Endurance in grief

 I really hate grief and there is not much in life I hate.  I am not comfortable with hate.  It is a bitter emotion and useless I have always thought.  But living with the grief of being a widow, I can truly say I hate.  I do not like it and all I can do is just go through, endure, because here I am.

Last night I took the refresher class for Defensive Driver for seniors, those over age 60.  This happens every two years and gets me 10% discount off my car insurance rate.   I usually learn or relearn something too.  It is a useful refresher but I wish it were not every 2 years and that the class did not take 3 hours.  e get out early if the people will not ask incessant silly questions of the instructor or feel the need to say what happened to them when.  But people seem compelled to have to comment.  Our instructor is a local friend, retired State  Highway  Cop and semi truck driver still.  He does his best to move things along.  He had explained answering a question about why bicyclists who are to obey the same road rules as vehicles are not cited for violations,  because judges do not want to be bothered.  How many police officers will waste their time writing tickets that a judge will toss?  No back up to enforcement gets no enforcement, pure and simple.  It was not 5 minutes later when another woman asked "why aren't bicyclists given tickets?"  Sheesh, lady pay attention he just went through it.  If these people can pay no more attention to driving than they do in class, no wonder they are considered risky.  

At the start of the class my grief smacked me between the eyes.  The instructor opens the class asking everyone to write the names of 5 people in their lives important to them.  I do not have 5, in fact I do not really have any now that Jerry is gone.  I stretched to come up with 2 names, and yet I know I am not that important to them.  I do not hear from anyone routinely, let alone so called family.  When Jerry and I last took this refresher class together, at least I had him and a late friend, she is now gone too.  Our son has been gone since 2008, I truly have no one.  The next step was to cross off 2 of the 5 names at random which signifies the number or percentage of those who will be killed by distracted or intoxicated/drugged drivers. The exercise has lost all meaning to me. 

A FB contact on the FB Grief Speaks Out site shared this poem with me::::: 

FRIENDS DON'T COME BY

 

Friends don't come by too often,

ever since you went away.

I think they feel uncomfortable

and just don't know what to say.

 

On the times they do stop by

they never stay too long,

"I really must get going"

is always their same old song.

 

I try to keep them talking

'bout news and other stuff,

I don't let them see me crying,

or tell them how things are so rough.

 

But deep inside I really wish

they would ask me how I'm doing,

and sit and listen as I cry

not tell me stop "boo hooing".

 

I wish they'd try to understand

this pain inside my heart,

for though I knew it could happen,

I wasn't ready for us to part.

 

But since they don't I'll just get by,

I'll stay busy and try to smile,

until the day God calls me home

and I walk my one last mile.

 

© Forrest Phelps-Cook

  

Grief musings

  I have not posted here for awhile, but we had Jerry's committal service May 7, as I had planned, on his 84th birthday. If such an event can be perfect it was.  Yet the full circumstances is another complete blog post.  This photo is the columbarium on Memorial Day, the second time that week I went to the cemetery.  Jerry's niche is the bottom row,   the third from the  right.  Since May 7, more vets have joined him and there were only 3 more niches left until  that entire section will be filled.  There is no choosing the site for the niche nor for the gravesite if that option is elected.  It is assigned,  an orderly system.   Someday when I am done with this earthly existence I will join him in the same niche and then they will get anew carved marble cover with my name added.  Memorial Day was very emotional for me, just about the time I thought I had been doing so well in this grief journey that I am taking alone, the crash came and the tears would not stay inside me.  I have learned that t is best to let them flow, a release.  

I went to the Preston Veterans Cemetery on Memorial Day to visit Jerry's niche. It was very busy and a very emotional time for me.   I was grateful for the local woman who saw me and came to ask if I was "ok?" I told her "I'm as OK as I ever will be, thank you." S he spent a bit of time with me and walked over to the niche where she had first spotted me sitting on the cement in front of it. I appreciated her kindness.  These days the comfort comes from strangers mostly.  

