holding hands

Has this ever happened to you? An image burns itself onto your brain and won’t let go… or maybe a tune … but this time an image…a snapshot of life.

free image

A friend had invited colleagues over for lunch – a very special lunch and one he does well… and it was a good time…connecting with colleagues who are also friends. The weather was perfect and it was a good time.  One couple got up to leave and I watched as they made their way to their car.  Holding hands.  As only a long-married couple can. Sure of their relationship - sure of their love for each other -  not caring that they looked like teenagers in love.

We used to do that.

Not always, but often.   And watching this couple brought home to me, again, the finality of Glenn’s death.

I’m not jealous that they have something I no longer do – but saddened. Missing what was. Holding hands – such a simple thing and yet it speaks volumes.

It was also a reminder that I don’t know what the future holds for me… I haven’t figured it out yet…I’m still not sure how to even begin. But that’s for later…

For now… that image is burned into my brain. Holding hands, holding on to the past the present and the future as only two people who love each other can……

Holding hands……….

Hunter wonders where I am...........

“ Hey Human!!”

“what is it Hunter?”

“where are you?”

“ I’m at the river right now… I told you I wouldn’t be gone long…”

“…but it’s dinner time – you should be here…”

“How did you even find me so far away?”

“ oh, human, I have my ways… I’m in your head all the time… that’s what we do…”

“well, I’ll be home shortly…”

I had left the house only a couple of hours ago – to visit friends who were having a celebration – not exactly a party – but close enough.  I had debated about going – one more thing to do by myself.  But I knew there would be people I knew and so it was. I met old friends and even made a new one. And it was good to be there for them – to celebrate and give thanks.

On the way home it dawned on me, today is the 14^th- What happened to the 12^th? That day that I’m not supposed to forget? But I did – the date didn’t tap into my awareness til today.  Have I forgotten already? How could I not remember THAT day?  It’s burned into my psyche… but the day slipped past me and I was unaware…

All of this while I sat by the river.  I found a piece of shade and just sat – as we often did.  Just watching the river float by.  He loved to do this…no matter where we were…just to sit and be. The current was a bit strong, the wind making ripples southward, but overall calm.  Two pelicans flying by – in perfect formation – perfect wet landing. Bobbing along together yet apart. 

So - is that what healing does? Help you forget the important stuff?  Or should I say the emotional stuff?  And I struggle now – is it time to let go of some of those memories – at least on a daily basis?  It’s not like my memory is wiped clean.. 
The hard drive is still storing all of it. But maybe I don’t need to download all of it every day…maybe I  can give the computer in my brain a break now and again.

Maybe.

But it is a struggle. A struggle to keep the memories fresh – and at the same time to let go, to move on. Not to forget, as if I could. 12 months, 2 days. And about an hour and a half.

I still wonder what this ‘moving on’ will look like. But I think I have a shot at it- finally retiring for the final time.  No more responsibilities – no more ‘shoulds’ – no more worrying about others when I have not enough energy  even for myself.

Well, except for Hunter Dude,

So next month begins a new chapter.  And it is time.  Time to complete this journey that I didn’t ask for – this journey that I never thought I would take. I was supposed to go first, ya know.

“So – Hunter…”

“Yes human?”

“you know that van that is parked outside?”

“Of course!...”

“Well, we will hit the road in about a month. I’m not sure where we will go, you’ll have to help with that. But we will be on the road. The road to where I’m not sure, but somewhere… you and me, Dude…  We’ll continue on this journey that neither of us asked for – but we must complete anyway...”

“…OH BOY  OH BOY!!! I can hardly wait…”

“Well, you’ll have to – wait that is – a few more days… and you HAVE TO BEHAVE!!VE”

“I’ll do my best…” he says as he looks up at me with those big brown eyes, a smile on his face, nestled under the desk as I write.

“Ok, Dude, you got a deal!!.. start packin’!”

My friends had something to celebrate today – and maybe someday I will as well…

Petticoats...........

It’s the beginning of year 2, 13 months actually, but who’s counting.  Year 2 without Glenn.

And I’ve noticed a shift.  I’m not so focused on the gut wrenching pain of grief. Not so focused on what I cannot do anymore – or won’t be doing with him. 

