The Times, They Are A'Changin'

Gosh, it's bee a long time since I've written anything I felt that I wanted to share.  Sometimes I feel that it's important to share my journey so that others don't feel so alone on theirs, whatever it may be.  We all have trials and burdens to bear and they come in many forms.  It often helps me to know that while I'm sorry other people have pain in their lives, that what I'm feeling and experiencing is more normal than I realized.  I'm traveling somewhere I've never been and have no point of reference for the culture of this new life.  Sometimes I wonder if people are tired of hearing about it and just wonder "why she just can't get on with it?"  Trust me, sometimes I feel EXACTLY that way myself.  I continue to learn so much as I continue the path that God has put me on.  I'm getting to know me in a way I might never have before had I not lost 4 of the 5 people closest to me in my life.

The thing is, when you are alone, really alone, as in getting up alone, going to bed alone, eating alone, watching TV alone (you get the picture), you are forced to listen to yourself; rely on yourself; trust yourself.  I was so very fortunate to always have been surrounded with people who had my best interests at heart, so I never had to worry too much about it.  If I wandered too far off the beaten path, someone was close by to take me by the hand and bring me back to where I needed to be.  That has changed.  It certainly does not mean that I don't have a fabulous family and fabulous support group, but it does mean that they can only be aware of what I tell them as we are spread far and wide.  That allows for some whitewashing from time to time, or just going underground for a bit.

It's now been just over three years ago that my sweet husband took his last breath.  Seems like forever ago, yet other times only yesterday.  I've said before, and am even more cognizant of the fact that he loved me in such an incredibly unconditional manner that I believe I was extraordinarily lucky.  His quest was to love, protect, provide and dote on me, while still knowing my faults and tolerating my quirks.  He did it wholly and completely, including my family and friends as part of the package.  My happiness became his happiness.  I knew I was lucky and tried not to take that for granted, however, looking back I'm sure that there were times that I did.  Men of his character (and you can use both definitions for him there) are rare and are as precious as gems.

I have realized that I don't necessarily prefer to be alone.  Most of the time I cope quite well, but there are occasional events i.e. theater, concerts, weddings, etc. which attending without someone makes you feel your loss even more keenly and are to be avoided almost at all costs.  It's so hard to watch couples at these events lean their heads in closely to whisper and laugh, to lead the other onto the dance floor, to just enjoy being half of a whole.  To be near couples who are so absorbed in each other while you are mutely, acutely aware that you are solitary in the midst of a crowd brings an ache from deep within.

All of this realization means that I have to work harder; harder on my resolve; harder on my self confidence; harder on being resilient to tough situations.  I have lost my soft place to land.  I have lost four of the five people who have always had my very best interests at heart.  People change, relationships change, times change and all of that requires that I be adaptable to just maintain my sanity, let alone be happy.

And to clarify, I am not unhappy.  I still find great joy in my family, and my son and grandchildren in particular.  I have exceptional friends who I can hang with and laugh myself silly.  I don't want these losses to define me and make me less of who I was.  I want to forge ahead and become stronger and braver than I ever imagined.  I want to learn how to not care about those who don't care about me and invest more in those who do.  I want to be confident that I have the knowledge to take care of whatever may come my way - if not directly, through research and finding the right assistance.  I want to be wanted and not an obligation.  I want to always be able to smile and laugh and see the beauty in this world around me, whether it be the night sky, a beautiful sunrise, a thunderstorm, or the falling leaves.  I find it in the smile on the woman working the drive-through when you engage her in real conversation, the neighbor who goes out of their way on a regular basis to be kind, and most especially in the eyes of people we meet, especially the children.

I've been broken and am rebuilding myself and I bet there will be some screws left that were loose in the first place.  That's okay.  I won't need everything I had before and will need other things I never dreamed of "before".

The world has gone crazy.  I could and some may say that happened to me a long time ago.  But I choose to continue working on the new and improved me.  I have no idea where that will take me, whether I will be that person alone or with someone.  I don't know where I will live, what I will do.  What I do know is that I want to be better than I was, for I know so much more than before.  I have an empathy that comes readily now for things I didn't understand before.  When you know better, you do better.  We need more love, understanding, caring and respect for each other.  Although life may feel very insular sometimes, it is so much easier to lean on each other, share our talents and love.

