Letters To My Hobbit – 12


I cry almost every day.  I want to stop crying and at the same time, I’m afraid that I will stop crying.  Does that make sense?

There is more to say, but it all sounds selfish and childish upon examination, so I’ll let it go.

I miss you.

Maybe if I was a better woman, maybe if I were more Christlike, I would be close enough to the veil to feel you.  But even great prophets mourned with sackcloth and ashes.  I am not better than they.

I do wish the veil were thinner…



Letters to my Hobbit – 11

My Beloved Hobbit,

God I miss you.  I know I’ll see you again, but that doesn’t stop the pain right now.  Stupid things seem to set me off and bring me to tears.  I went to Foodtown today, by myself, and I couldn’t help thinking about you.  I don’t know if I can count the number of times I’ve been to Foodtown without you.  Maybe a handful, but now all my trips will be without you.

I told my friend today that I had this amazing, overwhelming craving for salt, and I couldn’t figure it out.  She said “CRYING! Duh!” and I said “Oh.  Yeah.  That makes sense.”  I have been on a low fat diet forever, but have been craving salty stuff like crackers and chips for the last two weeks.  I guess I must really be crying a lot.

Work is fine.  The people there are fine, but I have absolutely no desire to work there most of the time.  I don’t even really care if I lost the house.  I probably wouldn’t work if I didn’t have the house.  So maybe God knows what he’s doing and how he set things up.  He set out the net to catch me before I even knew I was falling.

I ordered your death certificate…

Something good did happen today, I got our rings back.  I had your wedding ring attached to mine.  Now I can wear them both:


I now have a schmantzy wedding ring.  Custom made.  Unique, sentimental and invaluable.

I think I’ll go to bed now and try not to cry so much.

Love you.

Your Queen of the Faye

Letters to my hobbit 10


Funny story, kinda… I had to go home early from work just to be able to deal with the ton of paper work that your death has brought me and I missed the bus by a few seconds. I could see it pulling away from the stop a block away. I had to wait 30 minutes for the next bus. I called the funeral home and found out they already filed your death certificate and no linger even had a copy to send me. I thought, wtf? I’ve been calling for weeks to get it! And as the bus pulled up I thought “wait till I tell Sam about this,”. I’d forgotten in s matter of moments that you had passed and it was the whole reason I was set up to complain in the first place. Funny right? In a sad, I’ve no one to complain to at home sort of way…

via WordPress for Phone http://goo.gl/j6Fzhf

Letters To My Hobbit – 9

Dear Sam,

Today, I don’t like the bedroom. Remember how I painted it dark blue with white trim so you could see the doorways a little more clearly? I know you felt a little more comfortable in the dark with only one light to focus on (usually your computer). But this is not helping me. Dear Daughter helped me put up stars on the walls and ceiling, and I even put up a blacklight, but I don’t like the dark walls. I am depressed and I can’t say that the walls aid the depression or merely reflect it.

I am having a hard time getting a hold of your death certificate. It is quite frustrating. The funeral home tells me to call the county and the county tells me to call the funeral home. The lawyer needs it, however, and I will probably just have to make a lunchtime trip to the clerks office and get a copy–which is, of course, how every girl loves to spend her lunch.

Mother’s Day was ok. #1 gave me an edible arrangement. #2 bought me new lights to put up outside on the patio–and they are delightful–then he told me later that he was leaving the church. I said “ok.” I really am not into micromanaging or putting additional emotion into something that seems fruitless at the moment. I am emotionally tapped out. This is his journey, and I guess he wants to do it alone. It’s a lot harder that way, as you could probably tell him from past experience, but it is his choice. I went to the deaf branch and gave them your suits. I went to the hearing ward too, and I will be going out on Saturday with an aquaintance from R.S. Maybe we’ll be friends. Who knows? All of this has really brought so many people out of the woodwork to tell me they love and support me. It has been wonderful, overwhelming, and bittersweet. I wish it hadn’t taken you dying for it to happen. I feel so selfish, but I can’t seem to help what I’m feeling because at the same time, I don’t think mourning is really all that selfish.

