Chapter 7
December 5, 2007….........Talking Rock and Back
I awoke refreshed. I was beginning to understand why people took pills to help them sleep when they had insomnia. It is truly difficult to function without sleep.
I got into my truck and drove north. It seemed really strange driving north to our home in Georgia knowing I would not be there with him alive in this lifetime ever again.
I love to drive but this trip took longer than ever. Knowing what I had to do when I got up there and then trying to remember all the things I needed from the house was making me feel overwhelmed. I planned on collecting every thing of value that I could sell and/or save from thieves. I had no idea what was going to happen once the mortgage company found out the mortgage was not going to be paid anymore. It might even be the very last time I was able to get into the house. I just wasn’t sure and I wasn’t going to take any chances.
I called Bruce on my way to Atlanta. Today was the first time he would have to play a gig without Red. I couldn’t imagine having to get on a stage and entertaining people as though everything was fine. At least I didn’t have to pretend I was ok, I was choosing to pretend I was ok.
I was relieved when I got his voicemail as I wasn’t sure I could have carried on a conversation with him. I took a deep breath and when I heard the beep I said, “Hey Bruce, its Diane. I know you’ll be playing in Destin tonight and I just wanted to say you have an incredible voice and you’ll be fine. There will never be another Fiddlin Red but there will be another somebody and with your talent I’m sure you’ll go out and knock ‘em dead.” When I realized what I had just said I laughed nervously and continued, “I don’t believe I just said that but I’m sure he wants us to be laughing down here. Anyway, have a great gig.”
Bruce called me back in about an hour, laughing and said, “Diane, I am sure glad you said that and not me!” Then he explained who was filling in for Red and he knew it wouldn’t be easy but he’d make it work.
I guessed it would be the same for all of us who miss him. It won’t be easy but we’ll make it work.
Patty welcomed me with open arms. I couldn’t imagine a more perfect place to be than at Patty’s home. Not only is she one of my most stable friends, she has a very comfortable home within an hour of my mountain home and she had gone through her husband’s death not very long ago. We spent the evening talking and watching mindless TV.
I was thankful for the good night’s sleep and the quarter of the little pill. We got up had breakfast and headed up to the mountain. I drove my pickup truck so I could load it with everything of value, monetary and emotional. It was very strange going to the house now in December to get Red’s belongings as I had just been there in October moving out my belongings. I’d left him and I wasn’t coming back. Now he had left me and he definitely wasn’t coming back. We spent a lot of our 9 years together competing in everything. I guess he’d won this one.
I was on the 3rd floor going through papers while Patty packed glasses into a box on the first floor. We kept hearing noises and she would say, “Diane, was that you?” and I would answer, “No. I guess Red is saying hello to us.”
I looked for what seemed hours for the only copy of what resembled a will he had signed and found it on the 3rd floor. I put it inside something so I would not lose it and never saw it again. I found out later it was not a valid will anyway. The only “True Will” legally recognized has to have 2 notarized signatures for witnesses and this only had one not-notarized witness’ signature.
We took a break from packing and walked to the very back of the property on the top of the mountain to a place we had always called The Rocks. They used to mark the corner of our property before we bought the additional 11 acres. I was glad I had talked him into purchasing the extra land I just wished he hadn’t borrowed the $10,000 at the same time to invest in the stock market; one of those ‘sure things’ that tanked within months after the investment; a financial mistake which had added to his stress.
Patty and I got everything packed up, wrapped up and tied up just in time to wave at some friends and direct them to the service at the neighbors’ home. I was thankful I did not have the responsibility of entertaining at our house counting my blessings wherever I could.
When I walked in I started crying all over again. Each time I saw a new face I could see the pain in their eyes and feel it in my heart. Every one took Red’s death very hard. He was so young and so healthy and so damned happy. They joked with me that it was a good thing we had gotten back together because if he had died and we hadn’t been together everyone would have blamed me for breaking his heart.
They put the DVD in the TV to play. Everyone who knew Red from the north Georgia area was there. They were all saddened by his death and his very best friend, Les, a friend for 30 years, looked devastated. He was trying to make jokes, unsuccessfully. When I hugged him and told him he didn’t have to make jokes he sobbed like a baby on my shoulder. I understood the pain everyone feels. I missed him too.
We stepped outside to watch the sunset and it was one of the most incredible sunsets I have ever seen at the mountain. Someone said it was definitely a “Red Sunset.”
Patty and I were able to excuse ourselves relatively early as we had to drive back to Atlanta. The last thing I wanted to do was to hang out and get drunk on the mountain. It felt great to leave even though I was unsure whether I would ever be back there again.
