Oh my gosh I am not kidding - I ran around the house chasing Scout till she was gasping (or was that me?). Then I fixed her a snack and STILL she is sitting at the foot of my chair with her pet squirrel in her mouth and growling for me to throw it. Honestly, I get no peace.
Okay, I have her settled on my lap for a few seconds but she's licking vsdrefgsa;jaa (oops) the keyboard. Oh, if I hurry I have a second while she's chewing on her own tail. Ow, Scout -that's me!
Ughhh- Well you see the harassment I'm under, and I'm not exaggerating. I really just wanted to mention that I continue to find value in this book, The Year Of Magical Thinking. Even though I purchased it for myself I found it in a pile of books well meaning friends got for me throughout the last year - now I have two. I guess we've just got to wait until we're ready for these things.
I'm reading where Joan refers to work by Melanie Klein, "Mourning and Its Relation to Manic-Depressive States," where she states that "The mourner is in fact ill, but because this state of mind is common and seems so natural to us, we do not call mourning an illness....." Klein puts her conclusion more precisely,"I should say that in mourning the subject goes through a modified and transitory manic-depressive state and overcomes it." I love the "overcomes it" part.
Didion goes on to describe that this is where the magical thinking part comes in....the next few months she waited for her husband to return...
She sites several examples of "warning flags" that should have been noticed and mine were not far off. She posted obituaries but could not read them and was disturbed that she had allowed other people think her husband was dead. I wouldn't even post an obituary and now I understand why. I returned correspondence with the Medical Society and requested they stop sending my husband renewal notices. I explained why. Several months later a former colleague who has moved out of the area found out about his death by reading it in the Medical Society's journal. I remember thinking, "How dare they tell them that." Even that remote made it a bit too real.
Another similarity we have is the cleaning out of our loved one's closet. She speaks of particular items and the memory connected with them. The well-intentioned offers of help to do this and, of course, the resistance. I was especially struck when she spoke of her husbands shoes. I thought it was just me - my sensitivity to his shoes because they were his one submission to any sartorial tendency. That and the fact that together we braved our son's closet following the horrific accident that claimed both of his legs. Never did it occur to me that I just might think he'd need them if he was to return.
I know what I'm saying...I know our Apu is dead, but that is the thing about magical thinking.......you can know a thing to be true and act otherwise. It's a long road this is...and it's my journey. I've emptied his closet yes, but recently I discovered that I did in fact leave behind one pair of shoes.
Happy Ash Wednesday everyone! Many of you may think that's an oxymoron, but as a wise priest said to me today, "It's a time to become closer to God." The reason that we receive ashes on our forehead is not so much a sign to others, but a reminder to ourselves how short our time is on earth and to provide us with a period of introspection of how we can better live our lives. So, if you view it that way - it's a happy time (If you are of that persuasion). The dark winter is nearly over - spring is coming. New life! Anyway, I got my ashes today and wore them proudly and no one tried to tackle me to rub the dirt off my head. I must admit that I cheat - I wear bangs.
My childhood gal pals-childhood friends-sisters from other mothers, Penny and Theresa (of past posts fame) met me in Seattle at St. James Cathedral where we hit off our Lenten celebration with The Most Reverend J. Peter Sartain, Archbishop of Seattle (and a few hundred others). It was lovely with all the incense burning, gregorian style cantoring, etc. I love all that pomp and circumstance (heaven help me) - and then we had lunch together at the Sorrento where many of you know is where I met my husband over 38 yrs ago. I can barely think that let alone write it.
Today was good for me for I am depressed. There. I said it. My eldest pointed it out and it seemed to fit. Depression |diˈpre sh ən|-noun despondency and dejection, typically felt over a period of time and accompanied by feelings of hopelessness and inadequacy.• Medicine a condition of mental disturbance characterized typically with lack of energy and difficulty in maintaining concentration or interest in life. Mine, I believe, is a mild case brought on perhaps by the weather (I'm ready for spring), or the fact that I'm up to my eyeballs in student evaluations, or because of the tax documents that are stacked on my desk waiting for my attention, or just maybe it has something to do with the fact that MY HUSBAND JUST DIED!
Even though I write this thing, I censure a lot. Why bore you with tedious daily details or frighten you with scenarios of grief and loss. You all have a pretty good imagination and while I try to be pretty honest I am also aware that most of those around me are looking, waiting, and watching for signs of healing - they all want it so badly. I do too - for them. I signed on for this gig on August 14, 2010 and I'm on for the ride. I'm not exactly driving this bus, although as navigator I do have some input. I've been asked if I would ever consider "taking anything" to help me survive this part of my reality. It might help some people and I would never judge anyone who needed prescribed medication if they truly needed it, but I don't think I do. I am functioning and my thought is why would I want to temporarily dull feelings that I must process sometime. I'd just postpone facing what I eventually must unless I plan to be medicated for life - which, for me, is not an option. So it's one foot in front of the other - one day at a time. I know I'm not alone.
When people ask me how I am I tell them how I am on this particular day at this specific moment. That is about the most accurate I can be....unless I sense that is too honest for them. Then I just tell them what they want to hear; it's just kinder. What's the point? Life is too short and much too difficult to force people's faces in to my little patch of pain. They have their own, or will shortly. I'm fine with that, it doesn't really help me to relate every passing emotion. It means the most that they ask and I'm grateful for that. The people I know are good, well-meaning - they are just scared to have my misery rub off on them. It's just too close.
