As I considered what to do with this current blog and site - and as time collected between the present and Curtis' death - I began to think that a clean break was needed.  Curtis' story was intertwined with mine for years, but his has ended.  However, he'll continue to be woven into mine for years to come.  Curtis' life and death have been monumental in my life, and it will take years to process.  So as a way to honor this distinction and respect his story, I'm moving out on my own:  www.mrsbsbrain.com  

It is still in development a bit, so you might notice a few changes, but this will allow me to just keep one site going.  I'll filter some of my entries over.  This one isn't going away, so if you enjoy reading through the stories and looking at pictures, it'll be here for quite some time.  

I'm a bundle of all things possible.  

I bought my first car - my first I'm-doing-this-all-by-myself-picked-it-out-brand-new-all-mine car.  Mine was on the brink of major repairs - so instead of investing money in a dying car, I've got a brand-spanking new HAWT ride.  I need a little hotness right now.

After a few days break from the gym, we got back into the groove the last few days.  Whew - feels good to be back.  

I had my first major flake out and missed a very important appointment.  Still batting pretty good, though, considering...

And saving the best for last - my best friend gave birth to two little babies this morning.  Despite a tenuous start to birth, all are doing wonderfully well.  As I spoke to her husband over the phone, I got the basic details - birth, recovery, weight, etc.  And, of course, my best friend.  People - she is amazing.  Seriously.  Amazing.  This woman was pregnant with twins, had a three-year old at home, renovated a newly purchased house, and would watch Clara for me during appointments / necessary outings.  She'd even help out while I was out of town.  As these little ones grow up, I can't wait to share the awesomeness that is their Mama.  She is extraordinary and one of the major reasons I'm not a puddle.  SHE is grace personified.

Being in the house this week with nothing but (a lot) of errands and to-do's, opportunities for memories are creeping back are presenting themselves.  

Twelve years ago this past week, my college roommates and I were out celebrating a birthday.  Curtis was in our group - he was / had been dating one of them.  We began the night at TGIFriday's (so sorry, Kristine) and journeyed to Blue Cat.  I was a mere 20 years old at the time, so we stayed downstairs for a bit.  When the group decided to move upstairs, I left with one of my roommates.  As I waited in the entryway for her to finish her conversation, my eyes scanned the bar.  It was then I saw Curtis - and that he was looking at me.  I smiled a bit, then stopped when he continued to bore holes in my eyes.  He wasn't smiling; he wasn't frowning.  He was intense.  After maintaining each other's gaze for a very uncomfortable amount of time, I finally looked away.  I remember getting into the car and saying to my roommate, "The weirdest thing just happened...."

It wasn't until two weeks later that he sealed his intentions with a kiss.  I asked him what the "look" was about, and he replied, "I wanted you to know that I knew". This makes me slightly chuckle now, but at the time I swooned.  And for the most part, I still swoon.  

I met a lovely woman last week while visiting Nashville - very honest and forthright in a city swarming with beautiful people with seemingly immaculate lives.  In the few conversations we had, I became very impressed with her openness in sharing her struggles as a woman and mother.  After shaking hands, hugging, and kissing over a thousand people at Curtis' visitation and receiving almost as many words of praise, I thought I could do with a strong dose of honesty.

I often hear that I have handled this situation with "such grace".  I've always accepted the compliment graciously, but I had a difficult time grasping the meaning (irony anyone?).  I finally asked my mom, "What do they mean?"  She kindly told me her interpretation:  I don't whine.  I don't talk about how unfair it is.  I just do what needs to be done.  Our conversation that followed helped me see things from a slightly more objective point of view.  I suppose most of this is due to my belief that nothing happens for a reason.  Bad and good things happen to good and bad people alike.  There's no rhyme.  There's no reason.  It happens.  There is nothing special about me that says I can't lose my husband through a tragic and drawn out brain injury.  

However, it needs to be said that I'm not okay with this.  I have moments of such anger and rage that my entire body pulses.  I try and keep it classy in front of most and reserve my furor for a select few.  I sometimes find it difficult to be around happy people, people with nothing but wonderful things in their lives.  Husbands showing affection to their wives.  Pregnant women or mothers tending to their infants.  Families just out together enjoying life.  I can seethe with jealousy.  And I hate myself for it.  

However, I'm learning to be more compassionate with myself - to respond to myself as I would someone in my circumstances.  Instead of hating myself for experiencing completely natural emotions, I'm beginning to understand where they originate.  I'm heartbroken that I don't get more of those moments with Curtis.  I can't give birth to his child and parent with him.  I'm a single mom solely responsible for so much.  I am bereft.  

While sitting in the hospice room with Curtis, I spent some time reading poetry on death.  I was partly reading for pleasure and party searching for something appropriate for a service.  Curtis and I have always shared meaningful passages or poems with each other, and I would occasionally read one aloud.  I came across one I had never read written by a poet I studied in college, Edna St. Vincent Mallay.  It hit me hard and seems to reflect so much of the thoughts expressed above.  




