The Impacts are Incessant

Chip had an impact, in the way that two objects crash into each other, on so many people’s lives. It goes without saying (but as an over-sharer, I will say it anyway) that he had a huge impact on my life. He had an impact in big ways, such as helping me fine-tune my political thinking and identity. And, by providing partial financial support to me as my husband, he gave me the time, space and energy I needed to develop my parent coaching and speech-language therapy skills further since I didn’t need to work directly with clients 40+ hours a week to support my 5 children as a single mother.

Chip also had an impact on my life in small ways. He brought my attention to things that I would have missed without him (such as the sound of a woodpecker or the sight of a hawk flying above while we sat on our back deck). He gave me experiences that I wiould not have had without knowing him (like the taste of his garlic-ginger stir fry sauce that he had perfected over time). When I’m alone, the reminders of the small impacts Chip had on me come rushing forward in my mind. They are unstoppable. And, with the remembrances of the sights, sounds, touches, smells and tastes, I can always depend on my tears flowing. The tears are a mix of happiness for the memories paired with sadness that he is no longer here to create them or share them with me. The tears roll down my face for some random amount of time, typically lasting no longer than 20 or 30 seconds each time they roll.

One sure way to stop them is by writing my thoughts and feelings down. Sometimes I write them into a poem or a letter to Chip. Sometimes I just add the thought or sensory memory to a running list I keep, written as if I am writing a list of items to remember to talk to him about later. The (very) partial list: --The grip of the steering wheel in your truck.

--The last snifter of Calvados from our trip to Normandy that I drank last night.

--“Fade Away” by The Revivalists.

--The corner of the family room sofa where you liked to sit to keep an eye and ear on the action on the first floor.

--Your soft fleece jacket and hat that you left on the corner of the sofa in the family room on that fateful evening in May.

--The tomato plants, with so much promise, that we planted in mid-May.

--Our deck furniture.

--The old dining room table (The new dining room table and chairs that we ordered in late February got delayed because of coronavirus…it is to be delivered next week). {My Darling, you’ll never feel the smoothness of the chairs and see the table opened up to fit 14 of us around it for holidays or big family dinners, but we will set a place for you there}.

--The punctuated sounds of jam bands and the conversation between two guitars during a jam.

--Your side of the bed.

--Your toothbrush waiting to be used.

--Your closet {I closed your closet doors today. I couldn’t look at your shirts waiting patiently to be worn any longer}.

Yesterday, while waiting to fax Chip’s death certificate to his workplace, the woman currently using the fax machine at FedEx chatted me up. She was frustrated dealing with her 92-year old mother’s will. The woman shared that her mom was still alive, with mild age-related cognitive impairment, but that she had “an evil brother” who was trying to take over their mom’s home and finances. The woman told me she had hired a professional executor to manage her mom’s estate since she and her brother could not agree. While the woman faxed 10 or so documents to the executor, I shared my story with her. I told her I, too, was dealing with paperwork and other tasks related to end-of-life issues since I had just lost my 59-year old husband to pancreatic cancer. She expressed sincere condolences for my loss and said my story inspired her to stop complaining about having to deal with her mom’s estate. She expressed that she felt grateful that her mom was still alive and that she would move forward after hearing my story with more grace and patience.

Sharing my story about Chip changed this woman’s perspective. In my mind, Chip had an impact on the world in the FedEx store yesterday in the way two cars (or the two buffaloes in the picture) colliding into each other would have. What a gift he was to the world, and what a gift he will continue to be for so many.