Five Years On

Five years ago today...

Lines written in Early Spring

I HEARD a thousand blended notes,
While in a grove I sate reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

To her fair works did Nature link
The human soul that through me ran;
And much it grieved my heart to think
What man has made of man.

Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,
The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;
And 'tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.

The birds around me hopped and played,
Their thoughts I cannot measure:--
But the least motion which they made
It seemed a thrill of pleasure.

The budding twigs spread out their fan,
To catch the breezy air;
And I must think, do all I can,
That there was pleasure there.

If this belief from heaven be sent,
If such be Nature's holy plan,
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man?

~ Wordsworth

The Girl Who Could Not Live

Judith has become something of a legend to me. Her story is filtered by the years, as are my feelings for her. She has become my Hera. The Girl Who Could Not Live. My green eyed queen of the pantheon. The mother goddess who poured out her life into her children. What a grand adventure she was. What a story she will always be.

I don't know
Who I am
Who I am
Without you.

All I know
Is I know I should...

Just A Thought

The stars are shining The moon is bright And I would kill To be with you tonight...

Jobs

You know, one of the hardest things to come to terms with is the fact that the world just keeps rolling on, after a tragedy. And it was a tragedy, on so many levels. Children lost their mother. Siblings lost their sister. I lost my greatest friend. The world lost a person with that rarest of qualities, grace. But on it goes.

That really bothered me in the early days. I wanted fire. I wanted wailing. I wanted apocalypse.

I wanted the world to recognize its loss - my loss.

But there is too much loss, and that's not the world's job. I took the picture above today, on a break. That's the world doing its job.

Look up. You'll see what I mean.

Three Years

Three years have passed. The anxiety dreams are gone. I don't ache all the time. But your laughter still rings in my ears. Your smile is still right behind my eyes.

I am learning to be alone, and I don't like it. I miss how well we knew each other. How we could sit in a room together and be content. How you knew what I was thinking, and how I would react to almost anything. I miss making you blush, just by looking at you, and hearing you hum off key.

I am becoming more convinced that another relationship is not in the cards for me. The saying is, "Don't look for the right woman. Be the right man". You taught me how to be the right man, but maybe the wrong men have done too much damage.

And so, there's work, and there's play, and there's minutes and hours. Days and weeks and months and years. My hair gets thinner, and my beard gets whiter. My eyes are a little more cloudy, and my back is not as strong. But I'm still me. I'm the me that is left over. I'm the me that didn't die with you. But I'm not yet the me that I will be. So there's that.

I will walk with your memory always, my dear. I love you.

I Just Don't Think

I met Judith 23 years ago today...

I Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You by Colin Hay

I drink good coffee every morning
Comes from a place that's far away
And when I'm done I feel like talking
Without you here there is less to say
I don't want you thinking I'm unhappy
What is closer to the truth
That if I lived till I was 102
I just don't think I'll ever get over you
I'm no longer moved to drink strong whisky
'Cause I shook the hand of time and I knew
That if I lived till I could no longer climb my stairs
I just don't think I'll ever get over you
Your face it dances and it haunts me
Your laughter's still ringing in my ears
I still find pieces of your presence here
Even after all these years
But I don't want you thinking I don't get asked to dinner
'Cause I'm here to say that I sometimes do
Even though I may soon feel the touch of love
I just don't think I'll ever get over you
If I lived till I was 102
I just don't think I'll ever get over you

948 days

Or 2 years, 7 months, 3 days.

135 weeks
22,752 hours
1,365,120 minutes
81,907,200 seconds

Time is not the problem. It doesn't heal anything. It rolls on, without concern. Time doesn't care.

Winter

Winter.

My winter is June 16th - August 4th.

It's been two years since Judith passed. Died. Since I, in a very real sense, died. I'm a bombed out city. A wasteland. Pick your cliche. Armageddon.

I continue. That's a sort of hope. Everything has fallen away. I am newly made. Raw.

I'm becoming restless. Agitated like new growth cracking the sidewalk. Maybe there's something here. Maybe there's

Spring.

Valentines Day

"You can shed tears that she is gone, or you can smile because she has lived. 

You can close your eyes and pray that she'll come back, or you can open your eyes and see all she's left.

Your heart can be empty because you can't see her, or you can be full of the love you shared.

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday, or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.

You can remember her only that she is gone, or you can cherish her memory and let it live on.

You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back.

Or you can do what she'd want:

smile, open your eyes, love and go on." 

- David Harkins

A Year and a Half

So, Laura is finished with her first semester at UNT. Ian and I are working on our house/apartment. I have a temp job with Raytheon that has lasted two months longer than it was supposed to.

