Another not-a-milestone

Turned the calendar page yesterday. One whole page of the calendar that you weren't here in your room, in your chair, living your life.
That's over and done with, and now there's that page gone and we're on to the next.

I had both the babies this weekend. First time I've had them both since you left us. The only reason I  tried was because Tracy had said that was what she wanted for her birthday, but once they were here she said she wanted them for me because they make me smile. Good to be thought of, but have a hard time with Tracy wanting something for someone else for HER special day doesn't ring true.

However, they were both here and it was not bad at all. Your little buddy boy had a cold -- Tam says it's not the same one, but that Hailey brings new ones home from school -- and he's having the ear-jaw-tooth pain that has plagued him for a while. (At least, that is what it appears to be. No one really knows but him, and he can't tell us yet.)
But, after a day, he chirked up and cheered up and the boy is happy now after getting home to "momomomomom." He'll be walking before speaking, and he'll be in school before he has teeth at this rate. Poor lil guy.

Hailey and I made a house from the kit I got. She had a blast, and was happy. Not sure if it was because we worked together (she said "Santa Claus will be so proud of us") or putting bananas on the roof. After it got all dry, she decided to put it in the living room, but brought it through to the front room. It is now framed in the window as Mammaw's decoration.
She decorated the tree, too. We have been waiting five years for that day, and you weren't here to enjoy it with me. Made me sad. But it was a delight to watch her so seriously consider and place and re-place the ornaments. You know how involved she gets with her projects!

Tracy is going to college. She thinks I should be all celebratory and throw a party or something, and all I can think of is how many times you tried to get her to do this exact thing and she had no time for it while you were here.  I suppose it's a reasonable alternative to getting a job, especially as she is still reasonably young. I don't know.
I had kind of played with the idea of going back to school,  one of the tech schools, maybe. But someone has to make a living and winter is hard enough with income. We can't neither one of us live off you in exchange for taking care of you  now, can we?

I sure would like to have those days back.

I sure would like to have you back.
That would be more.
Although we are getting a bit old for "we have each other; who needs money?"
Ahh, but I remember those days. We had 'em.

Anyway, we passed a milestone with the turning of the Rexless calendar page.
And the new page has started with babies and a birthday and a new venture for both of us here. (I have a job interview I'm optimistic about, as well as filling out applications still)

So, my dear, we go on.

It's not like we have any choice,

Our Day, apart

I miss the Thanksgiving that used to be. The turkey and the sides and pies and beans and potatoes. You, my dear, are the only person I've ever known that put Macaroni & cheese on the Thanksgiving table.
Such an everyday food!
But, of course, one should be thankful for the everyday, shouldn't one?

The last few years, this day has been especially our own. A day spent watching TV in different rooms, etc. In some ways, our togetherness was slightly apart. Just -- not too far.
This day we are so apart.

This couple in the Swiffer commercials is how I saw us. Not because we were so focused on cleaning -- you were more into that than I have ever been or ever will be. But because the way those two fuss and work together and care about one another -- I saw us that way. Already that way, and growing more so in the time we would have left.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xw9Bp2AszNw

I wonder if I ever told you that.
I don't think I did, because you would have said something about wishing someone around here would clean like that, and I'd have replied with it being about the character and the love, and as a result I think I would have remembered if I ever had said it.

But then again, we spent so much time in this room with the TV on, it's possible that I could have said, "There we are" when the commercial came on.
Or you could have said it.
Because I think you felt the same way, if you ever thought about it at all.
Maybe you thought of it wistfully, because you knew you'd never get that old and doubted we'd ever have that chance.
I hope so, and I hope that, at least once, one or the other of us did make that smart aleck remark about that being us.

There are many things to be thankful for this year, and they are things that have your touch all over them. The most important is the roof over our head. If you hadn't been a conscientious tenant, we'd never have been allowed to stay to keep the house occupied through winter.
Yes, you.
Your money paid the rent.
You took care of things, from your cocoon in the recliner in one room of the house.

But I don't want to be thankful without you.
I want you to be thankful with -- even though you would be the doom and gloom and see all the shadows and because of you, I would be more aware of the good side of things.
We complemented one another that way.

We'll get this first sad holiday over (Halloween doesn't count), and I'll get back to Thanksliving.
But  I will NOT be thankful for your absence.
Never ever.

Breathe deep and breathe easy, or the equivalent, wherever you are. I'm glad you aren't sick and suffering.
Thankful, even.

Food

Tam had Thanksgiving dinner for us tonight. It was because of her work schedule and her pay schedule and all the complicated stuff like that.
I think it was also to get something of this landmark day behind us. It's not the type of landmark anyone wants to remember and one that will never be forgotten.  Thanksgiving without Rex, without Dad, with no Pappaw.

Thanksgiving has a history for us, doesn't it, Rex? It's been THE family holiday since the girls have been grown. David cooking us up a feast, and you enjoying it, even if your plate would feed you for a week.When the girls grew up and left home, there we were, just you and I, with food we enjoyed and the company we most wanted most of the time. One of our private Thanksgiving days started me on my first blog. ( http://www.otherdissed.blogspot.com/2010/11/thanksgiving-day.html )
Recent years, you couldn't/wouldn't leave home and I might go to Tam's and bring you home a plate. I told Tam last night to not even offer me a plate to take home, because that was always for you. Last year, Tracy was the one who brought us plates.

You've always been picky about food, although you griped about that in the kids. I would run all over the place trying to find the things you would eat. Potted meat and Vienna sausage, only they had to be Armour, not Libby's, not store brands. You would eat Spam, but not Treet. Your chicken noodle soup had to be Campbell's, and it had to be the kind with skinny noodles and no vegetables.

I had the house full of food for you, Rex.
Food you wouldn't/couldn't eat.

How we begged you to eat!
How we tried to argue you into eating, until you had no breath for eating or arguing!

How you tried, when we pressed you.
You did try, more than we can know, I think. Because we have never had to choose, day after day, meal after meal, between eating and breathing.

I open the cabinets or the refrigerator, and there it is -- the food I bought for you. Eggs. Cottage Cheese. Hot sausage. Gatorade. I don't know what to do with the refrigerator stuff. Can't donate that. Tam has got most of it -- I made what was left of your eggs into your devilled eggs (well, Tam and Tracy put them together; I just cooked them.) for our Thanksgiving Dinner.
The other stuff has gone into donation boxes (that I haven't yet donated. Haven't seen any bins.) Your potted meat and teeny wienies have gone to school as Hailey's contribution to the food drive.
Someone will benefit from what couldn't benefit you.

Maybe I will soon be able to open the cabinets without being gut-punched.
And I will also lose one more connection to you and the used-to-be.

Good thing I can always buy a can of potted meat to remember you, huh?
As if I will ever need that!

Maybe I can remember to be thankful that you are not struggling for breath and dying before my eyes because you have finally accomplished that.
Maybe I can someday be grateful that you lasted as long as you did, all things considered.

But I would so much rather be being thankful with you.