sailing.  As poignant and appropriate as that may have been for Joel, there are laws about that kind of thing.  And so, his ashes remain on his desk in HIS office. A place that somehow feels right….exactly where they should be; and where I can brush my hand over the top and let him know I’m still around….now, he has no choice.

Comments

[Roger Bourland]

Ouch. Poignant. Thank you for sharing the memories and the thoughts.
Roger

[Betty]

If it feel right to have his ashes in his office, that's where you should leave them until you feel otherwise. I have a friend who told me how conforting it was to have her husband's ashes closeby. She finally did bury them, when she felt the time was right.

[Claude]

Joy, these are such difficult times, the first anniversary, the first Christmas, all these hurdles to be crossed. I don't know what to say, because I've been there, and I know that there is not much other people can say or do to help, except tell you that they are here, thinking of you.
Love
Claude

[janet]

I've only been reading your blog for a couple months. I'm sorry to hear that you suffered such a tragic loss just one year ago.
It's just another reminder for the living to live each day to the fullest.
Your friend and fellow blogger
janet

[Alan G]

Some of your pain I can relate to Joy. Especially wanting to be near and close in those final moments. I lost my mother to lung cancer almost ten years ago and along with all that goes with that dreaded disease, she distanced herself from us and in the final couple of months she refused to let us get close enough to just hold her in our arms and tell her how much we loved her. That remains today as painful as it was then. Perhaps there is some measure of selfishness in that - I don't know.

I am sure I would have a very hard time letting go. I truly believe that your closing sentence best encompases what you should do until such time as your heart suggests otherwise. Our thoughts will be with you and your family during this time.

[Winston]

This must have been difficult for you to write, but quite cathartic to have done so. I admire your strength and courage and openness in sharing this with us. Thank you...

As to the ashes... if Joel left no directive, then you are free to do whatever feels right to you. Keep them on the desk. Scatter all or a portion in the middle of the lake (like, who is going to know...). Or bury. I want creamation myself and one of the reasons is I don't want to be planted in the ground. So I have never understood burying the urn with ashes. But to each their own...

[Merle]

Dear Joy ~ How very sad, that Joel
retreated into himself and missed out of a lot of family times, and then to go so very quickly. What a shock for you and the family. But at least he is at peace in his office.You look after yourself Joy, you did all you could for him and now is the time to look after YOU. Thanks for your comments. School fetes or festivals are great fun. The weeks are flying
by this year and Christmas is looming. Take care, dear friend,
Love, Merle.

[Marilyn]

It doesn't seem possible that it's been a year already. I can only imagine that the most tormenting part is not knowing WHY he made the choice he did. My wish for you in the coming days is that you'll be able to find a place in your heart where you can accept his choice, and forgive him for the pain that it's caused you. Anniversaries are hard...my thoughts will be with you.

[June]

Joy,

I cried as I read of this pain of you, your family and your husband, Joel!

I admire your strength so much.

Love and hugs,

Junie

[Peggy]

You're almost done with the first year! I hope the rest of this year is easier.

[Kay Dennison]

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh, Joy! How painful that must have been and still is for you! You are and will be in my prayers as you go through this difficult time. And if you need a shoulder, mine are broad and available. Trust that a gracious God has Joel in his arms. Hugs!!!

[Maya's Granny]

My mother and my aunts and my grandmothers all went through widowhood, as so many women do. I remember one day when my mother, her two sisters, and their mother were talking about it and my Aunt Florence said that she knew she was going to make it one day when she heard herself singing. They all agreed -- after months of sadness and early morning silence, one day the heart opens and you sing.

Know in your darkest days, that one day you will hear yourself singing.

[jen]

Wow, nearly a year already. I think you should be able to spread ashes where you like.

It sounds like Joel didn't want you guys to have to deal with it like he was trying to which of course didn't make it any easier on you.

love jen

[Chancy]

Writing about your feelings and your journey with the grief process will be helpful for you and we all are glad to provide a shoulder for you to lean on.

One day at a time may sound trite but that is all any of us can do.

Take care.

Chancy

[joared]

I wasn't sure what drew me to your blog tonight. First, I read your story above; then I found your poem and I understood what brought me here. Know that I am thinking of you.

[MaryB]

Ah, Joy. what beautiful writing about your dear Joel. You are in my thoughts during this time of remembrance. Thanks so much for giving us a glimpse.

[Liz]

Hi Joy,

I read this yesterday but couldn't comment. I still don't know what to say today. Thank God you have your children and wonderful relationships. I pray the next few weeks will be a time of good memories for you - with frequent weeps, I'm sure.

[buffy]

Joy, you could be describing my husband when you write of Joel. Dear Husband wishes to be left alone when he isn't feeling well. He chooses not to speak of it, and doesn't want me to, either. I understand about being an unwilling enabler. There's not much we can do when our husbands choose a road that excludes us.

This is a very difficult time for you, and you need more time to deal with your loss. I hope the lovely messages from your friends will be part of your healing process. Hugsssss to you, Joy.

[Rain]

that had to be so tough. Perhaps he pulled back because he knew he was going over and was doing internal work to prepare himself for that.

In our state, you can put ashes where you want (well not likely in a downtown block). I want mine sprinkled somewhere, not divided up, but all one place. I haven't yet decided on a preference but don't care a lot. I just know I want cremation, nothing in the ground, and hope by the time it's an issue, I'll know where.

[zenknitter]

Oh Joy, I remember that pain. I am in the middle of the "terrible two" second year after loss of our adult daughter at sea, on a rescue mission at night as an EMT. Sudden, not like yours but I wish I could hug you and cry with you. Instead of alone.

[bod]

my heart feels for you joy. i know there is nothing anyone can say or do to make it better but like everyone else i am thinking of you. you are in my prayers.x

[Karen]

Joy, as someone who reads and enjoys your blog regularly, I cannot believe it has been a year! Where did that time go? It seems like just yesterday - but then I think back on all that has happened in your life since then (and WHAT a year it's been for you - even just what you write about here... and I am sure that's just the half of it) and realise that yes, time has passed, hasnt it?

You are such a brave, open and giving woman, Joy - to be able to write a post like this(that brings tears to my eyes just reading). I do hope that this writing is a way of letting go and healing for you.

I'm sending you my prayers and hugs, and a touch of Aussie sunshine. xx

[jau]

I'm so sorry for what must have been a horrible time. You are brave and strong. I hope the next few weeks have at least one more good memory than difficult moments!

[Bob Patterson]

Joy, my thoughts and prayers are with you. I think our human condition asks us to embrace our lives, and accept our ending. All of which is sort of a dance. Maybe next time you put your hand on Joel's Urn, you can slow dance with him in your heart. All my love!

[Peter]

Sorry to be among the late arrivals Joy, I somehow missed this post, Bloglines isn't perfect, but it does help, that must have been a terrible time for you all, Joel included, one can only imagine the frustration he must have felt.
Hope things brighten up for you soon.