Today had moments of "holyincidents" that I always cherish. Of all the seats in that huge cathedral, it happened that my girls and I sat near two people who have been significant to my spiritual growth. One was the program director of the women's faith sharing retreat that I attended last month(click) and the other is an elderly priest who knew my husband. The amazing thing is that these two know each other completely separate from me and we all ended up together at the end of mass.
Father Dick Ward, MD is now in his 80's and was at one time not only a devoted husband with a family, but an anesthesiologist as well. He was a guest priest at my parish a few years back and his homily was mesmerizing. He approached the subject of the Eucharist not only from place of theology, but from science perspective as well. When he shared with us that he was a former physician who taught anesthesiology at the University of Washington I knew I had to stop him after mass to see if he knew my husband, which he did. I was so excited to tell Apu, my wayward agnostic, about him. "Do you remember, Dick Ward?", I asked. "Sure", he said. "He was my teacher and mentor at the U of W. His wife died and after he retired there was a rumor that he became a priest." I couldn't wait to tell him that it wasn't just a rumor.
I'd thought of him so often after that day. He was such a charismatic speaker and it's difficult to find people that can speak about faith in an interesting, non-preachy manner that makes you want to learn more. I once heard a priest that spoke about the Bible with a historical approach and suddenly everything made sense with regard to that time and place - fascinating. I'd heard that Fr. Ward was living at the retreat center and I was hoping I'd get to see him when I was there last month. Too late, he'd already been transferred to Seattle - to St. James. So I said a little prayer that I'd see him and there he was! We had a few moments to talk alone and I told him that Apu had died. He said how much he liked him and what a sweet man he was. That's what he called my husband - "a sweet man". I asked him if we could meet sometime to just talk. I told him that I know he'd also lost his wife and I thought he could help me. He just looked at me with such peace and said, "he's not lost and he's with you now." Say what you will, it's what I needed to hear. I can't wait until our "date". I'll keep you posted.
So that's where I am on this rainy, dark Ash Wednesday night. I hope I haven't dragged you down any place you don't want to be. I don't wish for those who love and care for me to worry. I always risk that when I have a moment of candor - I am ok. I am walking the road I must and am so grateful to have my faith. While I respect them, I really wonder how others cope without it. I am usually more private about my faith practice, but as this web log has carried me on this course I can't leave it out - I wouldn't want to. I'm not trying to preach, for who am I to do that? -but for those of you sharing my journey I'm just telling how it is for me.
"I know why I am here and my only real focused goal is to live each day to the fullest and to try and honor God and be an encouragement to others. What the future holds is firmly in God's hands, and I am very happy about that!" Ken Hensley
About a month ago, my dear sister-from-another mother, Penny wrote to me and suggested that I attend an upcoming faith sharing retreat for women at a retreat center located just south of Seattle. It was billed, "Finding God in All Things. Most often we expect to find God in Church, or during retreats, or in our formal prayers and devotions. But since God is present everywhere and in every circumstance of our lives we can find God in All things...in nature, in music and poetry, in our relationships, and in the struggles of our daily lives." It sounded good to me - just what I needed - or was it? Penny seemed truly surprised that I agreed to go.
Little Church Ladies (friends since 1st grade) Love you~
I am familiar with this place. Years ago, as a young mother needing a little peace and time to myself, I attended a retreat or two here with other women from my parish. It was difficult saying goodbye to my little needy children back then and even more difficult reintegrating back in to "real" life. I can't believe that I actually made it through those "silent" weekends - not me. I'd sleep, pray, eat, sleep, walk the beautiful grounds....sleep - you get the picture. I'd recharge my batteries and jump back in to my world feet first. This experience would be different.
The Palisades Retreat & Faith Formation Center is the retreat house of the Archdiocese of Seattle and is located on a bluff overlooking the beautiful Puget Sound (For Info). The ministry is not just for women; the yearly calendar includes retreats for men, couples, and young people too. I was relieved that this was to be a "sharing" weekend, I didn't think I was ready for the silent treatment - not now. As the weekend wore on I wasn't so sure.
I drove down Friday afternoon in time to check in, meet Penny and some women from her parish and have dinner. I remember the awkward, quiet meals from my earlier experiences and was grateful for the conversation at our table. It was wonderful meeting Penny's friends, putting faces to names I'd heard about over the years and thank them in person for all of their faithful prayers for me and my family. I got to know them pretty well over the next six meals that we would share together. That evening about 60 women met in the large, water view, conference room to meet our retreat directors, get oriented, and hear what was in store for us.
Rev. Father John Fuchs is the Superior for the Jesuit Community at Bellarmine in Tacoma (a Catholic Academy) and Pam McCauley is the program Coordinator at Palisades. She and Father team up once a year and their annual program is very popular. One of the more touching images I'll take from this weekend took place Saturday evening at a prayer service in the chapel. We had attended mass earlier so after dinner I opted for some private time (as we are encouraged to do whenever we feel we need it). I wandered into chapel just toward the end of a special "blessing" ceremony. As each woman felt comfortable they walked to the front of the chapel, placed a personal written prayer request in a basket and then Fr. John stood on one side and Pam on the other as they gently and silently prayed over the person - Fr's hand was placed on the person's head kind of - well, fatherly like, and Pam's was on their shoulder. The lights were low, candles were lit, soft Gregorian type chanting music played, and the atmosphere was so serene. Father would then anoint the individual forehead with holy oil (we Catholics love all that oil and incense kind of stuff). Finally, Fr. lifted his hand to Pam's head and just stood quietly .... the kind of "time sort of stands still" quiet. Then Pam lifted her hand to Father's head and prayed over him. It was somehow so moving to me in this old male dominated church to witness this - times they are a changin'. Only Fr. anointed with the oil though, that's a priestly duty - some things never change.
