Yeah – I know, it’s been awhile.  At a meeting this morning, the devotions shared focused on wilderness … as in the place where Jesus went, the place where it is wild and untamed.  The dictionary defines it as an uncultivated, uninhabited, and inhospitable region. And according to the internet, it comes from Old English wildēornes ‘land inhabited only by wild animals,’ from wild dēor ‘wild deer’ + -ness.

But I guess inhospitable works best… certainly not inhabitable – because I have been inhabiting it for the past few months – and especially the last few weeks.

I used to like the idea of untamed – a wild place where one went voluntarily -  to get away from it all – to ‘find oneself.’ Not so much right now. It is not a place that I choose.

These past few weeks, since Thanksgiving actually, have been a wilderness – an untamed place where I don’t want to be. It is not comfortable – it is not wanted – it is not what I want for myself.  But if truth be known – this wilderness started on June 12 at 2:30 on a Monday morning.

These last few weeks have been firsts – firsts without Glenn.  Granted, family (and friends) has been up front and center – but that is not the same.  The first Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years Eve, my birthday, an overseas trip – alone.

Did I manage? Of course. Did I like it?             No.

A wild place  – untamed, inhospitable. Emotions running rampant – too many to even identify – but I’ll try.  Sadness and sorrow. Loneliness.  Anger. Fear. Anxiety. But most of all – no one to share the day to day stuff with. 

I went to Guam to visit a friend.  We were paired up through Big Brother Big Sisters way back when – she was 7. And she remembered a time when we had gone out to eat – probably McDonalds – and I let her order her own meal.  For her that was huge – no one had ever let her do that before.  And I was touched.  What I assumed was normal – for her was not.  But I had no one to share that moment with – and as in tuned to my moods as Hunter can be – he was 7000 miles away.  And Glenn was even further…………..

No one to share the daily stuff with.   I miss that in a way that I never thought possible.

‘Miss Independent’, ‘I can do it myself, thank you very much’….that girl is no longer.

But I am no longer a girl.

So, yes, I have entered a wilderness time in my life…there are no instructions – no how to book… no self-help book… just my own flalings and mis-starts and mis-steps. That wild place where one goes to ‘ find oneself’.  Well, I certainly need finding – I’m as lost as can be.

And I don’t like it one bit.  I suppose I never will.  But I really have no choice but to suck it up, buttercup, and get on with it.  And so I do. With the loyal Hunter by my side or in my lap.

Yet even now – 7 months into this wilderness journey – the tears come unbidden – falling on the desk as I write, or wherever I happen to be.  Grief overwhelms me and there is not a damned thing I can do about it.

Wilderness -  that wild untamed place – uninhabitable – inhospitable. A place that I don’t want to be.  But I imagine, Jesus didn’t either. At least I’m not tempted to throw myself off a cliff… so I guess if He can do it, I can to.  Maybe. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

Christmas Day 2017

There are at least a ½ dozen squirrels playing leap frog and chasing each other all over the backyard, leaving trails in the snow. The cardinals, in pairs, are feeding at the bird feeder as if it were their last meal. Steam is rising from the heated water bowl. 

It's Christmas morning – and the world outside my window is as it should be – quiet, sunny, snow covered as if  powdered sugar exploded all over everything.

By this time of the morning there should be open boxes with gifts spilling out of them, piles of torn wrapping paper everywhere – ribbons and bows a jumble on the floor – a merry mess – coffee cake crumbs littering the table next to the half drunk cups of coffee, the egg bake already in the oven.  And the pups sprawled out on top of this glorious disarray.

But not today -  it is not as it should be. Six plus months and I still have a hard time believing that he is gone forever… 

The tears have a mind of their own - they come and go as they will – there is no stopping them.  The sorrow is so deep – sadness is a permanent part of me – and I suspect will remain deep in my soul til I breathe my last.

In all fairness, though, I have been comforted by the most unlikely people – friends of friends, my new church family, friends old and new.  And I am grateful. It helps, but doesn’t erase the grief. Nothing can. Not today. Probably not ever.

Somehow I thought that I would be able to sail through Christmas without a second thought, or at least with minimal angst.  Wrong.

