Flowers & $ympathy

All around my house are arrangements of flowers that were sent with best wishes. As the white trucks came and went, I pulled the card from the newly arrived arrangements to glance at the sender’s name. “Who is this?” I thought as, on most occasions, the flowers were sent to the house from co-workers of DD or one of Tom’s siblings.

As I search for my tables, hidden by the vast expanse of flowers and greenery, I find sadness instead. The flower arrangements, too fresh to throw out, are a reminder that he is dead but they live on.

On the counter and in the mail box there are piles of sympathy cards from those who I *do* know. The wishes bring me comfort. I think of all of the people who came to the service and those who came to my home. I muster a smile from deep down. Some of the cards have “gifts” inside, and while these too remind me of my loss, it alleviates some of the fear that I won’t be able to handle all of the expenses.

The fear of not being able to make it financially is natural. I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t consider it. Still, I was horrified when a man at the post-mass celebration had the nerve to ask if we’d be “staying in the home.” Some people have no manners at all. I wished that I had a bouncer to have him removed from my home.

Keeping the house was one of the few things that Tom and I had time to discuss during his lucid days. As first time homebuyers, we struggled to compete in the housing market to obtain a home large enough for our family and in a neighborhood were we felt safe. The prices of homes in California, in Silicon Valley, are staggering. Our mortgage payment is nothing to sneeze at.

When Tom first got sick, finances were heavy on my mind. I began making budget cuts in anticipation of challenging times ahead. My daily latte was the first to go. One by one, I’ve identified costs to cut to make my income be enough. I’ll make what ever budget cuts I will need to in order to keep the kids here in our the home that Tom has provided. I know that Tom’s family would love for us to move nearer to them, but the kids need this stability. Their world has been turned upside down already.

I’ve begun using Quicken to try to figure it all out. A chill runs down my spine as the cash register sounds with each transaction update that I make. Can I do this? I think I can, I think I can…

Most of the extended family left on Saturday after Tom’s service. A few stayed through Sunday. There was a part of me that was relieved as the people began to leave, and another part that wanted to hang on to their presence for dear life. They have cared for me as I cared for Tom. They helped to make what happened easier.

As anticipated, with their leaving came the emotions for me and for the kids. I watch the sadness beginning to take root on their faces and it breaks my heart. BoBo has returned to school but has admitted that he hasn’t been able to concentrate in class. His Science teacher is letting him re-take a test that he failed the day after his Dad died. YaYa has still not been able to go to school. We’ll try again today to see if he’ll be read – even if only for an hour or two.

I want to know that they can handle school before I return to work. I have plenty of required “paperwork” to complete while I’m home. In fact, we hadn’t even finished Tom’s short-term disability paperwork by the time he passed. It was just too quick.

But as the kids must return to school, I too must return to work. Money concerns alone dictate the need. And the reminders come in via email and snail mail to remind me of this. My employer will pay for 3 days of bereavement for the loss of a spouse. 3 days! That’s the time that it took just to arrange for the service, It doesn’t even allow for time to grieve. Of course I am allowed to take more time, if needed, but it would be without pay and I would need to pay for my benefits premiums if my total time off (time caring for Tom plus the time I take to get past it) is greater than 30 days.

*tick-tick-tick-tick…* Time is ticking.