....but I jumped ahead. I didn't just feel all spiritual and renewed right off the bat - quite the opposite surprisingly. I thought I was coming down with something, my head felt congested and kind of spacey. The first evening, after our welcome, we had Silent Prayer before the Blessed Sacrament with soft music - it was beautiful. It felt familiar and comforting. I guess this is what I expected the whole weekend to be like...just "sitting" with myself, not thinking...sleeping, eating, walking. But no, this weekend was to be different - uncomfortable. When we were asked what each of us expected to get from our experience I had no trouble coming up with my practiced mantra of late: "Be still, contemplate, and trust in the heavens." Off to my little monastic room I went and against the "suggested" rules I checked my email. You reap what you sew or what ever cliche you want to stick in here!
I felt better in the morning - rested, not so 'out of it'. I made it outside for a short walk before Morning Prayer and returned invigorated for my day of "me" "me" "me". I think maybe I became confused after my recent conversation with my oldest about needing a trip to a destination spa. You'd think I'd get the picture when the first thing I met after checking in to my room was the "retreat rules, regulations and schedule" and the clean sheets on the end of my bed with instructions of how to make it....hello? I guess I'd blocked out that part from my earlier experience, or maybe the whole "monk" thing fit the silent retreat image. Maybe it was just that as a young wife and mother it seemed natural to be making someone's bed! It wasn't really so bad. I even found a little humor when I realized not only did you not get those cute little shampoo bottles, there were no shower caps either. What was I thinking? Luckily I had a plastic bag for dirty clothes - I'm innovative if anything. Look out MacGyver!
I'd reflected on the comments the women had shared the night before and was overwhelmed with the amount of loss, pain, and suffering. By the end of the first presentation of the morning I felt a bit unsettled; after my small group faith sharing I was just plain aggitated. Out of the five women in my designated group, three of us were widows. One woman, younger than me, lost her husband two years ago and the other one's died just three months ago on my husband's birthday. I tried to keep quiet thinking they needed to speak first - for once just close my big mouth and be still. Finally, after they had all talked it was my turn - nothing came out the way I wanted or expected. It was like, who is this person? I felt like I should be comforting them and I was so angry....I don't know why. It was as if I couldn't bear anyone else's pain - I'm lost in my own, I didn't come here to hear about yours. Of course, I didn't say that but it's what I thought and I felt ashamed of myself. By the next presentation I was not in my right skin. It was just so disconcerting...and I couldn't put my finger on it. Just not me....not like me at all, but who is that person these days? I'm really not sure.
Pam told us about a new addition to the property - a Labyrinth. The labyrinth, or the "Sacred Walk" is a devotional practice that is rooted in many faiths (Learn more). My first thought was of the old english garden variety labyrinth with the tall hedges and dead ends if you make the wrong turn. I had visions of missing lunch and then dinner after becoming hopelessly lost in it. Pam read my mind as her next comment was, "don't worry, you won't get lost in this one". I must have walked the immediate grounds three times before I had to ask where it was. "It looks like a patio" was the response and then I remembered the one my daughter and I walked at the beautiful luxury spa, Miraval, in Arizona (no wonder I was irritated). That one was stone lined clay gravel surrounded with desert plants. This one was made of brick and overlooked the breath-taking Puget Sound, Olympic Mountains and towering evergreens. I tried very hard to make myself one with nature. Pam said it wouldn't happen, but as I stood on this open labyrinth, trying to follow the path to a clear mind and insight - I got lost.
One moment of true joy that I had that afternoon was when I got to lead the Rosary in the chapel that afternoon. Volunteers were requested for various activities the night before. I'm a natural for my beloved Rosary-touching and moving the beads can calm our spirit and help us focus. I signed up quickly before I was asked to do the dishes. I'm kidding, we didn't have to do the dishes, but we did clear our table. I'd never make it in a commune. Part of our experience was to find God in all things....even the mundane.
On this note we were asked to find something in nature or we could use a special personal object that we had and bring it to the large faith sharing group to tell how we could see God in that item. My first thought was that I'd go down all 200 stairs to the beach, give thanks if I didn't have a heart attack and then find a rock. I like rocks - how they feel, how solid and permanent they are and how they find their way in to every one of my pockets. I'd work the God part out later, but then I remembered the cross that my husband gave to me on my last birthday. I brought it with me to think of him. He was the best man I've ever known, good, decent, honest. He was agnostic but so supportive of my faith and our children's Catholic school education. The funny thing is that this chain and crucifix is really a man's. It's huge and clunky and the choice so odd, but I love it.
So time came for faith sharing and I could not muster interest. Ol' loquacious me didn't want to share anything - what a mood! First off three women had collected rocks - thankfully I hadn't climbed all those blasted stairs. I was still debating about telling everyone about my husband's gift, when Vickie, from my small group, who'd lost her husband two years ago began to tell of a Valentine's Day when her husband came up behind her and slipped this delicate, beautiful cross around her neck - that sealed it! There wasn't a dry eye in the house.
