WHO AM I?

Since Tom died, I am not myself. I hardly know who I am. After being one of a pair for so many years, I seem to have lost my identity. When I fill out forms, I check off "single" rather than "married" now, and that doesn't seem right. I have also joined the ranks of widows, a group in which I do not yet feel at home. I go through the motions of living everyday life, but I feel like a displaced person in my own life and my own house. Even so, I want to stay in my house as long as possible. The thought of moving is quite daunting.

I've never had difficulty being alone. In fact, time alone has always been a necessity for me, even when I had very little of it. I remember retreating to the bathroom when Tom was home in the evening, and the children were young. I'd lock the door and spend as much time as possible in the bathtub. That was my time alone to recoup and recover.

Tom and I shared interests, but we both had different interests, too, and went our separate ways to follow the interests that differed. Yet, all the while Tom was the strong thread that ran though my life even when we were physically separated, and I knew we would be together again. Now he's gone forever. I'm not drowning in sorrow missing Tom. I have my sad moments, but, the truth is I'm not quite as sad as I think I should be, and I feel a bit guilty about it.

To complicate matters, when I stopped going to church several years ago, I gradually lost my religion. By religion I mean I lost faith in church and Christian denominations. Then I lost my faith in God. I say "lost" because not having faith is a loss. My faith was a comfort to me, and it left me at a most inconvenient time.

It is said that faith is a gift. Job said,"Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return there; the Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." What's not there is not there, and wishing or saying it's there won't make it so. At the moment, I don't feel like blessing God, if there is a God. I don't call myself an atheist, because I have no certainty that God or a First Cause of some sort does not exist. I assume I now fall into another unfamiliar group of agnostics.

I WANT YOU BACK!

I Want You Back!

Tom, I want you back! Not sick,
Not in pain, not far too thin.

I want you back as you were,
Not young, in your fine maturity,
In the time before the cancer,
Uninvited, came and took you away.

(June Butler 4-30-2019)

JOSEPH THOMAS BUTLER, JR, 1938 - 2019

Obituary for Joseph Thomas Butler Jr.

Beloved husband, father, and grandfather, Joseph Thomas (Tom) Butler, Jr died peacefully on March 19, 2019. Tom fought a hard fight after treatment for cancer in 2017. He was born January 24, 1938, in White Castle, Louisiana, and lived in New Roads, Louisiana, in his childhood and youth.

Tom attended Louisiana State University where he received bachelor's and master's degrees. He then attended Southeastern Louisiana University and received another master's degree.

In 1969, Tom moved with his wife and three children to Thibodaux, Louisiana, to accept a position in the library at Nicholls State University, where he worked for 34 years. He was Associate Director when he retired from the Ellender Memorial Library.

Tom is survived by his wife of 58 years, June Barrosse Butler, originally from New Orleans, Louisiana, son Patrick and wife, Marlet, son Timothy and wife, Cindy, daughter Alison Butler Costanzo and fiancé, Frank DiVincenti, and six grandchildren, Joey Butler, Bryan Costanzo, Ashlynn Butler, Andrew Costanzo, William Costanzo, and Joshua Butler. He was preceded in death by his parents, Joseph Thomas Butler, Sr and Laura Janis Butler.

Tom's funeral service celebrating his life will be on Saturday, April 6, at 2PM, with visitation beginning at 1PM, at St John's Episcopal Church, 718 Jackson St, Thibodaux LA 70301. A reception in the church hall will follow the service.

The loves of Tom's life in addition to his family were gardening, fishing, and a small wooden boat museum, The Center For Traditional Louisiana Boat Building, established in the 1970s by Tom and John Rochelle, first at Nicholls State University and later in its own building in Lockport, Louisiana, on 202 Main Street. Tom served as director of the Center until very recently.

In lieu of flowers, tax-deductable donations may be sent to Friends for Traditional LA Boat Building, 202 Main Street, Lockport LA 70374.

54 YEARS

Tom and I celebrated 54 years of married life this past Sunday by forgetting the anniversary. I was reminded at the end of the church service, when the custom is to pray for people in the congregation who have birthdays and anniversaries and where they keep better records. We were planning to have lunch at the antiques show in town, so we made the lunch our celebration. We are incredibly fortunate to both be around for the celebration of the 54th year, both in reasonably good health for our ages, and still in our house where we've lived for 32 years.

"Grant, O God, in your compassion, that Tom and June, having taken each other in marriage, and affirming again the covenant which they have made, may grow in forgiveness, loyalty, and love; and come at last to the eternal joys which you have promised through Jesus Christ our Lord; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen," (The Book of Occasional Services • 2003)

The ceremony was small and simple.  My greatly missed sister Gayle and my brother-in-law Frank sent us off on our two day honeymoon with a lovely, small celebration.

Here we are about to roll out in our "Just Married" decorated car on our way to St Augustine, Florida, for a one-night stay, and then to New Orleans briefly, before we moved to Mobile, Alabama, to our jobs at the Mobile Public Library.