I was planning on heading back to northern Florida on Friday but I truly had no reason to rush home to the house on the Suwannee. I wasn’t really looking forward to staying there alone. I had plenty of time and there were a few more things I wanted to get out of the house. I decided to head back up the mountain again, to go through everything one more time, and then come back to Patty’s home. I was surprised I had no desire to stay at the house at the mountain alone. It just wasn’t the same.
I went back up to the mountain house and packed a few more things, cried for a little while longer and then headed down to the neighbors’ and thanked them for hosting the wake the previous day.
I went back to Atlanta and stayed at Patty’s a few more days. She invited me to stay as long as I wanted to and it didn’t take much convincing. Her home is very, very comfortable, complete with hot tub and steam room and a very quiet and dark downstairs with a comfortable bed.
We went out to a dance on Friday. I had to wear some of her clothes as I didn’t pack anything nice to wear. It was very strange to dance with another man. I knew I wasn’t ready for anything like this but I didn’t want to keep Patty from her singles dance and there was no sense for me to sit at a table looking sad.
I didn’t cry while we were there, well, not much. I whimpered a little once while she was dancing but maintained my composure. I felt bad for not being able to explain to a very nice man from Germany why I did not want to give him any information about where I was on the Suwannee. I hope he didn’t think it had anything to do with him.
Driving south was a little easier as I had gotten the mountain service behind me; two down and a few more to go. Red had so many fans and friends I had to honor him, and them, with proper services in northern Florida for his family, in northern Georgia for his friends, and then to the Keys, where he/we spent most of our time.
As I was driving I realized I only had a couple of days to stay alone at the house, only a couple of days to get ready for the Keys. Dr. Susan was going to travel with me. I was so thankful she was going to go. The trip was not going to be an easy one and I knew I couldn’t do it alone. Well, I could have, but I didn’t want to.
December 10, 2007…………Back at the Cypress House
I arrived at The Cypress House late that night and slept soundly.
I was glad I was able to sleep in the bed my husband died in without taking the little pill or the Cold Formula Sleepy Crap I’d taken a few times to help me fall asleep. I was working harder than I had ever worked; traveling, moving boxes, packing, unpacking and spending countless hours on the phone taking care of business, all alone. Well, I had the help of friends and family, but I was doing it all without my partner.
I woke thinking about the huge pile of stuff in the back of my pickup truck from the mountain. Better do ALL of my stretches this morning if I was going to unload that bunch of stuff. I only had today and tomorrow to get it done. Dr. Susan and I were heading to the Keys on Wednesday to start the services and clean out the motor home there. If anyone up there is listening, “I could use some help.”
During my devotions I thanked The Universe for making me a devotee. I couldn’t imagine how I would be able to function if I didn’t have my hour ritual to look forward to upon awakening.
Once my stretching and meditations were finished I sat sipping on my tea and looking at my calendar. It felt more like being back to work only I wasn’t building a deck, caring for an invalid or working at Healin The Earth. This was working at taking care of all the things that have to be taken care of when someone dies.
Today’s list included checking on the balance in the checking account which should have received the monies from the mutual fund account in both of our names. There shouldn’t be a problem accessing that money but I wasn’t taking any chances.
I looked back at the previous weeks entries and began crossing things off I had accomplished. That always makes me feel like I am doing something even when I feel like I am running on a treadmill without an off switch. I laughed when I looked at November 30’s entry, “Deal with your husband’s death.” I didn’t remember writing that there. How Diane-ish of me.
Another thing I had to do today was go up to the funeral parlor and pick up Red’s wedding ring. They had forgotten to give it to me when I picked him up last week. But first I had to unload the truck.
I headed down my stairs and looked up to see not one but two angels walking up my driveway. I had called these neighbors who had met us at the Hog’s Breath for Thanksgiving and left a message about Red’s death the day after he had died. They had left a message on my cell phone in disbelief with their condolences and asked when and where the services were to be held. I had called them back and left the places and times on their answering machine thanking God for voicemail and answering machines.
They lived in Sarasota and were building a house next to mine and normally were not here. I was surprised and delighted to see them. The man had been my husband’s friend ever since they met nearly a year ago but his wife had just met Red ten days ago in Key West. It was the first and only time they had seen him perform. I was so glad they had been among the lucky ones.
I could see the pain in their eyes. I realized each time I would see someone new their pain would be added to the pain in my already pain filled body. I knew how much they were going to miss him and I realized how sad they felt for me.
We hugged and I briefly filled them in on what happened the night he died, how the service went at the mountain home in Georgia and my plans to head out on Wednesday to do a few more services down in the Keys. I had to help his fans grieve. As Fiddlin Red’s wife it was part my job. I was taking this job very seriously with as much humor as possible.
“Is there anything we can do to help?” they both asked, simultaneously.
I laughed and looked at the truck and said, “Now that you mention it.”