After dinner was when I decided to have my own pity party, pull the covers up and pass on evening prayer. Even though we'd been encouraged to make this weekend anything we wanted - attend or not; I still felt like a delinquent nun. I pulled out my phone and checked my email (be still, contemplate.....) and there it was. My husband's email buddy, a colorful old Greek fisherman who had no idea where in the world I was, sent me the most unlikely thing - he sent me a prayer:
"Dear God....help us to remember that oaks grow strong in contrary winds, that diamonds are made under pressure, and that a pearl is the fruit of irritation. Give us reassurance of Thy presence and Thy blessing in the work we do, so that above the noise and challenges before us, we may see the open doors of opportunity. Enable us this day to bring help to others, credit to You Dear Heavenly Father and joy to those who love us."
That's all it the email said...no explanation - nothing. He's never sent one religious thing that I can remember. Thank you Johnny - I needed that.
So....I threw back my blanket, washed my face, adjusted my attitude and went to chapel. That's when I tiptoed on to that candle-lit, Gregorian chanting scene. I felt bad, like I'd really missed out - something very spiritual, very special was happening. "That's what you get" I told myself. So I sat there and "watched" these women who had poured out their hearts faithfully, receive their reward. Pam had just place her hand on Father's head like a loving mother to an adult son and the women were slowly departing the chapel. Sweet Penny saw me and stopped to say she was worried about me. I told her not to be, I was just working some things out on my own. She handed me a small slip of paper and a pen and said that the basket was still up on the altar and I could still write a note, "what I'd ask God to do for me if he was right here, right now" and place it up in the basket. I wrote: "Dear Heavenly Father, I know You are right here, right now and You know my needs. All I ask is if you'd please say hello to my husband". Father was just about to take the basket so I hurried to him and slipped in my note. I asked him if he could spare one more blessing? We were nearly alone in the candle-lit chapel and he calmly place his hand on my bowed head. We stood for a while, quietly and then he said, "May your eyes and your ears be open. Be still and listen for God as the world is loud." For the first time all weekend, I had a sense of peace.
I couldn't sleep for a long time. I began to understand that being alone is different than being "still". In my quest to "contemplate" I know I'm going to have to stop trying to distract myself from feeling this loss. I have several theories as to where this restlessness came from this weekend, but most of the many gifts I received were from the women I spent it with. I've read a lot from the Bible, but I've never READ the Bible. Without asking for it, Penny's sister, Janette (the big sister I wanted to have growing up) made a copy of a Bible reading calendar. It breaks the readings up into manageable sections throughout the year. One of the "rock" ladies gave me a paper explaining that some of the most striking and beautiful images of the Bible are based upon rocks: " They are a symbol of God - Yahweh is my rock, and my fortress". "The rock is a symbol of that which endures" and then a line from a song we sang in our last mass: "No storm can shake my inner-most calm while to that rock I'm clinging...."How can I keep from singing?"
Before Sunday morning mass we had one last big group gathering. I was able to express what was in my heart - My stated reason, that first night, for why I had come did not match up with how I was feeling. I am so consumed with my own grief that I couldn't bear to hear about theirs, that I'm afraid to hear in them that I'll never get past this - that I'll never be the same. I was able to thank them for what they had shared with me and taught me. I've learned that remaining still enough to actually contemplate something is going to be hard work. I told them that I've never seen the Grand Canyon and that I haven't read the Bible - this year I plan to do both. I just might read the Bible in the Grand Canyon. I read Johnny's prayer to them admitted that I like diamonds and pearls as much as the next gal so under pressure and with the fruit of my irritation maybe by next year's retreat I'll have earned a whole necklace! We attended mass together, sang "Amazing Grace" and "Here I Am Lord". Yes, faith has many expressions and we can find God everywhere if we'll only look, be still, and listen.
This amazing place worked it's magic once again. Somehow I think the communal effort is all part of the plan, even making the bed and talking in whispers (sometimes). I hugged my women goodbye after lunch and as they headed out I had one last journey to complete - 167 stairs (maybe more, I lost count) to the beach - and THEN back! I had some walking and thinking and singing and praying to do - a beautiful, empty stretch of pacific northwest beach is just the place to do it. I knew I wasn't alone~
Oh, how I love the Phantom Of The Opera. Apu and I saw it, live, twice - once in Seattle and once in Vancouver, Canada. I can't say which was better, but I was especially touched by this song in both. At that time it conjured up thoughts of my father who died at the very young age of 62 from a brain tumor. He was vibrant, intelligent, fun and loving - the original Italian stallion, if only in his own mind, lol. I adored him.
It was so funny to see him rival for my affection up until the birth of my first born. During labor I had a small, framed photo of my husband (who was in reality at my side) as I was instructed to have a "focal point" to concentrate on while breathing through my contractions. When my Pop saw it, later, at my bedside he brought in one of himself propped against his small WWII fighter plane, wearing his flying-ace black leather jacket and white silk scarf thrown jauntily around his neck (my scanner isn't working-photo to follow. Just think "Top Gun"). He was not to be outdone, but I was quickly replaced the first time he laid eyes on his new grand daughter. This song holds double meaning for me now that my two favorite men (who deeply cared for each other) are gone. Thank you God, for allowing my third to reside nearby - he brings me such courage and inspires me daily.
