It's the little things

Christmas was nice. We made it through okay. You know what hurt? Christmas Eve. Surrounded by a mound of kid things to put together. My brother Kevin and his wife Becky assembled a spring horse with amazing grace and cooperation. My Dad blew out a hair dryer trying to inflate a mini-bounce house. (It's a long story with that one...) If Jim had been there, things would have been different. A bounce house would have taken 5 minutes to inflate rather than 2 hours. He would have put together the horse in 10 minutes and gotten down to the point where he realized he's lost the last screw. Then he'd spend 30 minutes swearing and feeling around on the carpet looking for it. Then he'd sit back and admire the gifts after we set them up.

Christmas Day was such a giant event that I really didn't feel too sad. I was glad to see the kids open the gifts. And my most overwhelming feeling was that I just wanted to call him. I kept waiting for him to come back. I felt little bits of sadness when I realized that he wasn't just a phone call away. That he wasn't coming back.

Real sadness struck me two days after Christmas. I wasn't prepared for the let down. Nothing was going on - I was relaxed and alone with my thoughts. I had a hard time keeping it together. But that can't happen for long with two kids.

And again today I felt it. We tried to reinflate the bounce house with Jim's air compressor. I had to call Jim Sr. and ask him what I was supposed to be using. My Dad and I looked all over the basement and I couldn't find his air gun. So we had to go buy one. Jim Sr. told us what to get. The bounce house is inflated now. It never once occurred to me to ask Jim before he passed away how his workshop is organized and where I could find the pieces for everything. It's annoying to know the tools are down there and not be able to use them.

I also felt it today when I went to order our new countertop. We'd meant to do it over the last year but we just never got to it. I got Jim's favorite - Silestone Kona Beige. Here's a picture of the kitchen we redid in Atlanta, with Silestone Kona Beige countertops. We (Jim) completely ripped out the old kitchen and redid the kitchen from scratch. We hand picked every single thing in the kitchen, and we were so proud of it. I always felt that this kitchen was the truest reflection of us. Except that healthy looking fruit on the counter. That probably rotted and I threw it away.
Jim's favorite countertop is beautiful. But when I talked to the girl at Home Depot today, I realized that I'm going to have to {gasp} HIRE a plumber to come over and help me unhook the gas for the stove, and then rehook it up. And the water for the sink. I'm going to have to ask people to help me take out the old countertop. These are things that just haven't occurred to me before. Of course not - Jim always took care of things like that. Before you throw eggs at me and tell me that I'm sounding grossly anti-feminist, consider this: I come from an un-handy family. When Jim and I first got together, Jim took over all the handy projects at my parents' house. When we got married, if I attempted a project on my own and Jim caught me, he'd butt in and take over. And it only got worse over 12 years. So I was very okay with letting him do things like demolition work or hook up a gas line. (Although here's a picture of me doing demo work on our bathroom in Atlanta - Jim was at work. I stayed home "sick", and as soon as he got home, he took over!) In any case, I cried at Home Depot tonight. You know what? Picking out countertop is not fun without Jim. I don't want to coordinate the logistics of things and pay for things that were once available to our household for free. I don't want to pick Jim's favorite countertop without Jim here. I don't want to do much of anything like that without Jim here.

It's still the strangest times that it hits me. I should have known going into Home Depot. We need new countertops and Jim really wanted them. I'm glad to follow through on things, but not without Jim. I definitely grieve for the past, but the number one thing I grieve for now are the things I wanted for our future. Following through with plans that Jim and I had made together - that really upsets me. I never intended to be on my own. I certainly never intended to have my un-handy dad offer to help me (Jim is probably shrieking from heaven "NO! CALL SOMEONE ELSE!") with the logistics of countertops and shutting off the gas. (Don't write me an email - I know not to do that myself.) I grieve when I see my kids making new steps in their lives and I know Jim isn't here to share it. I grieve when I realize that I didn't ask Jim where the parts are for his air compressor gun. I grieve that I'll be inflating the bike tires this summer with Jim's air compressor and Jim won't come along to budge in and take over my project. It's all the tiny things in my every day life. They make me so sad. They make me grieve for someone I love dearly. They make me grieve for the future Jim and I planned together. This is not how it's supposed to be.

Every day life goes on. We needed new countertops, and we'll get them. The kids will continue to grow and progress. I will organize the workshop so I can find things. But it just lacks the same lustre without Jim. My whole life lacks lustre without Jim. He was the polish that made us shine.