Glenn loved Christmas. He was the one that always put up the outside lights and decorations -  Santa snuggling the angel.  He was the one that always put the lights on the tree that we would cut down together.  He would always help with the gift buying and even the wrapping. He was the one that got the Christmas cards addressed and signed.

He was the one who would always wrap 2 lumps of coal for me to exchange for a thoughtful gift.  He was good at picking out gifts that he knew I would like ( well, most of the time!) He was the one who would put an orange and nuts in my stocking because that’s what my mother used to do.

Its not fair – not fair that the stockings hanging on the mantle will not be filled – well, except for Hunter’s… there is no one to fill mine with coal, oranges and nuts.  No need to fill his and Vespa and Rocky won’t need any more chew toys either.

It’s not fair that the cards I receive now are addressed only to me. The ones I give, signed with one name….

It’s not fair that it’s so quiet I can almost hear the ghostly footsteps of dogs and spouse no longer here……

But grief and sadness do not know of fairness – I know that, but still…………I know I’m not alone in this – but still…………it’s not fair.

In fact, it’s got wrong written all over it………..

But I will spend time with family today – sharing laughter and maybe tears - a meal together. A communion of sorts…and we will remember those who are no longer with us ....and they are legion…..

Is this how Mary felt on the 1st anniversary of her son’s birth after his death?

I imagine she did.

Dignity................

Today we would have been married 471 months – but we will not celebrate this achievement.  Glenn died on June 12, 2017 – 6 months and 4 days ago. Less than a  month after his 66th birthday.

Glenn died – I did not ‘lose’ him.

I’ve ranted about this before, but it seems that the further I travel on this journey of mourning, the more intolerant I am of not speaking the truth or hearing it.

Every time I hear, or read posts, or commentaries on grief, regardless of where they are, or who wrote them, stating that the loved one is ‘lost’, I get flippin’ mad. It’s like nails on a chalkboard.

‘Why?’ you might ask.  So let me explain. Before I begin, the disclaimer is this – if this offends you, don’t read any further.

 To talk about the death of a loved one as something we have ‘lost’ does death a disservice. That’s one. Second, our deceased loved one is not an object that one can ‘lose’, like as library book, or a set of keys.

And third, we are not being honest with our language, nor are we respecting the dignity of death.

Allow me to explain.

When we (that’s all of us) claim that a loved one is lost it implies two things – first, that somehow, we are responsible for the loss.  If we lose our keys, it is through our own carelessness.  We set them down and didn’t pay attention to where we put them – That’s on us… My bad as we used to say.

So to say that ‘I have lost my husband…’ somehow implies that I was responsible for the loss.  And that is absurd.  I am not responsible for his death.  I did not cause it, it is not my fault. Bad things happen to good people – shit happens.

And second, this terminology objectifies our deceased loved one.  He or She becomes an object, a thing.  And you and I know that our loved ones are not things, they were people with whom we shared our lives.  Our loved ones are not objects. They were living, breathing human beings. And as such deserve our respect.

And third. I feel strongly, that as a society, and even as a church, we do not honor dying and death with the dignity that it deserves. We do not do a good job of talking about it before it happens. We do not, as a whole, plan well. We do not prepare others or ourselves for the inevitability of death. We don’t have the ‘what if’ conversations. ( we did have these conversations, and often). We don’t allow ourselves to recognize our own mortality. We keep a stiff upper lip and pretend that we are strong when we are not. And so when it happens, we use all of the euphemisms that we can conjure up to avoid the pain of talking about it and dealing with it head on.  We blindly assume that we are immortal – or 'I’ll get to it later'….'or I don’t want to upset ……………….(fill in the blank) by talking about dying…

We are not honest with our language – we are not honest about expressing our feelings… “ I’m fine , thank you very much…’, even when we are not. Not only is this unhealthy from a psychological perspective, it is also unhealthy from a spiritual perspective.

Have we suffered a loss? Yes – the loss of a relationship that was meaningful and important – but we have not  ‘lost’ our loved one. At least in the Christian faith, we should know where they are anyway – with God eternal, however you want to define that.

If we, as Christians, believe that God is with us no matter what our journey, if this God is a comfort and a strength, full of mercy and grace, why are we afraid to talk about dying and death?  It is inevitable – no one gets out of this life alive.

