June 12, 2020

I don’t know….

Three years ago today – at 5:08 exactly.  It is now 7:45PM. I’ve been looking at old photos of Glenn and me, rereading what I wrote after THAT day.  Emotions are roiling, there is not enough wine to soothe, or cookies or anything else. 

I took a drive today – attempting to find the place along the Mississippi River that I found a couple of years ago – to scatter some of Glenn’s ashes. But I never did. Four hours of driving up and down the Great River Road only to end up at the Hennepin Canal.  And that was perfect – another one of his favorite places.

 Three years. Attempting to try to lead a normal life.  WTF does that mean? Beats me.  Especially these last 3 months with the pandemic.  Unsettling time to be sure – and no one here to talk to about it. No. One.  ‘Cuz it goes without sayin’ Hunter doesn’t really care.

But  -  I still feel lost, not sure what it is I’m supposed to be doing. Not sure what my life is supposed to look like.  I still put one foot in front of the other and carry on – but barely.

As I was rereading what I written back in 2017 and even before and since, it was all I could do not to sob uncontrollably - tears were there for sure.  This is supposed to get easier.  Right?  RIGHT? And on the surface maybe it is, but underneath – not so much. And I don’t know what to do about it. I cook, I clean, I walk Hunter, I pay the bills, I even do some volunteer work and am thinking about more.   But there is still this huge empty space that begs to be filled – but nothing works. It all just seems like busywork.

And I don’t know what to do about it.

I know I’m not the only person to live alone after a long relationship ends (regardless of how)… nor will I be the last.  So this isn’t about that. I’m still struggling.  As a wise friend said the other day – ‘Vicki its only been 3 years…’  

And I don’t know what to do about it.

Does it ever get better?   I have to admit, the pain is not as raw as it was at the beginning… And maybe it will never get better… maybe this is a good as it gets.  Somehow, this isn’t what he and I talked about in our ‘what if’ conversations.

This reality is not the stuff of ‘what if’ conversions.   

I just don't know.

And I don’t know what to do about it.

July 26         grief revisited

I’m sitting on the deck, or was a moment ago, and I notice a single leaf floating down from some unknown tree onto the gutter of my house. And of course, my mind goes catawampus and I think…

The leaf is obviously no longer alive – it is disconnected from its life source – the branch that it was once attached to. It is dis-abled. Dying. Almost dead. Does the tree that gave it life grieve?  I have no idea. But I do know that grief takes many forms and is a response to many deaths and losses. Loss of a loved job – or even a well-paying one.  Loss of a friendship, for whatever reason. Death of a loved one – sibling, parent grandparent, friend, spouse, to name a few. But of late I’m also experiencing the loss of physical ability. I’m not dis-abled as some are. I can still get in my car - move somewhat freely - do some of my former activities.

But….not well. And with a modicum of pain all the time. A small amount compared to some – but this is not a pissing contest.  My physical struggles are uniquely my own - and so I grieve for what once was. So - add this to the grief I still feel for Glenn’s death and I am almost  always at a loss. My hip replacement has not healed to my satisfaction and I have a degenerative disc issue with my back.  Simple movements are a challenge and often painful.  But I persevere - I do what I must - and then some.

But I grieve nonetheless. For all of what was – Glenn, my health and mobility – my youth - my ability to move my body as even a 50 something could.

Is grieving about the death of something? Yes – but not always the death of a beloved person.  It could be, and often is, the death of an ability.   

So, what to do. I suppose count my blessings – and they are many (in spite of my current attitude). But learning of a new way to live is not easy – I think it might be like moving to a foreign country where you don’t know the culture or the language. 

I’m still learning this language and culture of grief.  It’s been 2 years plus.  I had read somewhere that the second year is harder than the first.  And I believe that. But I’m also thinking that year 3 will be no picnic either…  at least not for me.

Does all this sound negative? I suppose it does. But that is where I am.  For now. 

Grieving losses.

A Still point

July 17, 2019

 It’s evening. The lights along the sidewalk are on, the lights along the edge of the driveway are starting to light up.  The air is very still - no movement among the leave of the trees.  Lightning bugs flicker here and there.

A time of transition.  That edge between now and later – what was and what is to come.

The still point.  A threshold.

And isn’t it like that every day? Dark to light at dawn – light to dark at days end.

Each day is – wait for it – a new beginning! A threshold for what is to come.

https://www.google.com/url?The Still Point AJournal

And I hope. That the next day will be better than the last – and sometimes it is.

And if I’m honest – it is more often than not.  That’s not to say each day doesn’t have its challenges.  Empty time, nowhere to be, no responsibilities, except for Hunter (and he can fill my entire days agenda.)

