Life goes on and so do I

 

This picture was on October 20, 2017, our 50th anniversary at Sullivans in Trempeleau for dinner.  That was  a couple months over 7 years ago and my eyes had that sparkle.  I was always a joyful person.  I was "bubbly" my aunt said, always happy.  I used to giggle at nothing.  I laughed easily. 

Today I know I live in a new reality as a widow.  My life is "good", I am financially secure, hve a beautiful home, a couple very dependable local friends whom I can call on any time for anything, and am active in my church, my faith is solid. I haveoutstanding medical care thru Mayo, our PCP is a friend as well as a doctor.  My local attorney,the same.  And my financial advisor has been trustworthy all along, have known him since we moved here.  Lots to be thankful for,  Multitudes of blessings.  

Yet my eyes no longer have that sparkle,  After Jerry passed in Decemer 2020, my spark went out.  I didn't realize it at the time although I knew I was in a different solo flight part of life now.  I handled everything that needed to be done and everyone complimented me on how well I was doing.  I often said in reply to those comments, "I had no other choice."   And that was the truth.  No one but me to handle me and everything.  I convinced Jerry in his final weeks that I would be ok.  I was relieved to hear he believed me when one day he said, "you are going to be just fine, you are strong, you are secure, you will make it."  I had assurred him so he could let go peacefully because I knew he was worried as hell about me.  So many people told me these past fewyears that he asked them to "watch over Pat for me,"  Some did, like champs.  Others have vanished like ghost wisps.  That happens, people go on with their own lives in their own worlds.  Many widows experience that.  

I grew up with widows around and no one ignored them, relatives, friends.  Life and people were different.  In my early grief I could hear my mother's words to me about disappointments that I considered tragic especially in my teen years, "you are  not the only one in the world that happens to.  You're not the first, you won't be the last. Get  over it.  Don't pout."   When she became a widow she said almost the same to me, "I'm not the only widow in the worldd, I'm not the first, I won't be the last."  She well knew from her own life because she was a very young 20 year old widow pregnant with me when my father's plane disappeared in June 1944, WWII, months before my birth.  

So why lately has it begun to bother me that my eyes no longer have their sparkle?  I find times of enjoyment, But I'm just not the same. I know I'm different.  I think I'm fine just wistful.  This photo was taken August 2023 on a nasty hat day for our church directory.  About the last thing I wanted to do that day was have my picture taken.  My SIL was here from CO with her partner and their 2 dogs.  But I got ready and went.  I kept my jean shorts on because I knew it would only be a head shot.  Later I realized I had worn the very same top as in 2017 when we had photos taken fr the last dieectory.  One of those of Jerry  and me is to the side.  I orderd many because it was our 50th anniversary year.  This time I had no need and just got a few wallet sized to send to friends arund the country in Christmas cards.  People I do not see and who are not on Facebook with me.  But people with whom I've kept in touch over years.  Rhe number of those has decreased as many have passed on.  Yet I am here,  I am a survivor.  Without the sparkle in the eyes, but making it.  

   

Getting along but it sucks

2017 FL  Jerry found the
castle he wanted

 What another week but through my prayers , angels and my Tribe Beyond  I made it.   What I can say is this business of widowhood sucks,  just plain sucks.    I do not like it yet it is, I can do no more than what I do.  I am still in the lousy process of selling our dream castle on wheels, our motor coach, a lifetime to achieve that luxury level and then crap!  Never got to enjoy it.  It was Jerry's pride and joy.  It was to be our winter home as we'd snowbird.  So much was  to be, but then life twisted upside down, sideways  and inside out.  He is gone and here I am. It sucks. 

 I go along but I am so damn lonely.  I have lost more people than I know alive.  Some days I am just at home and never see or hear from anyone. I would like to have people pop in, stop by but that is not happening.  I have no one like that around here.  

3 to back up,  Jerry did alone

 This week I had to have Freon added to the front air conditioning system as I try to have it all nice for the  buyer. I am thankful for another local acquaintance who referred me to a very decent diesel service locally. It is tricky to pull into and out of its house, shop here, but Jerry did it himself always.  Well the techs did it too but they said "tricky".   Because the friend who drives it for me is off on their annual family vacation I needed someone to drive it there.  The shop was so gracious to me, they came to pick up and bring back, checked it all out and despite my worrying all was good.  The price was reasonable,  Surely a blessing.  The guys were very nice.  It had to be kept overnight  because they were busy, so that day until I heard that I stewed imagining the worst things wrong. 

 That is what I hate about the way I have become in widowhood,  I seem to always imagine the worst.  I was never that way before, I was always hopeful.  I used to be optimistic.  Will I never be that way again?  I hate being frantic, on edge, gloomy.  New me.is not me, awful.   

Coach has to fit  between rafters and
snugly into back bump out.  Tricky

I like the people who are buying it and I wish them the happiness with it that we looked so forward to and never got.  They are financing and the process has dragged on. I have had so much paperwork and I'm selling, sigh.   I will cry when this leaves yet I will be so thankful.  This has been a huge burden on me.  It will soon be over. It has been exhausting beyond what I could have ever imagined.  So much responsibility alone. 

