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

Journaling for health and well being

 Somehow I have known this for a long time but now Mayo Clinic agrees publicly that journaling is beneficial.  I have begun using this blog as my journal because since returning here sporadically there are no followers.  That's ok with me, I can journal away, working my way through winter isolation in this season of my grief.   I suppose these days of pandemic and more isolation to more people countrywide bring on more feelings of isolation and loom.   I have copied and pasted here as a self reminder, what Mayo says:

Journaling: Why it's good for you, how to do it  By Mayo Clinic Staff   Do you ever find yourself feeling overwhelmed, stressed or anxious? One often-overlooked way to deal with these feelings is journaling.  "As situations become stressful, we can easily become overwhelmed and caught up in trying to just get through the day," says Craig Sawchuk, Ph.D., L.P., psychologist and co-chair of Mayo Clinic's Division of Integrated Behavioral Health. "Journaling is a helpful way to take time out to reflect and focus on where you're at this moment and how you have been doing."       

The power of journaling  Journaling is one way to express your thoughts in a safe space and without judgment. It can help you organize your feelings, process worries or frustrations, or clarify a problem you're working on.  Journal writing also appears to reduce stress and increase well-being. In one study, adults who spent time journaling three days a week experienced several benefits. They reported less anxiety and depressive symptoms, and greater resilience.   Other studies have found that journaling may improve blood pressure, heart symptoms, self-care and quality of life.  Journaling can also help you stay focused on your progress toward health-related goals.  "Journaling increases self-accountability," says Dr. Sawchuk. "It can also create an opportunity for self-reinforcement by encouraging progress toward these goals."  

Getting started with journaling   There's no right way to journal. The key is finding the method that works best for you.  "Journaling can take on many forms," says Dr. Sawchuk. "It can be a brief stress-o-meter rating from 1-10, writing down the things you're grateful for, or an opportunity to set and check in on progress with goal setting."   The main idea, Dr. Sawchuk says, is that your journal entries are brief, focused, relevant and practical. He offers this advice for getting started:    

 Keep it simple. Don't worry about having a fancy journal or complicated journaling system. "Set the bar low to start," says Dr. Sawchuk. "The simpler the better!"     

Make it portable. Carry your journal with you so you can write when the inspiration hits. Or keep your journal on your smartphone, which is likely to be close by.   

Add it to your routine. Journal at around the same time each day — for instance, every morning or at night before you go to bed. It may be helpful to set an alarm to help you remember.   

Set time limits. "Set limits on how long you journal when you first start," says Dr. Sawchuk. "From 2 to 10 minutes is a good goal."   

Get creative. "Try to make it fun and creative," says Dr. Sawchuk. "The brain loves novelty, so having a cool looking way to journal may be more engaging than a pencil and a blank piece of paper."   

Bullet journaling, collages or illustrations are just three ways to be more creative in your journaling.   

Be yourself. Remember that no one else is going to see your journal. Free yourself up to write what you really think and feel.   

Don't let journaling add to your stress. Don't feel pressure to be a good writer, to have perfect penmanship or to use a fancy journal.    And be wary of trying to do too much with your journal. "Don't try to track so many things that you overwhelm yourself," says Dr. Sawchuk. "That would be counterproductive to the purpose of journaling."    

Don't get discouraged. Don't give up or be hard on yourself if you miss a day. "Each day is a new day to get back on track," says Dr. Sawchuk.

I do not agree with nor follow all these hints,  first I am not that self disciplined and long ago decided my journaling would occur when I felt like it or had the time, I could not make it another to do task and be stressed if I missed it.  I wanted release not another obligation.  

I am currently sorting through my collection of my journals that I wrote  with pen over so manyyears, especially when I was in my career days in CA.  I have often thought how irrelevant to my life today are all those things I fretted so about in the bureaucratic world of state government.  How seriously I took things that now are meaningless and when I read some of the worry I had over such trivial things I shake my head and wonder what I could have been thinking.  Still, it was my world then.  Who knows why I kept these, now something else to rid self and space of.  I think once upon a time I fantasized about writing a memoir and would need these as reminders.  I did not do that just like other grand  plans and ideas and now I have no interest to do so.  What for?  Bigger yet, who for?  

