“Hey Jane!” I shouted from my man cave not long ago.
“Have you seen what I did with my range finder?”
As always, Jane stopped whatever she was doing and came to my room. She fixed me with that motherly expression we men are all too familiar with. It seemed to say, “What have you managed to screw up now little boy?” and asked me when the last time I’d seen it was.
Well, we couldn’t find it then and later she came back into my room and gave a more exhaustive search when I wasn’t in her way. Nothing, the darn thing seemed to have vanished off the earth. When Jane couldn’t find it I knew things were serious, grave, and perhaps hopeless.
This was going to cost me money! Hoot-man! How did I manage to lose that pesky range finder? I refuse to hunt archery without it, it’s not fair to the deer or yourself not knowing exactly where to hold if you do get a shot at a decent buck and a good friend just reinforced that discipline with an unfortunate experience of his own. Well, open the wallet, duck the moths fluttering out of it and shell out my friend, shell out. Luckily Ben was able to help me out at Sportsmen’s Outlet and I’m back in business.
As you attempt to get back to normal after losing a loved one the little things sneak around the barriers you build in your mind to protect yourself. Suddenly an unexpectedly stab wounds you cruelly and without warning. It was bound to happen again and it did.
I gasped, unprepared for the memory, lowered my head and sobbed, hot tears streaming down my cheeks, completely surprised yet again by the red hot revelation she was really gone.
I’d invited my brother and Mom over for dinner. The shock had taken place as I opened the freezer and reached for the deer steaks. As I grabbed the package a memory welled up; she’d put those steaks in the freezer bag herself, carefully filling the bag with water, making sure no air bubbles had hidden inside, then wrapped the bag in freezer paper insuring no freezer burn would harm her favorite meal, finally handing the package to me to label.
She’d always grin when we finished cutting and wrapping the meat. It was a pains taking operation, but was done correctly, perfect in fact and our feeling of accomplishment at completing our task always drew us a little closer together. We’d usually hug, a quick kiss and then the inevitable cleanup. Well, someone had to do it.
Jane would then fill the laundry basket with packages and stagger down the basement steps to place them in the freezer. Afterward we’d sit together for a few moments just taking the time to thank the good Lord for his bounty and the enjoyment and wonderful family meals everyone looked forward too so much over the holidays. Back strap’s, steak and front wheel roasts (shoulders) made the grand kids smile and rub their hands together. They love venison dearly.
I regained control, the tears slowed and stopped, the huge lump in my throat melting slowly. Her love still surrounded me in so many forms, you just couldn’t escape it. That smile and face lurk everywhere! Another day or 2 will pass, but I know soon another memory will bushwhack me. Again the tears and the sweetness of that wonderful girl of mine will leap up, overwhelm me; ah, the bitter and the sweet of it all.
Jane sat at the table and smiled not so long ago. She was holding a Thank You card in her hand. Jane, sensitive to all thoughtfulness, really appreciated someone taking the time to thank her for any of the countless gifts and thoughtful gestures she made to so many. It truly touched her heart in a special way.
We talked about the wonderful world and the people in it. Though the news is filled with depressing information, we knew it is in reality filled with countless caring, thoughtful people who often go to great lengths to soothe, comfort and care for those around them.
The courtesy, love, and understanding I’ve received since my dearest Jane passed away has been overwhelming. I give my deepest and most heartfelt appreciation to all who have called, sent cards or met me and expressed their sympathy. This has been a great source of solace to me and helps ease these lonely days as I struggle to fill a gap that simply can’t be filled.
When my father passed away we all sat together for some time by his bedside. A sweet spirit filled the room which all were aware of, peaceful and calm. Jane cocked her head, then turned to me and asked if I heard the footsteps in the room from an invisible being or beings. I hadn’t, but I had felt a presence or presences surrounding us.
I haven’t heard Jane’s footsteps, but she comes to visit me often, many times sitting in the car seat beside me. She’s trying to comfort this poor mortal, lost and wounded as I am. Once I had to hold my hand out, half closed as if we were holding hands. Every time I withdrew my hand her presence insisted I hold it out again.
I love you, honey, so close, but so, so far away.