But still – a threshold to something new  -  unexpected – surprising – delightful.

The song of a cardinal on the fence, lightening bugs flickering at dusk, even the chipmunk making wreaking havoc in my flower beds.   (Or someone is burring deep in the dirt).

The threshold – between now and later – between now and then, which if you stop to think about it – is very Lutheran – now and not yet.   Both/And.

The twixt and between.

But for tonight at least – a still point. Which is some traditions is where one meets God.  I‘m  not sure I’m ready for that – I’m still not sure where I am on this whole God thing…… but that’s for a different day….

For now – a still point. Period.

House Keeping

July 12, 2019

And I am sitting, or was, on the front porch, thinking about all that I have accomplished over the past 25 months.  If one could call it accomplishment….

And I was noticing that the solar lights that I planted at the end of the driveway were actually working…

And so stream of consciousness….… and I was thinking of all of the housekeeping details that I/we all attend to everyday – and me especially these last 25 months.

What does it mean to ‘keep’ house??

Vector Stock Photo

The gardens get weeded, lawn mowed, snow removed in due season, rugs get vacuumed, garbage taken out, toilets cleaned, dishes washed, sheets changed..  Hunter gets feed and walked, usually… well, feed always, walked usually.

The things of daily responsibilities are taken care of.  Is that all there is?  Just doing what is required, expected?

So what does it mean to ‘keep house’?

Keep it hospitable for guests/friends who stop by unannounced (that rarely happens).

Keeping things neat and orderly for me? Why? Maybe, because thanks to my mother, I don’t like cutter…

Hunter doesn’t really care - at least I don’t think he does… he’s never really said…

Keeping house – keeping a safe place? A sanctuary? A place of solitude? My home has always been this.

Once upon a time I did, without really thinking about it, make sure our home was a place of refuge. For both of us. I never really thought about it – I just did it. And now? A refuge from what? Loneliness? Grief? Fear?  Sadness? Since those feelings are my constant companion how do I escape from them?  There is no refuge.    There is no housekeeping to alleviate those emotions. It’s more a matter of just doing what needs to be done – going through the motions.

What I do is not keeping house for some lofty purpose – only survival. And I wish it were not so.

TBC

July 15, 2019

I’ve been thinking more about this… sitting on the porch in what is now my swing – and thinking  - which I probably do too much.

Keeping house – cleaning out closets, which I did yesterday.  Making thing neat. Orderly. Even throwing many things away. Which I didn’t’ do much of when it was him and me – and of course he never did.  There are boxes in the basement of all the greeting cards he ever received – from day 1 – and of course mine to him are ALL there as well. A box of mementos of our early years – dating and honeymoon and first years of marriage.  And so what to do?  House keeping – or house cleaning? Is throwing away destroying memories? Pretending they don’t exist? Leaving it for someone else to throw away after I’m dust and gone?

I know I’m not the first with this dilemma – nor will I be the last – but for me it is all new.  I did donate more of his clothes (and some of mine) to a good cause… but there is still more that I can’t bear to part with – yet.

And so I ponder – house keeping or house cleaning.  Am I keeping memories live? Or living in a fantasy world where I would wish this all away?

Beats the hell of out me…………….

Calm After The Storm

July 9, 2019

On Friday it will be 25 months -two years and one month... June 12, 2017, 5:08 PM

Nothing has changed and yet everything has………

I love the time before a storm.... everything stills, the air is quiet, the leaves don’t move. It seems as if time stands still before the onslaught of rain and wind and whatever Mother Nature throws at us…
 And then the storm – often violent - wind lashing against trees - flowers come off of their stems - Hunter is in the basement.

And so is life.  My calm was 38 years of marriage to a beloved spouse.  And that is not to say we didn’t have ‘moments’, or that nothing went wrong… it did.

But overall, it was the calm before the storm.

And the storm began the day he died, without warning, unexpectedly,  suddenly, tragically.  

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And the storm has been raging in one way or another ever since.  And so add to that my own physical issues, making mobility sometimes a challenge, pain my constant companion.

Losses?  You bet.  In droves.

So what? You might ask... everyone has  issues at one time or another… and yup, can't argue with you when you are right.

But this is my story. This is my life now and I am trying to make sense of it. Still. And probably for a long time.

Awhile ago a friend asked me if I was happy.  And without even thinking I said no. NO. I. AM. NOT.  I do on occasion experience delight, even joy… Hunter makes me laugh, the sounds and eye candy of nature bring delight… gathering with friends and family are certainly enjoyable, my travels are a delight most of the time.

