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.

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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??

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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…….