My Toe
Mystery solved.
When I was giving myself a little pedi a couple of weeks ago, I noticed that the middle toe on my left foot has a purple toenail. Hmmm, I thought, that's Rather Strange. No memory of dropping a rock on it. You'd think a person would remember something like that. I looked at it closely and came to the conclusion that it was getting better, not worse, and as far as I could see the nail was not going to come off. End of chapter, still no clue WHY this toe was purple.
Ho ho, today I figured it out. I woke up (and you know what that means: first thing, the wrecking ball realization that your child is dead, *sob*) and took the dogs downstairs to feed them. Coming back to the stairs from the kitchen, I reach out with my foot to slide the little oriental rug back where it's supposed to be. On the corner of the rug there is a ROCK. It's perfectly round and about the size of a cantaloupe, granite with a fat white stripe around it. (I collect rocks; they're all over the house, LOL. I mean ALL OVER the house!)
And it comes back to me: on January 5th, at 6 am, I stubbed -- as in BROKE -- that toe on that rock. Andy had moved it the night before. The previous few months, it had been on the outside corner of the rug, holding down a curled-up corner. Andy's brilliant idea, which worked. But for some reason, he decided during one of his uber-night-owl stretches to rearrange things. So that morning in the dark, I walked right into it. WOW did it hurt. Broken. It was swollen and purple for a long time, and the purple business spread halfway down my foot like the Mississippi delta. Then it got better, and apparently I completely forgot about it.
Until today, when I remembered the broken toe, and the purple color, and the rock, and Andy caring about things like that, and how badly he felt about my owie, (I tried to not complain at all, since he was the man with brain cancer and I only had a throbbing foot) and................ *sob* he's gone and I can't show him the purple toenail and have him bless it with a laugh or a kiss or even a dismissive diffident wave. (I'd take anything.)
Give thanks, give thanks, give thanks. For these things that are reminders of what a fun and caring guy he was, for the time we had together in my house, for the rocks, for the love, for the life I have yet to live. There will be days like this. There will be little stretches of time where I forget things, and there will be remembering. It's all.... ok. The purple toenail will get better, very very slowly. I'll miss my Annoo forever and ever and ever. One of these things is physical, the other is pure heart and soul.
When I was giving myself a little pedi a couple of weeks ago, I noticed that the middle toe on my left foot has a purple toenail. Hmmm, I thought, that's Rather Strange. No memory of dropping a rock on it. You'd think a person would remember something like that. I looked at it closely and came to the conclusion that it was getting better, not worse, and as far as I could see the nail was not going to come off. End of chapter, still no clue WHY this toe was purple.
Ho ho, today I figured it out. I woke up (and you know what that means: first thing, the wrecking ball realization that your child is dead, *sob*) and took the dogs downstairs to feed them. Coming back to the stairs from the kitchen, I reach out with my foot to slide the little oriental rug back where it's supposed to be. On the corner of the rug there is a ROCK. It's perfectly round and about the size of a cantaloupe, granite with a fat white stripe around it. (I collect rocks; they're all over the house, LOL. I mean ALL OVER the house!)
And it comes back to me: on January 5th, at 6 am, I stubbed -- as in BROKE -- that toe on that rock. Andy had moved it the night before. The previous few months, it had been on the outside corner of the rug, holding down a curled-up corner. Andy's brilliant idea, which worked. But for some reason, he decided during one of his uber-night-owl stretches to rearrange things. So that morning in the dark, I walked right into it. WOW did it hurt. Broken. It was swollen and purple for a long time, and the purple business spread halfway down my foot like the Mississippi delta. Then it got better, and apparently I completely forgot about it.
Until today, when I remembered the broken toe, and the purple color, and the rock, and Andy caring about things like that, and how badly he felt about my owie, (I tried to not complain at all, since he was the man with brain cancer and I only had a throbbing foot) and................ *sob* he's gone and I can't show him the purple toenail and have him bless it with a laugh or a kiss or even a dismissive diffident wave. (I'd take anything.)
Give thanks, give thanks, give thanks. For these things that are reminders of what a fun and caring guy he was, for the time we had together in my house, for the rocks, for the love, for the life I have yet to live. There will be days like this. There will be little stretches of time where I forget things, and there will be remembering. It's all.... ok. The purple toenail will get better, very very slowly. I'll miss my Annoo forever and ever and ever. One of these things is physical, the other is pure heart and soul.
Replies
As a nurse, I get concerned... just to be sure.. is it the NAIL that is purple or the TOE ??.. if it is the toe it could signed circulation problems...
Just checking ...
Hmm, thanks for asking. I think it\'s ok though. It\'s not the toe, just the area under the nail (tiny little middle toenail), and it is slowly growing out. Those deep injuries take so long to heal. (again, the analogy...)
A cute story. It is good to laugh about a purple toe and the memories it brings. Put some shoes on!!!! Peggy
Such grace, gentleness and humor you express. What a precious story. We do forget \"minor\" trivialities like broken toes when we are battling so hard each day just to smile and live.
Thanks for the reminder to give thanks!
Sending love and grateful hugs ~ Debbie
Love the story...my dad also collected rocks from all over - when him & mom would travel, if they drove, you always knew dad would have a huge rock in the trunk. What did I bring home, in my luggage from the Great Smokey Mountain National Park, we drove through on our way to the airport from Gatlinburg, a rock!!!! Hugs, Ann
I love the purple toe story.....What can bring a smile to our hearts even when they are hurting with pain...By the way I collect rocks to...even sneak them out of the Rockies one year....Take care of the toe...Sandi..Ken\'s mom forever
a wonderment how we can hold these warm memories for the rest of our lives. we are lucky to have had and loved. you know my sister never had children,, didn\'t feel anything for mine or my brother\'s. I\'m glad we are the lovers and the beloved. my son yaakov was always worried about my health and always asking me how i was. what a dear man he was. so many people loved him. i can see why.
and you describe my morning perfectly. it\'s absolutely the worst time of the day. that\'s why i get up and out so early, just to be amongst other seniors at the gym, where i\'m just one of many.
UPDATE! I went to Link\'s baby shower yesterday, and to a big BBQ tonight where he and his wife were. I gave them a check (instead of the 99th onesie) and a letter, very loving, PLUS a copy of the program from Andy\'s service and obit. Just thought it might give them a moment of being in touch with the reality that we share, in a gentle way. Tonight they both said thank you and it was good. I feel good about moving on from that bitter disappointment. I had a melt-down this morning about seeing all these kids and their parents. My husband was lovely about it. He said it\'s hard to see them all having all these experiences when Andy has NOTHING. Thank you sweetie, for realizing that my sorrow is yes about me sometimes but also FOR Andy, for the fact that he has the absence of experience, that he\'ll never know this or that joy. A mother aches for her child\'s experience.... or grieves for the absence of experience.
I am hugging you, just standing there quietly. Hugging you.