But true happiness? No.

 I am not happy – and I don’t know if I ever will truly be. Sadness  is now an integral part of my life.

Why? you might ask.  Because the source of my happiness died 25 months ago and I have not found a replacement.

Period.

And so you might say, was it all tied up in someone else?

Yes and no – in the relationship? Yes. In how he made me feel most of the time? Yes.  In our life together? Yes.

And for someone who thought of themselves as so fiercely independent, this was and is huge. I never expected that this is how I would respond to marriage… but I did. AND/BUT – he let me be me.  That was huge.

But now?  Who am I without this anchor? How do I recreate that fiercely independent person?

That would be the calm that comes after the storm…

Because, now, it is all storm…….

seasons

The seasons are changing – today is the first day of autumn. The vibrant greens of spring are morphing into the common denominator of gold and orange … the greens diminishing as they turn toward winter.

Shadows are lengthening – they are not the same as ‘before’ – as in the shadows of spring and summer… they are different somehow…

I see all this as I sit on the porch – something I did all summer as evening turned into night – and the stars came out to play.

It is getting cooler now – a shawl is necessary – but so is the glass of wine… one more for the road…

Grief, however, knows no season… it has been 15 months - and it still seems, sometimes, like yesterday.  As I wake up in the morning,  the furry four legged creature next to me is obviously not Glenn.  A comfort – yes – but not Glenn.   And I still wonder – Why?

But there is also the 'why not?'  I’m not special – this happens to many – most married couples, actually.  Someone dies first. Someone always goes first.  But it was supposed to be me.  This time, first that is.

 But no, not this time.  And I still grieve.   And I think I always will.

And while I has been 15 months – and my life has taken on it’s own momentum, it is not what I want. But then we don’t always get what we want. Or need.  We get what life throws at us.   Is it God’s doing? I’m not sure I can go there… why would God take away a happiness?  Why would God take away a person in the prime of their life?  What can Glenn do in heaven (assuming that is where he is) that would benefit anyone here on earth? Aren’t there enough ‘angels’ up there already?

September is a difficult month – many friends and family have died in this month – and I grieve for them as well.

But I have to admit, I also grieve for my loss of physical ability.  Nothing special -just old age arthritis and it’s sundry complications. ‘Old people’ stuff – no biggy… But I grieve for what was - in many ways.

Is it any wonder that it is all coming home at the same time? Probably not. You know - mind- body connection?

And so it is.

Grief – in all of its many forms is overwhelming. I sometimes wonder how to get through the day. It is often a struggle.  And, yes, memories are great – but they don’t keep you warm at night.  I’ve never been one to live in the past – but the reality of ‘now’ is not to my liking…

But there are moments of ‘Okay”.  Traveling with Hunter, as long as he doesn’t bark in the car… a walk along the river front with my Dude,  in perfect weather -  friends to help when needed – neighbors stopping by to say hello – family checking up on me every so often.

And – so yes – there are moments - sometimes, even days, when it is ‘okay’.  Never great – but just okay.

And I guess I have to be satisfied with that for the time being. Until??

I don’t know …

Maybe when the platitudes stop being platitudes and start being real….

a conundrum...

A lot of random thoughts have been traversing through my brain these last few weeks – some irrational – some down memory lane – some just plain confusion – some just a sense of helplessness.

Glenn loved non-parels - the candy (right after rivers and hotdogs!). And so a couple of years ago I made a batch for him for Christmas.  A couple of pieces every so often – usually after dinner was enough. And so I now have a container half full of candy that I will never eat as I don’t eat much candy…

So – what to do with it. Do I throw it all away? Keep it forever as a ‘momento’’? Put it on cardboard and shellac it?

His bathrobe is still handing on the hook in the bathroom – I wear it sometimes – what to do? Put it way?

His ties are still on the back of the closet door. When is it time to get rid of them?

Most of his clothes I’ve given away – but not all - and so when is it ok to get rid of the rest?

And what about all the souvenirs and momentos of our life together – and his life before me? Letters from his mother while at college, childhood toys, all of the ‘stuff’ one collects throughout a lifetime.  Every greeting card he ever received – going back to the beginning of time? In boxes in the basement – he really didn’t like to throw things away…is it sacrilege to toss it?

I don’t need the space – but is it time to clean it all out?

The books he was reading and his Bible are still on his nightstand…

Drawers full of his ‘stuff’. Old cameras, studs and cummerbund (which my mother made) for his tux – gloves and winter scarves… what to do?

