THE THING WITH TIMING is that it often sucks. Right after we got through the anniversary, Gina’s birthday was upon us. As the years went on, these types of anniversaries became more filled with reflection than dread, but this first year they were something I did not look forward to. Every year the anniversary socks me between the eyes, and then her birthday is there for the follow-up punch.
Just before her birthday, Lent is on the calendar and while I’m far from a good Christian boy, I was raised Catholic so I like to observe it and take part. Typically I give up booze, so it’s a good cleansing process for me as well. Hey, if I’ve got to give up something I love, why not make it work for me in the process right?
As you well know by now I like to have a few drinks every now and then, but in this last year it really got out of control. I started right after her death and continued it throughout the year. I liked the temporary ‘up’ it gave me and the way it helped me to crawl inside my sadness. I know I sound like a martyr and maybe for a little while I was. Still. The first year I started thinking about her birthday I didn’t know what to do. I was in the habit of thinking about her birthday at the beginning of the month because I always tried to do something special for her, trying like hell not to repeat the past. This was the first year I didn’t have to worry about that and it made me feel empty and strange. I still wanted to do something, especially with the girls. We talked it over the week before and I suggested having a birthday cake for Mommy. They liked the idea so we decided to go with that. It spooked me a little but at the same time, it made me feel good knowing we weren’t just going to ignore it.
At this point Denise had become a part of almost everything we did. She was incredibly supportive of me and the girls with everything, including all things Gina related. She helped to keep the house up, and I’m guessing unknowingly kept it very much the way Gina had, and I give her credit for that. Nona did a large part too in making sure that we were all together. I really appreciated that, but a year later and many of miles into the Denise experience, the house still felt broken and empty. Maybe not empty, but there was a definite hole there.
When her birthday finally came around, I went to the grocery store to pick up the cake. Standing there I had a huge question smack me across the face. Do I buy candles? What do I have written on it? I’m guessing we’ll sing, but if we have candles, who will blow them out? I got teary eyed, feeling very awkward standing there by the freezer. I ended up asking the lady behind the counter to write Happy Birthday Gina on it. To be honest, even though the cake was my idea, I didn’t really want to do this. Not then and especially not now. But I was doing it because I thought the girls would want to. Especially Jackie. She was hell bent on not forgetting her mom. That’s a hard balance for me: moving on but not forgetting. At this point it seemed like there was no real moving on (not counting Denise), but more of having Gina as part of our life, just an absent one.
We did an after dinner thing and that seemed to be the best play because nobody really broke down. We sang “Happy Birthday” and there were some tears but no real meltdowns. We talked about her, how much we missed her, and told fun stories. Jackie talked TO her right there at the table, which made Amber and I feel a little uncomfortable, because we didn’t possess the same sensory feelings. I don’t dismiss Jackie’s medium powers and truth be told, I’m even a little envious. Ever since Gina passed away I’ve had some very vivid dreams of her. Not a ton, only a handful in all the years, but when I do they are enough to jolt me out of bed with the feeling that she was literally right there. Is this a medium thing? Is this Gina figuring out a way to communicate with me from beyond? I have no idea. All I know is that they are strikingly real.
After the stories and cake, we went into the family room to hang out. Denise was still there and while I probably should have had her sit this night out, from a personal standpoint I felt comfortable with her there. I didn’t want to feel the hole anymore, and her company made me feel more complete. Plus she was so good at not being jealous or intrusive of Gina’s space, memory, or place with the girls, and me I figured it was okay. I will say that when the girls were home, Denise didn’t spend the night so I felt like I had been respecting some sort of line. I know now I was fooling myself, but in the middle of the storm you can make yourself see anything that helps you to feel better.
Going to bed alone that night, I felt a strange awkwardness. For the first time, I started really doubting myself for moving forward with Denise. I felt guilty for being happy with her and guilty that I had such good communication with her. I mean that was my biggest problem with Gina, and it was her death that not only pushed me into another woman but a woman that I could communicate with. I tossed that shit around in my head for what felt like hours and at some point, I fell asleep in that huge ass lonely bed.
When I woke up, I woke up with a renewed vigor. That was it. We had finally gone through one of everything since Gina died and I was tired of feeling sick. As I went down to the kitchen, it struck me that the house was entirely as Gina had left it. It was filled with her. I had thrown away most of her knick-knacks and shit, but the design, the furniture, and the decorations were all her and I wanted to move the fuck on. Right then, that’s when I decided to do it. This house was moving on.
