Grieflections 4 - Rats in the Water Softener and Other Self Discoveries

In 2018 I became a reluctant learner at Widowhood University. The business of George’s business became my business, along with all of the responsibilities I had happily let him oversee during our 43 "His and Hers" years. On top of the numbing grief and sadness that seemed to be burying me alive, I was faced with closing a law practice, navigating the intricacies of self-employment business taxes, notifying umpteen financial institutions, the State Bar, and numerous unsuspecting clients. Date of death property appraisals. Sales of real estate and my Kahuna’s car. I must say I surprised myself. It was a crash course in self-reliance, and I can proudly say I earned my degree!

As it turns out. It’s the mundane, unspectacular tasks that continue to remind me how much I depended on George. Trudging the weekly trash, recycle, and garden waste barrels down our long driveway to the curb on time. Bringing them back up, donning the garden gloves that shield me from the creepy crawlies taking up residence in their nooks and crannies. Light bulb changes. Jar openings. Battles of the Bug. High shelf reaching.  Grocery bag carrying. Toting those 40 pound bags of Charlie’s dog food.
And the nearly impossible task of zipping up my “Night-on-the-Town” black jumpsuit! All jobs that get done by me and only me. And all tug at my Kahuna-missing heart.

One home maintenance task completely fell off my radar until recently, in the middle of my morning shower. Perhaps it was the thick skin I have acquired in the past 23 months that contributed to this homeowner fail. Somehow I had not noticed that our mineral –laden tap water was no longer exhibiting the silky softness provided by the water softening unit, faithfully doing its duty on the side of the house. When was the last time I refilled the requisite salt? The reality was, I had never even looked at the tank! No wonder the mineral ring in my toilet could only be conquered with elbow grease and a sturdy pumice stone.

I laughed at myself as I got dressed, remembering George’s love-hate relationship with that water softener contraption. The 50 pound bags of salt were too much for me to handle, so I enlisted Son’s help in making a Home Depot run for a new supply. Before his arrival, I pulled on my confident-widow pants, donned my work gloves - my trusted armor from all things icky - and mustered the resolve to handle my Kahuna’s former chore. I’m capable, dammit! I can do this!

Taking off the protective cover above the tank, I was met with a scene that would have previously sent me screaming into the house, never to return to that site. A rat nest – likely inhabited for months or even years – filled the inner tank with several inches of droppings, and the remnants of their bounty from my little backyard orchard. An avalanche of avocado, tangerine and orange rinds tumbled to the ground as I lifted the cover. Those nasty critters were clearly well fed, warm and comfy in their abandoned tank house! I was green with disgust – and irrationally angry at George for not being here to fix things. Thankfully no vermin met me in that moment, but it was probably the most “ick-worthy” experience of my widowed life. I could have waited for Son, but my inner WidowStrong voice beckoned.

I’ll forego the details of the clean-up and eventual call to the water softener repairman. The BIG news is…I survived! I have moved one step closer to my black belt in widowhood.

As the two year mark of this journey approaches, I have accepted some realities of Paula 2.0

His rings around my neck. My ring forever on my finger.

The love she shared with her Kahuna was special.  Not all married couples "mesh" as we did. If you share your life with the human who fulfills every ounce of your being, cherish and nurture it. It is truly a gift. And be prepared – the depth of loss when your “one” leaves their earthly vessel will feel unsurvivable. But you WILL survive. And your grief will be your new - and lasting - expression of love.

She is stronger than she ever realized. George always believed in me, often more than I believed in myself. I have been forced to face my fears of inadequacy. My anxiety in making the right decision. It’s still tough, but now that I am “Paula, party of one” my only option is DIY’ing my life. And so far I haven’t screwed things up!

She will NEVER fill the hole in her heart. Grief has no time limit, so I’m not setting an expiration date on its presence. I carry on with my life now, finding daily joy and peace. I have accepted the void in my heart, and I let the tears bubble up – which they still do - every single day.

The hearts collected since we said goodbye. Love Never Dies

That rat nest tested my ability to face my fears and acknowledge my progress on this solo chapter of my life. I owe myself an "Atta girl" and a pat on the back. 
And a bubble bath – with silky soft water!