Locking Doors

It's been a while since I've written on Writers' Cafe. I offer this story about my husband and locking doors, family, and new love.

Locking Doors

I usually ask my grandson Zach to lock the doors at night. That would save me a trip down the stairs from the main level of our duplex to the front door. But tonight he’d gone to bed early. So, after watching a Garth Brooks special on Netflix, I walked across the hardwood floors to let Baxter out for a nighttime potty break and then put the rod in the sliding glass doors to lock it. Then I headed down to the basement level to turn the two knobs on the front door.

As I headed back upstairs, I had a memory of my husband Tom locking doors at night in our Boise, Idaho home.  I particularly remember one night, after his diagnosis of liver cancer, when he went to the front door. “Don’t forget to lock the doors every night,” he told me. I think he was worried about my safety, knowing he’d be gone in a while. He was diagnosed in January 2014. His oncologist told us the tumor, that started in his gall bladder and wrapped around his liver, had taken up too much space in his liver. So surgery was not an option. It was possible that chemo could shrink it, making surgery possible. Otherwise, he would probably live about eighteen months.

“How strange it is,”  I thought as I headed back upstairs from locking the door,  “that this is my first home that Tom has never lived in.” We lived in a lot of homes together. He pastored churches in Washington, Oregon, Maine, Colorado, and California. We spent a year in a retirement village in Florida. And we finally returned to our roots in Boise, Idaho, where he pastored a small church part time and worked as the chaplain at the Idaho State Veterans’ Home. In all the homes we lived in, I’m sure he was the one to lock the doors at night. He was the night owl, and I often fell asleep hearing him play guitar in another room and singing his favorite Everly Brother s’ songs and some of his own compositions like “After the Party’s Over” (a song about unrequited love) and “Trials and Troubles" (a song that assures us trials and troubles don't separate us from God's love).

“Wouldn’t Tom be surprised that I moved here,”  I thought. I remembered January 22, 2015, his birthday. We were at the Ada County Courthouse because we’d been chosen to be legal guardians for our two grandchildren (our son and his wife were working some things out). Tom turned to our social worker and asked, “Will it be OK for Shelley to move with the kids to Washington State to be closer to her family after I die?” She assured him it would be. “Tom,” I inserted, “you’re not going to die. The chemo is shrinking your tumor.  And I’m never leaving Boise.”

But by spring, the chemo was no longer working. And in July, 2015, eighteen months after his diagnosis, at midnight, he did pass away. I stayed in Boise. I had a community that meant the world to me�"long time friendships, swim buddies, classes at Boise State University, and a loving church family. Then the pandemic hit in 2020. My community disappeared.

I thought again about moving closer to my family. And John lived in Washington too. John had been my first boyfriend when I was a young teenager. I’d woken up thinking about him one morning, three years after Tom died. His sister Nora had been my best friend back in my teenage days.  I knew that John had married young and I assumed he was still married. But I was curious. So I found Nora on Facebook. Turned out she was thinking of me. “John’s wife passed away last year,” she told me. Soon, she traveled to Boise to visit me and, to my surprise, brought John with her. After that, a friendship developed between John and me. By 2019, we were a couple. So I had one more reason to move to Washington.

Yes, I think Tom would be surprised that I did move here after all. A lot has happened since then. My granddaughter Faith eventually went back to Idaho to live with her mother. My son moved to the area and lives with his sister and her husband. He and Zach have a lot of fun times together. My mom has had some health issues and I’ve been able to help my brothers with her care.

I think Tom would be happy for me that I’m closer to my family. I think he’d be happy for me that I have a special person in my life. And I think he’d be proud of me for locking the doors at night.

 

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

Hello Shelley, it is nice to see a post from you. It has been quite sometime. I think Tom would be exceptionally proud of you. How you have coped with his passing, caring for your grandchildren and eventually moving to be closer to your family. I’m sure he would be happy too that you have found love again and you aren’t on your own. You deserve every happiness my friend. Sending you all best wishes for Christmas from this side of the pond.

Chris

[Shelley Warner]

Thank you Chris, I always love your reviews.