It Is More Than Just a Pickup

 

The day we purchased it.

When I remember Everett, I have good memories of his pickups.In the time I knew him he had three different Chevy pickups. He loved having a pickup. He could haul stuff, we could go off the grid on mountain roads, he could load firewood, and he could pull a camp trailer when we headed to a campground.

It took us to many favorite camp spots.

In the last few years he didn't need the pickup as much. I remember him saying though that "every family needs a pickup".  We agreed to keep it and we parked it with another family member so it was there to use to go to the dump, haul stuff, and help out the rest of the family. 

He loved his co-pilots

About a month ago someone in the family asked me if I was interested in selling the pickup. At first I thought, "What a great idea." Then I did some serious thinking. It wasn't safe. It needed new brakes, I hadn't driven it much so I didn't know if there were other mechanical issues. I had trouble sleeping that night as I tried to sort out what to do. Some time in the middle of the night it hit me. 

A man and his pickup

It is more than just a pickup. That 2004 Chevy Silverado pickup represented Everett. Then it came to me. I couldn't sell the pickup. I wanted the pickup back at 514. I wanted to be comforted by his memories when I looked out the front window. When the discussion came up at family dinner I tried to explain as best as I could to the family that it was more than just a pickup. As I continued to grieve his death, I wanted something to bring me comfort in my driveway.

The pickup had to provide help to other family members before it could come back to 514. Close to the end of the week we were able to take it to Silver Valley Tire to get a service job and make it safer with new brakes. 

The work gloves I found in the pouch in the backseat.

I got the call this afternoon I was waiting for. Your pickup is ready.. I hadn't driven the pickup in a long time. I just sat in the driver's seat and cried. I drove it home and checked all the doors and other places that Everett used to love to stuff stuff.  I found two pairs of worn work gloves . a missing green winter glove, change, Tic Tacs. and toothpicks. I found a grocery list he had written. I held each of these items close to my heart.

No matter how worn out they were, he never threw out a pair of work gloves.

Then Riley joined me. He caught a scent of  Everett and jumped from the front seat to back seat, grabbed the gloves, and felt his presence. We drove up to our favorite running spot. It was a happy day.

Tonight I feel so much more at peace. It is more than just a pick up. It is Everett. We needed to feel his presence today and during the days ahead right in our own driveway.

The Meaning of the Mystery Cardinal

Wednesday I arrived home after an appointment and had this beautiful cardinal sitting on my porch. I have no idea who put it there. After I posted the picture this is what a friend shared with me:

 'A cardinal is a representative of a loved one who has passed. When you see one, it means they are visiting you. They usually show up when you most need them or miss them. They also make an appearance during times of celebration as well as despair to let you know they will always be with you."

I have needed him and missed him all week. Now I have a beautiful cardinal to comfort me.

The Pleasures of Ordinary Life

As I get older  I embrace the pleasures of ordinary life. I had a good teacher. Everett was a master at enjoying those pleasures.  We had "a long history. Connections that help render us complete.
Ties that hold and heal us."

I have loved to capture my ordinary life in photos. 

The Pleasures of Ordinary Life

I've had my share of necessary losses, Of dreams I know no longer can come true. I'm done now with the whys and the becauses. It's time to make things good, not just make do. It's time to stop complaining and pursue The pleasures of an ordinary life. I used to rail against my compromises. I yearned for the wild music, the swift race. But happiness arrived in new disguises: Sun lighting a child's hair. A friend's embrace. Slow dancing in a safe and quiet place. The pleasures of an ordinary life. I'll have no trumpets, triumphs, trails of glory. It seems the woman I've turned out to be Is not the heroine of some grand story. But I have learned to find the poetry In what my hands can touch, my eyes can see. The pleasures of an ordinary life. Young fantasies of magic and of mystery Are over. But they really can't compete With all we've built together: A long history. Connections that help render us complete. Ties that hold and heal us. And the sweet, Sweet pleasures of an ordinary life. Judith Viorst

Everett and Winnie Reunited

 Everett always loved cats. That is h how he earned the nickname "The Cat Whisperer". The cats knew how much he loved them and they loved him back. It is often hard to tell what cats are thinking, but I think the cats missed him when he never came home last November.

Winnie was one of the many rescue cats we brought home. She loved hanging around outside during the day, then came up from the basement in the evening for love and attention. Everett's lap was her favorite spot.  Saturday Winnie was running across the yard heading toward the gate. Riley was right behind her, She injured her leg on the gate trying to hoist herself over. She was limping so I took her to the vet in Pinehurst. The vet took x-rays and learned that she had a very complicated injury. She pulled the ligaments between her leg bones and a small bone was fractured.