The 1953 Chevrolet hardtop convertible broke down and died after we reached New Orleans, and we bought a new 1961 Ford Falcon with a trade-in and no money down, with only the verification of our employment as assurance.

THE AFTERMATH OF ILLNESS

Tom's diagnosis of colon cancer rocked us both.  The weeks while we waited for the processes leading up to surgery to be completed were difficult, but we tried to keep busy and distracted, and we mostly succeeded.   The news after the surgery was surely as good as could be expected: the tumor was small, and the nearby lymph nodes were cancer free, and there was joy in Butlerland when Tom came home. 

Then, within a few days, came Tom's loss of appetite and vomiting.  I knew something was very wrong when I saw the greenish-black bile, but x-rays in the doctor's office were inconclusive as to whether there was an obstruction.  The vomiting continued, and Tom was readmitted to the hospital, and it was determined that there was an obstruction, a complication that never happens, but leave it to Tom... 

Tom is recovering nicely now, probably doing a bit too much too soon, but, so far, he appears to have done no harm to himself.  I told him if he has to go back in the hospital, I will not visit, but that's not true.

All of the above took a toll on both of us, and, though Tom seems the same, I'm sure the experience changed him, but in a way I can't yet see.  What I do know is that I have not yet regained my emotional equilibrium, such as it was, since the surgery.  I've thought about why I'm not yet my old self, and, indeed, somewhat accepted the fact that I may never be my old self, because life is change.

My one conclusion thus far is that when I was diagnosed with breast cancer 29 years ago, I looked my own death in the face, and I was changed.  The word "cancer" has a way of concentrating the mind wonderfully on the reality that humans, including me, are mortal.  I've been blessed with 29 years of life after the dread diagnosis, and I'm most grateful for the years, every one of which seems a gift.

But (and it's a huge "but") I had not faced Tom's mortality in any real way until now.  The good news is that I've come to realize in a way that I didn't before how much he means to me, but the not-so-good news is that the reality is scary, and my emotions, which are almost always near the surface, are out of kilter and somewhat flattened and kept at bay.  What to do? 

When two people live together for 53-plus years, the rather minor annoying habits of the other can come to loom rather large in daily life, so I've determined not to call Tom's attention to every little annoyance and to make a general attempt to be kinder and less of a scold.  In other words, don't sweat the small stuff.  And be kind.

In time, I hope to recover emotional equilibrium, and I believe I will, but, in the meantime, I'm thankful for each day Tom and I have together, and I will try to be kind, and not just to Tom.  I will often fail, but I hope I don't give up trying.

When certain Christians ask, "Are you saved?" I answer, "Yes, every day."  And that's true, and some few days I need to be saved from just lying in bed all day.  A strength that seemed to come from beyond me carried me through the stressful period, and I trust that same source, God in Jesus, will carry me the rest of the way.  You see, I believe salvation is about here and now, for today, and not so much for the sweet bye-and-bye, because I have no idea what happens in the sweet bye-and-bye.  But I have today, for which I'm grateful, and I believe God is with me, with us, to give us healing, strength, and courage.

PLEASE PRAY...

for my friend Tom who had surgery for a brain tumor on the Monday after Easter. Tom is home now, but his recovery is slow. The tumor is diagnosed as a "glioma - low-grade malignant", and Tom will need 6 weeks of radiation. His partner is stressed right now, and both need our prayers.

O God, the strength of the weak and the comfort of sufferers: Mercifully accept our prayers, and grant to your servant Tom the help of your power, that his sickness may be turned into health, and our sorrow into joy; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
....

Heavenly Father, giver of life and health: give strength to those who care for Tom in his needs, that they may have confidence in your loving care; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

(Book of Common Prayer, pp. 458, 459. Second prayer adapted.)

PLEASE PRAY...

...for Frank, who will have surgery tomorrow to remove a section of his colon because of repeated attacks of diverticulitis.

...for Tom (not my Tom) who will have surgery in a few days to remove a tumor on his brain.

O God, the strength of the weak and the comfort of sufferers: Mercifully accept our prayers, and grant to your servants Frank and Tom the help of your power, that their sicknesses may be turned into health, and our sorrow into joy; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

UPDATE: Frank's surgery went very well. The doctors were able to do a laparoscopy.

FLOWERS BLOOM - LEAVES FALL

 

A lovely blossom from one of our camellia bushes. The wind blew strong, and Grandpère held the flower still.

 

We think the vine is called Yellow Jessamine, but we're not sure. Whatever it's name, the vine grows wild, and the vine, and now the flowers, cover the bare fence boards.

 

All of our oaks look bare, since many of their leaves have fallen.

 

The fallen oak leaves cover the ground.

 

Diana and Grandpère play Diana's favorite game, pull the towel. I tried to play, but my grip is no match for Diana's toothy grip. Away the towel went with Diana quickly, without the least struggle on her part.