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| Bill's stairway to his downstairs bedroom |
Monday I pulled out all stops and put in new rope lights to Bill's stairs. The previous ones had almost burned out. This was a big job.
Bill loved his downstairs (our finished basement) bedroom. Ironically I didn't even know I had that room. When I was having this house built in 2006, I was preoccupied in selling out Pennsylvania house. I only came down on weekends to mow the grass.
When we finally sold our Pennsylvania house eleven months later (yes, eleven months later!), and we moved in here I assumed Bill would take the upstairs bedroom because that's the kind of bedroom he had at our Pennsylvania house. When he told me he was taking the "downstairs room" I said "what room?" I thought he meant the big media room. He said "No, the room to the side (right) of the stairs." I had to go down and look and viola! There was a room completely drywalled, drop ceiling, pot lights, carpeted. "How about that?" I thought to myself. And that room tucked in by the stairs was Bill's room for the nineteen years we lived here. He loved that room. Since he died, I haven't changed a thing in his room. I even leave the lights on and his hearing aids in the charger. Bill's container of ashes and his American flag are also in his room. His room is my memorial to Bill. I don't have to visit a cemetery and look at a headstone and the ground to visit Bill. I go downstairs to his room.
A couple of weeks ago about half the rope lights that lined the stairs to his room had burned out. I was going to leave it. Then, I noticed that every time I used those stairs, I got a little depressed. Maybe the stairs were a metaphor for Bill's passing. Whatever was triggering my depression I had to change it. It was big job removing the old rope lights and installing the new ones, with my arthritic body resisting all that bending bur I got it done.
Now when I descend and ascend those stairs; those bright lights remind me of the bright light that Bill brought into my life for fifty-nine years.
4 comments:
Bill was amazing. Every time you mentioned Bill "going downstairs" to his room I literally thought of like 4 or 5 steps--maybe more of a split level concept now that I think about it in hindsight vs a basement so i guess I wasn't really paying close enough attention :-) But that just amazes me that he was going up and down ALL those steps up until he died--and that you were doing the same to care for him. Stair work is hard! Julie A
Julia A.
Bill was amazing. the day before he collapsed and four days before he died in hospice, he walked down those steps to his bathroom. I followed him because I was afraid he would fall. He didn't. His whole life, Bill was amazing and I was blessed to have his love. I look forward to the day when our spirits are reunited. That to me is Heaven.
Ron
Ron, thank you for sharing something this personal. You are not alone. I have a similar set up for my daughter. It helps so much to keep them close by. ❤️
Ivy,
Bill loved that room. I still have it as it was when he lived there. I will keep it that way until I die. My personal memorial to him. My "eternal flame" so to say.
Ron
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