Stitches

We lie in bed in the darkness, a slight breeze swaying the wooden blinds that clap against the window. The TV, with its familiar blue glow, hums a comforting white noise that normally lulls us to sleep each night. But tonight, neither of us have drifted off to sleep yet, our minds wandering - probably to very different places - both trying to trick our brains into turning off and resting; to fall into sleep and give way to dreams.

"What would you do with my stuff if I died?" He breaks the semi-silence. 

It seems our minds were in similar places. Having just watch "Brothers" on pay-per-view, I realize the heavier moments must have resonated with him too. 

Why I chose to watch it, I don't know. I knew better. I don't need intensity and triggers. I need funny. But I watched. And I suffered while I watched as though it were me in that movie and that were my husband in that movie and those were my kids in the movie and dammit, I knew better than to watch it, but I did anyway.

"I don't know," I finally say, knowing exactly where this innocent question about a small part in a movie will lead. I immediately know what conversation we're about to have. It's The Talk I don't want to have but can't be avoided forever.

"I would probably have a hard time getting rid of it, I suppose," I surmise.

"Yeah, but you would need to. You would need to move on." Normally I hate when he's all logic and no emotion but for the sake of this conversation, I welcome it.

"Well, that's easier said than done and I would have a hard time getting rid of your things. I'd probably keep them. It would feel wrong to throw them out."

"What do you want done with your things?"

It stings.

The question cuts open a wound I have spent almost four years sewing shut every. single. day. with my psychological needle and thread. 

Sure, it's an honest enough question and it's a good question and if I'm being logical it's only fair that he asks and I answer and we get it all out there.

But I have trouble getting the words past the lump in my throat. I will away the lump in my throat.

I begin shallowly, hoping to remove the emotion from it. "Well, my camera equipment and stuff... Let the boys have it. I mean, I know it's expensive and they're not quite old enough to take care of it, but let them experiment with it - especially E-man - they might as well."

It's harder than I imagined. Even the thought of my sons viewing life without me through the lenses I capture their lives through makes me physically ache and unravel as I lie there in the darkness.

I continue, only because I'm not sure I'll have the courage to have this conversation again.

"And I want you to keep my wedding ring for one of the boys to give to their wife."

"That would be hard to choose which kid gets it..."

"I don't care who - just whomever you think needs or wants it. I don't care really at all, just don't bury it with me. And I do want to be buried because the idea of burning a body sickens me."

I feel nauseous and empty and as though the light that had been slowly, finally, brightening within me is flickering and failing again and I hope I'm doing my best to make it sound like this - this conversation where I contemplate my death - this isn't that big of a deal.

"Oh, but god, do not let anyone bury me in a dress. I would hate that," I try.

"I know," he laughs. "Jeans and a hoodie, of course."

"Yes. And Uggs. I want to wear my Uggs."

"And no bra, right?"

"Definitely no bra."

He gets me. And he senses my sadness, letting the conversation go. He got bits and pieces of what he needs to know and I roll over, a ploy to search for comfort in crying silent painful tears I hope he cannot hear or see in the darkness of our bedroom as I mentally thumb around for my needle and thread so I can start stitching back up the wound.

Comments

[Lotta]

Love this.

[Chibi Jeebs]

No words, just tears and love. <3

[Chrystal]

:( This makes me sad.

[lanned]

This is sad. But I'd tell my husband he needs to build a shrine and keep it all. And he'd do it until my daughter came in and slapped him down and got rid of all the stupid stuff. She rocks.

[avasmommy]

Very powerful post, Megan. Very powerful.

[heather...]

sigh. xoxo

[ally]

love.

[elaine bennett]

thank you for sharing this difficult conversation. time to hug my boys. here's to you and your uggs, baby!

[Issa]

This is a hard one friend and I know a very important one. Sigh.

Tons of hugs babe.

ps. Did you tell him you'd like a red bull in one hand and a SB in the other? (Sorry had to try for humor.)

[Allyson/HBMomof2]

Oh Megan, this was all too real. Many of my nights are spent in that silent turned over cry. Thank you for this honest post and a reminder that some of the real conversations have to be the tough ones. Hugs and Uggs to you.

[Saffron77]

<3 you... I know it's easy to say but stress doesn't help you any. Big hugs.

[Jennifer]

This is heavy and sad and beautiful all at once. Brothers depressed me and I sobbed when it was done, but not because I was contemplating my death or my husbands. Because my husband just became a police officer and, while I know with all logic that the chances of a situation so extreme is not likely in the small town where we live, I have been worrying constantly about the effects of such work on my husband's psyche. You know?

[Sissy]

God, I know exactly how you feel. That movie screwed with me, too.
This is great writing, I loved it.

[Dampscribbler]

We haven't had one of those conversations in years -- so long that the answers would be all different now. They're so awful.

[Jess]

I am ever so proud to call you my friend. Really truly. I mean it.

[cali]

oh sweets... you're in my thoughts and prayers <3

[Andrea's Sweet Life]

I hope you know how many of us would gladly come at you with needle and thread, if you need us to. Love you, girl.

[Lex (@laprimera)]

Love this. Love you. And? Don't die. xoxo

[pamela]

I LOVE this.

[Heather]

LOVE this. Such an important conversation, yet one that so few people have. I wish I had thought to ask my husband these difficult questions while he was alive. Instead, I'm trying to do what I think he would have wanted.

[mel]

Hugs, Megan. I can't find the words.

[Miss]

You know I love you so.... can I get your external flash? That thing is awesome.

(You know how I'm seriously reacting here without me having to say it. I know for a fact you do because I tell you often how much I love you. <3)

[Erica]

This hits real close to home..I had surgery on my brain stem and spine.The outcome for me coming out of it wasnt good at all,but here I am..well written

[BIttersweet Confusion]

My heart is with you... I haven't had this conversation with my hubs. Thanks for sharing...

[X]

Man. The conversations get WAY harder once kids come into the equation. For now, I think I'll stick to my "what if I stood you up at the alter" kind of hypotheticals. :) Good post, sister.

[Futureblackmail]

This post made me hurt for you.

It also made me realize that my husband didn't know I don't want to be buried in a dress - so I texted him that. He was very confused but at least he knows now.

In all seriousness - we should ALL have these conversations with our spouses.

[Kellee]

That movie just arrived from Netflix to watch... now I'm not so sure I want to watch it...

I'm sure it hurt to talk about, but they are important conversations. I ache for your pain. *HUG*

[Kelley @ Magnetoboldtoo]

OK, now I know what I am NOT going to watch.

Love to you babe. I can just feel your pain in this post.

Me, I told MPS to sell all my stuff and then get me stuffed and then gold plated and then glued to the front of his body.

Heh.

[Dawn in Austin]

Beautifully written. I have a lump in my heart for you.

[mrs.notouching]

You are incredibly talented and just impossible not to love. My heart hurts for you and your family...

[Peeved Michelle]

It's a terrible conversation to have, but I wish that my mom had had more conversations like with my step-dad or with me and my sister. It would have made the last few weeks a little easier for us to deal with. Leaving the directive, "Do what you want, whatever makes you feel best," isn't as helpful as one would think.

[Loralee]

Much love. And? This just...sucks. xo

[Lennie]

Freakin' amazing post, so well written. And big hugs to you too. Hugs and good wishes. Only good.

[LucyFord]

This was the first of your blogs I've read, but it won't be the last.. Not by a long shot.

Incredibly touching. And strong, beautifully strong.