That's what I tell people when they ask how things are going.

The loneliness is crushing. Caring about anything else takes effort. I can't find myself in the rubble of my life with Judith.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:N Plano Rd,Richardson,United States

The Hounds of Winter

Mercury falling
I rise from my bed
Collect my thoughts together
I have to hold my head
It seems that she's gone
And somehow I am pinned by
The Hounds of Winter
Howling in the wind

I walk through the day
My coat around my ears
I look for my companion
I have to dry my tears
It seems that she's gone
Leaving me too soon
I'm as dark as December
I'm as cold as the Man in the Moon

I still see her face
As beautiful as day
It's easy to remember
Remember my love that way
All I hear is that lonesome sound
The Hounds of Winter
They follow me down

I can't make up the fire
The way that she could
I spend all my days
In the search for dry wood
Board all the windows and close the front door
I can't believe she won't be here anymore

I still see her face
As beautiful as day
It's easy to remember
Remember my love that way
All I hear is that lonesome sound
The Hounds of Winter
They follow me down

A season for joy
A season for sorrow
Where she's gone
I will surely, surely follow
She brightened my day
She warmed the coldest night
The Hounds of Winter
They got me in their sights

I still see her face
As beautiful as day
It's easy to remember
Remember my love that way
All I hear is that lonesome, lonesome sound
The Hounds of Winter
They harry me down

One Year

I wish I had something more profound to say. This month will be a year since Judith passed. Laura is graduating high school and I feel Judith's absense more acutely than ever. How am I to guide this young lady? I have none of her mother's insights. There's so much she will have to learn on her own.

We have lost so much in the recent past. My grandfather, aunt, wife and grandmother, in that order. As I move into the role of "elder" in my family, I know that the largest changes are still to come.

I remember riding in my little red wagon. It was so hard to push up the hill, that I thought all the hard work had been done by the time I crested it. Turns out, that was nothing compared to the wild ride down the other side.

April 10, 2011

This would have been our 20th anniversary. We were together for 20 years and 10 days, but married 19 years and a couple of months when Judith passed away. We have two extraordinary children, Laura (18) and Ian (15), and they are the joys of my life. I see her in them everyday.

I guess I have nothing new to say. The days pass, and 10 months sometimes seems like years, sometimes like minutes. I am tired and it seems so hard to move.

As a year approaches, I think of how to continue my life. Laura will be off to college and in just a few years so will Ian. What is left of me?

Kingdom of Sorrow

Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak whispers the o'er-fraught heart and bids it break.  ~William Shakespeare


There is nothing comparable to the endurance of a woman. In military life she would tire out an army of men, either in camp or on the march.
- Mark Twain

How does one do this? I have read and I have listened and I am as lost as ever. I didn't know it was possible to be this sad.

I have known depression. I spent years with the threat of loosing Judith hanging over my head. I have known sorrow for my children having to see their mother in such pain. And I know that she is without pain now.

But, somehow, the very core of my being has become sadness. I go along fine, but then a movie, or a song, or the sight of anything that reminds me of her just unravels me. A very specific loneliness has murdered my hope for peace.

I grieve for Judith. I grieve for the person that I was with her. I grieve for that family that will never be the same. I grieve for the faith that I once had. I grieve for a love that is broken. I grieve for hope. I grieve for peace. I grieve for myself.

My logical self says that this must be endured. That "someday" it will be alright. But my logical self is easily lost in the swirling migraine that is my grief. I endure, but I am dissolving...

Judith

Here's a tribute video that I put together for the 7 month anniversary of Judith's passing.

Some Pholoshop Work

Six Months

What to say on this six month anniversary of Judith's passing. Laura and Ian are doing well. I am not. For me, the passage of time seems to make things harder. I am reliving quite a bit of the "hard parts" of the passed few years. The people in my life are certainly not getting the attention from me that they deserve. I feel like a burned out bulb. I don't know what I have left to give.

I have done what I can to create a loving environment for the kids. I want so much for them, but it is so very dark. I think I know this will pass, but right now there is nothing. She deserved more from me...

Judith Anne Minatrea

 Judith Anne Minatrea died Wednesday, June 16, 2010 after a long and courageous fight against kidney disease and other health issues.

Born in Pampa, TX on August 4, 1972 and married on April 10, 1991, she was a light in the darkness. Her strength and courage inspired all those around her. Her disease did not define her life. She was, first and foremost, a devoted mother to Laura and Ian. They are her masterpieces.