There is more wondering about what I do next, what holds meaning for me. The petticoat of grief still underlies all that I wear on a daily basis, all that I am and do, but to the casual observer it is not apparent. 

I was rummaging around in the closet the other day, and rediscovered the journals and notebooks of writings that I have collected over the vast number of years.  All the way back to the early 70’s. To another time and other loves.

And I was reminded of how fragile life is – how fragile our emotions – how fragile relationships – how fragile.  At least for me. It seemed like I was always on the edge of a precipice – that still point – that thin place where we experience God. Except that I would not have called it that then.  I’m not sure, sometimes, that I would call it that now.

Looking back is such an interesting journey – kinda like Hunter looking out the back window of his van as we move forward into the future – yeah, kinda like that.  

And I found this story that I had written. I’m not sure when. The only clue is that it originally was typed  - on a typewriter!

She dressed with care that night, knowing somehow that it would be a turning point in her life. The long blue wool skirt and matching sweater would be pretty and yet warm; springs warmth was still hidden under winter's frost.  The doorbell rang, somewhat ahead of schedule. But she had figured on that.  As she opened the door to let him in, she caught a whiff of his cologne - the one she liked so much.  He handed her a bouquet of daises and carnations as he came into her apartment, she reached up to give him a hug in greeting and thanks, and as she did, she could hear the crinkling of his freshly starched shirt. Evidently, he too had dressed with care. Finally, the flowers got put into a pitcher of water and they left the apartment and walked down to the car. She knew they were going to dinner, but he hadn't told her where. After driving up and down shadow filled streets for what seemed like forever, he finally pulled into a parking lot. The valet met them at the door and took the car away. As they entered the restaurant, they were greeted by Fanny, the owner. She led them to their table, guided by the aroma of rich tomato sauce and freshly baked bread.

The room had a comfortable feel to it.  The dark paneled walls were the perfect foil for the warm soft lights cascading down over each table.  There were photos of famous and infamous guests lining the walls, roses on the tables and candles everywhere.

Diners in pairs were talking quietly over salads and desserts.  Waitresses were bustling about, obviously having consumed more pasta than they had served.

While they sat there deciding what to eat, and sipping brandies, they could hear the words to what had already become their song, "a kiss is just a kiss, a sigh is just a sigh, as time goes by" Eventually they ordered and bit by bit the various courses came and went. Somewhere around the end of his meatless spaghetti and her veal parmesan, he put down his fork, took hers and put it down as well.  "Will you marry me?" he said as he took her hand in his.  Although she had been expecting this, she was still caught off guard - the words mean so much more when spoken out loud. This man had taught her to love again.  "Yes, I'll marry you - I'd be honored to be your wife."

The formalities over, his grip on her hand loosened, he relaxed and so did she. Over bananas foster and coffee, they started talking, making plans, deciding who to tell first.  After what seemed like a very short time, the waitress came over to their table and gently asked them to pay their bill - it was closing time.  As they looked around, they realized they were in fact the last to leave. Walking to the car, she happened to look up at the sky. The moon was full to overflowing and bright - like a beacon guiding the way.  She knew, finally, everything was going to be all right.

And so it was.  We were married September 16, 1978.  And it was good.  And it was very good.

Hunter continues...

How does one process life’s tragedies, everyday events, days of unmeasurable joy or sadness? 

How does one process the physical illnesses, disabilities, dilemmas? 

How does one make sense of what life throws at us? And regardless of what your theology of God might be, life does throw a fast ball at us -  at lightning speed sometimes. Too fast to catch – not enough time to duck.

We’ve all been there.

I’ve tried to do this by writing about what is happening to me and how I have reacted to it. And I’ve been told I should share with more than what Facebook will do. And so I probably will, if I can find the discipline to do it. But in the meantime…

I know I am not alone in my feelings of grief, sadness, aloneness, fear, anger, wonder; even joy at times - and sometimes even gratitude.

The joy and gratitude have to be intentional - a pointed focus – unlike the grief that overwhelms, often at a nanosecond – without warning.