 Not one person called me that day let alone thought of going with me. Later that evening Jerry's son called the first time since the service, what we used to call his self obligatory calls.  Although he and DIL and grandson come for the service, they did not stay, flew in and back home,    were no help, no comfort. I can write them off now too. Truly I never expected much support from him but now I know for sure there will be none. He is into himself. Anything I  mention he diverts to his own goings on.  I tried to tell him about the military service and he did not listen.  He has no frame of reference never having served and knows little about his father's life.   So I have nothing to say. I will post more later about the service and how that day was a blur to me although I functioned well and no one noticed.  I got through it. What choice do I have. And that is my reality, I have no choice but to go on. 

 And that is my reality, I have no choice but to go on.  “It’s kind of a dorky statement, but it is true that grief rearranges your address book. It’s amazing how many people drop out of your life in the wake of catastrophic loss. People who have been with you through thick and thin suddenly disappear, or turn dismissive, shaming, strange. Random strangers become your biggest, deepest source of comfort, if even only for a few moments.”  ― Megan Devine   

 Finding this to be true, people I thought were friends no longer know me.  They are going on about their lives. One particular friend now acts very bored the last few times I have tried to talk with her.  When I call her on the phone, she yawns or has to hang up to go  talk with her husband who has come home for lunch. My God, if's not like she doesn't see him every day all the time! I am feeling she cannot be bothered, so I will not try again, 3 strikes and out. I sometimes feel bitter and think, "just you wait...your turn will come..." but I quickly give that feeling up, it does nothing for me. I am living my new reality and my entire life has changed to something nearly unrecognizable.  

Our parish is hosting a new grief support group with another church facilitated by a nurse and a counselor.  It is to be a small group of 12 and meet weekly at the other church.  After learning it is not just for widows, and looking at the book they will use, I pass.  I can see no benefit to me from going into such a setting with mixed grievers. The book is so very elementary it would be like learning the alphabet again.  If is were just widows, I might consider, but this, nope.  The Mayo social worker or known as grief outreach worker called me and offered a widow group but they meet on zoom.  Nope to that too.  I am sick of zoom gatherings.  If it cannot be in real face to face time, nope.  I talked with her a short time and found myself annoyed at this young eager person who has not experienced this loss, yes she has lost a parent.  That is the natural order of life but not relevant to losing my best friend, my 53 year partner. I told her bluntly I have become somewhat of an expert on grief, not by choice.  But losing my only child, our son 12+ years ago and now Jerry,  I am using all the skills I have. Over years,  I have lost all 3 of my closest friends and of course all my elderly relatives.  

My life is not  going to ever be the same, no more coach trip, no more someone to take care of the house, no more hugs, just more and more of no more.  And unless I can be with a group with similar losses I am not interested.  I am not mentally ill and do not need a counselor.  I just would like company.  Sometimes just someone to eat with.  

Lately I am experiencing more down feelings, in waves, previously these had been infrequent, episodic.  So alone yet the reality is I am alone and will be. Some days the only contact I have with other people is a phone call, online--thru FB, or if I go to the store. I have often heard that people desert you in grief and I never concerned myself with it. Hah,  it wouldn't happen to me, not as active as I am.  I thought  the workout friends would endure, they did not.  I did my best with my mother in law who was a widow, not an easy person to be with but who depended on us. I used to talk with her, ask her things, have her here for meals so she would not be alone. My late aunt in PA was another widow, runs in my family, and I called her every week as well as traveling to PA to visit her.  Here, nobody to do that for me.  I think if I dropped dead in this house who would know and how long would I be here. 

I get most support, understanding and wisdom from the FB group, Grief Speaks Out.  Many of the quotes I shared here come from that site where people from all over share their grief experiences.  

It has been very hot unseasonably for us, for June, extreme 90's and 100 degrees, no rain, hot.  So I try to get my outside chores done by noon and even then I am drenched in sweat, and make periodic trips inside to drink water and cool off.  Miserable.  So not getting my daily walks this week.  I had been doing that early morning but that time I need for outdoor weeding, watering, etc, so my walks are off schedule for now.  After dinner time or later  afternoons, it is not at all possible.  The heat is strong.  This is as bad as winter when it is subzero and I stay inside.  Even the weather is not cooperative. 

Well here I am again,  just me and my shadow.....