The holidays are fast upon us, and often not easy for any of us in one way or another.  I will find a way to sustain them, embrace them and I imagine I will even enjoy them.  The difference now is that I have moments where I reflect on "how it was before" and just how damn lucky I have been, which is why the struggle now is so real.  That alone is enough to make me smile for what was and has been.  My heart has been broken, but it's still beating, I'm still breathing and holy cow!  I want more of what this life has to offer!  My story is not over.  I have no idea where it will go or how it might end, but I guarantee I'm here to embrace it as fully and completely as possible.  And moving forward now means having a realization that every tough moment of sorrow and loss has made me more capable to move forward, with grace, dignity and joy.  My heart will never forget, and that will be why I am able to be better, achieve more, and offer a heart full of compassion and true love, for it has been shown to me.  The times, they certainly are a'changin'.

Once Upon a Time, There was an Old Dame.........or Embracing the Sunrise

Oh grief, if only I had the energy and persistence that you exert in my life.  This may be one of my strangest blogs to date, but I opened this can of chaos and there’s no point in trying to put the lid back on now.  If you are one of my friends and care, you’ll understand.  If you’re curious, I hope you find it enlightening and at the least entertaining.  And I suppose I don’t really care what anyone else thinks.  This is my story, my thoughts, my decision to share.

You see, I post and share more than many, many people would/do.  I think the reason for this is twofold.  I have no one at home to talk to.  Social media has given me some interaction that otherwise wouldn’t be available.  It has saved me from despair on more than one night and brought much joy on many more than that.  I also share, because I’m experiencing something that, if it were a sister or a best friend, co-worker, or even an acquaintance going through what I have, I would have no idea of how to be helpful and would probably totally botch things with the very best of intentions.  I’m not suggesting that my blog should be categorized as a “how to”, but I do want to offer insight.  And now that I think about it, I share for a third reason.  Other people HAVE gone through like experiences and aren’t as comfortable about opening up.  It’s also for them, with a hope that maybe occasionally something strikes a chord and you don’t feel as isolated as you normally do with your feelings and reactions. 

My intention has never been nor will ever be for anyone to feel sorry for me, to draw undue attention to myself.  I am just being me and sharing it for the entire world to embrace or reject.  Your choice and it really matters not to me as I have found it to be very therapeutic for myself.  I need to learn to be brave.  I need to learn that what I think and feel and believe is right for me.  And with that I can respect those who don’t understand, don’t agree.  I don’t believe we were ever meant to see eye to eye 100%.  How in the world would we ever grow in our thoughts and feelings if that were the case?

So, in order to get more to the point(s), I am realizing that my grief for my husband has begun to resurface, and been more to the fore than it had been since the death of my son.  I’m two years into this and gaining ground, but feeling the loss, at any given moment, for either, can still bring me to my knees.  But the sudden death of my son superseded the mourning I was doing for my husband without me even being aware of it.  I think it surfaces now because for one thing, it needs to be acknowledged.  I don’t believe in dancing around this.  I believe the most healthy way to survive these losses is to embrace them, allow them to embrace me and find my way back to life, a new and improved version for the incredible relationships that were shared.  I often cry on my way home from work because he won’t be at home when I arrive.  I remember the breadth of his shoulders and how I was so reassured by his strength, even when he was so very sick.  I remember his voice and his endearments and I yearn to be loved again.  Grief is love with no place to go.  Sigh.

If you know me well at all, you know that I can laugh and enjoy those around me.  You know that I am optimistic by nature.  And I’m proud and excited to say that I have recently achieved some milestones that let me know I am reawakening to a new and improved version of myself.  You see, these deaths for me have to have purpose and in my life that means a different perspective.  I have the privilege of continuing to live and in their honor and absence; I’d be remiss to not give it my best.  That is exactly the thought that crosses my mind every time I enter the gates of the National Cemetery where my son rests.  All of those stones tell a million stories and they all deserve the best we can offer for their sacrifice.  I don’t take that lightly.

