My Turn: Carol Giuliani of St. James reflects on the loss of her husband

When someone you love dies, you not only lose the physical presence and interactions you had when they were alive. There are so many pieces to a long love relationship that are lost with the death of a spouse.

Their presence in the house brings everything alive. And when they are gone there is a darkness and quiet that you never realized existed. Was this quiet and stillness always there waiting to come out, you wonder.

How blind we are to what can be in the future, when we are so secure in the present. It’s the little things you realize he did for you that you never acknowledged and took for granted. I never ever took out a garbage pail during our whole marriage. He always took care of that, and I never thanked him for that now that I have that chore and see how annoying it is. Especially now, after he is gone, when I am in my pajamas at night settled in my chair and realize I have to go outside to do this.

We had a wood-burning fireplace and there was always wood and a fire in there keeping us warm in our family room. That was his “job” and we were never cold on winter days. He was the type of man who did everything with a quiet resolve and always got the job done. Never complained. Unlike me!

I miss his smile and optimistic attitude when mine was so pessimistic about something. His resistance to negativity was strong and he never let it take over his life. This, I felt, also was due to his strong faith. He never imposed this on me, knowing how I felt about Catholicism, and was a man who led by example. Every Sunday for 53 years, without any fanfare or verbiage, he dressed in his suit and went to the 7:30 a.m. Mass at St. Matthews in Dix Hills. I admired his staunch faith and his respect of my nonbelief.

There are so many things I miss about him, especially the beautiful cards he would buy for me on my birthday and our anniversary. When we were engaged, he gave me a charm that read, “You are always in my heart.” This became our special saying for everything between us, and I had it engraved on his headstone, which I will share with him when I die. He signed all cards with this saying. My daughter knew how much I loved this saying and took one of his cards with his writing and this love note, and had it specially engraved on a plaque, which she gave to me as a Christmas gift after he died. It hangs near my bed, and has his handwriting transposed onto the wood so I can see it every morning when I open my eyes.

There is no expiration for grief. But you can grasp at pieces of the heart you shared so intimately with the love of your life. It is comforting and reaffirms how special your life was, sharing it with such a special person.

Carol Giuliani

St. James