No Skin Off My Nose

Judging behavior not the person and based on experiences.  I tell myself "no skin off my nose" about things I try to not let bother me lately and often I find it is what I try to convince myself of with the annoyances of what Jerry's son does or does not do.  Yes, supposed to be my son too after being married to his father for 53 years, but I do not feel that comfortable with him and I do not believe he does with me either.  After all his head has been directed by his mother and even though he was here through and on Jerry's last day, and did what he felt he could, the attitude resumes. While here he sat with his phone most often.  Was ready to leave as fast  as he could which was ok with me. No way  would I try to explain to him that just maybe a bit of support would have been nice.  The words and promises, "if you need anything just call me..."  Sure, as if it were that easy.  They live in CA, we/me in MN.  So that is empty to me.  

Actions speak louder than words and lack of being in touch and overall lack of concern  resonate clearly with me. Now not even occasional texts from DIL. What else did I expect?  Not much really but guess I had hoped for better.  What has me referring to no skin off my nose is the latest  as time approaches for Jerry's committal service in May. "We'll be there" he said when he was here and on the phone since.  And they will.  We means he, DIL, and adult grand daughter and grandson.  Although both grands are married with their own lives (?) they are still interwoven.  That is how they live and it is a lifestyle neither Jerry nor I understood having been independent people who managed to live away from family and who raised our late son to be independent as well.  Not so they. So he called to say they had booked their hotel suite  would fly the day before the service and leave a day after.  Staying at a hotel across the river in La Crosse.  I ponder why other than they know it is the "right thing to do" they are  flying in for the service.  Perhaps he really does care, but this feels very nonchalant.  Obviously no concern about if I might need something because there will be no time for it.  I can hear Jerry telling me, "you expect too much from people"   

At least the granddaughter is in touch, phones at times and talks.  I feel a closeness, love for her.  The grandson, nope not after his snit when we were in CA in 2015.  He hurt Jerry and never apologized and so I was done then and  remain done. When I am through I am really through, truly a no skin reaction.   Perhaps it is defensive on my part to not experience the same treatment again.  I prefer to think I am wiser  than I used to be and have learned that when people show you who they are, believe them the first time.  Do not give them another chance to show you.  Forgive, sure but that does not mean interact or return for another dose.  I would love to have had time to spend just with granddaughter who called to share her exciting news that she is pregnant, expecting their first  in September.  Her hubby will not be coming along, someone has to take care of the home and their 3 dogs! But that will not be either and Mom and Dad are in control. 

I am also a bit disappointed that SIL will not be staying longer, but her partner is coming with her and he has a medical appointment on May 10, the service is May 7, so they will need to return to Denver quickly.  What was I expecting?  Maybe that she would be able to stay for a week or so and  spend time with me.  Yet I understand and she did a lot when Jerry was ill.  Marty has issues to be dealt with and yet he is making the effort to be here in support.  And Jerry reminds me from afar beyond, "you expect too much from people.  Expect nothing and they will not disappoint you.".  

 I did not realize my expectations were so high but now I am learning that really they are.  When I got annoyed about something Jerry would remind me to "consider the source. People  only know what they know. For some with limited life experiences they do not know much.  

I suppose I expected that they might have a taste of  grief I am working along.  Maybe they do.  I am perhaps looking through my own expectations and how I have and continue to act  helping through deaths, burials, funerals.  It was never about me, always about them. Now that it is central to me, I feel it is still just about them for their convenience for fitting into whatever all else they have happening.  I suppose I expected that these really were concerned about me just a little, and yet now I clearly feel not so and I am disappointed.  I know I am on my own.  I know I will survive.  And I know I will get through this.  

I will be here alone again right after the committal. nothing new, I have been alone these month s now since December.  I will deal with myself and my grief  just as I  have been doing.   I will survive because I have to.  But this has been a  reminder that all I have is me and the Lord. and my friends here whom I try not to pester.   

 I  follow a FB group, "Grief Speaks Out" and usually always gain some tidbit of wisdom or comfort from reading, and commenting.  Most of us in that site are currently in grief stages,  some have been there for years, some are new to yet another grief, like me,  some are young, some are old.  The other day we agreed how grief does not have a timeline. 

I think I am doing well and most who see me agree.  Some marvel, some wonder, I suppose.  But only a few really know that this is the most lifechanging event for me,  possibly worse than losing Steve, our son, because after all, I still had Jerry and he was my rock.  Few know me well enough to realize and the truth is most people are talk and that's where it stops.  

