#128 Pets

I am just not a pet person. Growing up we had goldfish…until they died. I am allergic to all things furry and really don’t like dog slobber. I can’t get into the story of the monkey who adopted a kitten in Indonesia. The pictures are cute and all, but I have better things to do with my day. I know most people don’t feel this way about pets. My own son once tried to trade me for a dog.

“Daddy, when mommy goes to work, and stays at work, and sleeps at work….then can we get a dog?”

He idolizes my in-laws’ dog and sleeps every night with her stuffed replica. I think this is adorable, but I still don’t need a dog of my own. And I thought it was a bit much when he came home from camp with a glittery card he had made for her. Don’t tell him I never sent it on….

Growing up I really wanted a pet. I wanted a kitten because they looked soft and cuddly and I had friends who had one. My parents, who didn’t want to take care of my pet, wisely said no. I think I would have tired of the responsibility pet ownership pretty quickly.

When I was interviewing for residency, the program where I ultimately went asked every candidate to stand up in grand rounds and tell a little bit about yourself including whether or not you had any pets. I later learned the correct answer was to have a lab as this was what the chairman of the department had. At least I was able to draw some laughs when I answered that I didn’t have any pets but I had a husband and that was enough.

This was a paraphrase of what my mother would always tell me when I asked for a pet. You have a brother, and that’s enough. And it was.

#127 How old is old?

As I struggled to post yesterday’s blog thanks to blogger not letting me paste, (seriously? no pasting?), I found myself reading the tag line under the blog title over and over. I kept coming back to Eric’s age. 32. Is that old? Is that young? Age is such a relative thing.

As a kid, 32 would definitely have been old. Way old. Not grandma or grandpa old, but close; firmly in the land of adulthood. In my simplified view careers would be established, families would be made, and life would progress as it should.

Of course now that I am over the age of 32, I know it’s not nearly that simple. I have a career, only I’m still not sure that’s what I want to do when I grow up. I have a family, but it’s not like it just coasts along with no work. It’s a hell of a lot of work. Not that I’m complaining, it’s just not as easy as I once thought it would be.

I think everyone grows up at a different pace. Eric was at the peak of figuring out who he was when he died. He was figuring out his career and about to propose to the love of his life. He was settling in a city he loved and creating a circle of friends there. He was still evolving. For some people 32 may be old and settled, but for Eric it wasn’t.

I honestly don’t think we are ever old and settled, I think we are always striving for something. It may be a new job, a new house, a new partner, a vacation or a kitchen renovation, but it’s always something. That’s what keeps us going. Eric was in the middle of some of the most major life changes you can make. I wish he had had the chance to complete them. I would love to see the person he was going to become.

#126 Poor World

What would Eric be doing this weekend? Would he be going for a run or a hike? Would he and Katie be away for a romantic weekend? They had talked about an August wedding, would it have been this weekend? Maybe he would have been visiting us, or working on a school or work assignment. Maybe he would have just been chilling out at his apartment complex’s pool.

It’s so wrong that he’s not doing any of these things.

Here I am getting on with life, planning schedules and birthday parties and dinner menus and he’s not anywhere. He’s not even pissing me off.

The world is so much emptier without him and it’s so sad that so much of it doesn’t even know. Eric left his mark on many, many people, but so many others missed out. And they’ll never even know how much poorer they are because of that. When I was little I used to wonder how my parents could have possibly waited five years before having me. I couldn’t understand how they didn’t miss me, but you can’t miss what you don’t know.

I’m doing my best to keep his memory alive and spread the word, but it’s not the same. It’s a poor, poor substitute. But I guess it will have to do.

#125 Vacuum cleaners and windows

Yesterday’s blog got me thinking about other gifts Eric gave us when we were living in Philadelphia. He always was original.

Eric had several jobs during our time in Philly. One of them was for a dot com in Austin that failed. He left this job for a consulting job in London and had to get rid of most of his possessions. He sold his car and sent us his vacuum cleaner. I guess his was nicer than ours….although not for long. We used it (silly us, wanting to actually use the vacuum cleaner) and it didn’t seem to work very well. It also made horrible noises and may have actually started smoking. It was then that we found out that instead of using it for its intended purpose, Eric used his vacuum cleaner as a place to store spare change. There was an enormous baggie of coins in the place where the dirt was supposed to go. We should have known.

As a housewarming gift Eric gave us a window. One might think (and hope) that our house already came with these and you would be correct. This window, however, was special. It was old and the paint was crusting off of the frame. There should have been 12 small panes of glass, but the middle two were missing. The others were filled with blue, red and yellow colored glass and one of those was cracked. As odd as this sounds, it was actually a pretty cool gift. In Philadelphia we mounted it on the wall around our thermostat which fit perfectly in the empty space. In Oklahoma City we had it hanging in one of the front windows where the colored glass could catch the light. I’m still looking for the perfect place for it in our Charlotte house, I’ll find one sooner or later. For now it’s leaning against the wall in our bedroom where I can see it everyday and think of him.