I have decided to destroy all those writings, they were my personal thoughts.  i have no one who needs to read them when I am gone and well frankly some things I would not care for anyone to read nor know.  They would ultimately get tossed, so I review a few pages now and then, usually in evening while I am watching tv and then tear the page.  Like looking through old photos, but these words do not puzzle me so much as photos can.  Especially if I did not write the  places, names and dates on the photos from way back, there can be people I do not know.  So I toss them.  

Most all my journals begin with a similar page at the very beginning.  Way back to advise anyone who might be tempted to read it that it would be best if they didn't.  To keep prying eyes away.  Jerry would never have done so I know so I was not as concerned about him as anyone else who might be around the house whenever.   This is a good wintry project.    

As our sub zero temperatures have continued and I am staying in for now the  3rd day in a row I look for things to do.  I have  occupied myself  the last two days  polishing wood upstairs, the  baseboards, doors, cabinetry in the bathrooms, the hallways all the extra bedroom doors.  I have a lot of wood and do not  really do this type of polishing shining but maybe once a year.  Jerry used to help out on this task but now it is another of those things I must do.  It eases the boredom and otherwise stir crazies that could overtake me.  I had intended to get out today but the winds howled this morning and the snow fell again and the weather advisory was stay in at -8 degrees when I got up this morning.  Granted that is warmer than the 25 below a  few nights ago.  

 I did a bit of driveway shoveling yesterday and cleared a path down the drive to the mailbox. Although it was zero degrees the sun was shining and I could work out there for a bit.  The snow dusting was not enough for the snow removal guy I hire to bother with so he did not show up yesterday.  He uses a small Bob cat.  So dustings are immaterial to him.  I wish I could hire someone to snow blow or shovel but that is a pipe dream these days. 

 I would have finished today but the additional morning snow made it  more than I care to deal with.  And yet he still has not come by, I hope he does tomorrow or yet this afternoon.  Otherwise  it will stay,  the walk will not be shoveled and I will drive over it, which I dislike doing but will to get out tomorrow or Monday.  Fortunately I do not need anything, I have enough food supply to eat for  many months here.  But I just like to  get some outside world contact.  Otherwise it is just me here.  That is the worst,  Phone calls help some yet it is very lonesome that I know.   

One more door to finish up here on teh main floor and then done until I tackle the kitchen Monday.  It keeps me busy and that is key to me. 

Below zero and holding single digitas

 At 7:30 AM three thermometers showed -25 degrees, the house thermostat with outside sensor, atomic clock, and the old vintage one on the back deck outside the kitchen window.  I do  not ever recall it being this cold, so began Day 2 of another day I will not leave the house.  I kept busy watched 3 masses on tv first, doing this and that and reminding me that I can be grateful for a warm comfy house and not having to go out anywhere.  Others are not so blessed.  We are to give thanks for everything so there it was.  I had some lemons to use and have had a craving for custard lately after eating a wonderful dessert a friend brought to me. So I entertained myself by making  a small recipe of lemon custard, the one I'd use for pie filling.  

While I stirred it constantly as required to bring to a boil, lest it scorch I wondered why custards only use the yolks of the eggs.  I shared that on FB and a few responded that the yolks thicken and the whites  are too watery.    

But I still wondered if the amount of liquid could not be reduced to compensate for the whites and why the whites could not simply be whisked into the egg yolks and used.  My stirring stirred my curiosity.  So I have unanswered questions. the next time I make custard I will experiment for myself.  Meantime today I made a whites only egg omelet in a cup, microwaved to use up the eg whites.  And 3 tangy lemon custard servings await for later.  All o keep myself from going completely stir crazy confined here with just myself  

I miss Jerry,  I know I always will and I know this is all taking lots of getting used to.  Yesterday I wrote a long letter to a friend who just lost her husband too.  But she despite family, adult children, with her is feeling more despondent and cries.  Maybe there is something wrong with me but I have had no real crying jags.  I suppose it is because I took care of him for so long and knew he was truly suffering, miserable at the end and did not want to be that way.  My priest says it is because I have such deep faith and know what lies Beyond.  I know he is not coming back and I will never replace him.  I miss the presence of being with someone else in the house even if we were doing other things.  I miss his hugs.  I miss cooking something and having his comments, mostly of appreciation.  There is ever so much missed yet I pause and remember.  

I keep busy,  last week the living room chairs and a small stool were picked up to be reupholstered. They were burgundy and one got a bit shabby from Jerry sitting in it a lot as he was confined to the living room, first floor and as his world shrunk in size moving between his hospital bed and the chair.  Since they match I chose to have both recovered at the same time.  Thankfully Deb, the gal who does this is still working, not yet retired. She has done other pieces for me.  Another year+ to go, for her, whew.  Otherwise I would have been without a resource.  Burgundy fabric is no longer a fashionable color so the re-upholsterer advised me to get that idea out of my head.  I wanted something different anyway,  time to change.  

My first thought was a sage green to go with the floral print of the sofa.  I did not want blue because I have lots of blue elsewhere including downstairs and green appealed.  But as I perused the many swatch books for a couple days I could not find a sage fabric that was suited.  The one I first chose  began to look too drab after I observed it in the different lighting and at different  times of day against the cream carpeting and cream draperies.  I did not want a tweed which seems to be   very popular now but neither did I want just a solid color. 

The burgundy chairs have a tone on tone sort of pattern that appears solid but is evident closer up.  So back to looking and finally I was down to 2 different choice's, at least that is what  I thought.   

Both fabrics by Barrow, the same manufacturer, both with exact same specifications, both the same color "kelp", but with different names.  One was Nut Island  the other Ripple.  Deb laughed when I called her with my selection and dilemma.  She was familiar with the manufacturers doing this, identical with different names in different swatch books.   Hardly ever noticed by customers but since I had two.  Apparently this was the right one for me I felt because I had picked it out twice.  When I  looked at both together I had to laugh.  What are the odds?  I am not sure which she ordered but that is my selection,  Kelp not sage with a dot of yellow and blue to break up the solid.   

The little footstool made in the  1970's in PA by my late Uncle John went too.  It did not need to be recovered but I figured why not,  did not need another pattern in the living room and since I will keep that small stool here for use  while sitting in one of the chairs, might as well match it too.   Jerry used it more toward the end instead of the larger hassock from the bedroom recliner.  This little stool is just right for me to put my feet up when sitting in the chairs.  Funny how it had the same shade of green I chose to recover and there is a gold to this tapestry too.  I have two other of these downstairs that Uncle John did with his friend who did woodworking.  The old tapestry is still in tremendous shape.  The other two are different and one matches the seat of another wooden chair recovered,  more of a predominant red, fabric.  So that was a project that kept my focus for a week. 

Now the living room looks empty without the chairs but it will not be long until she returns them.  Fortunately for me she is doing mine now ahead of another big job she expects that will keep her busy through May.  I was in no rush, but it will be fine to have this done and over with.  For now it is just me here and I retreat downstairs to watch tv at night once again.  And if I do sit in the living room the sofa works fine.  Should anyone stop by and want to sit in the living room I can drag dining room chairs in for them.  I will get by just as I have been.  

Cold wintry days

   

This photo is out back with sunshine now and almost 30 degrees.  Frigid wintry days are tolerable with sunshine.  Last night we had the snow predicted, but less than the 8" forecast.  Still the 3-4" required work by our plow guy today, who was working alone, and didn't show up until after 11 o'clock this morning.  Sitting here I began to fret wondering when he would be here,  not that I was going out anywhere, but being alone gives me time to fixate which is not always good.  My thoughts can become very distracting to my own peace of mind.  It happened yesterday..  All day I'd heard the winter storm weather advisories and predictions of snow beginning late afternoon and lasting overnight.  For the first time since I don't know when, I decided not to risk going to Saturday evening mass.  I regretted that because I could have made it, snow did not begin until an hour after I'd have been home.  I was annoyed with myself for listening to weather predictions and expecting the worst.  I told myself that if it stormed although I would be but a mile away in town,  if it got sloppy, icy in the dark that is more than I need to handle.  I try to be protective of myself.  I have no one to call back here at the house so I let fear take over.  And it wasted my mass time.  Attending mass at least once a week comforts me, it is tgthe e social event of my week despite not socializing before or after.  Well not to worry further, I had already let worry mess with me.  Our Diocese has the attendance dispensation in effect and I coukd stream or watch Sunday morning. I did that,  I had 3 masses here this morning on TV and streamed ours from church last night.  Spiritual communion x 4.  If Jerry had been here he would have known better about the weather which he pondered and studied endlessly.  He'd have assured me I could go or not.  Just one more example of how I miss him in life now. 

I go on, I do my best.  Yesterday I talked with a local lady, another widow, whom Jerry had known family  from way back.  She had sent me a very thoughtful sympathy card and said to call to chat sometime,  so I did.  She is older and not going out to church with the pandemic although someone is bringing her communion.  Her husband died well over a year ago, but she still misses him and admitted she has lots of lonely times.  But she has an adult daughter here and they do a lot for her including taking her to their home for dinner then sending leftovers home with her.  She said it is good that I enjoy cooking because she does not for herself.  I hear this same distress from many widows.   We talked about how wearing winters are and how this isolation is magnified, compounded with grief. Commiserating  with someone else who knows understands is  good.  She admitted to having no hobbies and that all she does is watch Hallmark channel on TV,  At least I have endless tasks.  She said she gets tired cleaning too.  But we do it, although our homes are not getting dirty, it is busy work, but want to keep the home neat tidy too, my lifelong trait.

Another photo from the past.  Jerry looked for the bar he finally found for downstairs until he found what he liked.  He did not settle nor rush.  How I wish he were still here to enjoy it.  But wishing does not make it so..this was in healthier times....we didn't know what was ahead.  That is a blessing because we could go along and enjoy.  I think we did.  

Half after being whole and learnings

2014 Us on October cruise 

  I love this photo from our October 2014 Cruise  along the Eastern Maritimes and to Quebec.  It was over our 47th anniversary.   The last  cruise we took It shows how we adored each other, we really did  and now I so miss that.  I miss the hugs, being the other half of a whole and the companionship that was the normal for what was us. I know I can treasure the memories and rejoice that we had each other  for 53 years but that doesn't resolve feelings of loneliness.  Something I have never before truly experienced.  A feeling I do not like, not at all.  

 I am learning about being alone, nothing unique just to me I am sure. So many  have warned me about with this widowhood, singlehood.  One is that folks really go there own way about their own business or on with their own lives and  so here I am.  I was somewhat stung by Jerry's son's comment on the phone last week overlooking something that concerned me,  "life goes on."  Yes it does, indeed and although I have often said that,  I thought, " how smug, oh you just wait."  Wait until you have a good solid tragedy and you will no longer spout trite sayings.  How easily these adages slip out of the mouth of the unaware.  Yes life does go on.  Mom always said so and having been widowed young, pregnant with me as my father lost his life in WWII, she knew tragedy.  But someone who brushes everything off with this casual remark will have their day.  

I lament wintry days if I do not get out of the house because  I may not hear nor see another human being.  Although people say call if you need anything, how can I call and just say, "hey I need to just hear someone." This is what happens without family.   Things happen and I realize I have no one to discuss them with. I can talk to myself and so far myself is putting up with me.  What if myself gives up too?

Last night the cable box on the tv in the living room quit, as I discovered when I tried to turn on the tv and no reception.  I had vacuumed earlier so thought perhaps I had loosened a plug, but not so.  I discovered the reception box had no little red light as do the others for the other tv's.  Jerry would have known this right away, but  I never paid attention.  So fortunately this morning I called our provider which is also our local phone, internet and video service provider,  a co-op with good local service.  Yes she acknowledged, the box likely was no good.  Then she asked if I felt comfortable replacing it myself or would I want the technician to install it.  Yes,  although I could see the box, I prefer someone to install who knows what to do.  I made an appointment for Thursday although they could have come this afternoon but I had another appointment for this afternoon. I thought at the time.  It is not urgent because there are 2 other tv's I can watch.  One in the kitchen that I have on when I'm out there, fixing dinner, etc.  And the big nice screen downstairs where I have begun to retreat in the evenings just as we used to do.  But I didn't have Jerry to talk to.  I had no one to talk to when today's appointment had to be rescheduled, when they called and asked for tomorrow, well I'd already booked the TV service for morning and so who knows how long these things can take.  So now today's appointment will reschedule to Friday.  This is all just routine stuff, but stuff we would have talked about or handled differently.  Jerry would have installed the tv box himself,  I wouldn't have even had to be here.  But most of all there was no companion to talk with. The aloneness of it is haunting at times and it will always be. 

I received a grief newsletter from the hospice service and one coping strategy they recommend is to journal, daily.  I am using this blog for that as my grief journal in away.  Well since I had ceased blogging and lost all followers, several of whom passed away, I can write here.,  No one will read it anyway.  I used to keep journals for years but no longer.  In fact I  will soon be destroying those because the entries are truly personal and I have no one that I want reading them after I'm gone or even while I'm here. 

I stumble around some days without anywhere to go, so I go to mail something at the local post office just to get out of the house for a minute or two although I could easily put it in the mailbox and let the carrier pick it up.  I need very little at the store so no need to  go to the grocery store.  In fact I must begin to use the multitude of food stored up here on hand.  I do not need that much for just me.  So that eliminates another activity, grocery shopping.  Not that I've done it that frequently during this pandemic and with Jerry's illness.  But still I realize now the need is less.  

Emptiness, nothing I need to do.  And while I am grateful to not have pressing needs days are wide open for what?  Something else I  have confirmed is that just because you hire someone and pay them to do something for you does not make them your friend.  This I learned because a local friend who has done work for us and who still does snowplowing, etc called to ask if I wanted to sell a battery charger because he needed one.  I do not know much about  the many tools and equipment Jerry had so told him he could come and look down in the shop himself.  That was a mistake because while down there although there was  no battery charger, he got ideas about other tools he spotted and asked about my selling them.  Right now all I  am trying to do is sell 2 snow blowers that I will  not use and without any luck whatsoever.  So I told him I was not ready.  did not know the value, etc.  The next weekend he called again and came with his adult son whom he'd told about the air compressor.  He asked if he could show it to him so again I gave him the keys to the shop and let them go down there.  Now I know they would not take anything  and it was too cold out for me, but I regret playing into this.  Here is where I  confuse friendship with other motives.  When they came back up the son casually offered me $100 for the air compressor.  But at least my inner self, stinkometer,  or maybe it was Jerry's protective spirit told me, "not so fast.." I replied I did not know the value and was really wanting an inventory and appraisal but I would think of it and get back to them.  I googled and laughed,  the model Jerry has is heavy duty nearly commercial grade if not commercial,  valued over $1000.  And Jerry took pride in all his tools and equipment, everything was top notch and in pristine condition.  So although I know I will not get full value, it is worth more than $100. Do they think I am that naïve or are they dumb?  Or were they just trying to pull a fast one on me? He commented that Craftsman was a cheap brand  and I knew that was not at all true so I was on alert then. Jerry had nothing cheap.  I could hear Jerry saying, "see I told you not to blindly trust people, just because they say something..."  I called another local good friend who laughed and told me, "oh no,  not on your worst day, that is worth way more than $100."  Besides he agreed I would be  ahead to go with a professional appraisal and inventory and pro to hold an auction.  That is what I will do eventually.  I have learned that they haul the stuff out and sell through their warehouses and online.  That is preferable to me.  Don't want throngs of people coming around here.  But back to the friend who caused me to feel uneasy, I called him the next day after fussing with myself,  I hesitated to say too much but merely repeated that I was not ready and wanted  get appraisals, etc.  I refrained from saying more.  I was somewhat concerned about offending him ?  What?  But yes I was.  I resent that I trusted someone I though to be a friend, and now wonder, what is the motive? Is it innocent as I presumed or wanting to take advantage?  I have learned to  be cautious.  And again thankful I do not need to rush to make decisions.  This solo life has challenges.  That is how my days go.  I miss Jerry.  . 

