Random day, in a random place.

This past Saturday I spent the day with my youngest daughter. We were searching for a change of scenery and as she puts it, some "retail therapy". We headed North to see the newest in Craft and Hobby stores in our area. I had been there on one other occasion, for my daughter it was all new. Since Marty and I  had sold our souls to the well drillers that week my opportunity for "retail therapy" was limited. I traveled all the aisles and when the urge to load a cart became too strong I decided to walk over to the adjoining thrift store to pass some time. I wandered all the aisles, picking up items for consideration, no real urge to buy, just passing time. I decided to sit down at the front of the store to watch for my daughter when she arrived and while I was sitting there a teenage couple walked in. The entire store was full of average looking people, I am not sure if it is a sign of the times or if everyone appreciates a good bargain, this young couple simply looked like everyone else. The young man saw me sitting there and then in the way teenage boys brag he turned to the girl and this is what I heard him say "I hate this smell, it smells like old people". I don't think he was referring to me, or maybe he was, what I think he was doing was making a show of how he wanted me to think he really didn't belong there, he was merely there for the "experience".

Then there is this: There is a theory in the medical field that the sense of hearing is the last sense to leave at the end of life. When I was a nursing student and later when I worked in the field we were routinely cautioned that our words and the things we talked about could be heard even by those who no longer appeared to hear. There apparently is medical evidence to support this statement although how it was ever measured is a mystery. I have seen this question posed and also been asked the question if you had to lose your hearing or your eyesight, which would you choose?
The answer for me would be either, it is my feeling we are most defined by our sense of smell. Everyone has one, all our homes do too. I could blind-fold myself and tell you, no question, if I was in the homes of my daughters, my Parents, my sisters and brothers or here, in Mike's house that I now call home. I have lived here for six years and I worry that the smell that is Marty and I, is going to cover the smell that was and is Mike.
When my Maternal Grandmother died, I was there. I was in a place most would recognize by the smell. She was the resident of a Nursing Home and therefore a prisoner of the smells of a place that I never associated with my Grandparents. On the day she died due to timing that can't be measured, or coincidence that can't be planned, I was there. I had traveled 140 miles, stopped in as a last minute thought before heading to where I was going. Within 30 minutes of my arrival I was holding my grandmother in my arms and whispering in her ear. I told her all the things I prayed she could hear, I banked everything I had on what I had been taught, that her hearing was the last to go. What she gave me back was the sense of smell. When I ran out of words I buried my nose as deep as I could into her neck, it was there that I smelled all I remembered of my grandparents. Lemon drops and fresh mowed grass, I smelled my past, I smelled my present, I lost her as my future.
A couple of years ago, my Dad lay down his pipe. My Dad has been a pipe smoker for as many years as I have been alive. On a random comment from someone that thought they knew what they don't know, my Dad quit smoking. I know this should be a good thing, I understand the strength it took for my dad to walk away from a lifetime habit, but I miss it. I miss it because it wasn't just who my Dad was, it was who I was. It was the smell of home.
I have worn the same perfume for 10 years. When my oldest grand-daughter was born it was the fragrance I wore, I have never changed it. It is who I am. It is the smell the four smallest people in my life recognize me by. When my Grand-son was almost three, he took a trip with his Dad. He was gone for 10 days, ten long days in a time when everything was wrong. On the day he returned we were all gathered for a party. My daughter went and got her son and brought him into the garage where we were gathered. My grand-son said "Nannie" and then he breathed in deep. Someone made a joke and said "Is he trying to smell for her?" The truth is, that is exactly what he was doing. At two years old and faced with a garage full of people my Grandson realized the fastest way to find what you are looking for is to breathe deep.

This is what I know: None of us will know what is the last sense to go, until we experience it for ourselves. If it's hearing it breaks my heart to know I wasn't there to tell Mike everything I wanted him to know. I would have liked his eyes to see all of us that he loved so well. I would like to have held him so he would know my touch would never let go. It is my hope that it was smell that carried him where he was going. The smell of wind and cold and the outdoors. The smell of his dream truck idling diesel and country music playing on the radio. He did not die inside, for that I am grateful.
Mikes house still smells like Mike. Mikes truck still smells like Mike. I do the everyday, I try for normal. I listen, I see, I touch. On the days when I can do no more, I go to the basement and on a hook by the wood stove hang the woolen bibs Mike wore to cut firewood. I reach out for them and bury my face and breathe deep to find what I'm looking for.
That young teenage kid made a random comment that I think he thought made him look cool, or maybe better than or maybe to show he really didn't belong in that place. The truth is what he smelled was a thousand lives. Someones truth. The identification of people he will never know. There will be much you remember in life. You will remember words that were heard and can't be replaced. You will remember things you have seen and can't be replaced. You will remember the touch and taste of many things, things you think define your life. But it is the sense of smell that will most define your memory. On a random day, in a random place you will turn quickly completely sure that you will see what in reality you can only smell. The people we love remain close due to something we give no thought to while alive. It is unique, it is our imprint, it is the gift we leave behind.

till next time.