Sister Claybrook brought me the quilt she made me out of your shirts. It is wonderful.
I try not to cry very loud, so #4 won’t hear it, though she has headphones on most of the time anyway…

Right now, I’m not certain I will stay at this job when my contract is over. If the house were paid off, I think I would stick to trying to write, live off my art, but then again, I’d probably get sick of being poor. I dunno. Today I was just really not happy with being at my job, and it wasn’t because anything had gone wrong. I have tremendous liberty there as opposed to the last job. They treat me like an adult and not like a high school student that needs to be monitored… you know… just in case I’m 2 minutes late from break. I’m trying to be practical. I’m trying to plan and make good choices, but I don’t think I’m doing a very good job.

I think our new parakeet is suffering from anxiety. The cats trying to get him every time he flies to the window probably doesn’t help. He runs from end to end of the magic window, trying to get out, until he gets tired and goes back on the perch we provide for him. He acts like I feel. We’re just trying to let him get used to being in my room, make him as comfortable as possible and happy, we hope, with his freedom–such as it is.

I really, really want to like my life–my life without you here–but I don’t. I wish I could at least be content with it and do something I thought was productive. Something I felt was making the world better, if I have to still be here. But I don’t. I had an email exchange with the probate lawyer and it doesn’t make me any more happy to be here following these bread crumbs that the spirit has to leave me because I just can’t think as clearly as I used to be able to. It’s like I have ADHD but I’m too depressed to notice. I told friends I feel like I’ve lost a limb — like my right hand — and I just don’t know how to use my left hand even half as well.

It’s more than a hand, you know. It’s more like half of my heart, the part I used the most.

Do I sound bitter? I hope not.

Why can’t I keep myself together? I just want to know when will I stop crying?

Love you.

Miss you.


Seeing eye wife searching for new career

I still am not me. I have not found my new normal. I am pretty good now but I can’t seem to find a routine or do the things that used to give me joy or even a sense of accomplishment or meaning. Nothing tastes the same, not even chocolate. I really want to get back to being me, but I don’t think it is going to happen. I don’t think I know who me is without Sam here. I don’t know that person yet, and its kind frustrating and depressing that I actually have to do it. I still get choked up when I have to talk about him as if he weren’t here, but you know what’s kinda ironic? I used to have to remind myself not to talk about him when he was right there unless I included him somehow in the communication because I didn’t think it was respectful. Sometimes I slipped up and talked about him as if he were not there, or just taking advantage of the fact he couldn’t hear and teased people about it. I don’t actually regret that. Maybe I should, but Idon’t. There isn’t anything I actually regret about my time with Sam except I wish I would have given him more hugs and I am pretty convinced I would think that even if I had given him more hugs. But I am without a job, so to speak. I feel like I am missing limbs. It is not the proper function of a Noelle to be without a Sam… what does a seeing eye wife do when her husband doesn’t need her eyes and ears anymore? I don’t know yet…

Letters to my hobbit – 7

Dear Sam,

Today was rough.  I went to church. I got hugs. I thought I was okay. I am not really sure what did it, but I started crying, thinking of you. I cried for at least half of the meeting. Our wards were split, but that want the reason I was crying. It was the reason other people were crying though and so I fit right in and didn’t really look like the complete basket case I am today. I cried of and on all day today. I had a horrible headache, of course, by the afternoon.

I got a parakeet today from Holly.

I asked my home teacher to come by this week to give me a blessing. I really feel like I have got to pull it together. I know this is all “normal” but I really can’t tell the creditors and utilities and the mortgage company that I just can’t seem to get my head on straight. I really have to pull it all together and get things moving efficiently and as smoothly as possible. I’ve called an insurance agent about combining house,  life and auto insurance. I have common sense care for medical vision and dental. I want to see if I can get aflac. But I am not sure what I can afford.  Starting next month I lose your benefits. I still have to pay a lawyer. I have the sainted renter who is still paying full rent, even though we and I told him he could stay for no charge, but I need to make up 700$ more.  I am going to rent out the rooms but only one is really ready. I am not ready however, and the house is a disaster (compared to when you managed it).  This is another thing I feel like I really need to pull together for. It really bothers me that even my room is not clean. It is getting there,I think, but finding places for things after pulling everything out of closets (maybe that wasn’t the best idea…) has been slow.

