A Stupid Hose Cart

The weather's finally gotten good enough, and I've gotten tired enough of looking at the wild growth in the lawn, that I got off my ass and did something about it. Thankfully the lawnmower's hanging in there. It was a gift from one of my best friends when we bought this house. He had his wife had flown out for my graduation, and we were able to get the keys to show them where we were going to live. His response was to think for a bit and then buy what's turned out to be a kickass lawn mower for us. I know it was said before, but thank you, boyo.

Anyway, I also figured it'd be a good time to get around to spraying the lawn for dandelions and other weeds. They haven't come up too much yet, and I think I can thank the colder-longer-than-usual winter for that. At the same time, I don't want to push my luck. This isn't a great lawn, and if it's not sprayed soon, there'll be an ongoing, uphill battle to keep the weeds out. So, I clomped out into the yard with my old boots and the stained jeans I keep for working around the house or on the car and got to work. Mowing grass is always more of a pain when it's wet, so that was where I started. Somehow, I wasn't too surprised when I got kind of distractable toward the end. The upside to that, though, was getting to see that the one little rosebush in the back that I'd thought was dead is still hanging in there. She'd been the one to find it years ago, half buried under the tall grass and ivy that seems to replicate about as quickly as cockroaches or pennies. I felt a fierce surge of pride at the little thing for hanging in there and spent about 15 or 20 minutes rather violently clearing out a good space around it. Dammit, I can at least help keep a ROSEBUSH alive!!

Then it was time to spray. Any more, I'm a fan of the ones that you just screw onto the end of your hose, turn on the water, and hose down the lawn. Yeah, it's maybe not the cheapest option. And it's maybe not the most effective. It works, though, and it's something I can handle doing. Good enough. So I went to set the hose up for it, unscrewing the nozzle that's been on there for years 'n' years and pulling it out to its full length off the little cart around which it can wind.

And then I got knocked on my ass.

See, in the last month or two, I've noticed something. There's an online group of widows and widowers (mainly widows) that I've been involved with. One thing I'd noticed is that it seems I pretty frequently see things posted by them that are about the husbands or ex's that are now deceased...and make it very, almost painfully clear that they still love those men. Even with the frustration and pain that also comes through, there's consistently that sense of love there, too. And I haven't felt that as much for her. I've had more good memories come up lately (which has been a whole different struggle), but when I've thought of her aside from that I've felt pretty flat, almost numb. I'm not angry or resentful at her anymore, thank God. But it's bothered me some that it doesn't seem like I love her the way the other widows I know and have read seem to. And, before you ask, yes a fair number of them became widows because of suicide.

I know, I know; everyone grieves in their own way. I'm also not stupid enough to think that what's posted for this group is everything that they're thinking or feeling. I don't put everything up there myself; why in the world should I think they do? Sometimes, though, it's hard to not compare myself to how others seem to be doing, and it's easy to look at the things I think they're doing well and where I fall short.

This does tie into the hose cart. The cart's a pretty simple deal. The base has four wheels lined up. Two supports come up the sides, and they hold a cylinder between them. On the inside of that is a nozzle that one end of the hose can screw into. It's also got another short piece of hose that'll screw into the spigot coming out of the wall. That way, you can use it to store the hose easily. It was something she'd wanted to get when we bought the house. Having to re-coil a hose by hand was more than she was able to do without some real strain, especially when it was full of water. She didn't mind doing yard work; back in those days she loved having a yard and garden area and doing stuff to take care of it all. But the hose needed the little cart for her to be able to work with it and not have it turn into something that felt like drudgery.

At the time, I wasn't real hot on the idea. The cart didn't seem all that solid, as it's made out of plastic. I pretty quickly found out that the nozzle on the inside of the cylinder that the hose screws into leaks. Also, if I pull too hard on the hose to get it to unwind, it can drag the cart across the cement, meaning I need to take it easier and more careful/thoughtful in working with it than I'd really care to. And, to be perfectly honest, it didn't really occur to me at the time what a pain it could be to deal with a hose filled with water for her. I can yank and fling it around with ease, so what's the big deal, right? Yeah, I still had some growing up to do. At the same time, I could tell it was something that was somehow important to her, and I gave in. I'm not sure that I ever thought it was a good idea. It was just one of those compromises I'd made at the time because it wasn't important enough to get into an argument, or even an extended discussion, over.  Even after we'd brought it home and realized that the connection between cart and hose tended to leak, it stayed in the yard.  It wasn't worth arguing over, and it seemed important to her so....OK, it stays.

Looking at it today, though, hit me like a kick from a horse to the sternum. For the first time, I saw it more like she had back then, as something that'd make it easier for her to get to do some of the yard work. It meant she wouldn't have to ask me to come take care of something for her. It was something that gave her some freedom, it helped empower her in her own home. Even if she didn't use it a whole lot, or even at all in the last few years, it was something that made it possible that she could do some things. And, at least at first, that had made her happy.

And it hit me that, if I had to do it all over again, I'd still buy her a stupid hose cart. Just because it made her happy. And that thought & feeling makes me want to cry. Maybe I don't always feel the same sense of love for her that I see in the things a fair number of others write about their lost loved ones. But it doesn't mean that they're entirely gone, either. Maybe just needing to rest for a while more.

It's moments like that, the brief flashes of hope or comfort, that make it possible to keep trekking down through all the layers of this Hell, to eventually confront and walk past my own Devil...and find the way out.