Dirge Without Music
by Edna St. VIncent Millay

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.

Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains, --- but the best is lost.

The answers quick & keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,
They are gone. They have gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.

Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

I occasionally read through some of Curtis' writings.  This one most likely irritated me when he wrote it, but now  (and many years since that time) it makes me laugh.  Judging by the date written, his "analysis" was likely the result of some argument over wedding planning.  I recognize in his writing some of the standard arguments we had while dating / living together and how those ceased to happen as the years went on.  Not that the issues had been solved, we just cared about them less and about each other more.  

womb-man
"Update, you say? I think I will.
This time, an analysis of what separates men from women. 

Men:
Men are direct. Men are upfront. Men are incomplete. Men are typcially short-sighted, or, if long-range, they have lofty goals that are usually based on fantasy. Men seek the achievable, the day-to-day doable. They want results that are quantifiable. They seek concrete results. Men seldom hide emotions behind facades. Men like the mechanics of the daily operation of life. 

Women:
Women are indirect, except when they feel grossly overwhelmed by the directness of men. Women are behind, back-alley, black market dealers...far from upfront. They circumvent and plan and predispose and strategize. Women are complete, but often lack the desire to open all the doors, because "all the doors" comes with a lot of hassle that they don't feel they need. Women are long-range planners, but they often forget to take care of the esoteric details that mark the lanes of progress in life...the big picture tends to obscure all else for them. Women seek the unobtainable, the imagined, the obtuse, and the ideal. Women, because of this, are hopelessly lost in the world of applications that usually makes up the mind of men. They see this backdrop as "unsubstantial." Women seek results that are quantifiable, but only on their unforeseen and indescribable scale of achievement. Women crave substance, which for men, often means sharing feelings...men don't like that. Women have so many fronts that a man will be lucky if he sees the second half of the game...

That said...(as if you all didn't already know these things)...women are wonderful, and if they weren't, why would men bother? I suppose the "vice versa" rule should be in effect on this one. Why would women bother? 

If you need additional insights, refer to Matt Ridley's book "The Red Queen" which discusses in detail the evolution of sex and gender differences in humans and other species."

                                                                                 -Curtis Butterfield
                                                                                  March 13, 2005

Clara and I returned home yesterday evening.  Thankfully, we've had plans for all our meals as I have yet to stock our fridge beyond the gallon of milk I brought with us.  In my inability to sit still, I seem to be replacing every broken thing in our lives - new dining room table & chairs, new car.  I picked up Curtis' Death Certificate, so all the paperwork can begin.  After sorting the mail for an hour and a half last night, I made a number of phone calls this morning and have appointments set over the next week to speak with various parties concerning Curtis' estate.  I seem to have no problem staying extremely busy.  I'll worry about what comes next when it knocks on my door.

As I make these phone calls, deal with car dealerships, meet new people - I have to share bits and pieces of my story.  5 people at the dentists.  3 people at the bank.  All of them knew what happened, so it was just a matter of me nodding my head & smiling, accepting their condolences, trying not to cry, trying not to make too many jokes to lessen my tension.  But I'm also having to come up with my own "sound byte" for the new people I'm meeting.  That 20 second introduction used in situations like interviews, speed dating, etc.  A Snapshot of Me.  "I took a leave from my part-time teaching position, but I'm not going back, so I guess I don't have a job, which means I'm unemployed, but I'm a mom, so I guess I'm a stay-at-home mom".  "Yes, my husband's name is on the account, but he's recently passed.  So I - Oh, well, thank you.  That's very kind of you.  So as I was saying I do not work, but I have an income..."  I felt ridiculous stumbling over my words as I tried to figure out the most efficient manner to give the information they needed - nothing more.  I like simple.  I like sweet.  And none of this has ever been simple or sweet.  I feel slightly bad for the people that continue to ask me questions, because they dig themselves deeper and deeper into the hole of "Holy Shit.  How do I extricate myself from this downward spiral of a conversation without sounding like a total douche?"  But I find that most people that continue to prod are likely douches and deserve to be a bit uncomfortable.  

  

Clara and I are enjoying our time away.  We spent the morning at the zoo, enjoyed a trip to Trader Joe's, and went to the Y to swim / work-out.  Clara has enjoyed meeting some new friends.  We're all anxious for my brother to return from the road tonight - he's quite the fun one.  It has just been very relaxed and easy.  

At first I found myself getting a little panicked at night when going to sleep.  It dumbfounds me that the skin, the scratchy beard, the tattoos - those physical things of Curtis' are no longer.  His laugh is no longer.  His voice is no longer.  These things don't exist in the world.  And this is heart-wrenching to consider.   It is part of the process, though; and I'll slowly begin to adjust.  I'm learning to distract myself, not ponder or wallow.  

I've been walking / running / swimming a lot.  I've shed over 25 pounds and am working hard to keep it going.  The release is fantastic and provides a much-needed mood enhancer.  The healthy kind.  My hair is the longest its been in my life.  I have sun on my face and arms and even in my hair.  I feel really good.