I miss you horribly.


Letters to my Hobbit – 6


It’s been a little more than two weeks since you left on your new adventure without me. Some people are able to count down their lives ones missions but I am only able to count up how many days you’ve been gone.

I have Erin and Josh this weekend. It will probably be a very difficult mothers day because usually you were the one to buy me flowers and make sure the kids made me breakfast…

I kept thinking about what I would tell you when I got home today at work, which is only ironic because today the memory came to me, clear as a bell of you kissing me. I almost felt it, it was that strong. Was it you? I am going to assume it was. It was really nice to have such a clear thought. My brain has been jell-o and Swiss cheese, but I think I’m starting to get a bit clearer. I write lists and lists. I plan. I have even started brainstorming that fantasy story about Selig. How did we come up with that name? I don’t remember, but you named your new computer after it.

Thank you for that kiss today. It helped me get through the rest of the day.

Love you lots.


Letters to my hobbit – 5


Woke up this morning expecting to see you for some reason. Not in bed but feeling like I needed to drive to the hospital to visit you. Then I remembered. The room reminded me. It is a small disaster. It looks like a teenagers room. I am starting to really hate it.

I drove to work this morning and heard: Breaking Up Is Hard To Do on the radio. I cried and turned it off. I was ok by the time I got to work. Just a little depressed, but I am betting no one could tell. Went about my day as usual and as I was dropping off a staking job to the inter office mail box I saw the coffee maker. That’s not unusual but the pot was decaf. You know, the Orange one? It made me think of you and how hard you had to struggle to give up coffee. I thought about how many times you fell off the wagon. How much you lamented the loss of Postum. Its kinda funny actually. I think you fell off that wagon more than you fell off the alcohol one, because you never drank while you were with me, but I found a stash of instant coffee after you died. I don’t think you drink it in the seven months I was home with you, though you may have snuck a coffee at Jack in the box the last few weeks. I know it was really hard for you, trying to find the reason for your stomach pain. You were so hungry all the time. It is so unhobbity not to eat. You have you soda a few times. Every time you did, the pain did seem to diminish, but I think it was only had pain that ended. Whatever else was causing you pain just got bigger and bigger. But I thought it was a little bittersweet that decaf decanters at work, someplace you had never been, remind me of you.

I talked to the lawyer today, not the probate one, and we decided that an autopsy was not necessary. I told him that if I were going to have to spend money on things outside the immediate,I would rather it was a medical expert to look at your records. Then, even if there was no lawsuit or anything,I would have a little more information than, “he was seriously ill.” Plus the county will not cremate you if there is an autopsy. Rather, they won’t pay for cremation and I am already out of money.

I am still waiting for word for when your body can be dressed. It isn’t so important to me, really, and I don’t think it is all that important to you, but it is very Mormon and I told you that I thought you were Mormon long before I fell in love with you, so a little Mormon tradition won’t hurt now. I don’t really want to see your body so many weeks after your death. I have a hard enough time trying to remember your face when you were alive. The last few hours I was with you and your body still repeat in my head whenever I try to think actively about you. If you are allowed to visit me in my dreams, I hope you will and help me to see you when you are alive and happy.

I’m still a little mad at you for leaving. I know it’s not your fault. Sometimes I was mad at you for a crazy episode, though I know that wasn’t really your fault either. Sometimes I was even mad at you for being deaf, because you were blind and already missed so much of what I was saying. Maybe you will listen to me now, though. Our maybe you are to busy. I dunno.

Today, after the decaf thing, I say at my computer at work and started to type in my password but typed in: Banning instead. I know exactly why I typed it, even if it is nothing even remotely close to my password. I was thinking that I wanted to go home, and you know I have always thought of Banning as my home town. More than Houston. But not more than Calinor. … It doesn’t feel like Calinor without you. … I want to go home and I don’t think I really have a home anymore. I am a stranger in a familiar land. I am a wanderer in my own country. Maybe that song in Fiddler on the Roof was right: with him I am home.

