Bereavement

I am Liam Neeson.

In Love Actually, he plays a husband whose wife has recently died. He struggles with grief and weeps often.
This is where I am at in the grief process.

The smallest things make me cry. Marie asked where to put the dog food and I started crying. I keep thinking that I cannot possibly cry another tear, but then it happens no matter where I am or what I'm doing.

In real life, Neeson's wife died after a skiing accident three years ago.

He told Esquire

"It's easy enough to to plan a lot of work. That's effective. But that's the weird thing about grief. You can't prepare for it. You think you're gonna cry and get it over with. You make those plans, but they never work.
"It hits you in the middle of the night --well, it hits me in the middle of the night. I'm out walking. I'm feeling quite content. And it's like suddenly, boom."

Boom.
That's exactly what it's like.

I'm discovering it's a long road to the other side of grief.

I am blessed to have so many people in my life. Thanks to all of you, especially Marie, for putting up with me during these past two weeks and calling to check on me and supporting me in a myriad of ways.

Saying goodbye

Chris' service was yesterday.

Instead of having a casket, my sister, Joan, put together four memory boards of photos on easels. She covered the boards in Red Sox colors and placed a small table with three 8 X 10s and Chris' Red Sox cap and a golf ball from his brother-in-law, Terry, arranged between the boards.

The photos she used were all copies made by Chris' sister Judy and her husband Terry so the originals would not be damaged. Photos were chosen from boxes and boxes of pictures.

Judy also made memory cards for everyone with Chris' photo and a quote from Bladerunner - "A candle that burns twice as bright burns half as long."

At 10:30 the chaplain's assistants started the slideshow and played music selected by Spencer, me and Terry.
Selections included U2, Neil Young, Warron Zevon, and Dave Brubeck.

Chaplain Jim Rose officiated and opened with a prayer.
Chris' sister-in-law, Suzanne, read the 23rd psalm.
My niece, Hannah, read Nothing Gold Can Stay by Robert Frost.

And then our friend, Kristen explained that because Chis had died so suddenly, Wren and Spencer and I chose to write him letters to say goodbye.

She read Wren's letter first.

I remember a lot.

I remember you always taking the time to play with me and always knowing how to make me laugh.
I remember how you took me to see RENT on YOUR birthday because you knew how much I loved the play and had gotten tickets through your workplace.

I remember you saying that Beauty and the Beast was the first movie you ever took me too. And I can almost guarantee that's a big part of why it's my favorite story.

I remember you and I being able to always do running jokes from show like Animaniacs and laughing at lines from The Simpsons.

I even remember that silly tradition we had of tapping each other and pointing to the exit in the movie theaters, I STILL don't know how that tradition was born. I remember how we kept debating Marvel vs DC comics on an off for years and how you were a huge Panthers and Red Sox fan.
(I hope you don't meet any Dallas or Yankee fans in heaven or you're gonna be MAD)

I remember how you could make anyone laugh most of the time and I could never really stay sad with you. I remember how you hugged me and I felt so safe.

I remember our last phone conversation.
I told you all my progress with my graduation stuff and you said you were proud of me. We ended up laughing at the cat because she was rubbing against your cell phone when I talked to her.

Before we hung up I said I love you and heard you say I love you too. I'm glad you and I both said it.
I'm glad I heard you say you were proud of me. I always knew both things but I still loved hearing them both.

Now... there's really nothing left to say except I'm really gonna miss you.

And I love you daddy. Forever and ever.

- Wrenzo-Benzo

And then, Spencer stood up and read his letter.

Throughout my life you have been my role model.

From childhood to just a few days ago, I could call on you for anything.

You taught me how to tie my shoes, how to shave my face, and how to read a golf green.

You would always get so mad at me if I farted in your car, but when it came to riding in my car you would just let it rip.

As children, you told me and Wren that you were going to sell us to Gypsies and then invest in a pair of cocker spaniels. “At least cocker spaniels eat their poo,” you would say.
And all of us would laugh and laugh.

I remember you being so good at sports.
From golf to football, you could handle pretty much anything, and you encouraged me to do as many as possible. You didn’t make it to every soccer match or volleyball game or swim meet, but you never stopped telling us how proud you were.

Anytime I called, you would tell me that at least three times even if the most exciting thing I did that day was just returning a book to the library.
“I’m so proud of you.”

A few days ago, I would have said that those words didn’t mean too much to me, but now I can only hope that I have enough of them to last me for the rest of my life, because you’ll never say those words to me again.

The only time that I will see you now is in the reflection of a mirror.
But I am forever grateful for everything you did when you were here, and I can’t ask for more.