Best to not reflect on what is beyond our control and on those things we cannot change. Survival means  getting back to it, no skin off my nose. .  

Grief stages and reality of aloneness

Before mass the other Saturday evening, our deacon  asked me how I was doing and said he thinks about me frequently.  I  replied, "I am doing good, I think,  and others seem to say so too.  I have my moments but I expect them and I let them be."   He asked how long we had been married and when I told him 53 years, he replied, "when you share a lifetime together like that and that is a lifetime for many and beyond a lifetime for others, you can expect to grieve.  It is absolutely perfectly natural."  I shared with him that I think I am at peace, if this is peace because I know I did all I could for those months and the last hardest weeks, when I so worried about how I would continue to care for him as he became weaker and could hardly get up out of bed.  All I could do was pray.  But God was with me and still is always. I knew Jerry despised becoming frail and feeble, his main complaint was he hated not being able to do anything, he would say, "I can't do anything."  He had always been strong, healthy. He had overcome and survived. At Jerry's last breath when he gasped and was gone immediately and I saw the peaceful look of comfort that came all over his face immediately, I knew he was better off, that his struggle ended with victory of eternal rest and that we will be together again, that we will be together in my heart here on earth as long as I live."  "  He agreed that my faith is my great sustainer and I replied, "yes, I know ...it has held me through the loss of my only son and others...it is all I have left and it will just have to be there for me.  Somehow I always suspected I might become4 a widow because Jerry was 7 years older than me, but with his health and the longevity of his family, his genes surely meant a long life ahead.  He would tease that he would see 100 and surely he could have if those lungs had not been ravaged." 

Later, after mass, at home, I pondered  if all the practice I have had these past few years in losing  my dearest to deaths has numbed me or prepared me.  I have been blessed with little despair, not the  weeping and sobbing as some do at all.  The losses may have helped me to realize that death is the end of this life for each and every one of us, no one gets out of this life alive. It certainly has required me to become resilient, but then I had Jerry alongside me as my rock, now  just me and God.  I have had plenty of grief rehearsals. 

Currently a longtime friend from PA is grieving  and marking her first a month loss of her husband.  But she has family and  from her FB posts her daughter stays the night with her,  she does not face aloneness and seems to be unable to cope.  She is truly mournful to the depths.  I feel sorry for her and yet, I feel a bit annoyed.  I think, "get a hold of yourself, you have support, family people right there....and remember you are not the only widow in the world."  But I do not say that to her,  I  only do as others, offer a few encouraging words and  will send her another card soon.  And yet I compare to myself and my situation.  I know we are different people and perhaps I am super strong because I have to be. There is no one who will shoulder this with me.  There are days when I hear from nobody and on gloomy cold wintry days I keep myself busy inside doing something, any project, because I have no human contact.  I can make phone calls and I do.  I can post to FB and talk with others and I do, but it is not the same as having another person around.  But I just have to get used to it,  Jerry is not coming back.  This I know.  

t is now just me and I must do my darndest no matter what.  I must take care of me.  I promised Jerry I would.  In fact I think once I got it into his mind that I would be ok and he believed that he was free to leave this earth.  The last week he would say, "you are strong, you will be ok, and I will always watch for you." This little cartoon I saw years ago is so appropriate, . 

 

My mother and father 
 1943 Charleston, SC

I  think back over my family and all the women who became widows, not a one of them sat around and wept nor carried on.  It just is not our way, not that they did not grieve, they too were hurt, devastated, but they knew life must go on. I think of my Mom, pregnant with me,  WWII era and my father a B24 pilot in the Army Air Corps.  He and his plane and entire crew disappeared into the Atlantic.  No trace ever found.  Mom was
young only 20 and alone there in South Carolina when she got that dreadful news, her mother, my grandmother went to her on the train and brought her back to PA. Mom always said, "life is for the living."  She did remarry and life did go on.  My grandma became a widow later in life and then immediately moved into our house.  Years later when she came out to CA to help me, a dumb young, struggling single mother, she said that she wished she would have had a way to keep her own place instead of moving in and  cautioned me to always be able to take care of myself.  Life was different then for her, she had no income. She said back then that "you never know what life will throw at you so just be sure to keep your hands folded to the Lord.  