"It is what it is"

Martin and I are having a week that would test the patience of anyone. The following is a Facebook post of mine from Tuesday.

"A day brightener for anyone who thinks their week is off to a crappy start.

1. Our well seems to be failing. Water turned from crystal clear to brown.

2. Our furnace has failed.

3. Shower in BR sprung a leak and basement got wet.

4. Washing machine just leaked all over the floor.

5. Walk-in care (me). Nothing 10 days of antibiotics hopefully will cure.

6. Appt. at noon. Couldn't get car out of driveway. Decided to walk. The dog decided to walk too. Had to turn around and walk her home a half a mile.
Did I mention it's only Tuesday?, oh and 8 inches of new snow.
Top that"

Then there is this: My response to life's quirks has evolved over the years. I am ashamed to admit in the early days of our marriage, anything and pretty much everything outside of the norm would throw me for a loop. When they say opposites attract that is exactly the case with Martin and I. When  things went wrong I would completely implode and he would calmly sort through the situation and then take action. We were the ying and yang of life's problems. For some reason, completely unexplained yet very fortunate, all four kids inherited Marty's calm. They are all rock steady under pressure, good problem solvers and "roll with the punch" kind of people. I am still the "loose cannon".
 Of the four kids tho Mike hands down, was the "Master of Disaster". He had the ability to never and I mean never lose it. He approached life with an attitude that crap will come your way so deal with it. It was what made him perfect for the sport of mushing. A sport dependent on 8-10 dogs that absolutely never do what you think they will. It was what made him the best guy to work beside, talk too and watch your back. He was calm, he was steady, he was rock solid.
One of the guys Mike worked with on the Hotshot Crew said that there was an incident where Mike caught one of the new guys goofing off on a fire. He said it was the first and only time the crew saw Mike lose his temper. He said Mike yelled so loud and so long that all the guys stopped working, two guys climbed up on rocks just to watch what they never thought they would see. Mike losing his temper.
In roughly 2005 Mike came over to our lake lot to help Marty with a project. He loaded up his skid-steer on a trailer that was pretty light for the job. It was a heavy equipment trailer but under-rated for the weight of a skid-steer. Our lake place is reached by a two lane highway, rural but heavily traveled. I drove over mid-way through the weekend and Marty and I followed behind Mike, Sunday on the drive home. We were traveling south and came up behind a Semi truck that for whatever reason was going about 50 mph. We followed the truck for many miles and then I saw Mike put on his blinker to pass. He went out into the oncoming lane and due to the weight of the skid-steer, he was having trouble getting up the speed necessary to pass quickly. A car came up to the 2 lane from the left and turned onto the highway without looking right. It was a woman driving and she entered the highway without seeing that Mike was trying to pass. At this point Mike's truck was even with the cab of the Semi, he still needed to get past him with the trailer. The semi backed off to help Mike out but the approaching driver appeared clueless of impending disaster. Marty and I following in our truck, I literally was hyper-ventilating. Marty was gripping the wheel, completely silent. Mike made it around the semi with the trailer with literally inches to spare. When we reached our turn-off, we all pulled off the road. Mike walked back to our truck where I was "freaking out". I said to him, "were you scared?" and this is what he said. "It was either going to work for me, or it wasn't."

This is what I know: This week has not improved. Martin hit a Raccoon, taking out the entire front grill of Mike's old Civic. The car we are trying so hard to get to 500,000 miles. It's going to happen this year.
My car after this weeks snowstorm has a muffler that sounds somewhere between a Locomotive and a 747.
Martin cleaned the filters on the furnace, we had new fuel delivered on top of the old fuel. We thinned the fuel. Marty tried igniting the furnace, yup.......nothin.
I have showered once this week. I have washed no clothes.
The antibiotics have kicked in and I no longer feel as tho I swallowed razor blades.
I went to the liquor store and replaced my wine supply.
I have gone from wondering if it's too early in the week to drink, to wondering if it's too early in the day to drink.
I met with the well drillers for a conference yesterday. I left the meeting feeling dumber than when I came. After delivering a cooler full of water samples and trying to pretend I understand couplers, galvanized pipe vs. PVC, water tables and pumps, the well driller said to me "It is what it is". When he said those five words, the same five words Mike said ALL the time, I knew it was Mike telling me, it will be OK. Don't choose this battle, it's not a fight. The well drillers are coming tomorrow for the second time this week.  I am setting the bar low.

 It took losing Mike to turn me into the person that understands it is either going to work or it isn't. I don't make that as a simple statement. I make that statement as a life changing philosophy. How did I never know in 50 years that all the freaking out in the world can't change most things. Maybe all things.  For 29 years I followed the way Mike lived and yet never realized that I was doing it wrong. If the saying is "you must choose your battles" then hold back as much as you can because the biggest battles you will never see coming. "It is what it is" and "It will either work for me, or it won't". Truer words, never spoken.

till next time.