Thanks Dad.
-Spencer

And then I stood up and read my letter.

There are so many words.
And so few that can accurately measure a lifetime with you.

All of those years ago when we met in the mountains of Southwest Virginia how could we have known that we would fall in love and be together for more than thirty years?

I have known you longer than I have not known you.

We grew up together you and I.
We had wonderful adventures in Virginia and North Carolina, New Hampshire and Florida and many points between.
And we made two pretty babies who have grown up to be wonderful people.

Ironically, it was your heart that gave out.
Ironic because your heart was so strong and so full of love.

You loved family and friends.
You loved kids of all ages.
You loved growing your own herbs and vegetables.
You loved making Sunday breakfast.
And Thanksgiving Dinner.
You loved grilling steaks and drinking cold beer.

And you loved the Red Sox.

You loved Wren and Spencer.
You loved watching them learn and grow.
You loved playing with them, making up games and characters as you went.
You were so proud of everything they have ever done from Kindergarten concerts and plays to guitar concerts and graduations.

And you loved me.
Without condition.

Every morning during the nearly 28 years I woke up with you, I felt loved.
And safe.
And pretty.

All that love in just one heart.

You made me laugh every day even during the hardest days like this one.
I realize now that you were not my better half. You were really my better three quarters.
Today, I believe you were my better seven eighths.

Though I am devastated to lose you too soon, I know that you will be met at the pearly gates by Roland with golf clubs. You will toss the frisbee for Gypsy and play big cat little cat with Lola. You will swim with Brandon and be loved forever when you bring Pauline a Diet Pepsi.

You will be missed and loved every day for the rest of our lives.

Goodbye, Babe.

Lastly, my niece, Maggie, read Elizabeth Barrett Browning's Sonnets from the Portugese #43.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.

I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.

I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.

I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.

I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints!---I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!---and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

Chaplain Rose spoke again to say that he would have enjoyed a cold beer and a Red Sox game with Chris. He offered words of comfort which I cannot remember. It was the feelings his words conveyed that gave us comfort.

The service concluded with the slideshow continuing through two more songs - Beautiful Day and Let It Be.

Obituary

Christopher Armand Goyette of Fayetteville, 47, died suddenly March 6.
He is predeceased by his parents Roland and Pauline Goyette and nephew Brandon. He is survived by his wife of twenty seven years, Julie, daughter Tempest Wren, and son Spencer James.

Also surviving are bothers Roland III (Melissa) and Russell (Suzanne) Goyette, sister Judith Goyette-Payne (Terry), niece Addie and nephews Thomas, Russell and Travis Goyette.

Memorial service will be held at JFK Memorial Chapel Fort Bragg NC Friday March 9 at 11AM.

In lieu of flowers, the family requests donations be sent to St. Jude Children's Research Hospital 262 Danny Thomas Place Memphis, TN 38105

Devastated

I am in shock, still in shock from losing Chris on Tuesday morning.
He died suddenly in the morning after getting up to get ready for work.

Because his death was so sudden, his was a medical examiner's case and though I do not yet have the death certificate with the official cause of death, the pile of empty EPI pens and atropine left behind by the paramedics suggests he went into cardiac arrest.

Last Spring, we were so hopeful the surgery and medication would take care of his heart problems.
And they did.
For almost a year.

It is as though I have lost the ability to breathe properly and my senses don't work the same. Nothing smells good or tastes right and I know it must be frustrating to talk to me when I cannot stay focused.

As I write this, I am sitting on our little deck and while I know there are birds singing and squirrels scampering, the sun is up and the day has begun, I don't feel it.
I am numb.
Everything is flat in shades of gray and brown.
After over thirty years of life with Chris, I am truly lost without him.

The only reason I am able to move at all is because of my family.

Spencer and Wren and my parents came first followed by Marie and Colin, Judy, Joan and Jeff and there will be more family today. They are all here, helping me look for documents I'll need, taking me to the funeral home, making sure everyone gets fed, planning the memorial service for Friday.
And all of them, working some, then crying some and laughing too.
You know it's true what Joni says, laughing and crying it's the same release.

Family that cannot come are sending food to feed the rest. My Aunt Chris and Connie gave us supper last night and cousins Ed and Andy fed us lunch today.
I am so grateful for all of the help.

And so unprepared for what comes next.

For crying out loud!

It's not so much that Steven Tyler 'butchered' our national anthem...
It was more like he shot it.
Just to watch it die.

After last year's debacle with Christina Aguilera, and now this, I really need to be on the national anthem planning committee.

Seriously.
I know people who could phone in the national anthem while fighting the flu and still nail it perfectly.
No butchering, no screeching, no deaths.

Call me, football people.