Something else that has given me strength is my foundation in change management in career days, way back when I was implementing quality teams, etc.  Part of the training focused on the stages of grief based on the  research work of Elizabeth Kubler Ross into deaths.  Death is the ultimate change.  We learned about DABDA, and how some people cycle back and around and may become perpetually stuck in one cycle or another.  She asserts there are  5 stages of grief, reflected by the first letter of each, and peoples reactions vary.  They may not  smoothly flowing from one stage to another.  They may not move through the stages in a linear way.   

• Denial   What?  Can't be.  Will not happen.  No way
• Anger   How can this happen.. I do not deserve this. This is not fair. Where's God?
• Bargaining  Just another month, year, day, etc.  I will be a better person.  I will do.....
• Depression  My heart is broken.  I can't go on. I want to die.   
• Acceptance      So this is the end.  Let me be still.  I can go on.  I must persevere

I feel blessed and that my faith has me at acceptance.  That my faith and life brought me to this.  And though I do not like it,  I wouldn't have chosen this, it is now here .And I must go on, alone.  And keep my faith.

 

STYMIED that's a good word

 Stymied means impeded , hampered, blocked,  all how I feel lately as January goes on, our gloomy grey overcast days continue and  sometimes I never leave the house. Days when  I never see another human...It has now been a month since Jerry died and some moments I get overcome and tears run out my eyes.  I let that happen because I know it is better to release.  I know about grief and yet here I experience a new level to me.  All alone,  this is what bugs me the most.  The days where I never see another where I do not talk to anyone other than on Facebook or when I call someone on the phone, those are the longest days.  

This photo came up as a reminder today on my Facebook page,  it was from 2014 this same date  at the former Legion in town which is no more. It is now a room in the Event Center, a change that has not been fully  for the better.   Like so many other photos that appear, these are reminders on FB there used to be  two of us.  Life was that way.  But we had each other, now I have me, period.  Yes I will and am fine, but yes this is taking more than I can muster at times.   

The worst is when no one calls me.  I expected that.  People go their own way. At first folks are more concerned and while they are sincere in caring life goes on for them.  People generally are doing all of what they do as they go along, despite the offers, "if you need anything,  just call...."  Yes there are time I do call because I just want to talk to hear someone  and sometimes because I do need some advice or help.  Like Saturday when I asked a friend to stop in after I asked about a locksmith. Earlier in the week  I found two old  metal lock boxes shoved back on a shelf on Jerry's side of the closet and could not open them.  O Apparently Jerry had shoved them thee and forgotten about them.  I shook them,  they made noise and were kind of heavy so I did not know what was inside.  One had a key taped underneath but although it fit the lock I could not get it opened.  I thought I would have to take it to a locksmith but Saturday a good friend came was finally able to  get it open with the key.  It was from my late Uncle in PA and had ammo.  Inside was the key for the other box, also from my  uncle.  So he opened and it also was ammo, different bullets.  I thought Jerry had all that inside the gun safe or in another area we have in the cellar because he was meticulous about that and wanted me to be too.  But guess these he just forgot about over years.  Mystery solved.  I was thankful and relieved.  

I do not want to be morbid but this loneliness of widowhood is an experience I dreaded yet expected yet never thought it would get to me as it has, and yet here it is, and I must walk along this path. The cold temps outside although the snow has been minimal prevents me from going out for fresh air and a walk. Locals say this has been a decent January and yes, as to snow but doggone cold and overcast days.  We did get an overnight snow dump Thursday, the 14th.  It was wet and heavy, but the snowplow guy I hire took care of the driveway and front walk. I shoveled out back later that day and what would take me 30 minutes took 45 with the heavier snow.   It was ok but I was a bit stiffer afterwards.  Photo below shows out the garage door but not the side to the left where I also cleared the way.  

The isolation of winter is detrimental and as our roads and streets are clear I could go out, but where to go with covid?  And who to go with?  There is no more mall to go browsing and I have little interest in shopping anymore, what for?  I need to shed stuff and so I do gather and donate lots.  I am becoming a regular at the local Salvation Army where I take several bags a week as I continue to clear out Jerry's clothes.  I have made good progress but stop after a time, enough becomes enough.  It is one instance where I wish I had company someone to work along with me.  Yet I cannot just pester people to come  along when I have a moody twinge.  

