Planners

I have kept an appointment planner or datebook since I was 15. At the beginning the planner was filled with notations such as "AP Lit test" and "Calc problems 1-10." Later it was full of things I needed to remember like "OB/GYN 2:30" and "Due date!"

The last few years my planners have listed "Ken's PET scan," "Ken's CAT scan" and "Ken's surgery."

When I look back on these planners, I am struck by the power of the words I find there. The simple words "Ken's surgery" in a box with the date reveal in and of themselves no emotion. However, those words fill me with memories and feelings no words could convey. I look at the words and whole rooms of feeling open up. I remember what I was doing leading up to those events. I remember my fears, hopefulness, anxiety. I remember Ken being positive and confident that this situation would all work out.

In my planner for the day Ken died, I drew a heart. Again words could never describe the crowd of emotions I experienced on that day. I could never fit in the box my feelings of loss. In the future I will look at my planner for 2007 and see that heart. I will be overwhelmed by those emotions again. But I hope they will be tempered by the knowledge that I'm still filling in planners with events and appointments. I am still vital and functioning. Ken's positive outlook and confidence would allow nothing else.

Internet addiction

I have long feared what would happen when the complicated network of wires, printers and computers at our house went on the blink. It happened last Thursday afternoon. No internet. I girded my loins and called tech support. I talked at length with a very nice female computer voice who seemed very sympathetic to my problem, but was of no help. I was afraid to talk to a live person because I knew I would be unable to answer even the most basic questions i.e. Where is your modem? or Do you have a router? I cried tears of frustration and anger and sadness. This was Ken's area of expertise. This was Ken's pride.

I called Ken's friend from Apple who tried to diagnose the problem over the phone while he waited for a table for dinner. Still no luck, though he was onto something when he said everything needed to be shut down and brought back one by one.

The next day I decided to be brave and talked to a live person at tech support. I warned him that he needed to be very patient with me and he was. However, he finally admitted the set up at my house was beyond his capabilities.

(The kids came home from school and were like drug addicts looking for their fix. They NEEDED the internet.)

In the end, my friend's husband came over and he and Mark sorted out the problem. Everything needed to be turned off and turned back on in a certain order. I think my friend's husband was as surprised as anyone that he was able to fix it.

So what have I learned? I have successfully navigated another crisis without Ken. And there's a certain amount of pride in that as well as sadness.

What happened in California

My mother matter of factly told me that she now goes to church only to socialize. This due to "what happened in California." She went on to say that she especially wasn't going to attend the Wednesday healing services anymore. "That laying-on-of- hands is bunk." She added that Jews, Christians and even Mormons scattered across the country had prayed for Ken and "it didn't do a damn bit of good." I tried to say something about prayer being mostly good for the one doing the praying and that all through Ken's illness I felt good knowing so many people cared enough about him and us to pray. She cut me off with "well, I'm glad it helps you."

I don't know why this conversation upset me so much. I always knew that she wasn't all that religious and had a hard time believing. Most of that disbelief, I think, is because she wants to be in control. If she can't control the outcome, she doesn't want any part of it. She attempted to control the outcome of what was happening in California by telling herself that she truly believed and prayed faithfully and attended the Wednesday healing services. And yet Ken still died.

So why am I so upset? I do not fear that she will not go to heaven. I do not fear that she will be punished. I guess I feel somewhat disloyal because while I sometimes struggle to accept someone else's plan for me, I am willing to believe that, try as I might, I can't control what happens to me and that God does love me.

I don't feel like I have to change her (as if anyone could.) I guess I feel a little disappointed. Disappointed that she may feel disappointment in me for not agreeing with her.