One eye open

When George slipped into a coma in his final days, his left eye was slightly open. I kept trying to shut it, but it would carefully pry open again. I’m not sure why it was happening, but his mother said it was due to dryness. When he passed away, his left eye was still slightly open and I tried to shut it. Just like how they do in the movies, and let me tell you something, death is nothing like the movies. That eye crept back open just seconds after I tried to shut it so he could rest peacefully. Well, it’s no doubt to me that he’s keeping an eye on me. I asked him to, and I believe he is.

With it being holiday season, I’m beginning to get very worked up over small things. Whether it’s the holiday music or the pushy parents in the grocery stores. But the biggest thing is when people post pictures of their “first christmas married.” I am at the time in my life when many of my colleagues and former classmates are getting married, and when they post about their first holidays as a married couple, I want to throw my computer against the wall. I’m never going to experience those firsts. My only firsts I had as a married couple is, Columbus Day, Halloween, and Veterans Day. Although Halloween is my favorite holiday, and George and I spent it eating candy and drinking beers. I loved every second of it too. The big question of this December I’ve overheard my parents talking about with my siblings is what to get me. Besides time machine, there’s not much else. But then I remembered one thing. I need weatherproof boots. I work outside from January-May, and my feet are always icicles. So today my mom and I went shopping.

We went to the mall where I was ready to have a melt down, but this extremely nice clerk came over and helped us. Little did she know she soothed my nerves. There was one boot they had that I read incredible reviews and the color I liked online was the navy blue. I decided on navy because that was George’s favorite color and it would remind me of him. Well she came over with 2 boots, one in a 8.5 (not my size) and one in a 7.5 (my size). The larger one was the navy boot and I wanted so badly for it to fit, but it was far too big. But the 7.5 came in a purple. My favorite color. Online they never had the boot in purple so I was very excited to see it. I was trying them on and I looked at my mom and told her, If George was here, he would buy me the purple boots in a heart beat for Christmas.

When George and I started dating, I kept wearing purple shirts, and he always admired how nice purple looked on me. I finally confessed to him purple was my favorite color. The next time I spent the night at his apartment, he had bought me a purple towel to use. I still have and use that towel. For our first winter together, he bought me a fake burberry scarf in purple, and for our first Christmas he got me a purple purse. When we moved into our current apartment together he got me a purple travel speaker for my iPhone. This man knew I loved purple and he spoiled me rotten with it.

My mom took the boots and said, “well he must be with us then,” and we walked to the counter to pay. When we were at the counter the sweet clerk was talking about how her husband has a liver problem and that she can’t enjoy too much drinking this holiday. So weird, because ultimately George passed due to liver cancer. But the cherry on top of this story is, when she cashed us out, the boots, which are somewhat pricy, were 25% off. When she told us the good news, my mom looked at me and said, George did very well on picking out a Christmas gift for you after all.

As trivial as this story is, and basing it around something as materialistic as boots, I do feel he’s keeping an eye on me.



About J.

Fitness professional, fitness & nutrition writer, widowed at 28. Writing about getting through grief through self-care, physical activity, and the ​constant feeling of being uncomfortable.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s