 I have been keeping busy around here.  The last couple days I was sorting through coins that we collected over the years,  and some that we brought from PA from my late uncle.  The  ones that are silver I might take to a coin dealer but I googled  many of the others, including a lot of those bicentennial quarters and the ones from different states that were issued.  Most are only worth the face value so when I go to the bank I will take them and cash in for currency.  All that  messing around and there is only $81 from that  fiddling around, but I just as well get currency to spend.  We have 2 full collections of all the state quarters in an album and I will keep those,  who knows why.  I get into these moods or funks and while keeping busy is good I can begin to  feel "why bother."  I will just have to talk me through it. I cannot be stymied by grief nor widowhood.  There used to be support groups but covid decimated any of those also.  So it is me.

Snow and a cold week ahead means time inside

down the front driveway

Another day and more snow, but at least our plow guy was at work and cleared us.  The weather changes my plans and I will be staying put inside another day.  I had planned to go to Sam's today but pass now.  Roads will be clear but I dislike being out there in this when there is no need. 

This will be my 2nd day stuck inside, confined to quarters and I am not pleased because the week ahead looks similar.   Yesterday I was  more philosophical, "at least we are warm and comfy"  and I spent an afternoon watching a Netflix, movie, The Two Popes" starring Anthony Hopkins as Pope Benedict and Jonathan Pryce who portrays Pope Francis when he was Cardinal Gorgoglio.   I had read reviews that the movie portrayed Benedict negatively so I was prepared for that but was quite pleased that I did not detect any traces of that.  In fact I enjoyed the move, here on our big screen on my own schedule and will watch it again. 

Our big screen surround sound, my home comfort

I shared my thoughts on FB, "  decent portrayal of the magnificence, the pageantry, news clips are well blended, and the negative reaction of some toward Ratzinger Pope Benedict, from the beginning are not couched. Anthony Hopkins portrayal is outstanding, as I expected...a line I found comical, from Benedict, "it was easier when everyone spoke Latin" , another between Pope and cardinal, "no, no, no let us sit and be quiet, I know you like to talk but I' m exhausted."   

Although there is a lot to yet watch on Netflix or Amazon I decided to do more clearing out today, making the best of a bad situation, I have cleaned out another shelf stack of papers and old clippings, articles, things I have accumulated, things I think will be interesting later on, and  well, just things.  So today most of those went into the waste paper to be placed out with the recycle bin tomorrow, pick up day.  
I will have to cure myself of clipping and saving for later, for what?  I have managed to almost completely stop doing that with recipes, which I have organized into binders, categorized, but  seldom refer to any.  Instead I  have a couple go to favorite cookbooks and my own favorites that I prepare.  So having overcome that habit surely in 2020 I can quit clipping and acquiring other clutter.  

However just this week a friend shared on FB the best post I have read about grief for a long time.  I share it here and will not be printing it and saving it on my shelf for later.  Fresh progress for me.  So  here it is, the source  is 2015 so it has been around for some time, Gary Snow published it originally and it was on a website known as Reddit or something like that, but if one googles, it is out there all over, many have shared on their blogs and posts.  It is purportedly written by an old man in response to a young woman who is grieving the loss of her friend and she does not  know how to handle her grief.  Having lost all 3 of my oldest closest friends and our only son, all our old relatives, I  certainly relate to his wisdom"  

              Alright, here goes. I'm old. What that means is that I've survived (so far) and a lot of people I've known and loved did not. I've lost friends, best friends, acquaintances, co-workers, grandparents, mom, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors, and a host of other folks. I have no children, and I can't imagine the pain it must be to lose a child. But here's my two cents.

I wish I could say you get used to people dying. I never did. I don't want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don't want it to "not matter". I don't want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can't see.

As for grief, you'll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you're drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it's some physical thing. Maybe it's a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it's a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.

In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don't even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you'll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what's going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything...and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.

Somewhere down the line, and it's different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O'Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you'll come out.

Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don't really want them to. But you learn that you'll survive them. And other waves will come. And you'll survive them too. If you're lucky, you'll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.

Then again, I had clipped this, "Albert Einstein said that only 2 things are infinite the universe and human stupidity and I am not sure about the former"  With that, back to clutter clearing time here on another snow day.  How I wish we were down south in our motor coach.....living the life we planned.

