Wednesday, May 22, 2019

Who knew it would be this hard?

I didn't think it would be so excruciatingly difficult.  It has taken me almost two years to get up the courage and emotional strength to start going through my beloved Warren's clothes, preparing them to be donated. So a few weeks ago I began pulling out some shirts, slacks, jackets, and ties, going through pockets and making sure that everything was in good condition. Actually everything in the closet is in impeccable condition: all shirts had been cleaned and covered in plastic, all his pants were neatly hung on pants hangers. Many of his clothes and his suits were custom-made and he took very good care of them.

As I took each piece out, the memories started flooding my mind, remembering the times he had worn each item, picturing him wearing everything, flashes of the photos I have of him wearing each piece. As I laid each item of clothing on the dining room table, it felt a little like pieces of me were being torn away, bit by bit. It took me a few days to actually gather up this first batch of clothes, put them in my SUV and drive to the donation place. Just before I started to drive out of the parking lot, I had a total meltdown. I pulled over, parked and let it all come out. I screamed, I cried, I yelled, I swore and then repeated it all a few more times. My nose was running, my breathing was sporadic and my eyes were filled with so many tears I couldn't see to drive. After several minutes I calmed down sufficiently to drive home.

I really had not expected that kind of a reaction. It was so strong, heart wrenching and painful. And now a second group of clothes has been donated and I had the same reaction. There are a lot of clothes to go through so there will be several more trips. I can't do it all at once nor do I want to. The physical act of going through each piece may ultimately be helpful and healing for me.

And, as our boys have told me, "Dad is continuing to do good in the world."

Copyright © 2019 Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved.

Wednesday, May 1, 2019

The pitter-patter of the heart

From the moment I came home from our first date, I knew that I was in love with Warren. I felt it emotionally and physically. My whole being was wrapped up in thoughts about him and my heart wouldn't stop thumping.

That feeling in my heart never went away. As the years went by, people commented to us about how happy we seemed to be, how close we were, how attuned we were to each other. We just smiled, knowing how right they were.

In all the many years we were together, each day as we went about our respective jobs away from each other, during our time in the Air Force and in civilian life, arriving back at home was the sweetest time as we fell into each other's arms, hugged and kissed, grateful to be together again. And always, every day, my heart would pitter-patter to the point where I thought it might burst out of my chest.

Long into our marriage, many of our acquaintances seemed to marvel at how happy we were all the time. I found the attitude a bit puzzling until I realized that many of them didn't seem to have quite the same kind of relationship that we had. There was genuine disbelief when I mentioned that even after all these years, whenever Warren came home, my heart would start to pitter-patter and my mouth formed into an endless smile.

Happiness ruled in our house and the proof was in the heart. Every time I laid eyes on him my heart would rev up! And ever since my Beloved Warren has been gone, my heart's pitter-patter continues every time I think of him, every time my eyes fall on a photo of him, at every memory that shoots through my mind, at every video I watch and at every voicemail I listen to. The pitter-patter of the heart continues and I smile amid the tears at the sweet memories.

Copyright © 2019. Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved.