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Tuesday, April 13, 2021

Memoir writing

A chill winter wind is hanging around today and with the grey overcast temperatures are not conducive to a walk.  Nope it is the kind of weather that makes me retreat inside.  It also makes me sleepy.  But at least it is better than a year ago when we had snow on this day, so I saw in my FB reminder photo today.  So I will not complain too much.  I have enough to keep me busy inside.  

 I started blogging years ago at the urging of a few dear friends and relatives who enjoyed my letters and my writings and felt I had a gift, something to say, something to share.  They have all since passed on and joined my angel tribe.  I lost my primary blog audience but I kept at it as  a pass time outlet, to record things about the travels we were on, sometimes to record something I did not want to forget about and often especially lately in my grief, I write to vent.  This is a safe enough space to me because it is not read and certainly not read by  a particular person who has pushed my buttons.  For a time there were a couple groups I wrote with and enjoyed but they too finally went by the wayside, one was Sepia Saturday posts and there I share a lot about my ancestors.  It helped me  in my genealogical research too.  

For a time I stepped fully away from blogging here and chose Facebook as primary communication.  It still is and a preferred way that I can keep in touch with so may all over the country at the same time.  But with Jerry's passing I migrate back here sometimes to write.  It serves as akind of journal for me.  

I used to think that someday I might write my memoir.  So when I saw the following by author Sue Monk Kidd on Facebook today I decided to copy it here to preserve the thoughts.  

 For the woman I overheard say she wants to write a memoir, but can’t help feeling it’s self-indulgent…

May I go on record here. Writing memoir is gloriously self-indulgent and I’m perfectly okay with that. Women have been told so many times to be selfless that it can actually feel uncomfortable when we attempt to search for one.
When I write memoir, I’m undoubtedly in search of wholeness. Maybe I’m trying to resolve something, heal a wound, redeem some part of myself that has been orphaned or lost, or give a voice to what has been silenced. Maybe I’m trying to step into my truth. Maybe I’m trying to reveal myself to myself.
But here’s something I didn’t expect. Writing memoir can also be gloriously other-indulgent. The process not only takes me into myself, it frees me from myself. When I manage to distill my experience into meaning and integrate that meaning into my life through the creation of a narrative, I make it possible to move on without all the preoccupation and unconscious pull of the experience. It’s the unexamined experience that wreaks the most havoc in my life and in my relationships.
The surprise is always this. The deeper we delve into our own lives, the more likely we are to tap into a universal experience. We find the portal to everyone.

Sunday, April 11, 2021

Daffodils

 

Late yesterday between rain showers I picked daffodils that began to bloom last week when he had warmer balmy spring days.  I remind myself that April showers bring May flowers. I  shared this on Facebook and commented how I intend to plant more bulbs this fall.  I used to plant bulbs every year when we lived in California on my birthday.  But here by the time November arrives I am either too tired out from all the leaves I have cleared and or it is already too cold and wet for me to be digging and or I neglect to buy bulbs ahead of time and they are not available locally when my intentions arise.  So I made a note on the calendar.  We will see.  But I thought about CA and how I wished I had a picture of those blooms.  Back then, I did not have the easy access to tablet and cell phones.  Cell phones were new and for travel or emergency only, lacking the camera features of todays.  And too, I never thought about photoing the bulbs.  I took it for granted that they would always reappear.  It is so easy to take things for granted when younger and busy with career and family and just all the things of life.  Today I have seems like all the time I needed back then and the hours sometimes go too slowly.  

I did find a couple of poor photos taken 1999 of the early blooms in CA where January heralded first blooms.  On one bank I had abundant white Dutch iris  mixed with the white jonquils and along another fence the yellow King Alfreds had already begun to appear.  I scanned both photos together. It was dark so this probably was taken after I got home from work.  The crape myrtle tree trunk is barren here.  I reflected a bit on "those were the days.." and I suppose the refrain, we thought they'd never end...at least back then I did not give much attention to ends.  Life has changed though.