And so, to treat our loved ones as inanimate objects, to presume responsibility for their death, to not honor the dignity of death, to not be truthful with our language, is on a fundamental level, disrespecting life as well.

This journey of grief and mourning is the hardest thing I have ever done. But I will not demean or disrespect my husband’s life, or anyone else’s, by disrespecting their death.

And so I will call out (with love, of course!) anyone who uses language that I feel is dishonest. I will do what I can.  And yet having said all of this, I know that most people are trying to be a comfort - they are not trying to be disrespectful  - they just don't know what else to say. All the more reason to have these conversations.

Glenn’s life – and the lives of your loved ones - deserves no less.

Hunter reads my mind.............

‘…at the edge of understanding…’ that’s part of what the intro to my blog says…like at the edge of a river, lake, like Jesus often at water’s edge… at the edge of understanding.

I’m still a long way from understanding any of this.

Because this is NOT getting any easier….5 ½ months and it is not any easier – in fact it seems harder some days.

It’s the little things these last few days… His Pandora station with Sinatra crooning love songs – had to turn it off.
Remembering dancing in the living room to those same songs once upon a time…
Conversations about not nothing…
Always asking him what he wanted for dinner…

But then eating dinner alone – again…
       
This past weekend, Thanksgiving, was #2 of the 3 significant days this year without Glenn.  Our 39th anniversary in September – got through that. Thanksgiving – got through that. Thanksgiving with family was good. But…there was an obvious gaping hole in the festivities…Thanksgiving is not such a little thing, it is/was my favorite holiday, but I got through it with  a struggle. And yes, I remember being told that if your life is complex so is your grief – but that is not helpful … not now.

I don’t know if I can do this anymore – and yet I know I must… live life by doing it, I was told once. Easy for you to say, I think to myself - you didn’t just say goodbye to your life partner….

And now Christmas is rearing up and I don’t know if I can do it… I did put out a few decorations – but without the requisite Christmas music in the background – always the same 5-6 CD’s with Bing Crosby and the Nutcracker Suite – but not this year…There is a tree, actually 2 small ones clustered together. I can’t do what we always did.  Outside decorations? No one is coming over anyway – so why bother….

But I did order Christmas gifts for family – so are the “I did this’s…’ enough to offset the ‘I don’t know if I can do this anymore’?

It’s a crap shoot.  I do know my heart is not in it… if I could find a place to hide til sometime next year I would.  And yet – I also think about going back to the places we traveled to once upon a time – but why?  Ya can’t refry an omlette…

I’ve thought about making new traditions – that’s helpful and healing, right? Like travel to altogether new places?  Doing the holidays differently – maybe it won’t hurt so much if it is new…? No harm in trying, I guess…

And I am back to work – so I have to pay attention to the liturgical season – Advent. A season of waiting expectantly for the miraculous to happen – and so do I. Wait for the miraculous to occur, that is…healing, a sense of peace….

That would truly be a miracle – to set aside the sadness that I think will be my constant companion from that day to forever…there are no emojis to capture the emotion………


“Hey Human?”
“Yes, Hunter?”
“ I heard you thinking………..
“Really – you heard me thinking?   How could you know – I was writing, not talking out loud!!”
“Well, I’m pretty smart that way…”
“Ok, so?”
“Well, you know, you are never really alone….‘cuz you have me!!!”
“Well, yea, I know that, Hunter… And you are a presence to be dealt with!
“And I make you laugh…and I keep you warm in the morning…”
“Yes, Hunter, you surely do.”
“So what’s the rub?”
“Well, it’s still hard to wrap my head around the fact that my special human is not here – I miss him…”
“How about you invite people here who have no place to go? Or maybe help other pups that don’t have a human?
“How about I just help other humans who have no special human? You’d be ok with that wouldn’t you?”
“Well, yeah!!  I love people!!”
“Yes, Hunter, I know you do…”
“Maybe you’re on to something… let’s work on this…………….”
“OK, I’ll go answer the door…!!”

Maybe………

Raw.............

I know, it’s been awhile - but today is 5 months and 4 days, but who’s counting?   It would have been 470 months married today.  My head has been disconnected – but my heart is still a mushy mess.

Raw - like a half-baked chicken or a bitter onion – this is supposed to get a bit easier – a bit less like a war zone – a bit less…period.