Less than one half hour later the entire contents of the truck were neatly stacked in my shop. I thanked them and as they walked away I realized it would have taken me all morning to do this job by myself. Thank you for listening to my plea, Universe.
I drove into Chiefland to drop off the portrait of Fiddlin’ Red. My friends who owned the frame shop had promised to put some kind of frame on it so I could carry it to the services in Key West. It seemed so strange carrying the portrait back from the mountain and to the frame shop. I had just brought it up to Georgia when I left him eight weeks ago.
I wondered if he talked to it when he was at the mountain alone. I sure seemed to talked to it a lot now. Somehow with his box of ashes sitting in front of the portrait I felt like he was riding in the truck with me.
I arrived at the shop. More tears and hugs and, of course, queries as to how I was doing. Well, I was doing, and that was better than mildewing and I was getting things done. I had to get things done and I couldn’t visit for long. I had miles to go and things to do before I slept that night.
While we talked they went through their frame stock inventory and excitedly said, “This is it. It’s the perfect color. It’ll bring out the red in his hair and look it is even wavy like his hair.” They were right it was perfect material to use on this portrait. One more hug and another promise to have it ready for Wednesday morning and I was on my way to the funeral parlor.
My phone never stopped ringing, everyone wanted to make sure I was ok. I was glad they called because knowing there were so many people out there who cared for me made every moment easier. It also kept my mind off worrying about how I was going to pay two mortgages, let alone one, and all that credit card debt. I always tell people worrying about things you can’t control is negative energy. The Universe will take care of it. Of course, we all know practicing what we preach isn’t always easy.
However, I was a survivor and if I lost the houses I lost the houses. I had started from scratch before in the past. I could do it again. Hey, one of my friends told me, “Diane, you’re not only a survivor, you are a winner.” Ok, I could live with that.
I arrived at the funeral home. I accepted their apologies for not giving me the ring when I had picked him up last week and I struck up a conversation with the people in the office. The woman behind the desk shared with me she had lost her fiancé just a few weeks before Red had died. She obviously needed someone to talk to so I sat and listened to her story. I am a good listener and it was nice to listen to someone else for a change. I just felt bad she was so sad.
While she told me her stories I took off the necklace I had been wearing since Red had passed and put his wedding ring on it for safe keeping. I still wore my wedding ring on my finger and would until it was time to take it off. Patty said I would know when it was time.
When the woman finished her story I began to tell her how I had just gotten this necklace fixed a couple of weeks ago when Red and I were in the Keys together. He had given it to me for my birthday last year had even designed it and waited for the jeweler to put it together in Islamorada. He had chosen turquoise, knowing how I love it, and an easy-on-and-off clasp. The only problem was the clasp was constantly getting caught in my hair and I would find the necklace dangling from my curls. I was worried I might lose it so I stopped into the jewelers while Red was playing a gig and had them put a clasp on that wouldn’t come undone.
I chatted for awhile longer with this sad woman and exchanged phone numbers. I knew I would stop in and see her the next time I was in Cross City. I realized how thankful I was that Red and I were married and we had had nine years together.
On the way home I decided to stop in and see my elderly friend who lived on the corner of my street. I figured the other neighbors would have told her about Red but I wanted to see how her back was doing. She’s been in a lot of pain and I worry about her.
I stopped and we chatted for a little while. She was so sorry about my loss and so glad she had gotten to meet him last week while he was here. He was just beginning to meet people, make friends and feel comfortable about being here; strange how the timing of things had happened. I was so glad some of the people I knew on the Nature Coast of Florida had met him.
I asked her how her back was and she said it hadn’t been good. She’d been in a lot of pain. Then I asked her what she was doing for Christmas.
“Well, Diane. I don’t know,” was her reply. “I was going to go down to see my sister, but I am not sure I can drive with my back the way it is.”
“Why don’t I drop you off on my way to Orlando? I’ve dropped you off there before,” I said.
“It’s so far out of your way. You have plenty else to do, dear,” she told me.
“You can’t stay home alone for Christmas and you certainly can‘t drive. I don’t have to fly out till Thursday so I am not pressed for time on the ride Wednesday. I just need to head south before noon.” I think she realized I wasn’t taking no for an answer.
I thought she was going to cry she was so happy. I told her she would have to stay with her sister until I returned in mid January or find another ride back here. She smiled and said if she needed to get back sooner her son could come and get her.
I gave her a hug and told her I would contact her when I got back from the Keys. We would arrange the time we would leave on the following Wednesday, December 20th.
I drove home, packed my bags and realized I was ready to head south. Usually, people go to the Fabulous Florida Keys for fun and frolic. This trip was not going to be easy and for the first time in my life, I would be happy when it was over.
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