My car has been such a good little car. I am so pleased with it. We should have named it something other than: The Kitty Car. That was the name you gave it. I still have the angry birds duct tape on the dash where you punched a hole because you were angry I had quit my job and you didn’t want to tell me how bad your eyes were getting. I remember you still had your old CI then. You didn’t understand me as well with it as you did with the new one. I can’t believe we hardly got to use the new CI. I … just can’t believe we hardly got to use it…

Remember when Dennis asked you “Does it make you happy?” about the Angry Birds duct tape? Remember how we’d always joke about it? I cry every time I remember that. Every.Time.

I drove down Ella today for the first time since my brother sent me back to the hospital to be with you the last two hours of your life. I didn’t know it would only be two hours. We came expecting to be there all night and all morning. But I think you were already gone. I think when I felt that overwhelming sense of comfort earlier that day–I think that was you. Your spirit. Your last gift to me while you were still here on earth.your spirit at least. I think I would have been a lot about at the hospital if they called me while performing CPR on you. They are rather lucky my brother is an Er nurse and that he felt the spirit prompt him to call me and send me back. I still don’t know what”seriously ill” is. Lots of people are seriously ill and not dying. I’m still mad about that…


Letters to My Hobbit – 4


My parents left today along with Joe and his family, to move them to Maryland with my brother Zeth. I am without family in Houston except for Erin and the boys now. I feel really strange about this. I feel like I am starting over, and yet, I’m not.

The young men from the ward came by tonight and did the yard and everything. It’s too bad that Erin wasn’t here so she could flirt shamelessly and have them all to herself, but the young women were doing something else. I talked to Sister C about my plans to have a garage sale next week to help raise some money, clean things out. Simplify and, I guess, start over.

I got up too early this morning, and I’m going to bed too late, but Wednesdays are always like that for me because of Cub Scouts and Young Women.

I talked to a probate lawyer today. We negotiated about 40% off her normal retainer fee, but it’s still a lot more than I had planned for. I am hoping the garage sale will help. Maybe I should have tried selling your CI after all. I just didn’t want to have to try to do that online. I just wanted all the hardest things to part with to go to the people I thought you’d want to have it. So I gave your CI to Andres. His father Luis, is your good friend. He gets choked up every time we talk about you, and it’s hard not to get choked up too. He really loves you.

I think that is the best part of this horror. But it also reminds me of how things were in our lives. I can see how much people are moved by you. You thought it was pity most of the time. You thought it was just the faux admiration of someone battling a disability. I told you I didn’t think it was, and now you will have to see it for yourself. These people just loved you. You were and are easy to love–when you aren’t being an arse. I am grateful so many people loved you so deeply. It hurts a little, yeah, but it makes my heart swell.

I am also a little surprised to find out how much they love me. I’ve always liked being friendly, bringing flowers to work, doing little “acts of Sam” (as you called them). Mostly I did it to cheer myself up, really. I do still, always feel like a bit of an outsider–a loner, but I think it’s just my nature to be one of those people who gravitates from crowd to crowd, table to table at a party. I’m just not one to settle down in a clique, or a crowd, or a group. But I am glad that it hasn’t adversely affected the way people see me, even if I do sometimes feel odd and lonely. I think, in part, it’s also the nature of being half and half. I think you had this problem too. You weren’t deaf enough to be Deaf, but not hearing enough to be Hearing.

Had lots of choking up moments today, but only a few tears. I had an idea for that fantasy story we had been talking about, the Book of Calinor, and I think I’m going to work on that in my head for a while. I will make you a wizard, and you will save the Kingdom, but you won’t stay. You are Slyfoot the wanderer, and for you, the road goes ever on and on. I will be here, in the Kingdom you made, waiting for you to return.

I don’t know what is going to happen. I feel strangely bereft of everything, even of a plan except what has already been laid out in front of me. I can’t even tell people what to expect next week, or next month. I could be here… I could be gone… I have no idea. I’ve never felt like this before. It is very strange. I hope it doesn’t last long, but God has guided me through these times of joy, pain and sorrow, and I will trust he knows where I’m going, even if I do not.

Love you.