I started to write an intro to the blog that I’ve kept these 13 months – and reread what I had written.  And my heart often dropped to my knees. Tears at abeyance, but the heaviness of sadness overwhelming…

Reliving those days is not what I need right now, although I’m not sure what is needed right now.

Closure? That isn’t realistic.  I don’t think I will ever really close that chapter of my life… the book might get turned over now and then, pages splayed open,  but closed? No. It is who I am now. A Vicki without her Glenn.  Like Yogi without Boo.  

A spouse without …

But, as Hunter is so ready to tell me…

“ We have a van, now you know – MY VAN.. or so you tell me…”

“yes, Hunter, I know – and yes, we will…”

I have even purchased all the stuff that is necessary to outfit Hunter’s van….. ..so we are ready, when the time comes.  And it will.

“I’ve told you before, Human, I can still smell him, even now… a bit faint, but still there…  your Human is still with us…”

“that’s good to know, Hunter, I’m counting on you to keep reminding me…”

 “Oh, I will, don’t you worry… my nose is the best…”

“Hunter, you are so smart…”

Hunter is so smart...

There are times, even days, when all is well…….. taking Hunter to the park only to find it closed due to flooding, but then ICE CREAM… whoa – that’s good  - and yes I had some too.

Watching the rain from the front porch – out of harms way – gentle wet – fresh smell - just being …

Worship on Sunday morning and the community…

A phone call, an invitation, a lunch here and there…

A book that I can actually get into… 

Clean sheets on the bed and fresh towels in the bathroom…

The smell of freshly cut grass – thank you Jack…

Hunter obviously waiting for something to drop on the floor. 

Hummingbirds at the feeders – his favorite…

A wren making her nest in the basket at the front door…

And there are others… days and moments of ok, almost good, even joy.

And there are the not so good moments…

Three doctors – ‘you need a hip replacement…’

Three doctors – ‘ there is nothing we can do for your back issues until it gets much much worse…’ In other words – suck it up buttercup…and deal with it.

Sooo…..

Eating a dinner – alone -  mash of leftovers ‘cuz I don’t want to cook – or order out…

Another night of ‘ok , now what do I do with myself…’

The depressing nightly news

The quiet – even with Hunter it is too quiet most times…

‘hey Human…’
‘Yes Hunter…’
‘If you are so bored, why aren’t we outa here? You can drive my van, ya know…’
‘yes , I know, Hunter, you don’t have your license  yet anyway… but you have to be patient, I’m still working… I told you that … but we will as soon as I am able… we’ll go visit Yahzi – remember her?
‘you bet I do…  she liked me!’
‘yes she did, and she wants to see you again…but she is kinda young for you…’
‘don’t worry, we can still be friends…’
‘so we will, just as soon as we are able … I want to visit with her human too…’

And maybe that is what I need to deal with the ennui that overcomes me at times… road trips around the country to reconnect with old friends…

And maybe that is what I need – to reconnect with friends that Glenn and I had back in the day – those friends scattered across the landscape…

Friends that were there – that knew us – that lived life with us – that shared joys and sorrows - that are grieving still… for what was and is no more.

Maybe there will be more healing in that journey……….

I certainly hope so.  And so does Hunter……….

‘Hunter, you are so smart…’

reflections

Plane  Tree along the Canal Briere outside of Paris 

I’ve started to put my thoughts on paper several times over the past few days – and each time I walk away from the keyboard frustrated.  Nothing seems to make sense once I see the words in print.

But I’ve been thinking – and watching the world around me - and I wonder.

I hung a basket by the front door weeks ago, fully expecting to put flowers in it – but the itinerant wren had a different idea.  And so now the front door is off limits, the babies need their sleep, you know.  And Mom has to feed them in something resembling privacy. Tonight Mom was hopping all over the place, a bit of something dangling from her mouth – and I think Dad was there as well - it is Father’s Day after all.  I think the babes are well taken care of as long as I stay away. Life does march on no matter what.

And I wonder…..

The hummingbirds: Mom and Dad still come to the feeder, but never at the same time.  Glenn loved to watch them feed – and would stop whatever he was doing, especially the dishes!, to watch. Life does march on no matter what.

