Thursday, September 25, 2014

The conversations no one ever REALLY wants to have about the end of life....

But for some reason, I've had a bunch with my spouse.

It's that ever dreaded one, you think you won't have to worry about until you and your spouse are much older, like 60's, or 70's even....

Where do you want to be buried?
Where should I live with the children if something happens to you?

Now, of course, in my husband's line of work, it's something that we have discussed often at times.  At one point, I remember us deciding on someone who would tell me if something were to happen to him.  We always picked a priest to be the one to deliver the news, and thankfully, after 18 years, no one has had to ever deliver that dreaded message no one wants to get.  "Ma'am, there's been an accident...."

It's not to say I don't think about it, and it's not to say I obsess over it.  We are all going to die.  We started dying the day we were born.  Our days are numbered, and the riskier behaviors (jobs, too) we have, the greater risk of not living "forever."  Even despite my husband telling me he's Superman and will live forever....

But sometimes, circumstances cause me to actually develop a game plan.  Remember, I am a planner.  Type A personality.  But in my defense, I am about to have my seventh child, so some small amount of preparation is actually probably pretty practical of me...  (as I pat myself on the back, and say, 'nice one, catholicmomma...')

The circumstances have arrived where once again, I needed to ask these questions.  I am certainly not convinced of his impeding doom, but reality is, when someone who is in a dangerous position, goes after someone of equal or greater danger, the possibility in lies that there COULD be an accident, and the last thing I need to deal with is piss poor planning.  Not making light of someone dying in any way shape or form.  My husband is my best friend in the ENTIRE WORLD- and I would be completely devastated if something happened to him, which is why, it's imperative I have a semi-thought out plan before he heads out just so when I switch to auto-pilot and stop functioning as a human being for awhile, I can rely on my clear headed brain PRIOR to the event to dish out the necessary information to others.

So last night, the conversation sounded a little something like this:
"Where will I live if something happens to you?"  -me.
"Where do you want to live?"  -husband.
"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you."  -me.
"I don't know where you want to live."  -husband.  Snarky little fella.
"I need you to help me make a rational decision in this.  It's serious time."  -me.
"I think you'll be fine wherever you live."  -husband.  Listen fella- this isn't a debate over which pair of shoes look better-this is the rest of my life without you conversation and I need SERIOUS!
"Where would YOU live if something happened to me?"  -me.
"I have no idea."  -husband.  And he's probably right.  This is something that we've discussed for a long time.  (we've had several opportunities to discuss, 'what if something happens to you' scenarios...)

We fell asleep with nothing really definite planned.  There is a family in Arkansas I would most likely move closer to, simply because they have been like parents to us since we lived in the very first city my husband was assigned so many moons ago.  But other than that, it did cause me to think and really ask those tough questions that we sometimes avoid for fear of death and dying.

Did you know I have no idea how to access my online bank account?  I"m talking about the one that my husband has because of his law enforcement job.  I'm certain I could possibly find something somewhere I've signed that grants me access to the account- but that is our primary savings account and regardless how much money I "get" should something happen to him "on the job" I need access to those funds because there will be lots and lots and LOTS of unexpected bills I imagine that will pile up.

Did you know, I have no idea how to; change the filter in the furnace, switch the vents from winter/summer zone (probably just something in Snowland-cause I NEVER remember helping do this down south), turn the pilot light off, or even light it for the gas fireplace, change a tire, fix the toilet, rewire a light switch when we get a new light, or ceiling fan, and about two billion other little things I take for granted all the time?

Did you also know, that I have a terrible fear of having to sell this house alone?  Seriously- we've lived in four houses.  Do you KNOW how much paperwork that means we have signed, filled out, photocopied, mailed, and had certified?  A ridiculous amount, but my husband has always been the one to handle ALL of it.  Such a blessing because that is a PAIN!

Did you also know I have a terrible fear of buying/selling cars?
Yes, as irrational as it may sound, I have had to think about which car I will sell.  The mini-van?  Or the bus?  Technically, eight fit in the mini-van and if there's not another adult in the front, the oldest can sit there and the next older three can sit in the middle and the youngest in the back.  There really would be no need for the bus- minus more space for travel-but it is four years newer than the those thoughts go through my head when he heads out for missions.

Did you also know I have a terrible fear of not being able to visit his grave should something ever happen to him and we move away?
How obnoxiously goofy, you say.  Well, yes and no.  I know his soul is no longer with his body and his body is not what I was married to, or in love with, so just knowing he's in Heaven, should be enough for me to be satisfied and I can talk to him anywhere, but there is just something very powerful about being at a cemetery.  One of our babies is buried in Arkansas, and we have a stone at the site (just a little homemade, Hobby Lobby stone, someone made for us) and it would give me such peace to go by and just sit there some days.  The little ones would explore the cemetery and I would sit like a big goof ball and cry my eyes out telling little John Matthew how much I loved him and missed him and prayed the sun glasses would hide the big red eyes from little eyes that kept saying hi to him when they ran by.
But for me, a physical place to go and sit and chat is important.  We have another miscarried baby buried up here, Gemma Rose, and I have to ask my husband all the time which cemetery is she buried at because there are so many and I sometimes get very distraught when I can't just jump in my car and visit.
So the idea that I might have to bury my husband in a city/state we will no longer live in, sometimes freaks me out!

Yes, I know.  He is already working on his Sainthood cause dealing with me.... I am very well aware of this....  :)

So twice I've tried calling him to rehash these and a few other questions before he heads out tonight and tomorrow, but so far, he's had to stop talking to deal with a team member calling to inform him of more changes, or expectations of what they're doing.

I did not intend for this to be a morbid post, nor did I intend it to be a 'make light of death' post.  But it is something we generally avoid, or have no real reason to think about.  And sometimes, other people's perspective, help us put things into perspective.  Remember, the grass is always greener right where you water it....
My "Superman"

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