#124 Furniture

I’ve been looking for a new kitchen table for a few months now. To be honest, I’m not looking all that hard, but we really do need a new table. We have a small area in the kitchen and it’s hard to find small round tables that fit our needs. The one we have now my husband and I got before we were married (or even engaged) at a Value City store in rural Pennsylvania. It’s a plain light wood round table with fold down leaves. It has served us very well, but the leaves don’t stay all the way up and the gaps where the leaves fold down are filled with disgusting crumbs and other identifiable things that are hard to clean. Its time for a new table.

As I was looking I was thinking about when we furnished our first place together, a house we rented in Philadelphia. I moved in first and had no furniture of my own other than a bed. For a while, the house was totally empty. Don’t worry though; Eric was able to help out. He sent us a chair; actually I think it was supposed to be an armchair. It was from a very trendy store and the assembly was really easy. You just had to inflate it. Yes, Eric sent us an inflatable chair. It was also clear, so you could see right through it. I guess he didn’t want to take a chance of having it clash with anything. It wasn’t very comfortable as pretty much the moment you sat down in it, it tipped over. It was a nice thought though…..

A few months after I moved in, my husband (fiancé at the time) moved in and brought with him his parent’s old furniture from the 70s and 80s. It was no longer stylish, but it was comfortable and I still miss that couch that we left on the curb in Philly when we moved.

Our first night in Las Vegas we stayed in Eric’s apartment and I noticed he didn’t have any inflatable furniture. I guess he learned his lesson through us.

#123 Separation

My parents are out of the country on vacation. They have always loved to travel and have been many places that I would like to see. This time they are going some places I have actually been. They are reprising the honeymoon cruise my husband and I took to Turkey and Greece, albeit with more detail and in more luxury than we did.

I’m glad my parents are getting away and doing something they love to do. Still, it feels weird. When my mom was diagnosed with lymphoma 2 years ago we started checking in with each other everyday, even if it was only for a minute or two. We were just starting to relax this habit when Eric died. Now we talk at least once everyday, sometimes two or three times. We don’t always have much to say, it’s just nice to hear her voice and reaffirm that we are ok.

I miss our daily conversations. I’m also a little more worried than I usually am when they go away. I’m not seriously worried, I just think about what could happen a little bit more than I have in the past. The world is not the benign place I once thought it was. I’m sure they will have a wonderful safe trip and I can’t wait to hear about it in three weeks when they get back….but still…..

I think its reflex in the wake of a tragedy to hold your loved ones closer. Just don’t hold them so close that they (and you) can’t breathe. That’s not healthy for anyone.

Oh, and nobody go rob their house now that I told you they’re away. Boy would I be in trouble if that happened!

#122 Middle of the night blog

It’s 3:00 in the morning and I can’t sleep. I’ve been up for the last hour, lying in bed trying to get back to sleep. This happens to me occasionally and usually its anxiety related. I have plenty to be anxious about, my son starts first grade later today and I want to make sure we’re all up in time for pictures and to be able to walk him into school. In fact my alarm is going to go off in about 2 and a half hours so I can get myself ready before I get the kids up. School starts really early here. The thought that actually propelled me out of bed was checking the battery on the camera; I’d be really upset if I couldn’t get pictures.

Although I know this is why I’m not sleeping, I’ve spent most of the last hour thinking about Eric. After all going over the lack of parking at the school and how slow my kids are isn’t going to change anything. I’ve been remembering how thrilled Eric was to become an uncle. When my oldest son was born he raced to Oklahoma City to meet him. He must have slept on the couch because my parents had the guest room. He took the greatest photos—newborn slumped over a mug of beer, newborn with golf club and grandpa’s money clip and wedding ring, newborn in grandma’s luggage as she packed to go home.

My grandmother broke her hip the night before my oldest was born and wasn’t able to come to us. My husband and parents and Eric and I took him to see her in Florida and Eric wanted to be the first to take him to the beach. Over protective first time mother that I was I wouldn’t let the child touch the sand. At my grandmother’s apartment where Eric must have again been sleeping on the couch (and was probably way more comfortable than we were on the torture device known as the pull out couch) he lay face down on a blanket with my son trying to teach him to crawl. My son was three weeks old.

When my second son was born Eric was living in New Zealand and couldn’t rush right over. They met about six weeks later at Thanksgiving. Again Eric was entranced with his new nephew. Lots of great new photos followed—newborn in pot on the stove, newborn in china hutch, newborn in the back of a Tonka dump truck.

First grade is not as big a milestone as kindergarten, but still I’m sad that Eric isn’t here to see it. He would have called last night to wish my son luck and again after school to see how it went. He would have demanded pictures. He would have been so involved.

We miss you Uncle Eric.