My brother died 100 months ago today (8.25 years). Is it weird that I know this? Kinda. But it is what it is. I recently met a man whose wife died less than a year ago. If you would ask how he was doing, the first thing he’d say was how long it has been since his wife died. That was the first gauge he’d use to test his well-being. Instead of “My knees hurt” or “My head doesn’t hurt today” it was “My wife died 8 months ago. I’m…”

Yeah. I’m….here? Hurting? Exhausted? Living when she isn’t? Probably all of those things.

There are times when I worry I’ve forgotten what my brother was like. I know my own perspective of what he was like is different from anyone else’s. We all have our own memories and interactions. I was recently reminded of how he could be a real jerk at times. And although I know that and recognize it, he wasn’t usually like that to me. As a kid? Definitely. I was his baby sister and could be a pain in the ass and he didn’t always want his sister tagging along. But by the time I was a teenager, I don’t ever remember him being nasty to me. He was honest, sometimes brutally so, but it usually came from love. Am I looking back with rose-tinted glasses? Oh probably. But I’m ok with that. Phil was still the person I connected with more than anyone. I admired his writing talent and how he was true to himself. He was the first gay person many of my friends had ever known and I can only hope that him being out helped others be true to themselves, too.

I started thinking today about our last meal together, here in my house at my kitchen bar. We were eating supermarket sushi and I kept getting up to get stuff–water, napkins, whatever. He pulled me down to my seat at last, and said, “Just eat with me.” So I did. And now that I think back on it, it’s like he was trying to prepare me. It’s like he was trying to tell me, “Be in the moment, Holly.” He died almost exactly a month later.

Since then I TRY to be in the moment and appreciate what I’m doing or what’s going on around me. I don’t always succeed but I do try. Yesterday was a good example. My husband and I had a day of errands planned, with a yummy lunch thrown in the middle. The morning started out pretty rough. Wal was having a hard time waking up, but by the time I went for a run he was a little more awake. While I was gone, however, his oxygen kept dipping down into the 70s. It would bounce up into the 80s, but it took a bit to get in the mid 90s where he should be. To put this in perspective, medical officials say you should call you doctor if your oxygen is at 92% and to go to the ER when it’s below 88. Wal kept saying it’s felt like all the air was being sucked out of the room. He was finally able to take a few deep breaths. The oxygen levels got a bit better and eventually he felt good enough to take a shower. Everything takes a bit longer these days, but we were finally able to get into the car. I reminded him that he only needed to get out of the car a few times, so not to worry about my very long list of errands.

It took us nearly 5 hours from the time we left the house until we got home, but it was tremendously satisfying. I was able to check everything off my list–returning unneeded purchased items, taking back cans & bottles, grocery shopping, even one Christmas gift purchased–and picking up heat tape for our pipes.

Once we got home, I put everything away and Wal sat in his office for a bit. He told me that after a bit of rest, he needed to show me how to shut off the water for our trailer pad next door. We would need to go to the basement to do so. “You’ll need to know how to do this,” he said. This was his way of prepping ME for the end of his life, as well as preparing himself. But for him to do this, to make it down the basement steps and back up again? It was dangerous. I didn’t realize how dangerous, until I saw him cling to the banister doing down. After showing me how to shut the water off, he walked around the basement for a minute, looking about. He hadn’t seen it since my sister moved some of her things in. I’m glad he looked around because I’m not sure he can make it down there again. I had to help pull him back up the last few steps due to how weak his legs are.

Today, we traipsed out to our trailer pad next door. When we lived in a trailer here, there was a pipe underneath the trailer that connected to the well on one side and the pipes to our home on the other. That pipe has to be wrapped in heat tape (heat cables) so our pipes won’t freeze. The trailer has been gone for over 20 years, but we still have to wrap the pipe. I have been very fortunate to NEVER HAVE DONE THIS BEFORE. But that ended today.

After my run this morning, Wal & I took the new heat cable and scissors and electric tape out to the trailer pad so he could show me how to remove the defunct heat cable and how to wrap the pipe with the new one. I dug out a chair for Wal to sit on and a knee cushion for me so I wouldn’t tear my knees up on the cement. This whole endeavor only took 45 minutes, but it felt soooo much longer. This is all new territory for me, but I’m grateful Wal is showing me what I’ll need to do when he’s gone. I honestly hate this kind of stuff–I really am more of a diva then I let on–but you do what needs to be done, right?

The rest of this afternoon, Wal has spent resting and warming up (the cold affects him more than it used to). I’ve done my usual–a bit of cleaning, laundry, reading, writing–but also things like tightening up the screws on the back of the toilet seat. Something I’ve done in the past but was usually a “Walter job.”

I know that my single friends out there have done everything themselves all along. They’ve raised children, cleaned, cooked, fixed things in their home, and worked full-time outside of the home. And I’ve always been in awe of them. I mean seriously, these are super humans.

But I’m not like them. I am not mechanically inclined. I hate to paint walls. I still don’t know the names of many tools or how to use them. If I had my way, I’d pay for someone to do a lot of this shit that I despise. I’ll never have that kind of money, so I need to just suck it up.

Yet…I do feel empowered. I now understand some of the stuff my husband has done around our home for the past 20 years. I still hate doing it, but I’m glad I have the knowledge on how to do at least some of it. Each thing I’ve learned regarding our house, has lessened my anxiety by just a bit. When Walter dies, and if I’m still alive, there will be plenty of stressful work to be done, house repairs not included. So having any kind of knowledge about these types of things will help the future me.

I know Youtube will be my friend after my husband is gone, but every house also has its own personality, you know? Certain steps squeak or some marks on the wall might remind me of my brother (who painted my kitchen) or my husband (who painted nearly every other room in the house). There will be some things I’d never change or fix, and others I know I really need to as soon as next spring. And hopefully Wal will still be here to guide me for another few years.

For now, I’ll keep learning and probably griping. Walter told me how proud he was of me today. So maybe along with my whining, I can feel bit of pride in what I accomplish in our house.

Our home.

My home.