What's wrong with this picture???
Yes, I'm conflicted... the weight of winter and the hope of spring. I saw these baby daffodils and HAD to have them to focus on much like I relied on Apu's photo during my lo-o-ng labor. You see people, I'm following instructions so just settle down. I'm writing my third post in as many days not only because my first load of student papers is in and I may not see the sun (? hello?) for a while, but also to put minds at ease for the several calls I've received since Saturday's post. When I'm not checking in online for more than a week or if I reply "I'm ok" with a thin pitiful voice and a vacant look in my eye....then worry. But if I'm just calling it straight like it is, well then I'm just processing as I must. I know you want me to be better than I am - that it makes you uncomfortable, but until I start running down Main street naked wearing only crooked red lipstick (I'm not saying it won't happen - might even be fun) please trust that I'm handling this as I must. Don't make me say what you want to hear.
Now, having said that....I do feel better today, for those of you who care or are curious. This is a wacky roller coaster I am riding. I write this for others out there who have lost someone they love. It's important to have the sad days, the rest and release, but it is also important to put a moratorium on this in terms of leaning into it. As my wise daughter recently said (figure out which one) it's healthy for short periods, but can become an addictive pathos - an unhealthy crutch (I paraphrased a little). This pity-party for one can become a convention of depression - not a desired destination, for sure. So, my little family and I are each packing our own personal "bag-o-tricks" to help each of us through the stormy days and nights. We are learning what works and what doesn't - no two satchels have the same contents and it's helpful to learn what produces successful results.
One thing that helped me was a long distance phone call with Apu's sister, Anna-Maria. She lives in Stockholm and while we can't be together in person, via Skype (fabulous!) we can speak about Apu in ways others can't. We can cry together without feeling like we're making someone uncomfortable; we are able to share our grief. I find with my children that I try to cheer them (or vise/versa) or not let them see me too bereft. Another was my close friend, Vera who called me out, "Okay, you can say NO, but I won't take many nos before you have to say YES!" Not many have the guts to say that....or the right. Then there's Betsy who cooked me spinach and made me eat it (she has her ways), Penny who urged me to sign me up for a woman's retreat next month and I can'f forget my wallk at Green Lake with my daughter-in-love.
I've procrastinated enough....time to grade student's papers. Duty and commitment help too - some things just take precedent over my crappy mood even if temporarily. Also, getting up early to walk the pups, music, laying off the sugar and junk food, a cup of java with the gals, morning mass, clearing out clutter, just the right amount of sleep (8 hrs for me - not more, not less!) drinking water with lemon slices, funny movies (hunting for the illusive belly-laugh), the history channel, performing random-acts-of-kindness, (receiving r-a-o-k) having curfew on pity-parties....... I will continue to pack my survival bag; stay tuned and please don't worry. As my favorite coffee mug reads, "I'm fine, fine, I'm Fine....really I'M FINE!
Really....I am....REALLY....anybody have any red lipstick?
Oh, but this is an effort today. I promised, those months ago, to write honestly and while I prefer to uplift my readers and carry them on a message of hope and healing, I can't always do that. I wish I could, but I know that is not reality, not if I hope to work through this grief in a thorough and healthy manner. If I am to write at all (trust me, right now I'd rather not) I have to include these very dark days. I am at a low point. I'm not asking for calls, visits, nor pity - this is what loss of a dearly loved one looks like and I must face it and sometimes alone. It's been 5 months, five months, of not seeing my husband, hearing his wonderful accented voice (other than on home movies) touching him or experiencing his warm embrace or encouraging wink of one of those baby blues. How is this even possible?
Sometimes I fool myself that I feel ok....that possibly I really am, but then...., like yesterday and today-reality hits hard. Don't worry, please don't. I. Must. Do. This. I can't have spent everyday, by choice, with someone for nearly 40 years to have this adjustment be easy. I must pay my dues, I will endure - but it's so difficult, so painful. I hope I can make it through; I pray that I can. I just miss him so much. Sorry, sorry...this is what I tried to prepare you for...myself for.
I've started back to work after the holiday break and that is good. I'm trying to continue walking and for the most part I have, but not with the same dedication as before - maybe that is part of my problem. I don't have the panicked urgency of heading out of the house at a quarter to midnight with the dogs and a flashlight so as not to miss a day. That is the motivation of a goal (especially when you have readers to face), but it is still part of my life and I'll not give it up. Poor Rufus has suffered as of late due to my increased work schedule and the demand on my stamina. My heart is tired, I'll admit it and when I don't walk - the dogs don't get out. Maybe that explains why Rufus, normally not a chewer, damaged the cushion of my favorite wicker sofa last night. Give me a break, it's only been 48 hrs. I think I've spoiled him. I'll finish here and then take him out in to the rain. It will match my mood and do us both good. Mikey is too much of a wuss - poor guy, I don't blame him. He's getting on - over 80 in dog years. I hope I'm doing as well as he is when I'm that old.
