June 15, 2011
I woke up this morning to a few birds outside my bedroom window, in between my screen and glass panel window. My window cranks out to open. More of a delight than I had on Monday morning finding one of our new little birdies Cookies, who was my favorite and the friendliest, least afraid, and into Kanyon's technology, dead at the bottom of the cage after only having him for three weeks. I was saddened, had a few tears, placed him in the box I got him in and outside, until I decided what to do with his body next. We went to meet and play with friends and family, and came home later, and that evening I just placed the box in a garbage bag and threw it in the garbage. I didn't know how the bird died or what caused it. I didn't want anything in my backyard that was contaminated. The next day I was deeply affected by the loss. It brought back all the death reality, and I am tired of death. My birds were supposed to be fun, uplifting, and a sign of us bringing back some song into our world. I was mad that my favorite bird died, and my favorite dog Shato, and my favorite man, died. Triggered by the symbolic resemblance of three birds, now reduced to only two, like a reflection of my family that isn't fixable. That Stinks!
I miss every thing about Darol. I look for him in all the little things, especially his smell. It lingers in the shower as I use our favorite bar of soap, to the hair scrubber that he loved scratching his head with, and I randomly picked up to smell, surprised at how strongly it smelled of him, it must have kept the oils from his head in it and because it was upside down, it wasn't always washed away in the shower. His shaver still remains, his cologne that Kanyon likes to put on sometimes, that really floods me with emotions good ones and sad ones. Even his truck smells like him. I smell him in his leather work gloves he left in his truck. As I assisted a friend moving yesterday with Darol's truck; I pulled out those lovely gloves, smelled them and wrapped my hands in them most of the day. He lingers in everything and everywhere. I pulled out a towel from the hall closet, I was down to the bottom of the stack, the towels Darol & I used mainly while he was with us. I pulled it out and smelled it. It smelled strongly of him, and oh how my body and soul sank into that. There is nothing like the smell of your lover. Kanyon smelled it too. I decided to save it and use a different towel. I wanted to sleep with the one that smelled of him. It remained on the bottom of his side of the bed, and when I came back to bed this morning to nurse Kanyon, after feeding the birds Batman & Robyn, I grabbed it and snugged it and smelled it some more. My fear is that that smell will eventually fade, that one that is the real Darol, not cologne, but the smell only his body, his essence could create. I dread that. I love finding things that smell like him. It's like being embraced by him again. It's difficult to even describe or explain, the feeling, when you close your eyes and smell in your lover, memories flood in, love, and they come rushing back in -soaking you in a rare wave of goodness that only that smell can bring. I am grateful that Darol wasn't a fan of shampoo, and simply used to scrub his head, so I could benefit from the oils left behind, and to the eco-friendly not strong smelling detergent I used that allowed for his sent to remain in fabrics rather than the smell of detergent.
I was crying at the sink the other morning and Kanyon asked why I was sad.' Because I miss your Daddy Cakes." I replied. He stood at the table playing his video game and said, "Mom, he will come home. He will, in 5 minutes." I sighed a sad exhale, " I wish, if only he would." "Ya mom, he will come home and say, "Hi Mommy, Hi Cutie Pie." he replied. I burst out crying a cry that sounded like a laugh," You think that funny mom?" "No, baby, I find it extremely sad, because you are right, that's exactly what he would say if he could come home."
Moving my friend, his wife said, " Oh now we only have one bathroom sink to fight over." I replied, " At least you have someone to fight over the sink with." I said it with a tone of recognition, not of anger or spite, simply, one of recognition. Darol & I only had one sink and I loved sharing it with him and being close as we brushed our teeth every night. It was our thing. He still visits me every night as I brush mine and Kanyon's teeth, I feel him. It's better than nothing, I was going to say it's no consolation prize, but I guess it's the best consolation one could get from their deceased spouse. It's still no comparison to having the living breathing body in your life. Having a body is a gift, you get to do things in it and experience only what a body can. Getting into body is the prize. That's why birth is such a miracle.
I tell you it's the simple things that I miss the most. The smells, the hugs, the kisses, the back and foot rubs, hearing him come into the room and say, "Hello love! Hi Cutie Pie!". The ways about him, his laugh, his smile, getting frustrated with him and making up, having fun with him, doing projects with him, everything.
If you do have a love in your life, relish their scent, their hugs, the way they laugh, the sound of their voice, arguments, and be grateful for all of it, because when you really do love that person unconditionally, you love it all, every moment you have with them is a gift. Kiss them often, tell them you love them, tell them you need them, smell their skin, their hair, listen to their heartbeat, and remember how blessed you are to have them living and breathing in your world.