A cup of tea and my cowboy memories

 

   Growing up with a mom who's English and from the east coat, Maine to be exact, it was common place at our house to have a cup of tea every afternoon, at what we call 'tea time.'  I've carried on that tradition and Kristi and I often have tea every day maybe around 4 pm, come and visit and I'll put on the kettle. Sometimes our tea is subsituted for a cup of Hot cocoa, or a Chai tea, and summer time may bring on the ice tea (not sweet tea like in the south though). Don't worry, I still drink more water than I do tea, but I do enjoy a cup of tea.  I've never really gotten the acquired  taste for coffee, but in the last few years, and being very sleep deprived and having to stay awake at work, I have succumb to an occasional cup of coffee, just because there was no tea available at the office.  (I did sneak in a tea bag or two a few times)

   One of the things I've always enjoyed to see, and maybe cause it make me feel like a little kid and awe at the wonder of it all, is when you add milk to a cup of tea.  There's this really cool thing that happens, it looks like puffy big clouds on a summer day (except it's in a tea cup and it's brown).  The milk swirls around and then eventually becomes 'one with the tea.' You can no longer tell milk from tea, it's one. Although, it doesn't look like the same tea, nor does it look like the same milk.  It's taken on a new consistancy and appearance.  Drinking it is a wonderful blend of both flavors.  But there's one thing you can't do now, and that's separate the two.  Well, maybe by some scientific way it could be done, but in the natural, they're one forever.  

  I got to thinking about the tea and milk this morning, as I poured myself a cup of Earl Grey and added a little milk.  That's how Todd and I were.  Tea and milk are pretty different from each other, yes, both liquids, but totally different. I'm sure I was the tea, and he was the smooth milk. But when we married and came together, we were no longer just Todd and a separate Kelley. We were one.  Funny, how people begin to address you that way, it was always "Todd and Kelley are here, etc." Separate but one.  

   I remember years ago working with a minister and traveling with him and his wife.  We were discussing something, and he said something about I should talk to Todd about it, and I said, we'd already discussed the issue.  The minister was amazed and said, he had never seen a couple that communicated like we did.   He asked if we always discussed things like we had. I said yes.  I was suprised, why would we have any secrets from each other?  God had put us together, then we're partners and share all things.  There were times when we had to work at it more than at other times.  Some things were harder to discuss with each other, but we evenutually did.  Didn't happen naturally, we had to work at it a lot.

   But now I get down to today.  Now there's only one element of my blended cup of tea left.  I'm not really sure how to deal with that.  How does one say good bye to 32 years of a good marriage?  People keep asking me how I'm doing, to which I say, "How am I suppose to be doing?"  I don't know. Some days, I've slept and cried, and slept and cried some more.  (Still not feeling well physically has not helped me either.)  Yesterday I spent the day, dealing with bills and 'office stuff' that has piled up over that last month.  End of the year is always a big thing to deal with, but I feel like someone dumped a truck load on top of the normal.  I know it's not over either, but I am catching up some.

    I haven't cried my last tear, or said my last prayer asking God for "help!"   I know God is here with me, and somehow I'll make it.  It's just the process I have a hard time with.

    The last weekend Kristi and I were up to see Todd, which was a week before he died, (Phil and I were there the Wed and Thurs after that weekend), at one point, I was kneeling down in front of Todd, so he could see me. His neck was so bent over he could not lift it up, so I often knelt down in front of him so he could see my face.  I don't remember all I was talking to him about, but at one point I said to him, "I'm gonna be ok."  I'm not sure why I told him that, except maybe, I knew I needed to.  I wasn't thinking he was going to be dying soon, that came as an incrediable shock. But I also knew that without a major miracle from God, Todd would at some point pass on.  There is no cure for dementia, there is no therapy that would have helped, or treatment that could have been done.  God knows we looked for it.  But like one doctor told me, you can't fix what's not there any more.  There were things missing, totally damaged in Todd's brain that couldn't be fixed, bar a creative miracle of God.  But that miracle never came the way we wanted, and I believe Todd just decided enough of this, I'm out of here.  Heaven was looking like a way better option for him, compared to what he was going through.   

     The day after he died I got a call from Dr VJ in Tioga.  He said he was filling out the death certificate.  Dr VJ is from  India and has a very strong accent, and very difficult to understand especially on the phone.  But what I believe he was trying to say to me was. "I don't know what to put down for a cause of death."  He said we could put heart attack, but we have no proof it was a heart attack (his heart just stopped beating).  He said, "we could say aspirate, but we vented him to make sure he wasn't aspirating, and he wasn't."  He said, "the only thing I can put down is 'dementia'"  I told Dr VJ, " I think Todd got a glimpse of heaven and decided enough of this earth, I'm out of here."  I asked him if he could put that down on the certificate. To which Dr VJ said, "Oh, I do not think they would accept that, I can not put that down."   Well, he couldn't put it down, but that's probably what really happened.  When your body and mind no longer let you live the life you want to live, going home to heaven is the best option around for a believer.

    The scripture was shared at the memorial service, "To live is Christ, and to die is gain."  Todd gained.  I had to share with the pastor afterwards, a funny story with that verse and Todd.  When we were dating, we were working at Circle C Ranch that summer. Trish Lenihan took all the staff on a trail ride out in the Badlands.  At one point in the trail ride, we had to cross this small land bridge between two buttes.  It was very narrow, and a straight drop down on both sides.  I was terrified.  I don't ride horse very well, so that added to my nervousness, and the fact that heights terrify me.  Todd and several other staff members had already crossed over to the other side, and Todd yelled back to me, "Kelley, let me give you a scripture to comfort and encourage you.  'To live is Christ and to die is gain."  To which I replied "That's not helping."  When I was about half way across, Todd yelled again to me, "Kelley, open up your eyes, your horse just shut hers."  Todd was always teasing me, always joking, always laughing, but always loving.  

    I don't think I'll start drinking my tea without the milk now, I still love to watch it swirl and blend together.  Todd never did like tea, always prefered water above everything else.  Though he didn't like tea, he did like me.  I remember once while we lived at Smith's Ranch, Todd and another young man were under our trailer home, working on something.  I was in the family room, playing piano and singing.  I could hear them talking below me, but could not hear what they were saying.  Todd told me the conversation later.  The other man (who was single) said to Todd, "Doesn't it bother you that Kelley isn't a cowgirl, and can't hardly ride a horse, and hates being around cows?"  To which Todd said, "I didn't marry her for her ablility to ride horse, or work cattle, and I'd rather have a wife that knows how to pray and stand on God's Word any day than one who can ride horse."  He then told that young man, that he should take heed to that too in looking for a wife.    

    Thank  you Todd, for being my blended cup of tea with me, and always letting me continue to be who I was (and am).  Love and miss you my cowboy.