But I digress.  I was skeptical when I heard stories of widows/widowers who wanted to remarry after having the happiest marriage, a devoted partner.  How in the world could anyone replace that partner?  I’m learning they don’t.  They were never meant to.  If you’re fortunate enough, someone else will come to you at a time when you have love to give, wisdom to share and an appreciation and zest for life.  Love is like lightning – in so many ways – but we’ll just talk about the myth.  It can strike the same place more than once.  The strikes hit the same place, yet never exactly the same; but it can happen.  One of the most beautiful things I remember seeing is a tree on the campus of Culver Academies that has lived through two lightning strikes and it bears the scars.  Yet it still buds, blossoms, provides shade, whispers in the wind, and sheds its leaves when the time is warranted for renewal.  That’s incredible.  That’s a beautiful thing.  I want to be that tree.

I’m not doing well in figuring out how to find someone who even wants to be friends.  There’s an entire blog that could be written about the horrors of online dating.  So many men my age want cover girl 40 somethings, or worse.  I can’t compete with that, nor do I want to.  The problem with those sites is they can’t look into my eyes, hear my tone of voice, and know I’m so much more than I can put in a “profile” or see in my picture.  I can’t tell you what I’ve had to wade through to finally arrange a coffee date with someone I just wanted to be friends with.  It was off, but it was okay.  If anyone thinks that is going to hurt me now, they’re sadly mistaken.

I’ve been working hard on myself personally.  I’ve finally begun to drop weight.  I’m exercising, eating healthily and returning to better habits.  That’s not to find a man.  That’s for my health and for my grandchildren, my son, my daughters-in-law and my family and friends.  Mainly it's for me. Maybe one day, some lucky man will just stumble along and be the lucky one to take advantage of the work I’ve put in! 

I suppose all this babbling just comes down to this.  I’ve hit another roadblock.  I’m lonely and I don’t know how to fix it.  I truly do just want to begin with a friend.  The only relationship worthwhile begins that way in my book.  But I want a friend willing to gather me in a hug, because he’s happy to see me or willing to comfort me.  I want someone who will grab my hand as we walk to point out the beauty of a hawk’s flight in the sky.  I want someone who will kiss my cheek as we say our goodbyes.  I do miss just being held. 

When I think of changing my life, even though I find it lonely, I wonder if there’s room for anyone permanently.  Now I only cook when I like, do what I want when I choose.  I suppose if the really right person came along, it would be worth it.  That all remains to be seen.  I haven’t been successful in even finding someone who wants to have coffee, so one thing at a time!  I suppose I’m looking in the wrong places, or maybe it’s just not God’s time.

So for now, I’ll pray for patience.  I don’t think my story is over.  I just want to share it with someone.  Maybe one day my white knight will come riding in on his charger.  His Harley would be okay as well!  Until then, I’ll fight the good fight and keep working on me.  One day, one step, one breath at a time.

Loss, Love, Lent

Lent is coming.  I want to do something meaningful this year.  It’s going to be difficult because I don’t think I’ve been able to stick with anything consistently for 40 days since “before”.  And honestly, I wasn’t all that good before that!  To me, Lent is a combo of sacrifices/self-improvement/spiritual growth.  Giving up candy is a sacrifice, a penance, if you will.  Nothing wrong with that, as there’s a good discipline in that and usually healthier for you.  Next is working on you and how you can improve yourself.  Maybe it’s for yourself, maybe it’s because you know you have a short temper, short on patience, need to exercise, need to listen better, need to read more, spend less time on social media or watching tv.  It could be one or ten of a million things.  And finally, I believe Lent warrants working on our spirituality.

So, I’m trying to consider how best I might observe Lent so that at the end of 40 days, I am not only renewed in my faith, but in my spirit and life.  Maybe I expect too much, but if we don’t believe in God and what miracles He can work, we’re not likely to be on the receiving end now, are we?

The sacrifice this year for me is easy to identify, but won’t be as easy to accomplish.  I cannot shop.  I cannot purchase one thing for me personally or for the house.  If I need a repair, that’s one thing, and I can still buy gifts for others.  But I must stick to wedding gifts, birthday gifts, no more “just because”.  So as far as killing time “window shopping” and coming home with items I don’t need, it’s long past time to stop.  Seriously.

I’m not sure which self improvement item to tackle.  The potential list is long.  Part of me thinks it needs to be something physical, as I struggle to get enough steps in, or the exercise that I need.  I know that if I accomplished more of that, I would not experience as much anxiety and would sleep better.  That alone would result in me being in a better frame of mind.  If I limited Social Media and the television, miracles could occur right on my very own street, I’m sure of it!