She is survived by Miles Kameron Minatrea (husband), Laura Anastasia Minatrea (daughter), Ian Alexander Gray Minatrea (son), Patricia (Pat) Lawrence (sister), Wm David Lawrence (brother), Kenneth and Sandra Minatrea (parents in law), Keenan Minatrea (brother in law), and the many others that loved her.

Judith wanted to continue to help people even after her passing and we have honored her wishes by donating her body to the UT Southwestern Willed Body program. There will be no formal service. Her family and friends will continue to celebrate her life throughout the coming years.

In lieu of flowers, we ask that a donation be made in her name to the National Kidney Foundation.

Willed Body Program

We appreciate everyones thoughts and prayers. Judith did not want a service. She did want to do as much good as possible for folks in her situation. She was unable to be an organ donor, so she elected to be a whole body donor. The UT Southwestern Willed Body program has her body in their care now. The attached link can answer some of your questions. Feel free to message me with any further questions.

http://www8.utsouthwestern.edu/utsw/home/pcpp/willedbody/index.html

National Kidney Foundation

We are asking that, in lieu of flowers, a small donation be made to the National Kidney Foundation, in Judith's name.

Here is the link - https://www.kidney.org/support/makegift/index.cfm Thank you all.

Judith Anne Minatrea - 8/4/72 to 6/16/10

Judith Anne Minatrea, mother of my children and my wife for almost twenty years, passed away last night at 11:30. I cannot express how much she will be missed. She was my love and my light. She was the most brave person I will ever have the privilege to meet. Please join my children and I in celebrating the joy that she brought to our lives. Thank you all for your prayers and well wishes through the years. God Bless.

Various Other Visits

So, where else was I able to pop in and take some pics while we were there?

Mt. Soledad
























The La Jolla Cove:























Sunny Jim Cave:

Racine & Laramie

I told you that I'd get back to the cigar shop. Racine & Laramie is just an excellent place, run by fine, fine folks. It was my port in the storm, my home away from home. I only got to spend a very few hours there, but made some good friends that I hope to visit again. David Mogilner, Vice President and son of the owner, went above and beyond in making me feel welcome. Harry Harris was hospitality personified. Here they are with the box of "Black Barts" that I bought. That's David on the left and Harry on the right.



















Here's some pics of the place.










































If you ever get down to San Diego, and you like cigars, look these guys up. Tell 'em Kam sent you.

Immaculate Conception Church

I visited the Immaculate Conception Church in Old Town.

Cabrillo National Monument

I went down to the Cabrillo National Monument to take some pictures of the Old Point Loma Lighthouse.



































The view is incredible.


















I drove through the Ft. Rosecrans National Cemetery.

The Tall Ships

We went down to the Maritime Museum and saw the tall ships. I got to stand at the wheel of the ship they used in "Master and Commander", the HMS Suprise. The ships real name is the HMS Rose. We also saw the Star of India, the Californian, the Berkeley and the Medea.

What Fun

So, what FUN stuff did we get to do while we were in San Diego? Consider that the first week was mostly tests and Judith wasn't admitted to the hospital until the 2nd. She couldn't do much, but we did manage to squeeze in a few fun things. I'll enter them as individual posts.

The Hotel Del Coronado (the "Del"):
















We went to Champagne Brunch at the Del on Sunday. You have to do this if you ever get a chance. It's slightly more fancy than my usual Sunday fare. Check it out HERE.

Final Update

This is the Final Update. It may not, however, be the Final Entry, because I intend to review the passed month and post some random thoughts and remembrances.

Judith is recovering well. She wasn't able to take the Vicodin but her dialysis doc gave her some Tylenol 3 and it's working. She's been getting quite a bit of rest and today we will start walking more. It has all gone about as well as it could have.

I'm 39 today, and having Judith home is the best present ever.

Free At Last

We're home - I mean Home. More later.

Lucky Friday the 13th

We're getting ready to turn the car in and head for the airport. More updates and info about the passed week when we're back in Texas.

Monday Countdown to Liftoff

The docs say that the chest tubes will come out today, tomorrow will be the last of the heparin, and we will be looking at discharge on Wednesday or Thursday. The flight is already booked for Friday.

Judith is tired and in some pain from the continuing cough, but she is down to just 2 liters of O2 and is looking better all the time.

Sunday Update

Judith just took a walk around the block. She is supposed to walk at least 3 times a day, but more if she can. The first walk washed her out, but she looks good. She is getting some color back, and that's saying something. She is usually pale as a ghost.