The rains have passed for today and although it is cloudy and cool I will get out there for a short walk on this Divine Mercy Sunday.  Later I will link in to a mass at my old home church St Mary's of Czestchowa in New Kensington via zoom.  I am  excited about this virtual opportunity to go home. :Few things lately have had me that excited so I will appreciate this relief. 



Tuesday, April 6, 2021

Fake it until you make it.

 I do not know where I heard that or if I made it up, but yesterday it came to me  clearly.  I am doing just that.  When moments come, I push through and let them pass.  Now that the weather is warm and spring appears here to stay I can work outside, dig in the dirt and keep busy that way.   Dandelions, first bursts are showing in nearby fields, seems like overnight after just with a couple warm days, thankful we have a lawn service that sprays our yard to prevent these prolific weeds. I snapped these alongside the school on my walk yesterday.  

 


Yesterday I was busy, bought rosemary, basil and parsley at Home Depot and planted them.  Love that scent of rosemary which I pot each year.  Really enjoy cutting my own fresh herbs to use in my meals..


Dirt digging lifts my spirits I have been doing it all my life, early memories  with my granpap Teofil digging in the dirt, maybe I was 4?  And this year is no different.  I resisted a  temptation yesterday to buy more roses  for the very diminished front rose garden, but going along the aisles I talked myself out of it.  Jerry was better at digging the deeper holes for rose bushes, here  and I worry about their winter survival.  I have lost most of the ones I started with. In summer we get the dreadful Japanese beetles here and they have no repellant so that means I have to catch them by hand, usually early in the morning and drown them in a jar, just like my grandma Rose did except her jar had kerosene and I use only detergent in water.  I guess I will have to be content with my memories of my 400 roses in CA.   

Yesterday our snow plow guy stopped by with his bill for March and said he was done with snow but I should not worry because if we get a storm he will plow me out..  I agreed I am very done with snow too and now that I have dragged the furniture out onto the deck from the season room, it is done.  I now have reclaimed the season room for living in.  I like to sit there the few times I do sit down thru the day.  It is peaceful,. An afternoon glass of wine goes perfectly there.  

Being a local friend too he asked me how I was doing and getting used to being by myself.  I told him it is not easy after 53 years this is a new routine  but I am not the only one living alone and I will fake it till I make it.  He said, Well you might not always be alone, you are a good looking woman and some guy will come around."  To which I almost shouted, "not for me never ever.."  He laughed and said he knew he'd get a rise out of me that way.  I suppose it was a complement as well as a tease, but  I still miss Jerry and know I will forever,.  I cannot expect different after 53 years.   No one will ever replace him.  I am financially ok and do not have to  move nor adjust my lifestyle downward, do not have to work, did not have to make anymore quick decisions changing things.  That is positive, many are not so fortunate, but we planned carefully and I worked at my career 34 years, and we saved.  So here I am faking until I make it.     



Wednesday, March 31, 2021

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. .  




Monday, March 8, 2021

Lenten Meditation on why me

 

Yesterday's meditation in the Little Black Book, pictured on  the left,  appropriately reflects a lesson about the crosses we get to bear in life.  been through can share.   When Jerry was so ill and coming to the last months of his lfe, our PCP told me at my annual visit, "we all get our crosses to bear."  So true and I was certainly thinking why me, why him, why us, why now, just WHY?

Years ago in PA a longtime friend and I were commiserating.  we have both lost adult children, a grief only those who have encountered can share.  We admitted that at times we thought this "why me?" As we talked about the questions we would be asking the Lord at the end of our time on earth, my friend said, "likely when we ask why, why me?"  we might be shocked to hear the Lord respond, "why not you,  you are nobody special."  

Ever since, I have followed my why me thoughts with that response, yes indeed, why not. Some of us are given heavier crosses certainly, but if we have faith and trust, the Lord will bear them with us.  This does not ease some of the pangs of misery that we feel at the moment but it can provide comfort.  

This Lenten meditation was another good reminder....it happens in this existence,  our life here on earth.  We can only try to Be Still and Be Not Afraid.   

"Happiness can only be achieved by looking inward and learning to enjoy whatever life has, and this requires transforming greed into gratitude."

— St. John Chrysostom