I tried to listen the vet explain why it was a complicated surgery. It would require a special orthopedic vet to do the repair. She would have to be crated then kept quiet and by herself for six weeks. It would cost over a thousand dollars to get her leg fixed. The vet left me alone while she tried to contact the specialist. Fortunately she gave Winnie something for the pain.

As I sobbed alone I missed Everett so much. I needed advice. What was best for sweet Winnie? I prayed for wisdom and suddenly I felt a calm come over me. I remembered the words my wise   Everett always said when we had to make a difficult decision about a beloved pet.  "Christy, this pet has lived the best life ever with us. Will doing a surgery and all that follows be the life Winnie would want to live ?"

I knew the answer. No, Winnie would not want to live that way. Then it came to me. Winnie and Everett missed each other more than I realized. She was ready to be reunited with her Cat Whisperer. They are now in heaven together where all her pain is gone. My pain of the loss hasn't gone away, but I made the right decision. 

The Return of Halloween at 514

The first time I met Everett it was close to Halloween. I was walking the dogs and he came out of his house down the road and we introduced ourselves. As we talked he told me he didn't like Halloween. He explained that this was something he changed his mind about as he got older. I was a bit taken aback. Halloween had always been such a traditional holiday in my childhood and my teaching years.

 

He explained to me he didn't like the focus on evil. It is true that as the years went by Halloween did take on a life of its own with scary movies, scarier costumes, haunted houses, and Scarywood. I didn't think too much about it until the next Halloween rolled around and we were married. I made a shift in my seasonal decor from jack-o-lanterns and witches to harvest pumpkins and scarecrows for Everett. I put on my Halloween costume when I arrived at school.

Because of the location of our house we never got trick-or-treaters. Then we moved back to my hometown and on the street where I grew up, the street every house handed out candy on Halloween. The first year we just went out during the trick-or-treat time. Another year we had dinner in the SheShed. Everett then decided it didn't bother him as much so I handed out candy. Not last year.

Last Halloween was the last day Everett was ever home. Little did I know when I drove him to the ER that he would not return. That day he was taken by ambulance to Kootenai Health for a serious infection. That day a year ago started a journey of  illness, isolation in the Covid Unit (even though he was asymptomatic), and further long days in the hospital.

Today Halloween will return to 514. I won't wear a costume or cover the outside of the house with creepy decorations. I will just greet the costumed children, smile, and hand out candy like my days of childhood. I think Everett would now say, "Not too shabby"

Honoring Dad on His Birthday, A Blog Post From the Archives

I love this blog post I wrote to honor Dad on his birthday in 2012. The first picture shows the house I live in now when it was put up for sale the first time. Boy, has it changed. 

Dad Loved October

Today my dad would have been eighty-two years old. He died sixteen years ago . As I was organizing and reorganizing  pictures today I kept remembering Dad.

Dad loved October. Bowling season had begun. He got to enjoy the World Series, NFL games, and college football games in his easy chair with a can of beer. The weather was cooler to golf. He could watch the Kellogg Wildcats play from the porch of Dirty Ernie's. He could watch the leaves turn on Cameron Ave.

Sunsets were always beautiful in October as Dad sat on the front porch. He enjoyed all the leaves turning red, yellow, and orange.  He also  loved to burn leaves in the street. Although he didn't always like doing yard work, he seemed to like raking leaves and putting them in big piles. When he got a shredder he ran the corn husks through, then put them in the compost to enrich the soil for the next year. He stood around while his friend Donnie showed him how to trim raspberry bushes in October.

He always got out his flannel shirts and changed to a warmer hat. He loved a full moon and would belt out the lyrics to "Shine On... Shine On Harvest Moon." When we were small he would walk us up to Joe and Henry's for a root beer and took us around trick-or-treating hoping to get a cool one at some friend's house. When I was older him and Mom would come to Moscow to cheer on the Vandals. 

October meant canned goods from his mother in Spokane, roasts and homemade soups on Sunday, and later apples from the orchard below my house. He was so excited when the orchard owner told him he could take what he wanted. He drove his Chevy Lumina down the orchard road and loaded up.

October was that time before his knees started to hurt, his gout flared up, the roads got slick, and the sidewalk had to be shoveled. In early evening he could see his world from the front porch and later enjoy the warm light inside as he called it a night.