It has only been a month now since Jerry passed on.  I am sure I will have even more revelations.  I suppose I will go along and learn, but I will be cautious.  As many warned me, be careful because  people try to take advantage when they can..  .  

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.

Jerry's Obituary and the smiles from Beyond

Today,  January 10, 2021,  just a month now since he passed on and left this valley of toil and tear, I had Jerry's full obituary published in the La Crosse Tribune with the photo.  I was awakened by a phone call from a local friend who was drinking his morning coffee and read it with tear so he called to tell me how beautiful and touching it was.  I have heard from many today and from FB all over echoing the sentiment.  I worked on it for quite awhile, editing, adding, deleting and finally had to stop myself, I could have gone on and on and there is a time to say "enough."  I have included a link here to the newspaper but I am also including the entire obituary here on this blog site.  After I share another "coincidence"

 https://lacrossetribune.com/eedition/page-d8/page_84626a8d-d3cc-5b50-830f-2fd74bd3d82e.html?utm_medium=social&utm_source=email&utm_campaign=user-share

Back when Jerry was struggling, it became difficult for him to talk a lot because he labored to breathe, he would not talk on the phone but whenever his best longest pal, Bob Shaw would call from CA he would gather enough steam to talk with him. They went back to before my time, Air Force days; they  used to call me the 'newcomer."  He was like a brother to Jerry.  We spent lots of times together over many years in CA because we had no families near us, they were from Indiana and Phyllis observed once, "we  didn't have families here so we made our own together. " Well Phyllis passed in May and Bob was left behind after their lifetime of 60 years or so together, he never really got over losing her although her health was poor and as he said he expected it but when it happens it still is not easy.  I know. In December Bob called Jerry for what would be the last time, they talked, they could still recall the very date and almost the time when they first met at McClellan AFB in CA when Bob arrived.  We'd laugh because neither Jerry nor I could recall the exact first date we met although we knew where and how, in fact we first met at Bob's American service station in Sacramento. But that was them, tight guys together.  Shortly after that call, no more than a few days, Bob passed away suddenly in CA,  he too had health challenges but nothing was imminent.  He lived at home alone although next door to son and daughter in law whom he called them and said he did not feel well and should go to the hospital.  Shortly after arriving in the ER Bob took his last breath and died, his heart lungs all stopped at once.  When they called to tell us, I fell apart and cried which  do not do that because I have been thru so many losses. I know none of us get out of this life alive. But I told Jerry and he simply nodded his head calmly, as if he knew, maybe he did. About a week before Jerry died he said to me that he was thinking about seeing Shaw again, and I reminded him, he said, "I know" and because  there were times when he did not quite make sense I said, "Oh I thought you wanted to drive to CA."  he replied, "no that's not what I'm talking about."  He knew.  Then December 11, Jerry took his last breath and everything heart, lungs, stopped at once as he left this earth and his weakened body. Less than a month apart, similar deaths the two pals are together again Beyond.  .Well today with the multiple comments again on my FB post sharing the obituary, I noticed a reminder, "today is Bob Shaw's birthday"  Wow those guys are smiling at me from Beyond!  I did not realize it was Bob's birthday when I chose this date.