Spiritual growth.  That is more personal, but I believe it can also be very public.  Spirituality is not just your personal relationship with your God.  Spirituality is treating God’s creatures with love and respect.  Rich Mullins, Christian singer/songwriter once said “Spirituality is getting up and making your bed in the morning.  It is raking your neighbor’s leaves, or taking them cookies.”  I think it’s also about sharing your gifts that God gave you in the first place.  It’s about obedience; obedience to the Ten Commandments; obedience to the Golden Rule; obedience to what we know is right versus wrong in our hearts.  Through these exercises we will become a stronger spiritual being and closer to our God.  I love engaging with people who are often ignored and taken for granted; the person working the drive-through window, the bank teller, the bag boy at the grocery store, or even the cashier.  Those people are all performing a service for us.  Can we not be pleasant and gracious?  A smile and an acknowledgement goes a long way.

My point with all of this, is that I think that it all fits nicely into finding ways to manage my grief.  I know that things won’t always be as difficult as they are now.  I know that the grief will never go away.  I know, also, that there are ways for me to learn to manage better than I’m doing now.  But I’m going to plead that it’s been just two years so I officially only hold the status of a second grader, so don’t expect overly much.  But since God has perfect timing and Lent is less than a week away, it’s time for me to be ready.  I’ll let you know after Easter what I did and how I managed.  Hoping for miracles, but praying for persistence.  

Hearts, Dreams and Dragonflies

Wow.  What a week.  Incorporating changes at the rate of 0 to 60; euphoria, sorrow, delight, sadness, sentiments long forgotten, new opportunities, profound confusion, and crystal clarity have been the order of the week.

This is the anniversary week of when my son died.  Two years on Valentine’s Day.  I am alternately forever sad and delighted that his passing is marked by this day.  Most of you have heard the details before, but this day prior to his death already was special, full of memories, most wonderful, some very sad.  This was my father’s birthday.  My dad was a relatively quiet man, who was a tall, strong model, always professional, very talented, with a quick, dry wit and a bottomless pit of a heart for his family.  I never, EVER doubted his love for us, or the security of feeling safe with him there.  He adored us and it was mutual.  My father also struggled mightily, to the surprise of many, with his own confidence and self esteem.  I would never have realized that when I was young.  It was only after he was alone, a widower, that I understood the depths of his struggles.  I relate more than I ever thought I would, or would want to, now.  But I was proud that a man who loved us so fiercely had been a Valentine baby.  It just seemed to make sense to me.

My grandfather was buried on Valentine’s Day.  A sad occasion, to be sure, but somehow our family found comfort in benchmarking the occasion on a day for love.

My son went to heaven on Valentine’s Day.  I suppose, if you follow my way of thinking by now, if he was going to go, this was the perfect day for him to make his entrance to eternal love.  I remember so clearly, two years ago, February 14, 2015, a Saturday morning, just three months and two days after I lost my dear husband to pneumonia.  I was feeling sorry for myself, for being alone on this day marked for lovers.  I was missing him desperately, and everywhere I turned Hallmark, and every other merchant had plastered hearts, flowers and couples lost in each other’s eyes everywhere I turned.  I watched coworkers get flowers, I saw posts of tokens of love and sweet messages on Face book.  And I was at home alone, having my very own pity party, table for one.  I finally pulled myself together and decided that I was being ridiculous and that it was time to pull up my bootstraps and rejoice in the love that I had had with someone who I never thought I would find; someone I never dreamed could love me on a par beyond which I had ever known possible, and make me feel totally loved and secure.  But I had and I knew that many go through life never achieving that and that I was being selfish in my attitude.  So I put on a smile and didn’t know what I was going to do, but that I was going to make it a good day.

Then the phone rang.  And in what felt like slow motion, I experienced a pain that cannot be described; surreal, acute, deep, throbbing, wrenching, and complete.  I know I cried out.  I don’t think it was a noise I had ever made before.  It came from right inside the sanctuary of my heart, where those I love are locked securely inside.  I am told it was a sound like no other, as the pain that was never to have occurred in any parents life took hold.  Almost immediately, I became absorbed in a state of shock, as if I was shrouded in a giant cocoon that allowed me to be mobile, to speak, to respond.  It was like the first dressing on a very severe wound, in that it provided some safety and protection but it couldn’t stop all of the pain.  I wore that cocoon for a good year.  I have been shedding it bit by bit for about a year now.  When I think it is almost gone, I still find a piece of it tucked somewhere that I hadn’t looked since that day.  It’s like a scab.  Do you pick it off or let it heal and fall off itself.  I’ve done both and don’t know that there’s a difference.