Sad Dog!! Not long ago I went to lunch with my friend and former colleague, Irene. She gave me a post-Christmas present and in it was an antique table cloth with a note attached. It read:
A story for you Patti: "Somewhere back in the mists of time, there was a woman who knew that a good cloth with a hole in it should not be thrown away as if it were worthless. A careful job of mending might make it serviceable. In her case, the hole was too large to draw together, and patching would make it unsightly, so she decided to embroider tiny stitches around the hole. It was so much more satisfying and en-heartening that she kept up with her theme and made something very special...a piece of 'cut-work'. Sometimes we are left with a hole in our lives, a hole in our hearts, a hole in our family. But the life, the heart of the family, is too good to throw away....and patching or covering up never does do the job. So, like the good housewife, we find that with a a careful and gentle touch we can place fine stitches of memory and laughter and treasured stories around the hole. Then the hole will never be denied or hidden, but will become a treasured part of the fabric of life."
This special piece of cloth now sits on my dining room table. It reminds me of my husband in more ways than one. I possess many beautiful pieces of 'cut-work' from his native country - pillow slips, table cloths, folk costumes. I can now understand how this beautiful handwork developed - out of necessity and practicality. They were too precious and rare to waste so they were improved. Hard working people valued what they had and made the best of them. I realize that I can never 'fix' this hole in my heart. To pretend as if everything is A-ok would be to try and cover up what was once whole and complete, even to myself. I will work hard to stitch around this loss and maybe the result will be something very special, but in the process I have to face my wound, as painful as it is. I must 'sit-with-it' to be able to create new fabric. Thank you, Irene, for this very precious gift. Thank all of you for allowing me to heal in this way. I know it can't be easy to read, but you can't say you weren't warned.
And finally, a thank you to my new friend and teacher, Patrice - all the way from New York. I did my homework (it helped me greatly) and I ask my readers to do the same. Please read this Rumi poem three times. (On my own?....not really)
Rumi - Guest House
This being human is a guest house Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they are a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still treat each guest honorably. He may be clearing you out for some new delight. The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in. Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.
"Simplicity is making the journey of this life with just baggage enough." Author Unknown~
Today marks a new adventure! Well I wouldn't really call it an adventure, more of a goal. In my effort to move forward I am going to try to add a couple more uplifting items to my web log this year. One of them will be to unload THINGS! This is something that Apu and I actually began last year and talked about quite a bit in the months before he died. The weight and burden of so much unnecessary clutter is quite suffocating and stressful - it adds to my overwhelmed feeling.
I'm not sure where the term "1000 Project" came from. I first heard it from one of my former students. I think she and her mom or sisters started doing this, but I never found out if they completed what they started. Once when my youngest daughter was home visiting we were watching the A&E TV show, "Hoarders" which, if you don't know, is about people whose lives have become out of control due to their inability to part with their belongings. I can hardly believe that people actually live like this. The horror must have shown on my face because my loving adult child looked over at me and said, "Don't worry Mom, we'll never let you get that bad!" Mind you this is from one who hasn't seen the bottom of her closet floor in months.
I'm not laughing, however. After my husband died the reality of what my children would have to dig through, should I drop any time soon, was a sobering thought! For a while I've had a "buy one, get rid of one" rule, but that just keeps me even. I need a running start - heck, let's be honest...sprinting wouldn't help me at his point. So, I'll try this 1000 project - getting rid of 1000 things during the course of this next year. That can't be so hard, right? My daughter-in-law and I have even talked of having a garage sale before the end of summer - now there's a plan. She is so excited. I've done one before - they aren't so exciting. I think most of us know that they are a lot of work and you don't make much for the effort, but she's only been in this country a couple of years - it's almost unAmerican not to experience one at least once.
So, that's it! I just wanted to let you know that I've started slowly to unload my clutter and I'm hoping that in the process I'll let go of a few things. My husband's belongings will be the last to sort and I'm sure I'll have a few nostaligic journeys along the way, but maybe, just maybe by ridding myself of some of this materialistic burden my heart will lighten a little too. I'll keep you posted.
BTW - my Widow Walk continues as well as my regular ones....the dogs would never forgive me!
I did it!!! I'm done! I walked for 365 days straight...in all possible terrains, some short, some long, some alone, others with companions (two and four legged) and often with a very heavy heart...but I managed to trudge forward and I think my Apu is proud of me - my own little marathon. It's such a small accomplishment, but he was so encouraging that in spite of our challenges I was hell bent on making some little trek each day, no matter how small. I did it for him, because he couldn't. I'd planned to write more of a review of the year of walks, but quite honestly I'm just not up to it - I'm sick. There is more than enough review material if you are really interested, just check under the "365 Walks" category on my blog's sidebar. The part that amazes me is how long I wrote EVERY DAY after walking! It was always about the exercise of writing rather than the physical part anyway...I think most of you knew that. I never dreamed I'd wind up writing about my journey as a widow, but my writing, along the way, shows the strain of Apu's illness. I have created quite a journal of our last year together - unintentionally. If I could just figure out how to archive it permanently, you know - just for me.
I had also intended on sharing more details of our "first" Christmas without him, but it was painful and we made it through - that about sums it up. Somehow I just can't see dragging you all through the agony of it - it's past. The miracle was that, except for Apu, we were all together in my oldest's new home in LA. Work schedules very nearly sabotaged us and I just don't think I could have handled Christmas without all of my children together - it was the greatest gift I could ever have. It wasn't a happy Christmas, but we weren't miserable either - we just endured. We had some happy moments, even some funny ones. Fortunately, humor will always see us through - dark as it can sometimes be.
