I wasn’t going to write anything this year.  The Caring Bridge site is about Tammy, and the last time I wandered by her niche at the Chapel of the Resurrection at Cedar Park, nothing has changed and her remains are still there.  So no need to update Caring Bridge.

But a few people have acknowledged the 2nd anniversary of Tammy’s passing, it got me in a reflective mood.  And when I get really reflective, I write.  Hence this.

I haven’t really thought about it a lot, but I’m kind of in a conflicted state.  There will always be a hole in my life left by Tammy’s absence, and nothing will fill it.  I have been and will continue to write new chapters in my life, “moving on” if you are into clichés, and I expect it will include people who never even met Tammy.  But Tammy’s timeline ended in 2014, and mine continues.  And it continues to diverge from where we were at in August, 2014.

Setting aside the obvious massive grief issues, which I described in part last year, at first my perspectives were not that different.  I was still very much a part of the Tammy/Jeff team, but was going solo. I still made decisions that we would have made together, and still lived the way we were living (plus maybe a few extra trips to McDonalds that would not have been sanctioned).  One of the first “major decisions” was getting the house re-roofed. Not that it was much of a decision – it was way overdue but we had agreed not to get it done while Tammy was still around due to the massive disruptions for anyone in the house.  But I made it as a widower.  As the remaining member of the Tammy/Jeff team.  And basically that remained my perspective for quite some time.  Not in the “what would Tammy do?” sense, as I made several choices that she wouldn’t have approved of, (let’s just say there were more visits to electronics web sites and fewer visits to fabric and craft stores), and a lot more that she would be proud of.  But the decisions I made, the activities I did, I did as the surviving member of the Tammy/Jeff team, even as I was learning how to take advantage of my newfound flexibility.

Lately, however, I’ve been feeling less like a teammate and more like an independent person.  Recently, I upgraded my television, which included removing parts of our entertainment center.  But thoughts of guilt at removing parts of Tammy’s decorations or buying a TV that was larger than she would have wanted did not enter my mind.  It was simply me, a hobbyist videographer, upgrading a piece of electronics in a way that was enjoyable and compatible with my hobbies.  Which in general is good – it is healthier to keep moving forward and not get stuck in the past.

Except that I like being part of the Tammy/Jeff team.  I mean I really, really liked being part of the team.  And to be honest, in a way I like that I still miss her.  It keeps the team alive and keeps me on the team.  Hence the conflicted feelings.  Yes, I know I won’t forget her, and her influence is permanent.  But there is a new kind of loss as I gradually let go of the team that is no more.  As our timelines continue to diverge.  And hence the conflicted emotions.  I want to let go, get the house cleaned up, embark on new adventures, new phases.  And I don’t want to let go – I don’t want Tammy to fade into oblivion, and sometimes it feels like that’s exactly what’s happening.

My problem solving side has come up with a nice compromise, at least for now: I’ve been going around the house photographing and otherwise recording Tammy’s “creations”, since she did 95% of the decorating.  That way I still have the memories without being chained to the actual objects.  And Tammy would have approved of that approach – keeping memories and not objects.  Besides, that type of project requires new lighting equipment, maybe a new lens, and, oh yeah, a new TV to play it back on.  Not so sure Tammy would have approved of that part…

So, after 2 years, yes I miss Tammy.  A lot. I miss the team.  I miss the companionship.  I miss the spiritual partnership.  And even though the house is very quiet and empty at times, I still have daughters that very much remain in my life.  And other family and friends.  But I’m learning how to live as Jeff, not the sole survivor of the Jeff/Tammy team.  And yes, the memory of Tammy will continue to fade a bit over time, even for me, but that’s okay.  I’m sure she’s having a wonderful time right now, and I’m sure the years apart will totally melt away when I finally join her, but in the meantime, there are a lot of new chapters to write. The Lord may have separated us, but He didn’t leave us.

Jeff