But it is not.

Floods of water cascading down my face at odd moments-ouch.

A snippet of a song…ditto.

An empty gnawing at my heart – this isn’t the way it was supposed to be…. I still can’t wrap my head around this – is this how I will feel forever? That’s a long time.  And forget about walking hand in hand with Jesus along the golden cobblestones – I can’t go there - not yet. Will sadness define me for the rest of my life? I think so…but I hope not.

A workshop on self-care meant to be healing – but it is not. How can I engage in self-care when there is no self to care for? Not literally, obviously, but figuratively. My self was wrapped up in us. There is no one to hold me accountable… Hunter is good, but not that good, well except for the needed walk….

And now? Who cares if I eat my veggies – or drink enough water – or drink less – or sleep more – or exercise more – or………….

Raw – like a half-baked chicken…..ick.

Yet, in spite of all of that – it’s back to work I go……Healing? I hope so.
Comforting? Maybe. An escape from myself? Maybe. A focus on something outside of me? Yes.

So healing?  I hope so.

But still – raw – like half-baked chicken.   Ick.

“but you still have me...’ says the wise Dude, as he curls up at my feet under the desk.
“yes, I know, Hunter and I hope for a long time…but I also know life can change in an instant – nothing is guaranteed…”
“well, I’ll try not to do anything stupid, but you know, we think about stupid differently… what seems right to me seems stupid to you…”
“yes, I know, Dude… which is why I’m always calling you back in the house…”
“and why I always answer – and come in even when I don’t want to…”
And, yeah, I know – there should be no shoulds… but we do them anyway…”

But, yeah, raw – like half baked chicken……………….ick.

Glenn was always good about coming up with lyrics to meet the demands of the moment – and so there is this…
Barbara Mandrell (one of his favorites)  ‘Sleeping Single in a Double Bed’.

Yup –pretty much sums it up…………. raw………

Hunter wonders .....................

The Dude...

“Human ?”

“yes Hunter – Dude?”

“you’ve been gone a lot lately…”

“yes, I know… I’ve gone back to work…”

‘Why”

“well, cuz,  I need to, Hunter…  I need to be with people, and I need to have something important to do…”

“So…… I’m not important?”

“ Well of course you are – but I can have more than one ‘important’…”

“Oh….”

“So  - how often will you be gone?”

“ Not all that much, really,  a couple of mornings or afternoons a week and Sunday morning…. We’ll still have time for walks and snugs  and ball in the backyard…………and all of that -  even a car ride if you don’t bark…”

“oh – ok – I guess…….you’re sure you won’t forget me – or leave me alone too long?”

“Of course not, how could I forget you?   It’s you and me against the world now…cuz our other special human isn’t here anymore and neither is Vespa…”

“I know – I miss them too…   even though I don’t show it….”

“ Yeah… it does get kinda quite around here – even when you bark…”

“Just doin’ my job, Human…”

“I know, Hunter…………….. me too.”

a new spin on stewardship..........[

Yes, it’s Halloween, and yes, it’s been a weird day.   A cloak of undefined and unexplainable fear keeping me wrapped no matter where I go. Maybe it’s the thought of going back to work – not sure I’m ready – and not sure I’m not.

Maybe it’s the overwhelming thought of taking care of the stuff that all of a sudden demands attention – like the smoke detector battery buzzing at 1:30 in the morning… Really? 1:30 AM?  Like it couldn’t wait til 7:00AM? Of the water softener on the fritz, or the car needing an oil change, or……….fill in the blank.  Difficult? No – But the, once again, realization that I have to do it myself.

pinterest

Add to this mix a niece (out of state) with  serious health issues. Add to this the upcoming holidays (I know, it’s a ways away, but still…)  Add to this all of the other deaths and struggles of mine and others. And did I mention going back to work? There is that.

But there have been bright spots – coffee with friends, borrowing a friends’ husband to help with the to do list. A sympathy card from a neighbor I barely know.  A few cute kids coming around for Trick or Treat…

And then here is this…….Some of you are familiar with the writer Frederick Buechner.  Well, he has a new book out, A Crazy, Holy Grace, the Healing Power of Pain and Memory. Many of the essays are from prior works in which he writes about the pain of suffering – death primarily.  The death of a loved one – in his case a father by suicide.