I will tell one brief story - the acquiring of our Christmas tree. A tradition that once involved the whole family, a seemingly never-ending selection process (at one time a live tree that we'd then replant) followed by breakfast together. The whole decorating process was another group effort. This year my oldest and I were still trying to store unpacked moving boxes to allow for sleeping accommodations in her new digs. I'd arrived early to help prepare for the Christmas Eve onslaught and we'd receive daily inquiries as to just how much "it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas" things were coming along? Two days before our Yuletide celebration we couldn't put off the "chore" of getting the tree up any longer. After considering the unthinkable (flocked vs artificial) we ended up in a Home Depot lot purchasing the first pine smelling thing we (literally) tripped over and scrambling to secure the last available (piece of crap) tree stand. Somewhere around midnight and a bottle of wine later, I asked if we should wait to let the baby of the family put on the final touch - the angel on top, our sacred tradition. I'd like to think it was the wine talking, but I believe it was pure exhaustion that fueled my eldest daughter's exasperated, "Give Me That Thing!" as she rammed the tree top up the rump of the sparkly-winged cherub. Well....that's done!
Can always count on Mikey for a cuddle~
So-sigh-here I am on the 2nd of January 2011, sick as a dog and not feeling even as opptimistic as I was 15 minutes ago (don't worry, it changes every 5 or so). I said I'd report early in the new year and a promise is a promise. I rang in the feast of "Sylvester" (as my husband knew it-click) in the way I like most, quiet-like, only this year was very, very different. Sorry gang, I can't dance around it...it just sucks. I'm quite certain videos of celebrations past did not help. There - now, you made me cry....happy? I have so much to be grateful for, and I am...it's just....I've earned a pity party and I aim to have it.
I came home from LA nursing a bit of a respiratory infection along with the rest of the world. Airplanes are the most efficient giant petri dishes outside of a laboratory....so what did I expect? It hit me full blown these last couple of days and while I dragged myself out of bed yesterday to take the dogs to the beach in honor of my 365th WALK, I'm paying the price today. The house is a disaster (the kids came over for movies last night...dinner from cartons and popcorn! YUM!) I stayed in bed most of the day, with Mikey, sipping fluids and all of a sudden I couldn't live another minute without a fullsized banana spilt. That's right! I am admitting here publically that I pulled on clothes, did not shower (used deoderant but not the good kind with aluminum, only the natural kind that lets you sweat) and without makeup I shamelessly put the dogs in the car with me so they thought they were going somewhere and drove straight to the nearest Baskins & Robbins. I looked the young ice-cream-scooperman in the eye and I said, "I don't care if it is January 2nd and everyone is honoring their New Year's resolutions, slice me up some bananas topped with Jamoca Almond Fudge, Love Potion #31, and Gold Medal Ribbon - with the works! Please!" God love him - he didn't even blink as he said, "Don't worry, they'll all be back in here in a month!" I tucked Mikey under my jacket back in the car and he didn't care where we were going - he was so damned happy. He teaches me so much about the real values in life. Rufus just slobbered all over the windows, as usual. I think he was still happy about our late afternoon stroll on the dog beach the day before. Some things just have to hold you over.... that's a lesson that I'm still learning.... .
"Please take us to the beach?" "Maybe if we play nice?" "Ah-h-h-h, yesss...."
May we all continue to be aware of our blessings throughout 2011 and beyond. Be healthy~
I'll be honest - it's going to be a tough Christmas. I'll have to really work on the Jolly part, but I promise to give it a chance.
I came across this incredibly talented little 7 yr old girl. She lost her mom to ovarian cancer two years ago and I am very touched by her beautiful gospel voice. She is so young to have suffered such loss and still she finds the courage to sing like an angel.
The days are flying by so fast. Christmas will be here before we know it and I have much to accomplish before I wing my way south to LA for Christmas with my family. We've decided that it is very important for us to not only be together, but to have our environment and activities be unlike our usual customs - for this year at least. I'm sure we'll still try to make our traditional Christmas Eve dinner, but we are trying to think of things that will distract us from the weight of our loss. It's not possible to avoid completely, of course, Apu was such a part of our little rituals, but with some effort we might find some fun in the sun. Maybe instead of dressing formally for dinner we'll wear our pajamas. We're thinking of a Christmas day bicycle trip with a picnic on the beach - now that's different. Maybe we'll just stay in bed and order Chinese take out - we'll see, sigh.
My son and daughter-in-law came over today to help me put some lights up around the house. I am forcing myself to engage in this season at least a little, but my heart's just not in it. I wanted to put the lights up mostly for my neighbors - to cheer them and also so they won't worry about me - you know, sitting in the dark (lol-I can be so pathetic). I have to admit it was more cheerful coming home tonight - a little bittersweet, but comforting.
Rufus and I have been walking everyday, but it's just been a little too cold for Mikey (the wuss). Although these treks have been close to home and short, they are among the few times that I like my old self - carefree, light-hearted. I cautiously shared with my grief counselor (afraid he'd bring out the little jacket that laces up the back - not a good look) the strange sensation that I occasionally have of sort of observing myself from some distant vantage point - not exactly out-of-body, but almost. I was so relieved when he told me that this is perfectly normal-a way of disassociating myself from my ordeal, a way of coping. He let me know what things he was looking for when evaluating me (ability to create a narrative, feeling of release after crying, getting out of bed, dressing, engaging, basically functioning etc., and he believes that although I'm having a rough time I'm processing things okay. When I describe the sadness, emptiness, the painful ache of loss - of just "missing him so much", he said, "this is what grief looks like and it isn't pretty." So we've agreed that I don't need to make set appointments anymore; I'll just call if I think I need a visit. Silly how that feels like a promotion of some kind - not exactly graduation, but maybe a move to the head of the class? What did people do before therapy? I guess maybe they went out and ploughed the back 40 then killed a big chicken for dinner. We probably just have too much time on our hands - too much time to think and remember....