Here is the entire obituary.::::

  .  On December 11, 2020 at home in La Crescent, Jerry fought his final battle with lung fibrosis and cancer, holding the hand of his beloved wife Pat, and with son, Al beside him. He drew his last breath and peacefully passed to eternal comfort and light. Born May 7,1937 in La Crosse, WI to Florence (Behrndt) and Gerald Jr. Morrison, Jerry grew up on the Behrndt family farm, Pine Creek, La Crescent. Later they moved into town. In 1950 his mother moved Jerry and his sister to Hawthorne, CA to marry his stepfather, Lyman Larson. Jerry returned to La Crescent, living with his grandpa Charlie Behrndt and relatives. He enlisted and served in the U.S. Air Force from 1954-1964, achieving the rank of Staff Sergeant. He served at many bases including Parks AFB CA, Keesler AFB Mississippi, Korea, Hawaii, Prince George, British Columbia, and the Airborne Early Warning and Control Wing at McClellan AFB, CA. He was proud of his Fort Gordon, Georgia tactical special operations training and radar control skills in flying missions all over including surveillance off the Florida coast during the Bay of Pigs invasion. His favorite station was Prince George, BC, which he visited many times later. He lived by the Air Force motto, “Aim High.”

Jerry was employed by American Oil Company after the Air Force and later opened his own service stations and auto repair shops as well as working for auto dealerships in northern CA. In 1967 he married the love of his life Patricia (Pat Ball) in CA. They built their first home in Fair Oaks, later moved to the Placer foothills of Newcastle, CA where he operated his auto repair business Newcastle Auto Tune and Electric, specializing in electronics. He was trusted, respected and relied upon by the foothill’s community, a charter member of the Newcastle Golden Spike Lions Club. He visited La Crescent family often. They purchased their retirement home in 2003 when he spotted the detached garage/shop and had to have it, they relocated in 2005.

He enjoyed many things in life auto racing, NASCAR, ,collecting watches and clocks, raising mandarin oranges on the Newcastle acreage, trout fishing in the Sierras, camping, hunting on horseback in the mountains, working check points on the Western States Tevis 100-mile trail ride through the Sierras, flying, the challenge of diagnosing and repairing electrical or mechanical things, studying satellite weather patterns, and above all traveling with Pat in RV’s and motor homes all over this country and Canada through the years. His love of driving and urging Pat to “load up” earned him the nickname “Wagonmaster.” One favorite trip was to the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, Indiana where he took a spin around the track. He said his big hobby was “keeping an eye on Pat.” In winters they enjoyed snow birding south and attending American Coach Rallies. Jerry was content at home in La Crescent, working in his shop and mowing his lawn and hillside. He valued his membership in the Gittens - Leidel American Legion Post 595 where for years he’d gather with guys for afternoon beers around the bar.  

Pat is grateful to Dr Peter Franta for his outstanding medical care and friendship and to the Mayo Hospice staff, especially health aide Trinity.

He was preceded in death by parents, sister Dianne (Morrison) Underwood in CA, son Stephen Morrison in CA, and his longest time closest friend from early Air Force days Bob Shaw of Fair Oaks CA. He will be forever missed by his soul mate, wife Pat, of La Crescent. He is survived further by son Al Morrison (Angel) of Rancho Murietta CA, daughter Bernadine Morrison of CA, sister Barbara Ferguson (Marty Berringer) of Denver, CO, brother Rodney Larson (Katie) of Riverside, CA, grandchildren especially his “sunshine”’ granddaughter Janine Morrison (John McNerney) of Pine Grove CA, nieces, nephews, cousins, and friends all over the country as well as locally.

Gerald requested only military honors which will be provided upon interment at Preston Veterans Cemetery later in the spring. Memorials are requested in Jerry’s name to the Gittens -Leidel American Legion Post 595 of La Crescent, American Lung Association or to a charity of the donor’s choice.

Widow a term and phase of life.

  

January 1, 2021 out the front window

 With winter in full swing, although we have minimal snow by MN standards, it is grey and overcast. Without the blue skies and sunshine for a couple days, my mood, could swing low, in fact it calls for me to sit beside this  desktop computer and turn on my happy light for an hour.  That helps. Fresh air is another tonic  but the overcast gloom and the 20 something degree temperatures are not conducive to my spending much time outside.  .  

