Building a Life

I am now living a life of check lists as I try to Build a life.

Got thru Thanksgiving and Christmas- check.  Made it thru his Birthday- check, now just have to sneak by Valentine's day and dang it- I can't even drink because I am allergic! Gesh.  All my surrogate drinkers might need to be prepared to start early for me for this one.

But today I realize THIS is life.  There is no getting used to it or around it- Just like "Going on a Bear Hunt" - I just have to go through it and find ways to get comfortable with the being uncomfortable.  Every day there are a million things that remind me of him and always will but also always HAVE.  It's not a new thing.  Every action or decision included an awareness of how that would effect his schedule, happiness or frustration.  I miss his outrageous inappropriate sense of humor and his absolute genius which many never got a chance to see and his creativity and bravery on so many levels.

Some of that genius was in being a Builder- yes a contractor, carpenter but I think of him as a builder.  Not just of houses but of lives and memories and HOMES.  He CARED about every board in every build.  He was friends with almost every single person he every built for or worked with and to this day many of those people contact me and check on me or remember him with me because he also cared about the PEOPLE that would go into his houses as if they were extended family.

Today I am working on cleaning out the garage to create an art studio of sorts ( memories of my beginnings back at home so many years ago) and Sarah is redoing the boys bedroom.  As we discuss the best way to cut the floor boards (wishing Tracy was here to ask)  we dig though what is left of his cache of tools I hoarded and I miss every single one of his we got rid of.  (I realize I have ended this sentence in a preposition which would have made Tracy irritated to the point he would stop reading {Unless I was talking about HIM in which case curiosity would have forced him to peek between his grammar fingers at the rest of the train wreck of my literary mutilation} which is exactly the point of my post.)

The smell of sawdust is SOOOO Tracy.  The sound of the saw makes me smile not only because it reminds me of Tracy doing what he LLLOOOVVVEEEDDD  so much and was a master of his artistry and craftsmanship but because he would be SSSOOOOO proud to see Sarah designing, implementing, measuring, cutting, nailing....and that she too enjoys it as do I.

In this way he lives on through the successes and struggles of our  kids and grands.

I'm sad he is not here to enjoy that satisfaction in person because that was always his highest goal- to make sure his family was healthy and happy and free to express the best they could be in any way they wanted.  Never would he allow the thought for any of us to HAVE to do something for a living.  To make a Living to him was Living a satisfying life not just earning money which is why he was quick to spend, not wanting to waste an opportunity to enjoy life.  

Now we know why.  

Perhaps some part of him knew he would not be sticking around for the golden years.  He NEVER had a plan to slow down or retire, even tho I often often often discussed the "reality" of standing on a roof in January with snow and wind when he was 75 and I would say- do you REALLY think you are gonna want to be doing that?  He would smile at me and say- yep.  And I believed him.

He missed working with his best friend Jim every single day after the diagnosis because it was rarely work.  No matter when I would come to visit, if they expected me or not, if I crept up on them while saws where running and their backs were turned, even when they were both deeply involved in concentrating on the task at hand they both had a whistle going or a slight grin of satisfaction or a set determination in their jaw.  You could FEEL how much they enjoyed what they were doing and each other.

Their conversations ranged from interesting to inspiring to absolutely ridiculous.  Tom Foolery was constant during breaks and days they got rained out or "niced out" and I am looking forward to those who worked with him and around him sharing more of that nonsense with me in Peoria at his send off celebration in August.

So every moment right now is bittersweet but I feel his pride while we struggle through the WWTD (What Would Tracy Do) moments.  I also see him slapping his forehead when we are making things harder than they need to be saying "how could you NOT have realized that"? That also makes me laugh and then sigh.

Gotta go back to Building a Life.