She had to do a breathing treatment that puffs air into your mouth. You have to breathe against it. The tech turned it on and it puffed at her before she was ready. She jumped and looked startled. It was funny and I laughed. This is the look I get when I've been bad...

Sunday Reflections

I finally have a moment to go back and record some of my thoughts from the day of the surgery. Thornton hospital is a very nice, but very small hospital. At least it is in comparison to some of the other monster hospital complexes that we've visited. Also, it doesn't have a chapel. It doesn't even have a "peace room". I was speaking with another of "Those Who Wait" in the surgery waiting area, and I made that comment. "It is odd to me that there is no chapel here." I don't always visit them when they are available. Sometimes they are too empty and sometimes I am too full, but I like to know that they are there regardless. It was on my mind while I was waiting through Judith's surgery.

The surgery waiting area is on the second floor. The second and third floors are open to the first floor atrium. There is a grand piano on the first floor with an auto play device. It sits there and plays muzak most of the time. Occasionally, however, there is a volunteer that comes in and plays the piano for a while. The sound really fills up the space and is usually some poppy, upbeat thing, sometimes wandering into the New Age arena. Generally uplifting, that's the ticket. This is what was being played as I waited for Judith to come out of surgery.

After about 9 and a half hours, I saw the surgeon and his nurse practitioner come out and rush by to another area. The nurse saw me and briskly said, "we'll be back with you shortly." Nothing in his manner should have spooked me, but of course it did. I had been OK up to that point, but I began to unravel a bit. Then I realized what the volunteer had begun to play.

She played three hymns in a row. Three totally out of place hymns. Out of place, because in that particular environment, every attempt is made to be "spiritual" but not religious. She played "He Walks With Me (In the Garden)", "Morning Has Broken", and "Amazing Grace". I was stunned by it, and, by being stunned, was able to pull myself together a little. I looked up at the vaulted ceiling above the atrium and realized that I had been wrong about the hospital not having a chapel. It WAS one.

So I waited. The volunteer went back to the KLITE standards - Elton John and Chicago - you know what I mean.

Almost an hour later they came back out. Judith was fine and all was well.

The volunteer played one more song and then left. True story. What was the song?

"Blessed Assurance"

Saturday is a Waiting Day

I went out for a bit to run some errands and stopped at La Jolla Cove to take some pictures. This is what the day looked like. Five minutes later it was raining like the Flood. Later in the day, I drove through a hail storm. And people say the weather changes in Texas! 

Judith is tired and sore. Lots of coughing today, but it's part of the healing process.

Late Friday

Judith is in her own room in the IMU. She is tired but doing well. She's right on the overall timeline and it's beginning to look like we could be heading home around Valentine's day.

Friday's Progress

Judith is doing really well. She still has the occasional coughing, but that is required for her lungs to heal. They are talking about getting her to a regular room this evening. She is on dialysis now and they want to see how she does first. She was able to have a Dr. Pepper and half a turkey sandwich earlier, and she was also able to talk on the phone a bit.

San Diego Observations

San Diegans are some walking/bicycling fiends. There are at least as many cars here as are in Dallas (probably more) but that many more folks seem to be hoofing/pedalling it. Its not like we're talking about an easy walk/ride. Most of the "getting around" here would challenge Lance Armstrong. There's plenty of easy X and Y travel, but the frequent Z would kill me. At least I think it would, but even though there are plenty of the the super fit Californians everywhere, there are just as many folks walking and biking that look like me. And for those of you who don't know, I ain't small.

Thursday in the Later PM

So I get back after they kick me out of the ICU for shift change and Judith is in a chair! She had several spoons of her dinner and looked more awake that she has so far.

Thursday in the PM

This has been a long day. Judith is more awake and aware than ever, but that comes with a cost. She has quite a bit of pain. The good news is that she is on the pain pump and they are giving her Vicodin. The bad news is that she needs to cough up a great deal of gunk. Coughing is good, but coughing is very bad.

She hasn't eaten more than a spoonful or two of broth and Italian ice. They just kicked me out for shift change, but they were about to bring her some more broth and she thought that she could have some. She doesn't speak much above a whisper yet.

She's finally down to just two IVs. I don't even know how many lines she had in when I first saw her. She's still getting about a dozen meds.

Thursday in the AM

I was delayed in getting to the hospital today because a nice young lady welcomed me to San Diego by running into me. That's not quite right. She didn't run into me. What she did was try to pass me on the inside as I was making a right turn out of a parking lot. On the upside, I bought all the insurance when I rented the car. I am in a Toyota Highlander and she was in a Audi A6. I was scuffed but she lost most of her front left bumper and headlight. Fun. Just what I needed. I think I'm gonna be sick...