This afternoon I presided over communion for the camp counselors at LOMC – part of their weekly worship before plunging headlong into the weeks activities with the various campers. And I was struck by their youthful exuberance – singing, participating in the devotion, catching up with each other about who knows what. But most of all – their faces as they lined up to receive the bread and wine. Smiles – hands open in receiving – joy shining bright. They were orderly – respectful – not just of me, but the sacrament.  It was a holy moment. Life does march on no matter what.

And I wonder…

I preached this morning – and talked briefly about the ‘tsunami of grace” that God bestows (not my idea – I ‘borrowed’ it.) in this kingdom that is God’s promise. I invited the congregation to intentionally see where God was in their daily lives – in spite of how easy it is to see where we think God is not. And I struggle with this too…Are you there God? Why are you so silent sometimes?

But there is Grace – I felt it this weekend as several people came up to me, with words of grace, remembering where I was last year at this time.  I didn’t realize how hard it would be to be there at our synods annual assembly - until I got there. It was all I could do not to turn tail and go home. I’m glad I stayed, but I’m also wishing I hadn’t.  Too much raw emotion is not good for my physical body.

And I am becoming convinced that the stress of this past year is, in large part, the reason for my arthritis issues. My mobility was much better even a year ago – hips and back and knees cry out – ‘just go sit down already!’

And I listen to the news – and I wonder – is the world angry? Is nature/creation angry?  It seems so... … wild fires, volcanoes, floods, heat waves, children torn from their parents, wars raging relentlessly with no one seemingly willing to talk – and prayers don’t cut it. School shootings, the LBGTQ ‘issue’, #MeToo, the race ‘issue’ (in quotes ‘cuz it’s complicated), unethical governmental leadership….yada yada yada...

The world is angry – and I’m not sure why – nor what to do about it.

And I get angry too -  But I wonder…

Last weekend the family gathered in Wisconsin for a final goodbye (well, not really, there never is a FINAL goodbye - it’s a lifelong process.) And it was good. A chartered boat for just us – no rain – not too hot – a leisurely trip to the confluence of the Mississippi and Wisconsin Rivers.  It is what he wanted – he loved rivers – to sit beside them – to be on them in canoe or kayak or boat. To wonder – about the lives of those it feeds -where it goes – to watch the barges filled to the brim with just a single tug pushing them to their destination……. Life does march on no matter what.

And I wonder – if what family and I have done is sufficient - acceptable – sacred enough.

And I do wonder. And I reflect.  And I remember. And I try to plan for the future, whatever that might be.

“Hey Human…”….”yes Hunter?”
“You know that blue van that you said was mine?”
“yes, of course… it’s sitting the driveway…”
“Well, if it’s mine how come I’m not in it more often?”
“ well, I still have work to do, but that will end at some point...”
“And then what?”
“then we’ll hit the road and go visit people and places…”
“Soon? I want to be on the move… I’m a Border Collie, after all… we don’t like to sit still…at least not for very long…”
“I know Hunter, just as soon as we can we will be on the road – you and me in the Hunter Mobile…”
“Well, hurry up, I haven’t got all day, ya know…”
“I’m doing my best, Dude…”

And I guess that sums it up – I’m doing my best -  right wrong or indifferent – its’ the best I know how to do.

But I do wonder.

365 days later

This was the beginning of my first post:

July 3, 2017

 At 5:08 today it has been 3 weeks – 3 weeks of blur – poignant memories, mail I didn’t ask for  -  and fear.

And now 365 days later……….

I can still recall the sounds: his rasping breathing on the bathroom floor, and then the and lack of them, then the smells, and the images burned on my brain: the breathing tube manually pumped by a nurse, his closed eyes, body still….the helicopter nurses and  pilot readying him for transport, the quiet busyness of the nursing team tending to him… 

the look on the doctors face as he explains the situation… and what I must do… or not. And yet he looks like he is just sleeping…

The emotional energy of my family and two dear friends as we gather to hear what the doctor has to say… and then the matter of fact discussion about donating his organs… which was his wish.

 And so of course I did what he wanted… how could I not?

The memories are intentional recalls now… usually… sometimes they push their way to the front of my awareness, but not very often these days. I can bring them up like stuff from the basement. Put away, but not forgotten. But even then, somewhat hazy, like a Vaseline focus, not sharp: dream like? Kinda.