 Through all this ups and downs and worries that all worked out I have missed Jerry more and more.  Being alone without anyone to talk things over or share hurts.  I am very disappointed in so called friends locally. I have no family. The  few who are afar do not care.   I know now people go on their own way,  they do not care about me and my trials, feelings.  They are on with their lives.  So I endure and with much prayer I get along.  But it sucks. 

 I laughed the other day ,thinking   if just  a few of the phony FB friend requests I get from men were real, I would be flattered,  in a more optimistic mood.  But I ignore all those, wisely,  nothing but trouble. Despite their claims to be widowers, and good looking, hah!   At least I am not that gullible,  and I am not looking for a man.  I only wish I had real friends who came by and or called.  I wish I had someone to talk to, to listen to me.  I miss Jerry. 

2017 into the shop he had it shining

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.

 

WIDOWHOOD

 The following  appeared today on a friend, AWON sibling's FB post.  Joyce is also a widow.  This hits the bullseye for me,  I have had so many of these thoughts.  Today is Valentine's Day.  I almost totally forgot it, first time in over 50 years.  I would have too if not for talking with sister in law on phone who sent me a card and a chocolate bar.   Another friend posted on FB  the roses her family had sent her to continue  the tradition her hubby, whom she lost in Oct.,  had of bringing her roses on Valentine's Day.  This is my first year in ever so long without roses too.  I suppose if I had not been stuck inside at home waiting out these sub zero temps I might have been tempted to buy some for myself.  I did not face that nor the heart tug that would have gotten to me watching guys buy for their sweeties.  This is a sad day now for me.  But I will make some phone calls and keep busy with polishing the wooden trims upstairs, doors, baseboards, a project I started a couple days ago.  A project Jerry always helped with.  Now it is my solitary task and I need the step stool to reach the tops of the doors, trims, etc. We have lots of wood in this house and the project takes me days.  Busyness, my antidote.

ONE MORE DAY·

“Widowhood is more than missing your spouse’s presence. It is adjusting to an alternate life. It is growing around a permanent amputation. 

Widowhood is going to bed for the thousandth time, and still, the loneliness doesn’t feel normal. The empty bed a constant reminder. The night no longer brings intimacy and comfort, but the loudness of silence and the void of connection. 

Widowhood is walking around the same house you have lived in for years and it no longer feeling like home. Because “home” incorporated a person. And they’re not there. Homesickness fills your heart and the knowledge that it will never return haunts you. 

Widowhood is seeing all your dreams and plans you shared as a couple crumble around you. The painful process of searching for new dreams that include only you amount to climbing Mount Everest. And every small victory of creating new dreams for yourself includes a new shade of grief that their death propelled you to this path.  

Widowhood is second guessing everything you thought you knew about yourself. Your life had molded together with another’s and without them you have to relearn all your likes, hobbies, fears, goals. The renaissance of a new person makes you proud and heartbroken simultaneously. 

Widowhood is being a stranger in your own life. The unnerving feeling of watching yourself from outside your body, going through the motions of what was your life, but being detached from all of it. You don’t recognize yourself. Your previous life feels but a vapor long gone, like a mist of a dream you begin to wonder if it happened at all. 

Widowhood is the irony of knowing if that one person was here to be your support, you would have the strength to grieve that one person. The thought twists and confuses you. If only they were here to hold you and talk to you, you’d have the tenacity to tackle this unwanted life. To tackle the arduous task of moving on without them. 

Widowhood is missing the one person who could truly understand what is in your heart to share. The funny joke, the embarrassing incident, the fear compelling you or the frustration tempting you. To anyone else, you would have to explain, and that is too much effort, so you keep it to yourself. And the loneliness grows inside you. 

Widowhood is struggling with identity. Who are you if not their spouse? What do you want to do if not the things you planned together? What brand do you want to buy if not the one you two shared for all those years? What is your purpose if the job of investing into your marriage is taken away? Who is my closest companion when my other half isn’t here? 

Widowhood is feeling restless because you lost your home, identity, partner, lover, friend, playmate, travel companion, co-parent, security, and life. And you are drifting with an unknown destination. 

Widowhood is living in a constant state of missing the most intimate relationship. No hand to hold. No body next to you. No partner to share your burden. 

Widowhood is being alone in a crowd of people. Feeling sad even while you’re happy. Feeling guilty while you live. It is looking back while moving forward. It is being hungry but nothing sounding good. It is every special event turning bittersweet. 

Yes. It is much more than simply missing their presence. It is becoming a new person, whether you want to or not. It is fighting every emotion mankind can feel at the very same moment and trying to function in life at the same time. 

Widowhood is frailty. Widowhood is strength. Widowhood is darkness. Widowhood is rebirth. 

Widowhood…..,,,,,is life changing."

 By: Alisha Bozarth

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.