Saturday, June 15, 2013

Enjoy Every Sandwich--Warren Zevon

What a roller coaster ride the last two months have been. Life is that way often, but it's been particularly up and down lately. 

I lost my brother-in-law in a car wreck on 6/05/13 at 6:00 PM. He & the family dog, Cookie, were on their way home from the office when he went off the shoulder of the road, over-corrected, hit an embankment, and his car went airborn and flipped several times.  He was not wearing his seat belt and was ejected from the sunroof and died of blunt force trauma.  He was 59 years old. Cookie was found right next to his body--injured but alive. She must have crawled her way to him as it is highly unlikely they were thrown at the same time. She has a broken leg, but it otherwise unharmed.

Steve and my sister-in-law had so many things they were looking forward to doing when he retired.  He was an attorney and had just bought the house next door and made it one of his offices so he could do much of his work from his home town.  We will miss him very much.

He starting dating my sister-in-law about a year after my brother-in-law (my husband's brother) died of cancer at the age of 59 leaving behind a 7 yr. old daughter (my beautiful niece, Elizabeth), his wife, his mother, brother and the rest of the family. From that point on, Steve has been a part of this family.  He's been here for every Thanksgiving, Christmas brunch, family funerals, my chidlren's weddings, etc. We are all truly heartbroken & in a state of disbelief. 

But, life goes on, and those who remain must try to find a way through the grief and continue on. I will never forget Steve. He was incredibly intelligent, witty, charitable, handsome, and he was a wonderful husband and father to his own children and my niece--whom he thought of as his own. 

Happy Trails To You, Steve. I look forward to the day we meet again.


james said...

grief has no words to lift it beyond itself. alone, it must find a way to continue, without solace from without to lift it from its heartbroken quest for survival. god be with you all. it will pass, but it will never be over. life would be nothing without its broken promises. love, jim

Maggie said...

Jim...just so much grief all at one time. Hard to rebound. No, it will never be over. I worry so much for both of my sister-in-laws. And, I find it hard to be so useless. So little helps. But, day by day, each of them is working through this horrible grief.

I have missed you, my friend, and I am glad you stopped by with your words of kindness and wisdom.

Lots of broken promises lately.

I hope you are well, jim. I think of you often.

LKD said...

Oh, Maggie.

Oh, my god.

I'm heartbroken for you and all the loss you've suffered recently.

My heart, broken as it is right now, is with you.

LKD said...

I can't say anything right now except this poem. Oh, Maggie. I'm so so sorry.

One Art

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

--Elizabeth Bishop

Maggie said...


I took Linda and my niece out to eat last week for Linda's birthday (which was Saturday). She held it together pretty well. Some tears at times, but also some smiles and just the small talk that those who go on living engage in.

It was the first time, since she and Steve married, that he had not been at dinner when I was present. It was strange. I just can't imagine her pain. They were not just husband and wife, they were friends and co-workers, they were each other's voice of reason and sounding boards, they were united on so many levels and separated on very few--what a good combo to make a life with someone work.

Ahhhhhhhhh...I liked Steve more than he probably knew. I am one who tends to show little unless I have had a few drinks, and I tried to hide that from many people through the years (my drinking). Steve was a recovering alcoholic, but he insisted that if anyone liked a drink, then order one--don't "not" to that because of some bad choices he made.

I am going to post one of the last pcitures of I have of him. Breaks me heart.

My other sister-in-law has her days--many very dark and filled with such deep grief and an inability to find any comfort. She just wants to hold her son. Sometimes, I can't read her FB posts, and on the phone a few weeks ago, she told me I was not to say her son's name (she was drinking and probably doesn't remember--regardless, I am utterly bombarded some days with the loss of these two very important people in my life. I am going through my grief.

Oh, my. Thanks for the Bishop. It is a poem I have posted often, and I do like it very well, and whatever you are going through now, just know this girl thinks of you often and hopes things will get better.