And now 365 days later……

It has been a blur – and yet not. This year has gone both quickly and at a snail’s pace. Some things are buried in the recesses of my mind, but they are intentional recalls now – usually – sometimes they push their way to the front of my awareness, but not very often these days.

And yet some things stand out in bas relief – friends and family with texts and snail mail, let’s go eat… I can just be there if you want…I’m praying for you … you are in my thoughts today… books and cards sent to me – maybe this will help…

Today - a box of roses from Glenn’s brother with a note –“Glenn is always with us.”

Yes he is. Always. With. Us. Always, as are all of our loved one who are no longer physically with us…. And they are legion.

An offer from a friend – ‘I can be there with you if don’t want to be alone on THAT day…”

This past weekend I gathered with family and Glenn’s closest friend to lay him to rest. 

I packed his ashes in a biodegradable paper urn in the shape of a turtle (he had a thing for turtles!) and set it adrift where the Mississippi and the Wisconsin Rivers converge.

 It was his wish. Rose petals floating on the water, marking the path and descent…laid to rest where he wanted to be. The owner/Captain of the boat was amazing… It didn’t take long for him to figure out what we were up to and help  make it sacred. And it was so. A sacred time. And it was healing.

The Mississippi and the Wisconsin Rivers converge.

He loved rivers – loved to sit by them and watch the world go by – loved to be on them in his/our canoe.  Where are the barges going? What’s in them? What are the stories of the people of the river? Real Samuel Clements moments.  Rivers – not stagnant - always moving. Going where?  It didn’t matter.  There was something magical about just sitting and watching the river flow by…………and for a guy who was not always very relaxed – this was huge.

And so we would often sit by the side of a river and just watch. And just be.

And it was good.

And it is good.

I can smile now in a way that I couldn’t before…

The hummingbirds at the feeder – his favorites…

Hunter after a squirrel… or the UPS truck… or the mail carrier…because he LIKES them!

The smell of rain as I sit in ‘his’ porch chair

The student recipients of his scholarship at Sauk Valley Community College

The campers who will use the new canoe gear at LOMC

The recipients of his lungs and kidneys – 4 people will live because of him

Memories that come unbidden of trips taken, moments shared at home, meals prepared, quiet and not so quiet conversations about nothing…planning for the next day, week, trip, life, etc., sharing our lives

A few months ago I thought I had made a significant turn around – but NOOOO it was a 180…but this time I think I’ve turned a significant corner…..

Because I am now grateful:

for family and friends that aren’t afraid to speak, to remember, to say his name

for work to keep me busy

for quiet time to reflect and remember and grieve and mourn My Way (cue Blue Eyes! Aka Sinatra)

for Hunter Dude and his unfailing devotion

for waking up vertical (most of the time!)

for sunsets and the occasional sunrise

for the ability to travel to see friends

for the memories of a journey shared

for the 38 years that we had together with its ups and downs. But mostly ups

for his support, whether he agreed with my choices or not

for his love -  no matter whether I deserved it or not

for his love – for me as I was

for the tears that cleanse my soul

As someone much wiser than me said – ‘ all marriages will end – either in divorce or death…’ So if there is anything to top the list of ‘grateful for’, it is this…… 38 + years of love, companionship, friendship, partnership: a life built together.

His ashes scattered in the  Rock River

It has been 365 days of more emotion than one human can endure – and yet I have. As do many before me and all of those who will come after me. 

I know the tears will always be there in the shadows, the sadness will never go away, the emptiness will always be a part of me. I know dozens of men and women who have traveled this path ahead of me, and I mourn with them. Saying goodbye and laying to rest a beloved spouse/partner is the hardest thing we will ever do.

I know, without a doubt, that he would want me to live to my fullest, whatever and how ever I decide to do that.

And I will. Me and Hunter. If for no other reason than to honor what we had together.

Amen

Hunter......

    

“Hey Human…?”

“Yes, Hunter...” as he gets in my face at the most inopportune moment, and then licks it…)

“You seem distracted lately… we haven’t had many walks…”

“Well, Hunter, for one it’s been too hot – (but you have been out in the yard…) for me and you…but I’ve been thinking… reflecting actually on the day that is to come…”            

“and what is that, Human…?”