I don’t know and so I do nothing.  I suppose I’ll know when the time is right – but what if it never is? Living in a museum is not healthy…

I suppose I could just leave it for  the nieces and nephew to deal with – but that’s assuming I never move from here… which poses another conundrum – when will it be time to downsize once again and move out? I’m hoping never. But ya never know….

And so I wonder – not just about who I am now and what to do with my life – but the details. The daily stuff.

But I have learned that I can travel with Hunter and be ok.  I can walk into a restaurant and ask for a table for one…..I’d rather not – but ya gotta eat…

And I have noticed that there are many who do this - eat alone in public. Men and women both – single and alone for, I’m sure, a variety of reasons. Hunter doesn’t know the difference but I do.

It ‘s been 15 months – and the last 8 have been the worst. Harder even than last year.  Maybe ‘cuz the numbness is gone and reality has set it in. And I’m convinced that my emotional state has had an impact on my physical being. All of my arthritis issues have come to a head this year – and so I attempt to navigate treatment options.  Back, hip, knees – movement is often difficult and slow.  Medical treatment can only do so much - but unfortunately, I don’t know how to remedy this. Drugs and alcohol are an option, albeit not a good one.   At least not long term!

So……..a conundrum…a Chinese puzzle box for which there is no answer…

At least not today.

hummingbirds....

A hummingbird at the feeder

It is obvious that the season is changing. We are at the end of summer and the beginning of fall.  I know this - not because of the calendar – or the changing of the green in the landscape - but the hummingbirds. 

They are flocking – if 4 or 5 could be a flock – around the feeder all day long. Not just in the morning or evening – but continuously throughout the day. They don’t do this in early to mid-summer.  Since there is plenty to eat aside from the feeder, I only see them in morning and evening. Usually.

But not now.

They are flocking – feeding as if to gather enough sweet calories for the long haul to where ever they go next.

Summer is over – another season under my belt. I’m not sure how to feel about this.  Life has it’s seasons – I’m not even sure which one I’m in – but summer it ain’t.

I don’t want to think it’s winter already – but certainly autumn – the autumn of my life?

Ouch.

The thing is – we were supposed to do this together.  You know the rocking chairs on the porch thing.

Hunter doesn’t do so well in a rocking chair, but as a travel companion he did just fine.   We had some good moments – I had some neat experiences – memories to keep.  And we’ll do it again next week….

I’m not sure where I’m going with this, except that the reality of ones’ life doesn’t always match the hopes and dreams. Maybe it never does.

But we plug along – one foot in front of the other – meeting friends for dinner (tonight), friends who offer to help with physical ‘issues’.  And then being there for someone new who is just starting the journey you are in the middle of….. Maybe that’s all that we can count on – at least for awhile – friends helping friends  -  slogging through the mud slide of life. Journeying from one season to another as best we can.

Storing up sweet calories for the journey. As best we can.

roast chicken...

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A typical day – nothing unusual. Had lunch with fellow clergy women – ran a few errands - made dinner – pulled out a recipe that is always successful – roast chicken on bread salad (look it up – it’s awesome!). 

Watching the news and then Sheldon as I ate. What else is there to do between 6 and 7?

I’m halfway through my dinner and I realize, again, that I am eating alone. And I don’t like it one bit. Actually – I hate it.

And I think – ‘I will never get used to this…’  Yet I know, Hunter is always here – but it is not the same.  And its not like I can invite someone over every single night – that’s not gonna happen. Friends, family have their own lives to live. I’m only the center of my own universe – not theirs.

And maybe that’s why I want to travel - every night has to be different – ‘cause you’re not at home…it’s always a new adventure. You have to do it different…

So – why can’t that be the ‘norm’ at home?  Every night a new adventure? Well, I don’t know…. Why indeed.

I guess it’s just hard when you are by yourself.  Not always lonely, just alone.  And for an introvert by trade – that’s still a big deal.

When Glenn and I would have these ‘What if’ conversations, it never dawned on me that I would be the one to deal with all of this. It was theoretical – not real. I was supposed to go first…

And because he was always more social than I am – it made sense (not to mention my family history).

So – what to do……

My upcoming excursion will be a test… a week on the road – and yes there will be family at some point – but for the most part it will be me and Hunter. So we will have road trips to see the scenery – walks whenever we can.  Which for Hunter is always. And which I’m sure Hunter won’t mind. And truth be told, neither will I.

However…… Will I ever get used to this? It‘s beginning to seem like never.

And as I sit here – Hunter climbs into my lap – he knows me better than I do, I think. And it is good – but still – eating alone is not.

No matter how good the recipe.