But it was the first essay that got my attention and it has been rolling around in my head for a few days…… He talks about the universality of pain – and that life is terminal (not a new idea). But then goes on to explain how we need to be good stewards of our pain. That how we deal with  loss, pain, suffering, determines how we live (my words, not his).  We can choose to let it overwhelm us, we can choose to stuff it and ignore it, in which case our lives are diminished and in a sense, we, too die.

Or we can be good stewards of our pain. Work our way through the maze of it and turn straw into gold.

He then goes on to explain the Parable of the Talents as a way of understanding this idea. For Buechner, the talents are what life gives us – and what we do with these experiences is what matters. “To live a buried life is to say you have not lived your life at all.” And isn’t that what God wants of us? To live the life we have been given to the fullest? “If you bury your life-if you don’t face, among other things, your pain- your life shrinks.  It is in a way diminished.  It is in a way taken away.”

There is more (you’ll have to read the book!) and I’m still trying to wrap my head around all of this.

And maybe that’s it – acknowledging the pain – sharing it with others – being honest about the fact that it sucks – it’s not all ‘suck it up, buttercup.’  It’s hard work and it hurts and it often seems as if it gets harder, not easier.

Unfortunately, neither our society, nor our church deals with any of this very well. Platitudes about my loved ones returning to their heavenly home are not helpful for me.  But fortunately, there have been many conversations with friends, new and old, some with similar experiences and some not, but who get it and can listen and not be scared away by the pain of it all… not be scared away by my cloak of fear…this cloak that often feels like Harry Potter’s cloak of invisibility.  I sometimes feel invisible as if my grief has erased me from the world.  A friend once described her grief as being ‘outlined by grief.’ I would describe mine (often, but not always) as being made invisible.

It’s been 4 1/2 months – and no I have not ‘gotten over it.’  I don’t think I ever will, really…tears still pop up at the most inopportune times – anxiety and fear burrow themselves deep in my gut -  and sometimes I still can’t breathe. But I still get up every morning – Hunter sees to that – and face the day. Do I have a choice? Yes.

“So – are we going out now, Human?”
“No – Hunter, not now - it’s dark – so maybe tomorrow if it’s not too cold…”
“Well, you’ll just have to bundle up and put on a coat, right?”
“You are so smart, Hunter….”

Hunter continues...............

I’ve numbered all of my blogs – this is # 73 - not all have been posted – but most. It’s been a long 4 + months ……….

But tonight – remember those ice cream things with the swirly chocolate? Probably from the Good Humor truck………

That’s my brain tonight.  A swirl of  thoughts and emotions. As I’m on the floor with Hunter, he looks at me and says; “your eyes are all shiny and wet - what’s up, Human?”

“I’m just sad, Hunter…sometimes it’s just too much…”

“but we had a good day today, didn’t we?”

“well, yes we did.”

“at least it was for me – I played in the backyard while you DID WORK. I barked at squirrels all day, we took a walk, I got a treat (or two!), a couple of great meals, snuggles on the bed while you took a nap.  You even took me for a ride IN THE CAR!  You started a PROJECT that I can’t help with (except to lay at your feet and get in the way). It doesn’t get better than that!!”

“Well, that’s good for you, Hunter, but I still miss My Human – and I still miss Vespa too….and I know there is nothing I can do about it…it’s just the way things are now...”

“I know, but we had a GOOD DAY…”

“You’re right, as usual Hunter. We did. But I still get very sad…”

And then as I was sitting at the kitchen island after the dishes were done, I noticed, not for the first time, this:

We had stopped with the traditional gifts giving long ago – neither one of us really needed anything.  However……fun stuff was……..well, fun.   This was an Easter gift – a  Lamb Pen.  And it writes really well!

A toaster cover for Valentine’s Day ! Yes, really………..

Silly… yes…but. It meant we were each thinking about the other. Which we did – always. It was always about the other – even when we didn’t really feel like it.

And of course, there were THOSE moments…. We all have them. But now I miss even those………..

Oh – to have a real heart felt argument!  Or a debate about the next vacation………….or even the smallest decision, like what to cook for dinner, or watch on TV.       

I miss all of that.

