Patty drank only decaf. coffee and I do not drink coffee any more, so Patty had her own little space where she kept her coffee fixing “tools” and she fixed her own coffee whenever she wanted some. She heated the water in a glass measuring cup in the microwave and the cup is where she left it. This “tool”area has become like a little “de facto” shrine, especially the coffee cup with the lipstick stain on it. It contained her last cup of coffee, of that I am sure. One would think that a two and half month old dirty coffee cup would have been washed by now. But, to me, this would erase one of the pieces of evidence that remains that she was alive and here with me. I cannot bring myself to wash away any evidence she was really here with us. I just can’t do it. I have little shrines all over the place. Come to think of it, this whole house, and her yard, has become like a shrine to her. This was HER place and it is my intention to keep it that way. But, things change with time; things do not get put back where she kept them. Plants die and need to be replaced. I cannot bear to look at her side of our closet; I do not have a clue about what I am going to do with her clothes. That is WAY beyond my present state of mind. I am serious, I do not look at her side of the closet. This simple act would be like a knife in my heart.
I was in the hospital for two days (last Wednesday and Thursday). The doctors think I had a transient ischemic accident (TIA), but I am not so sure of that. I have several of the stroke risk factors including an irregular heartbeat that does not otherwise concern any one as to risk of heart problems. Anyway, I feel pretty good now. While I was in the hospital, I spoke with the on-call neurologist and it ended up that I am going to change Parkinson’s doctors from my present one to one in the on-call doctor’s group. I am looking forward with great anticipations of better times ahead. I see the new doctor on Tuesday at 0930 hours and at 1900 hours that evening, I go my first meeting of a bereavement support group. That will be interesting. My, now former, neurologist was incapable of answering my questions and those of you who know me well know that is big deal for me.
One thought on “THE LIPSTICK STAIN ON THE COFFEE CUP”
I remember staring at her cup when we were there a couple months ago. I would never wash that cup ❤️. Love and miss you grandpa, you are in my thoughts everyday.