Clara and I decided to extend our vacation in Nashville a week.  We came here for my sister-in-law's baby shower, but I just couldn't come up with a good reason to leave right away.  My brother and sister-in-law have an amazing network of friends here, so Clara has no shortage of play dates and activities.  Our week will be filled with pools, fountains, the zoo, and all manner of fun.  I could do without the massive heat, but the mornings have been lovely to walk / run the hills and sweat my bum off.  

Last night friends of theirs came over for a BBQ.  Clara played well with their 2 and 4-year olds.  She seems to show a fondness for the daddies in the families we meet calling them "Daddy".  Clara had an "A-Ha" moment while watching the daddy grill.  She told him her daddy was in Omaha.  He replied, "No...  where is your daddy?"  Clara told him, "My daddy is in heaven".  He replied, "You know, my daddy is in heaven, too".  Her eyes widened.  

If time is the only thing to help me, then I'm happy to spend it elsewhere doing other things while the opportunity exists.  Currently, I am sitting with my lovely British sister-in-law trying Dairy Milk and sipping a proper English tea.   My brother returns to town tomorrow after a few shows in California; he is stoked to play tour guide.  They're putting the hard sell on moving here, but unfortunately for them, I find the heat and humidity without a large body of water ridiculously intolerable 

Clara and I headed off on a whirlwind tour of the Midwest; we'll be home eventually.  The only thing looming in my life right now is a dental appointment on the 20th.  I am anxious to see how Clara does with all the traveling - AND having her Mama around.  I am certainly taking advantage of having help - my sister-in-law watched C while I took her older 2 girls to Ikea.  My dad took C on a walk to the neighbor's while I went for a run.  

I officially broke my sitter.  If I am sitting, I'm working on something.  I am up with the sun and down hours after it sets.  I've been advised the only rules in grieving are there are no rules.  My frenetic activities are just how I'm handling it.  Staying busy or at least surrounded by other people allows me to better filter what comes into my head.  

Waiting for Curtis' imminent death was the brutal.  It was loving, too, I know.  But I sat in a room for 7 days and watched my husband die.  I laid next to his cooling body, then sat next to him for the next few hours sometimes holding his hand.  I kissed him again.  I watched them cover him and felt his beard scratch my cheek through the sheet as I nuzzled his face one last time.    

Sometimes thinking about that experience is easier than thinking about Curtis' life, though.  I looked around our house at the artist's prints we fell in love with - we have so many of his pieces and Curtis loved them all.  And he'll never get to appreciate them again.  The millions of black metal band t-shirts.  His music.  All of Curtis' things are in one of two places:  the storage facility I rented to empty out my house when I put it on the market and Omaha, NE (which was returned and was put directly in my basement).  

I can only deal with one of the two issues at a time, so one of them is going to have to wait till the other gets settled:  forgetting his death or settling his life.  I'm fairly certain things will happen in that order.  I'm in no hurry.

I'll leave you with one of my favorite pictures; this one has been on my mind a lot.  Curtis fell in love with South Carolina while attending Clemson University.  Shortly after we started dating, I accompanied him to a classmate's wedding in Georgetown, SC.  (Scandalous, yes!)  It was amazing - and we went back a few years later.  This was taken in 2001 at the Harbor House, a bed and breakfast, on our last day.  We discovered Shrimp & Grits on that trip, and it became our Christmas morning tradition.  

Many of you out there are obviously wondering the same thing as I - am I going to keep the blog going?  I will.  

On a very practical side, it allowed me to get information to a mass of people.  On a strictly personal side, it has been amazingly wonderful for me to have something on which to focus my thoughts and attention.  I miss using my brain at work, and as piddly as it sounds, just the practice of putting my thoughts into very succinct phrases was a welcome challenge.  Even more so, it will also be a lovely record for Clara.  So, I'll keep writing for now.  Once I figure out how to save everything, I'll change it up a bit.  Eventually, I'll change the domain name - just doesn't feel right using his name still.  Curtis B's Brain may no longer be having life and times, but it has left an indelible mark on me.  I was talking to a friend today and briefly inventoried the mountainous pile of excrement I've waded through for the last 6 months.  It is going to take quite some time to wrap my head around everything that has happened - place these thoughts and feelings where they go.  

I was telling the story of Curtis B's Brain, but my story is continuing on where his left off.  

So - there's that.  And here's this.  I've been getting short texts or voicemails or dinner invites from C's friends (my friends, too, of course) just checking on me.  There seems to be this unspoken (that I know of) rule of taking care of whatever I might need - be it a grocery run, something fixed, or a garden tilled.  I know that were the roles reversed, Curtis would be doing the same for them.  

Some friends gifted me with lots of music in my early days of traveling alone to and from Omaha.  This song was lovely in the beginning, then heartbreaking, then lovely again.  I think of these men, Curtis' friends, when I hear this.  Curtis was always surrounded.