I was told that the second year is the hardest.  That was from people who had only experienced one loss.  And now I’m juggling two.  When that cocoon of shock wears away, and the scabs are fading and leaving scars, you realize that this is fresh new skin.  It is extremely sensitive and has to still be protected.  Anything too harsh, like direct sunlight will burn and scar you.  So goes recovery.  New skin with new sensitivities, and all the while you thought when you got through your healing, everything would be normal.  But it’s not.  Logically it’s impossible, for you are changed.  You are scarred, you live a totally different life.  I’m not saying that it can’t be a good life.  I’m just saying that it’s a startling realization that you can’t go back to what it was, for what it was no longer exists. 

And who likes change?  Really.  Changing the furniture, the sheets, your clothes all are good things.  Changing how you operate in your life, how you cope, who you turn to, who you trust, who you thought you knew to be allies, and learning to lean on others when all you want is your own independence is not fun.  What you really want is for everything to be the way it was.

I have learned to do and handle many things over the past two years that I hadn’t had to do with the luxury of a loving husband.  I take pride in that.  I have learned to ask for help occasionally.  It’s hard, but it’s okay.  People want to help.  I am learning to let them.  I am working to do this with as much optimism and determination as possible.  I am on paper, independent (not financially, otherwise I would be living at the lake).  Some are even fooled into thinking I am strong.  The reality is, there are days, when you are living alone, sleeping alone, waking up alone, that the loneliness overcomes the best of us.  Make no mistake; I have more loving family and friends than I knew and they make a huge difference.  But sometimes you need to be folded into someone’s arms who is your first person in your life and you are theirs.  You want a kiss on the forehead, and a hand to hold.   

This year on Valentine’s Day, while the déjà vu of two years past did manifest, I tried to focus on what I have to be thankful for.  First was Chad, a wonderful son, husband and father who I love beyond life.  There are my sisters and their families, my daughters-in-law, grandchildren, extended family and friends.  And surprisingly, and extraordinarily touching, was hearing from Marines who served with Adam; some of which I know and some I’d never met.  And after two years they were still thinking of their brother in arms, remembering him, spot on in their descriptions of who he was.  What brought me to my knees was how well they knew him, how they ache at losing him just as I and others do.  They reached out and included me into a very special circle, in being respectful to the mother of their brother, their friend.  They made me smile through tears as they captured the very essence of who my son was.  I loved that they knew him so well. 

The list of what I have to be grateful for is long.  And one of the most important items on the list is that I have been loved well.  But at the end of the day, I realize the cocoon is slipping away from that other place that I didn’t realize that would still be so vulnerable.  That is the yearning for company; for companionship; maybe for another love. 

When you’ve known unconditional love from someone who was a friend, partner, love and rock, finding that again is not as simple as it might seem.  It might be easier if I were younger.  It might be easier if I were more fit.  It might be easier if I knew where to go to meet someone.  And the problem is that it can’t be just anyone.  It will need to be at least “someone”, which of course you understand what that means!  Someone who understands how much more there is to life than an online dating profile.  Someone else who knows the value of a true friendship, who understands that life is not what we thought it was going to be when we were younger; that has the wisdom of experience and the perspective that life experience brings.  I’m less interested in looks and more interested in someone’s heart and mind.  Oh!  And a lake house would be good!  Laugh with me, a girl can dream, right?

I don’t know what God has in store from me.  My yearning is not because I want to forget what I had with David, but because of what I had with him.  I can’t imagine not sharing the joy that remains in my life with someone again.  I need to prepare for that circumstance.  I also need to be proactive and go where I haven’t gone, so I can meet who I haven’t met.  Oh, it all sounds so simple on paper, doesn’t it?  The moral that I need to remember is, that life creeps up on you when you least expect it, good and bad.  So until then, I’m going to be working on some of my own personal goals, trying to continue to grow till the cocoon doesn’t fit anymore.  I want room for wings, beautiful, colorful wings.  Maybe I won’t be a butterfly, maybe I’ll be a dragonfly.  I kind of like that – beautiful but the name denotes strength and mystery.  And the best part is, they’re often found hanging around the lake!