I called Denise and told her what I was feeling. She was willing to help and hell, why wouldn’t she? She wasn’t pushing for this at all, but at the same time what woman wouldn’t want you to move on from a dead wife and past life when she’s standing in the on-deck circle? In one of my smarter moves, I ran it past my mother as well. She thought it was a good idea, but she suggested that I use an interior designer friend she had named Liz. I was cool with that. After all, I wanted something new but I didn’t know what the hell I wanted. Besides, if you had seen the way I dressed the girls for school more times than not, you’d know that fashion and design are not my forte.
That same day, I told the girls my plan. I didn’t ask them or talk it over with them as much as I told them. This wasn’t going to be voted on. I wanted a new living room and kitchen eating area. There was too much of a cloud hanging over them. The memories would remain, but the setting had to go.
A few days later Liz and I had a discussion and agreed on the financials, so we got to work with her sending things for me to look at. As things would arrive, I would often go over the suggestions with Denise for her opinion, but that was it. The guidance was coming from Liz. I was so happy to have Liz take the lead because this was the first time I had ever decorated anything. I had no clue what I was doing, so to call it a cluster fuck is an understatement.
I thought there would have been some sort of a plan, but there wasn’t. I guess that’s how it goes, but that only meant I was going to be shocked from time to time by a variety of things ranging from some of her crazy ideas to timing. She had me looking at things, but she would almost always make me go somewhere to see it. I had to go to stores to see samples. Sometimes she would send catalogs for me to thumb through, but more so she was sending me to various places to look at samples and designs. When we did decide on something, she wanted me to interview and price out her recommended contractors. What the hell was this? I had no problem paying the woman to help me with my design but I didn’t want to pay her and still do all the work!
Then came the next insane moment in the brief Liz era. Her recommended painter came over to look at the living room and quoted me $1,300 to paint it. One room! Now I may have never had decorators before, but I’m not stupid. I told a friend of mine who sent over a painter he knew named Tony Pallonti. He took a look at the space, we talked about what was possible, and he quoted the job at about half the price that Liz’s guy gave me. It was half the price, so I made two snap decisions right there. First off, I whacked Liz. I was already overwhelmed with moving on, work, and raising the girls. I didn’t want to have to watch my back for someone who was taking advantage of my naivety. The second decision I made was to hire Tony.
When it came to carpeting, I just walked into the carpet store and picked out the one I wanted it. I wanted a complete change in the family room, something completely new. A fresh start. So the carpeting went from a burgundy to a tan. I painted the walls lighter and bought new window treatments that let more light in. I bought all new leather furniture and sent the old stuff down to the basement for the girls to play on.
The entire process took about three weeks but when I was done, I stood there looking it over and it was exactly what I needed. It was so much brighter, almost as if we opened up the curtains and the light washed out the darkness of death that hung in the room. It was good for the girls too. It really helped with their transition and it gave them a basement to play in. It was such a mind-freeing thing. One of the reasons I hated the room before was because it was all Gina and what I had lost. This renovation allowed me to live inside the same walls with an entirely new beginning. It gave me a new sense of ‘me’ and ‘us,’ as in the girls and me. Ever since that redo, I spend a lot more time in there and even after all these years, there are times I just sit in my chair and look around and smile. It makes me feel good.
A year later, we repainted the kitchen. The laundry room got a remodel too. Same thing, just some fresh paint and a bulletin board to keep the girls’ sports schedules so I knew which uniform had to be clean by when. The girls were good with the changes and as we went along, I included them in the process. We would pick out colors together and they would pitch in and help. It became a fun project, not a Gina cleansing. We did their bedrooms and by then, I gave them complete autonomy. You have never heard a little girl shriek with excitement until you take them shopping and tell them they can do anything they want to their bedrooms.
With all of these projects behind me, I felt so much better about myself. I started really flowing with the confidence that I could keep this all together and that I could do this. The whole thing seemed to make my life lighter.
I left my bedroom the way it was. I don’t mind it and to be honest, it was still comforting to me. It took me six years to redecorate the master bedroom. As the years peeled off and I went through all of the other changes, it eventually just became my bed. At one point, it occurred to me the bed had had it, and I decided to get rid of it and buy myself a new bedroom set. It wasn’t like some of the other things in the house where it was some monumental decision or cinematic moment.
It was just time for it to go.