“Well, in few days it will have been one year that Glenn died, June 12^th actually.  And the weekend before that, the family is gathering in Wisconsin to scatter his ashes as he wanted me to do….”

“Oh…  I guess I don’t know what that is all about… it’s not a dog thing is it?”…”

“No Hunter, it is not… it’s a human thing that we sometimes do.  When someone dies, instead of burying them in the ground like a bone, their ashes are scattered somewhere.  And Glenn wanted his ashes scattered in the Mississippi River… ‘cuz he really liked rivers… they were always moving and going somewhere.  We  would often just sit and watch the river go by …it didn’t matter which one… and wonder what was ahead and where it was going, especially when there were barges linked together like a chain, just slowly moving along…kinda like life..”

“Oh – I get it, kinda like when I just sit on the deck and watch what the neighborhood is all about – and bark hello whenever someone goes by - or a squirrel – or even just the wind…”

‘yes, Hunter, kinda like that.”

And so I reflect – as I have done these last few days – and I suppose I will in the days to come.  It makes work a struggle, day to day care taking a struggle.

When I went away last week I stopped the grandfather clock at 5:08 – the time of his last breath.

‘Why?’… you might ask…and I don’t really know… it just seemed like the thing to do.  It is still set there.

 And I reflect on the past year soon to be on June 12, at 5:08 PM.

I know I’ve come a long way, baby… I’m not so focused on what I don’t have… but  not quite focused enough on what I do have. Somewhere in between. And yet, it still seems unreal – that land of make believe – not a fairy tale – but more like a Grimm’s tale… maybe it is that in between thin place… where we meet God…maybe.

And yet – when I think of what I have accomplished – I am amazed. Small things – his water fountain is working, the grass gets mowed, the water softener got fixed, getting the toilet fixed, putting out all of the summer ‘stuff’…and the usual day to day things that need to be taken care of. Most of his clothes given to a good cause, but many still in the closet, the taxes got figured and paid.  But his workbench is still as it was -  his ties still on the closet door. His bathrobe still hanging in the bathroom. The books he was reading and his Bible still on his nightstand.   I can only do so much. I don’t want erase what was. 

The scholarship in his name – his organ recipients, (not my doing but his), Vespa …will be buried in the backyard with Rocky.  It’s probably a good thing he didn’t have to do this one… saying goodbye would have been so hard for him…he often said so. She was his sweetie.

Done.

I know this is not unique to me – I often think of all the people I know – both personally and peripherally – that have had a spouse/significant other die and I think about how they coped … or not.

And I know I am not alone – and yet I am.

But I have noticed a shift – I’m not so quick to think about what I don’t have anymore – but not quite ready to only think about the future.

 And yet I know must.

Glenn was my white knight – in many ways he rescued me – but lovingly – and with regard to who I was and what I could become.  He never prevented me from exploring myself, even if meant spending money he didn’t think we had.  He had my back – always. 

Because he loved me for who I was – and who I could become – on my own – but with his support. And I did the same for him.

While there were many sparring matches - (we were both rather pig headed…!!) we worked it out.  Together, always together.  For 38 years together. Back to back facing the world. Together.

And I have to remember that he still has my back -  albeit long distance.

So - where do I go from here?

One of the things I’ve decided to do, Hunter doesn’t know this yet, it to visit all of my/his friends around the country. And that will take me from Virginia to Wisconsin, Arizona to California, to Arkansas. Probably not one trip – but several – me and Hunter. And the new Hunter mobile. (Yes, Hunter has his own van now, and he loves it.)

And I have to give credit where credit is due. Someone I know, who has been through this himself, suggested that I write about my experiences/feelings, etc.,  a journal of sorts – because it helped him see his progress.  And so I did and do. And he is right. I can see progress. In spite of myself.  Confession is good for the soul…… right?

And Hunter and I have adjusted – he had issues, you know. But he has been my salvation (I know, it is supposed to be Jesus, but really it has been Hunter).

And he (Hunter, not Jesus) will have more to say about this journey – but for now – a tour of the backyard and a bark to his  world is enough…….

And for me? A glass of wine to celebrate.