Seven Months

Today is yet another anniversary. Each month has at least one, though some months have more. December in particular has many. The 8^th of the month is always a marker for how long Ron has been gone from this earth. Today makes seven months since he stopped breathing.

At the hour I am writing this, seven months ago, we were waiting for Ron’s family to arrive from Alma to say their goodbyes to his body before the funeral home came to get him from the house. The sun was shining and birds were singing. Spring was everywhere. Ron lay so peacefully in his hospital bed in the living room. It looked like he was sleeping. I kept going over to kiss and touch him. I had never understood why people kiss dead bodies until it happened to me. Then the urge was so strong that I had to. Last looks. Last smells. Last kisses, even as the body grows cooler and more stiff. It is this innate thing I felt compelled to do. I knew he wasn't in that body anymore, but I also knew it was a body I would never see again. A body that I loved, missing a being inside that I had loved even more.

I must pause here to express gratitude to Ron’s sister. A short while after they arrived that day, she asked me if I had removed Ron’s wedding band from his finger. I had not even thought of it and immediately went to do so. His finger was already stiff and it was a little hard to get it off. Since he was being cremated, I do not know what would have happened if he had gone to the funeral home wearing it. Would they have returned it to me? Or does it go somewhere else? Some lost and found inventory of jewelry from people who died wearing it? I am so glad she told me to get it. I had given it to him during our wedding just two months earlier. I now wear it every single day around my neck. I am not sure whether I will ever stop wearing it.

The first several days after he died, I wore it on the pinky finger of my left hand. It was just a little too small to fit comfortably on my ring finger, but it was also a little too big for my pinky finger. It would slide off if I didn’t have my finger ever so slightly curved at all times. I had many near misfortunes with this, as it came off in the sink, the shower, working around the house, in bed, and even, once, while walking the dogs down the road.

This is going to sound impossible, but I must share the walking down the road incident. It was the evening of the next day after Ron had died. A friend was coming out to bring me dinner and I was stealing a quick walk with the dogs to decrease their energy level and clear my mind. I was swinging my arms to help quicken my pace and must have forgotten to keep my left pinky crooked. The ring came off and started actually rolling in ahead of us down my country road. In front of us, there were two dead animals – road kill – a possum and a raccoon with just a couple feet separating them. There was a disgusting looking turkey vulture eating the raccoon. We were still many feet away, but the vulture had not yet moved and now Ron’s ring was rolling right toward the animals. I felt panic rise in my throat. I imagined the big bird seeing the shiny ring and picking it up in its beak and flying away. (Bear with me, I was in a little bit of a crazy place. My 30 year old husband had just died, which is a worse-case-scenario inviting into my head many other worse-case-scenarios.) The ring stopped just before it would have rolled between the two dead animals, though from the angle I was at, it looked like it was in the middle of them. I started making noise and waving my arms and me and the dogs ran toward the vulture, who reluctantly flapped his wings and flew over to the ditch on the other side of the road where he sat, eyeing us angrily. I picked up the ring and looked at the freshly deceased animals. I wondered about their deaths, if they were more painful than Ron’s, feeling certain that they would have been. I put the ring back on my finger, which was already cramping from staying bent all the time. We finished our walk and I finished that week with all the memorial service planning it entailed. It seems like a blur when I try to look back on it. I cannot remember what I said or did. But that moment with the ring rolling and the vulture was so surreal. It was like slow motion and remains vivid in my memory. Fortunately, I figured out that I could just wear the ring around the necklace my friend made me for our wedding. This is a much more secure plan and works far better for me since I don’t like to wear rings anyway. No more near run-ins with vultures carrying it away or with it almost going down the sink drain.

So, how will I commemorate this seven month anniversary? What will I do today?

I need to go get packed and finish cleaning the house up for my dog sitter friend and maybe eat a little something, because today I am headed up to Grand Rapids for the Grand Raggidy Roller Girls fifth annual Beer Brawl. The Beer Brawl is basically a glorified scrimmage between players on their own team who are guest coached by brewmasters from local microbreweries. This year’s is especially exciting for me because before the Beer Brawl begins, my team, the Battle Creek Cereal Killers, is taking on GRRG’s Rapid Assault team. So, I get to root for my girls and take some stats for my team and just generally feel more connected to all of it.

After the bouts, I will likely go to the derby after party. After that I will be staying over with some friends at my brother-from-another-mother’s house before he leaves for many months to do some traveling. I anticipate this is going to be a really fun night and I am looking forward to it. Is it sacrilege that I am not home crying my eyes out about Ron being gone for seven months? No, not at all. Ron would definitely be thrilled that I am going out and have plans. There is always time for crying later and I still do plenty of it. So if tonight pans out to be lots of fun, that is great!

In fact, Ron and I went to the annual Beer Brawl three years ago, on 12/12/09. In honor of him and our love for derby, I share with you a few pictures from that night. Even though he is not with me tonight in person, I know he will be there in spirit, smiling at all the fun I am having and so proud of the steps I have taken toward becoming a real derby girl myself.

Ron Clark, I love you so much. Thank you for encouraging me to do the derby. Every time I pull on those skates, I think of you and utter a little prayer of gratitude.