And then some.

So what to do?  Pffffffbrttt – I don’t know.  Suck it up, buttercup?  No, that’s not the answer. ‘Why?’ you might ask?  Because it doesn’t work… Even raking the leaves today reminded me that we used to do this together…….I’d rake – he’d burn. Or whatever…….

Can you work together by yourself?  No, stupid, you cannot.

“But Human, we still have me?”

“Yes, Hunter, I do.  And I am grateful.  Really I am. You keep me grounded, keep me in the moment, keep me in the here and now... and I am grateful… however, I still miss MY human - Glenn. And I know I always will…………

And my eyes are shiny and wet…………….but, yes, we did have  a good day, Hunter and Me.

Communion shared

Dinner with friends several times this past week – mostly women – most understanding that the thirst of grief and mourning is never quenched.  Each in their own way, of course, but knowing grief and mourning nonetheless. A longing for what was and never will be again – but shared.

A prayer said, a birthday celebrated, friendships strengthened.  Conversation – deep and whimsical – silly and sacred as only friends can do.  Spiritual, sometimes theological, often pointed - ‘really – what do you mean by that?’ As only friends can do.

Wheat of the harvest broken and shared – communion.  The fruit of the grape – drunk and shared – communion. A meal shared at the Table – communion.

And isn’t that what friends are for?  The silly and the sacred?   The whimsical and the serious? Darkness pried open by the light…. Communion. Darkness splintered by shards of light….communion.

The broken heart and the healed one…. communion.

Where two or more are gathered….communion.

Communion…. with community….in unity….

And shared. As in 'I Am there among you'…………among us.

One ....

Just a reflection………….

As I was eating dinner – alone – but with his jazz selections on Pandora in the background – this came to mind: ‘One is the Loneliest Number.’  Remember?  I looked it up: covered by Three Dog Night, but written by Harry Nilssen.  1969. The year I graduated from High School (yikes!)

It was not written about being alone due to a death – but that is how I hear it now– so look up the lyrics.  One, is indeed a lonely number.

Dinner was good – grilled a steak with onions, baked potato, a glass of Malbec and my ever-faithful companion at my side: my Hunter- Dude waiting for a scrap of something………However – it was alone. Again.

And I got to thinking…………….this was suggested to me, by – yes – that wise person.  That if I would not suggest to someone in the throes of mourning, that they ‘get on with it – deal with it – get over it – get on with your life, etc., etc., etc.,’  (and I would never say those things to another human being), then why would I say them to myself? Why would I hold myself to a different standard? 

Good frickin’ question……………..

As a pastor, social worker, mental health counselor, I always attempted to meet the person where they were – and not impose any ‘should’s on them.  So why do I do that to myself?

Good frickin’ question……………..           Why indeed…….

It’s kinda like a preacher writing that sermon that she needs to hear…….

The hard part is the listening.

Today was a decent day, as days go. Errands run and accomplished, dog to the park, some yard work done, a nap, but still a lot of down time. What did we/I do before? I don’t know but it seems that the days were fuller - more robust - not empty or devoid of companionship - life filled.   And maybe that’s it – that’s what is missing.  Companionship.

Even for an introvert, other significant humans are necessary and even desirable ( well, some times!!). Friends and family are great – but they don’t live here.

I was also reminded that everything I do for the first year will be new – and I know that – I’ve even said it myself – but living it is another matter altogether.     And I don’t like it one bit.

Patience has never been my #1 virtue.

One is the loneliest number………… ( ok – I’ll do it for you. But you can also find it here or on YouTube)

http://www.metrolyrics.com/despacito-lyrics-luis-fonsi.html

One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do
Two can be as bad as one
It's the loneliest number since the number one

No is the saddest experience you'll ever know
Yes, it's the saddest experience you'll ever know
Because one is the loneliest number that you'll ever do
One is the loneliest number that you'll ever know

It's just no good anymore since you went away
Now I spend my time just making rhymes of yesterday

Because one is the loneliest number that you'll ever do
One is the loneliest number that you'll ever know
One is the loneliest number
One is the loneliest number
One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do

One is the loneliest number, much, much worse than two
One is the number divided by two
One
One is the loneliest number

But even harder than this is not shoulding on myself.

And the band played on……………..