            .  

Close Out 2019, Whenn the terrible things grow pale.

December 27, 2019,
 me and my shadow

The other day was balmy, 50 degrees, the sun was shining,  so I went out with my shadow for a walk around the backside of the property, the hill side, to pick up and toss farther down hill any limbs, branches, cluttering the yard.  It was to appreciate that sun shine because gloomy days will return again and they really do get to me this time of year.  I am now glad we have passed solstice and days grow a bit longer by seconds/minutes.  I have a Happy Light alongside the computer and wish I could have those lights throughout the house in all the ceiling fixtures.  

Garage/shop/Motor home house

Another year over and a new one to begin.  I wrote in a card to a friend earlier, "where does time go when it passes on by so quickly?"  I am not all that sorry to see 2019 depart, it has not been the best of years, but then again, neither has it been the worst. We were unable to travel anywhere and not once to use our motor home.  It sits in its house, the garage below.  

Jerry in his smurf chair, downstairs TV room, June,
I  dubbed it the Smurf chair because it is small compared
to the overstuffed ones of today.  But this was his favorite LazyBoy recliner
 which we moved from CA.  And this year had it recovered finally.

So many ups and downs with Jerry's health and recovery from surgery 11/7/2018 ,.re hospitalizations in March and April and then treatments through Mayo Rochester, MN  all through the summer.  That did restore his stamina and energy.  Now at year end, he is having a relapse or perhaps turning yet another corner.  So we shall see, is it the lung fibrosis worsening, because he needs his supplemental oxygen 24/7, coughs, a dry unproductive but debilitating cough and lacks enthusiasm, energy.  A trip to our PCP Christmas Eve Day resulted in  a blood test for his Cortisol levels, perhaps the long term usage of prednisone then graduated doses to be off it fully made his adrenal glands lazy and  not making sufficient cortisol. The test came back within normal ranges but at the low end of the spectrum.  He has been trying to be off all the drugs, the steroids,  the antibiotics so restoring a  maintenance dose was not the news he wanted.  Yet it seems to help.  Except for his cough.  In November periodic coughing and shortness of breath started; it , comes and goes for no identifiable reason, although the last few weeks it is ever constant.  It has been a month now since he has done his routine home exercises on the treadmill, so he weakens.  Heck he has not even walked downstairs to the tv rec room in weeks now, because he is too exhausted to go back up the  stairs to our main floor. This photo shows him relaxing as  always used to most evening, downstairs, tv rec room. Another memory now.  My life as care taker and the one who does all things here is very weary making.  I wish there were people around to come by, to talk with, but not so.  This sure is not the retirement  life we planned but here we are. Savor  what's left.

Winter view December 26 from out back hillside

So stuck at home I have tried to accomplish some things, like sorting out and tossing old photos.  So many amassed over years, but it is a very slow process, I get distracted, scan some and then give up.  I have dumped lots, those from PA from my relatives.  Even old black and whites, I do not know the people and no longer intend to make nice albums with notes about each family, etc.  Oh another plan I had, grand intentions,  but no execution into operation, that's me.  Here and there I find some photos that I send along to distant relatives,  children of deceased cousins, etc.  Some to our grand daughter, some to sister-in-law,  but really no one to give most to, so I just toss.  After all one day when I am gone that is what will happen anyway.  So much for lifetime collections.  

In clearing off the upstairs desk the other day I found this article from June 2014, published in the local news, written by a young man who used to live here and was a  thoughtful reporter.  The kind of thinking that could generate discussions.  Discussions that is what I miss terribly, there is no one with whom I really have good discussions anymore.  It is something I relish, but since my best friends have also passed on there is no one to replace the talks, Sandy in CA a  couple years ago and last year Carlie in PA. Although we could not see each other in person, we had our phones.  I never realized how important those connections were until they were gone.  That brings me to this article, "When the terrible things grow pale"   a line from "Our Town", a play by Thornton Wilder, 1937-38 and one which I enjoy having been in it back in high school.  It seems a way to close out the year, why do we not appreciate what we have when we have it, for it will be gone and then it is too late.  If I have any New Years resolution it is to "Enjoy the moment, whatever it is, for it too shall pass."