   A FB friend another one of us now singles or my term a more recent  widow, asked me, "has the term "widow" hit you yet? So hard to process our hubby's are gone 

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  I replied, "Strange you would mention, I have been talking to myself about that. Self, I say, you are now officially a widow. Self replies, " a widow?" Yes, I say, that means solo. Self says after a quiet moment, well I suppose I always knew it would be, Jerry was 7 years older. But he was always so healthy and the longevity, 97--100 year olds goes back generations in his family to hearty pioneers. It is a different term. I think of all the widows I know, odd to be one for sure."
• So here I am a New Year, 2021, and flying solo.  I looked for the etymology of the word widow today and learned this, "A widow is a woman whose husband has died. Back in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, it was common to use widow as a prefix to a woman's name, instead of "Mrs." The Indo-European root word of widow means "be empty."  

I experience those spurt moments when feelings rise from within and  and spill out my eyes.  This morning I felt one and said, "oh this is getting worse"  here's what they all warned me about.  People ask if I am getting used to it and I say "yes"  what choice do I have. I have never been a whiner nor sniveler, it's very unbecoming and nobody wants to hear it.  .  

So far the worst is accepting quietness around the house. Not that Jerry and I talked all day long to each other, but it is just  knowing there is now no one except for God to hear me, and no longer hearing the din from his oxygen concentrator which had become like a roaring white noise background. I honestly cannot remember being without him after 53 years.  .When I do not venture out of the house I might not have any human contact other than by phone or Facebook that day. Despite how busy I am with packing away holiday decorations that were sparse this year and completing paperwork,  I miss real human contact.  I miss his hugs,  sometimes in a spurt moment or just for reassurance I walk into the coat closet where his jackets still hang and wrap the flannel wool jacket sleeves over my shoulders and  snuggle against it.  I would not wish Jerry back to suffer as he did towards the end nor to live in that bed, but how I do wish we could have continued our life.  It was not to be and wishes are useless. 

I miss his fix it ability.  He could and did repair any and everything, he was so handy, I always had Jerry to rely on and I did.  And well, frankly I have never had an aptitude nor interest in anything mechanical,  fixes or anything like that.  As long as it works, I'm happy.  We made a good team   He did that all and I went merrily along my way.  Packing away the Christmas things I had a couple mishaps,  I do every year, something breaks.  Jerry always rescued me and fixed it.  

  This year it was angel's wings that broke loose and I was slightly tempted to just toss her,  broken, forget it.  But I could not do that, a perfectly good angel, where would I find another like her.  So with a trip to the hardware  store in town and purchase of Gorilla Glue I did  fix her.  Then as usually happens another problem I pulled a section of the old roof loose from our first manger set that Jerry bought  when we were first married, 53 years ago, our first Christmas.  I did not want o put it away broken and wonder what happened over storage all year when I pull it out again. I examined and saw that I could reattach it easily with the tacks that stuck out but could see it needed glue as well.  This would be a good job for the white glue on hand.  I mean literally on hand, glue poured  all over mine, a dandy mess, but I did repair the roof.   While waiting for it to dry and feeling proud of myself I decided to add another touch, an improvement to this 53 year old piece.  When our ash trees were cut down years back I saved a couple pieces  of wood.  I did not know what I would do with them but wanted them, just in case.  Well, sure enough one piece could go onto the roof as an addition,  I stained it and added some paint and glue it there too.  When our weathe improves I will gather some more moss to reattach to the roof as it has shed over the years, but that can wait. 

So I am getting by. I figure it is a good day too when I learn something. Yesterday I learned the difference between hoar frost and rime frost which was unknown to me. A friend admitted she'd learned the term rime working crossword puzzles.

Taken from a ridge outside of LaCrescent

"Many woke up Sunday morning to a frosty and icy wonderland! What many often times mistake as hoarfrost can actually be a phenomenon called "rime ice." While they look very similar,  process of how they form is what's different.     

Rime ice often times forms in dense freezing fog, like we all saw last night. It is when supercooled water in the fog (water that is still liquid but below freezing) freezes on contact with the surface and turns to ice. Rime ice can often look like fragile ice needles when up close. It sure is fascinating!

Hoarfrost is when gas (water vapor) turns to ice without passing through the liquid phase. It generally forms on clear, cold and humid nights with little wind."

There it is another blogpost for today,  my time sitting by the happy light ahs passed.  So off I am.