To Every Thing There is a Season

I haven’t written for a while.  The holidays are recently over, my job has required extra time, my house has required extra time and I’ve put this off.  Not a really good idea.  When I don’t write, it’s as if one day I place a jewel on a shelf in a closet.  The next day, just a lot of junk gets put on top of it, and the next and the next.  Then on another day, another jewel manifests itself, but too busy, so in the closet it goes.  Lots of good stuff is getting buried in the mundane reality of life.  I know, I know, life is not mundane and I don’t really mean that it is.  Guess what my mood might be like today?  Did that just give it away?

On top of not using the God-given release of the written word, the sun has been hard to find, the weather is worse than unpredictable and I am headed into my worst season.  I’m not talking about summer, winter, spring and fall, but the seasons of my soul.  I am not sure what to call them (I bet one of those gems in the closet has some good ideas, but I don’t have time to dig those out right now).  I think there are more than four, but maybe not.  Let’s just guess that they may be called, joy, sorrow, optimism and realism.

I’m headed full force for the sorrowful season.  Adam’s 35^th birthday would be this coming Sunday.  Of all days, this may be the hardest.  You might think the anniversary of his death would be, and make no mistake, that one is no picnic in the park.  But somehow, for me, his birthday was just ours.  It began with just the two of us.  It was his day, and my joy.  His spirit fills me every day with wonderful memories.  I just read though, the most articulate definition of grief that has ever been written.  Grief is love with no place to go.  You see, I have more than enough love for everyone else that remains in my life.  Thank goodness the well of love springs eternal.  The problem is that the love I have for him no longer has a receptacle, no easy way for me to express it.  Going to a cemetery and staring at a beautifully proud headstone is not where he is, but it feels as if it is the last place I have to go to connect.  I find peace there, even though I know his soul has long left the frozen ground into which his body was interred.  There is something strangely comforting about being there.  But that still doesn’t solve the problem of what to do with the love I have for him alone. 

Along with the help of two of the best friends one could ask for, I won’t be alone next Sunday and they quietly stand shoulder to shoulder with me, one on each side of me, at the cemetery.  We will toast him and all of our children, for each one is precious and the beat in our mothers’ hearts.   They’ll help me deliver a birthday cake and his favorite meal to the homeless veteran’s shelter on his birthday in his name.  Family and other friends will remember him that day too, I know, and they share in my grief.  Today though, without warning, that grief has crept into my day and literally taken my breath, my joy and my composure.

I certainly am not the only person to suffer tragedy.  Many have suffered more than me.  But grief is not to be compared or measured.  There was no way in the world to measure the depth of love for Adam or for Chad, therefore I am not able to quantify the depth of grief and sorrow I have some days.  Just out of the clear blue – check that, gloomy, wet sky.

It’s like a thief in the night.  Creeping in quietly, approaching you so you have no way to anticipate its arrival.  And then it’s like what I imagine drowning must be.  Fighting so hard to reach the surface, to find a place where you can breathe and everything will be alright again.  And then, when you’ve saved yourself, you lay exhausted.  And the reality hits – you are here, you could save yourself, but failed in doing what was necessary to save your child.  Isn’t that a mother’s job?  To keep her children safe at all costs?  I know that is not a valid statement for what transpired, for there is no way I can control what goes on in another adult’s life, even my son’s.  But you see, to me he was and will always be my little boy.  My mind sometimes plays the horrible game called “If Only, What If, and Why Didn’t I”.  Horrible because no one can ever win playing that game, yet sometimes I still get drawn into it.

I’m not crazy either that just three weeks after his birthday is Valentine’s Day, which for more reasons than I want to count is not a sweet day for me.  My dad was born that day; my grandfather was buried that day.  My son died that day and I no longer have my own sweetheart to be at my side that day.  I’ll figure out ways to make those days meaningful and will get by and through.  I just needed a little written therapy.

And I do thank God that to everything there is a season.  They come and go and each have value and are necessary.  What do you know?!?!?!  I think I just unearthed one of the jewels in the closet.