Wednesday

Got some sleep and was at the hospital by 8am. Judith was still out and had tubes everywhere. They were slowly turning down the respirator to see how well she was breathing on her own as she came out from under the sedation. She did well but was coughing quite a bit and was in a great deal of pain. It's hard to explain what it is to watch someone you love go through something like that. I think it's worse because, due to the tube in her throat, all the pain was in silence. I won't go into detail, but if yesterday was the longest day of my life, today, up until they took the tube out, was the hardest.

After that ordeal, Judith has done very well. She is not coughing much and was able to take some fluids tonight. There's a great deal of pain, but they stay on top of the pain meds. She has some extremely rough days ahead, but she seems to be right on track, and maybe a little ahead right now.

We want to thank everyone that has been pulling for her. Your thoughts, energies and prayers have helped a great deal. There is still so far to go. We love you all.

Tuesday

A quick note because I have been up 36 hours or so and am about to crash. Judith's surgery went well. She is in ICU and VERY asleep right now. She will sleep until tomorrow morning at the very least. Everything beyond that is up in the air. The picture shows what they took out of her lung and arteries. The "tree" on the left came out of the lung. The other stuff came out of her pulmonary artieries. The year on the picture date is wrong of course.

The Thursday / Friday Update

On Thursday, Judith doctors had a look at her heart to determine if there are things going on that we haven't previously thought about. They didn't find anything further. Her arteries looked free of obstructions. So, good news, but it means that there is something going on that we don't have a finger on yet.

It's Friday and she is in for her Greenfield Clot Filter. It goes in the vena cava via a catheter and collects clots before they reach the heart and lungs. Here's a picture of it.

Random Rant

This morning we are observing the medical professional it its natural environment by sitting quietly in a hospital atrium. The herds of wild doctors gather at the coffee oasis, murmuring "doctor, doctor, doctor" to one another. They are quite striking in their white ceremonial garments that serve to differentiate them from the more common occupants of the area. Occasionally a single doctor will cut itself from the herd and, on first impression, seem to go mad, standing alone and talking loudly into empty space. But we soon realize that the individual is communicating via an electronic device. Nowadays many people are actually born with this type of device embedded in their heads. If they also present a predilection for bad handwriting, we know that they will become doctors. Most, however, simply become generally annoying people in grocery stores and air ports, alternately arguing with the air and shouting at children that are running amok and terrorizing innocent bystanders. Regardless of the particular type of mad shouter, we should resist the urge to club these individuals as the local constabulary tends to frown on this particular brand of community service.

In a "duh" moment, I just realized why there are flashlights hanging everywhere in this hospital. Earthquakes.

I suppose it is human nature to assume that wherever you live is backward. My example: I was sure that Southern California would be absolutely cutting edge when it came to technology. It ain't. Yes, I said "ain't". This particular hospital, while it is truly world class in its specialties, has NO wifi. None. Nada. Zero. Zilch. The Bannister Family House is the same way. NO connectivity. In a related aggravation, the Bannister House has a policy of no food of any kind in the rooms. Nothing but water. At first it seems trivial, but it turns out that this is a HUGE pain. Don't get me wrong. The Bannister House is great in many, many ways. It's a financial lifesaver, and I am very grateful that we are able to stay there. Back to the subject of So Cal being cutting edge. Either everyone here has mobile broadband, or they just naturally want to gather at the "Starbucks" type of establishment. That's probably it. Not me. I find it hard to type with Cold Play assaulting me. So, I park out front. Ha! What civilized piracy.

I have noticed that in Dallas you will find the attitudes of medical professionals to be very detached. The ones we have had dealings with are quite good but they tend not to talk very much. They certainly do not volunteer information of any kind and will be happy to sit and stare at you while all the questions that you had flee from your mind and your eyes slowly begin to cross. It's as if they are highly evolved, intelligent lizards that haven't quite decided if you are consumable or not. Most of the receptionists in these sorts of offices seem to exist on this plane only partially, and make every effort not to dip further into this reality by communicating with you in any way. We simply wander around following vague directions and hoping for the best.
San Diego, or at least Thornton Hospital, is very different. Everyone is engaged and very pleasant. However... You do tend to run into the Hollow Sympathetic Statement (HSS). You know, the “Oh, I wish I could do something for you”, with the same tonal quality and passion as “I think I lost my pen”. It is very much the exception and not the rule, but I haven't decided which I prefer, the being totally ignored or the HSS.