I just keep moving forward, filling my calendar days, writing my "to do" lists, and I walk. Right foot, left foot, right foot, left - maybe I'll just walk myself through this holiday season and into the new year, past a few more heart tugs, a couple more "Firsts. I wonder if the "Seconds" will be any easier. Fa la la la La-la La- La La
I don't think anyone has considered me to be a moody person, but when I saw this video clip I recognized myself. This is who I am these days; this is how I feel. I find myself waiting to write until I feel more my 'old' self, but I don't think that is very fair to those who follow me - or very honest.
My days are light and dark, but mostly varying shades of gray. As I try to report, I have amazing moments with friends and family; I feel truly loved. After walking the dogs in the rain last night, I went to the Cinebarre ("eat, drink and watch movies") with one of my spiritual guides (and dear friend), Pan. The outing followed two long teaching days at the hospital and it was a welcome diversion - I didn't have to face my echoing walls for too long. I was so afraid she'd want to take me to see "After Life", but I should have known that my friend has better sense than that. We went to see RED" I'm still laughing. All that, a beer and greasy food too! Thank you Pan.
Before bed I had a long 'Skype call' with my amazing sister-in-law who lives in Stockholm. We cried together and remembered a most incredible man who we both miss beyond belief. We find solace and relief in our bonded grief. Sun and clouds - light and dark.
Have you ever tried to put in contact lenses while the tears are flowing? It's rather like a salmon trying to swim upstream - a challenge to be certain. Some don't make it - salmon that is, but I will for I am not alone....even though, when the clouds come, it feels like it....
Coming home is the worst! It used to be the highlight of my day and now I dread it. Although I've been alone in my life, I don't remember ever feeling lonely. This is a new experience for me. I don't mind time by myself - I've always enjoyed it, but this kind of aloneness is something quite different. When you've spent most of a life with someone who feels as comfortable as your own skin, their absence from your world leaves an emptiness that can never be imagined. I used to try when my husband was very sick and in the hospital. I'd come home saddened and weary and think, "This is what it would feel like if I was by myself", but I had no idea. Thank God I didn't, because no one should have to endure this reality any sooner than they have to.
I wondered why I made it through Apu's birthday relatively well and then everything hit me the next day. He had an unusual birthday in that we always celebrated the evening of October 13th and the morning of October 14th - and, well, we threw in the hours before and after for good measure. The story goes that he was actually born on the 14th but in celebrating the birth of his first son his father over-imbibed and accidently wrote the wrong date on the birth certificate. In communist eastern Europe it might as well have been written in blood. From that day on his birthday was October 13th. His mother told me the story after we'd been married for two years. When I questioned her certainty on this little factoid she replied, " A mother doesn't forget a thing like that!" Sure enough, two years later at the birth of my first child I knew what she meant. Apu loved his duel celebration and even this year I got a text from my son declaring the beginning of his father's birthday "part two".
As if in some sort of primal annual cycle, my unconscious-self knew his real birthday was this Thursday. I was working in the same hospital that he'd practiced in (how long do doctors practice before they get it down?) for many years and several old colleagues of his (and mine) greeted me warmly throughout the day. I was more vulnerable by the attentiveness and kindness and let my guard down several times throughout the day. I was worn out physically and emotionally by the time I got home and broke down at the front door. I wanted to walk in and climb into my bed, fully dressed, shoes and all. I think the only thing that prevented me from doing so was the thought of taking all those hospital-acquired foreign organisms to the sheets with me. Instead, I grabbed the leashes and slipped them on trusty Rufus and Mikey and headed out before it got dark. I warmed up the leftover battered fish from my date with Kelly and Ev (thanks girls) the day before, but it just stuck in my throat which was still crowded from my heart being held there all day. I was supposed to go to my book club meeting....but it was not doable - not that night.
Friday was better - different day, new attitude. I had to do something because I couldn't take two of those in a row. I was so pleased with my students. Their faces were flushed with hard work and the effort of trying to measure up. One in particular thanked me as she announced that life was a bit smoother on 7 hours of sleep - Eureeka! They made such wonderful differences in the lives of their patients and even I stepped out of my own strife to help ease theirs. I left the hospital tired again but it was still so staggeringly beautiful out that I hurried home and grabbed the dogs to head to the beach before the sun went down. The place was abuzz with canine activity and creatures of the two and four legged variety were so damned happy to be there that it was positively infectious. I eventually had to return home, but we were all refreshed and physically spent.
I want to go to my home - I love it here. It's where I have many joyous memories and am surrounded by the things that I love, it's just very painful right now. I'm not sure how I'll figure out how to face it with less trepidation, but I'm sure I will. One good thing about getting older, experiencing life and knowing one's self is the confidence that one way or another I'll muddle through. The alternative is just not acceptable! For now I'll just take that big deep breath as I turn the key, open my door, and step on in - "Hello-o-o, I'm home!"
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