Endings

I feel better today. I have a fairly reasonable to-do list ready, and am going to move on to my day as soon as I post this.

Today I received my last paycheck from the School District of Lee County. It is my last day.

Retirement officially begins tomorrow.

I also was happy to throw this in the trash bag:

There is nothing in this folder I need. That part of my life and all its stress and difficulties is over.

Moving on.

Checking In

 

Today I’ve been very tired

Not sure I slept that great last night

I had three days with a lot of socializing

I went to school yesterday and spent a couple hours seeing people

Picking things up and dropping things off

Talked to my counselor this morning and I think it was just an accumulation

Of my changing life coming at me

So today I read, and I rested

I was aware that I didn’t write yesterday so I thought it was good to check in here

Perhaps tomorrow I’ll be back at it

But for now… Rest

Pic Collage 1985-87

 

COMMITMENT

This is one of my favorite pictures of us. In April 1985, Jim and his boss had a business trip to Miami, and I was invited along. (So was the boss’s mistress Kim, who lived in D.C.) We stayed at Turnberry Isle resort, a place for the rich and famous. It was an extended weekend and we had a blast. While the guys were doing business, Kim and I went to the spa where Gloria Vanderbilt and her entourage happened to be. We golfed at their exclusive club. In the evenings we did things like the fancy dinners, dog races, a ride through South Beach, which was just starting to be revitalized, and a trip to Joe’s Stone Crab. This photo was taken on our last night there. We had been together three years at this point, and were fully committed to our love.

GROWTH

This photo was taken a short time before we got married on August 15, 1986. The Cuyahoga River runs through downtown Cleveland, and the area behind Jim is called The Flats. This area was just beginning to be revitalized into an entertainment location, old factories turned into bars and nightclubs and restaurants. It was a time of growth for Cleveland, and in our relationship.

FREEDOM

In July 1987, we went to Atlanta for Jim’s sister’s wedding on a Friday evening. Both she and her new husband owned boats, which were docked on Lake Lenoir. Family members were invited to use the boats the next day, where we sailed around, stopped at an island for a picnic, and in general had a blast. I felt this picture of Jim represents the free feeling of being on the water, no obligations, just having a good time.

Pic Collage 1982-84

I originally planned to do this series of posts last spring. After realizing I need to focus back to the happy times, and put aside the sad memories of this year, I decided to move forward on this idea.

The year 1993 was a life-changer for Jim and me. That June, a disc in his back blew out and he had to have surgery. This created a precarious situation. We had just built a new house two years prior, and we relied heavily on his income. He ended up on disability, and many things about our lives were forced to change.

This year reminded me a bit of 1993. I had to pull myself together in ways I never had to before. I had to live with underlying fear of where things were heading.

That Christmas we did not have the funds we typically had to spoil each other. I decided to go meaningful, and created a picture collage of photos I felt represented our years together to date. On the back I assigned a word that applied to each picture, and a little note on why.

Today I share the first three years. In subsequent posts I will share the rest.

CONFIDENCE

Jim took this photo of me standing on a large rock by Coe Lake which was behind my studio apartment. It was a beautiful autumn day in 1982, and I was feeling deeply confident about my life and direction. I note that confidence came from what Jim did for me when he came into my life. It’s amazing how we can get beaten down by others and not even know it until someone comes along and does the opposite.

HAPPINESS

This photo was taken by his sister Diane on my 28th birthday in 1983. Our first year together was full of all the happiness I could possibly imagine. We were making plans and setting a direction together. It was wonderful to have a partner like Jim. 

FUN

I have already written about the summer of 1984 on this blog on June 7. This was the first year of my life I felt good enough about myself and my body to wear a bikini! We had lots of weekend parties, and I learned to golf. I was succeeding at my job. It remains in my mind a very positive and exciting time.

Friday Afternoon Think Aloud

This week, my spirits have been very good. It isn’t that I haven’t cried – – I’ve done plenty of that.

I’m sleeping well, taking care of myself, eating well, healing well, reading a lot, and getting a ton of things done.

When things go awry, I’m finding I don’t get stressed and anxious like I did even just a couple weeks ago. I don’t overblow things in my head like I think I have for a long time. I have a renewed sense of “everything will work out.”

The images of Jim being ill seem to be minimizing. In retrospect, it has become clear to me that ever since his stroke in 2020 it was a long downhill slide that just got worse and worse. This was confirmed to me when I went through this giant stack of papers he had on his side of the bedroom. As I went back through the stack, I saw that the oldest ones were from 2020. That stroke probably did more damage than we realized.

So this afternoon, I started thinking about what the difference is now. Sometimes I wonder why I’m not feeling worse. I’m in grief. I have a million things to do, tons of stuff to figure out, and things I’ve taken on that I need to follow through on. Why am I not as stressed as I have been for so long?

And then I realized something very important. The major difference between now and before Jim made his transition is that I had to keep seeing him getting worse, in pain, uncomfortable.. I can see now what a huge stress that was on me. There was a lot of fear associated with it that never went away. And as things kept sliding downhill, and then I got ill, damn, it was just so much.

The other night I watched the Townhall CNN did with Kamala Harris. And there was a part late in the session where she was asked about her proposal to have Medicare pay for Home Healthcare (something I know is needed—it’s a huge issue). She talked poignantly about how when someone you love is sick and they pass away, you want to remember them when they were vibrant and alive, and not like they were at the end. 

It hit me in that moment how much I kept thinking about Jim the way he was these past few months. This last year, really. This was not pleasant, and the images kept popping up and making me sad. Understanding this has helped a lot. So now I’m doing my best just to remember him before the 2020s. It feels so long ago because, well, it was!

I feel I’m doing all the right things, and I believe everything will get done in time. As Annmarie pointed out to me recently, that’s all I can do. The next right thing.

Singing with the Elvis mic at Sun Studios 2014

Nothing Burgers and Modern Art

Since my car accident, I have completely avoided driving the road where the crash occurred. In the beginning, I was pretty terrified at the prospect. Later, after the long hospital stay, I might not have been as afraid, but I still was unsure about making the commitment to turn onto A&W Bulb Road.

Then yesterday I had a dentist appointment. I knew the fastest and best way to go was to take that road. And so I gathered my courage and I did it.

It turned out being a nothing burger.

I thought I would recognize where the accident took place. Nope.

Facing my fear, though, sure made me euphoric. It’s amazing how things get built up in our minds when they really are a whole lot of nothing.

I hope to remember this more often in the future.

Now here is a little modern art I colored today. 😊

Taking Care of Myself

I’m tired today!

The last two days I’ve expended a ton of energy on details. I met with our estate attorney and  I spent a ton of time canceling Jim’s credit cards and changing billing information on a several websites. I filled out paperwork and, in general, I felt pretty accomplished.

It has caught up to me today. I’m fried.

When I get up the first thing I do is read a chapter in the grief book a friend gave me. Today it was on taking care of myself.

That is my aim today.

1. I have 3 phone calls to make.

2. I have a dentist appointment.

3. I will make myself a nice dinner.

In between, I will rest and read. This is my commitment to my grieving self.

Everything that needs to get done will get done.

Today won’t be that day.

This Part of the Journey (and Journal) is Done

Today I wrote the final pages of a journal I started June 12th.

This represents the toughest part of my entire life to date. I can’t imagine things will ever be this challenging again, but I’m not tempting the universe to prove me wrong. Really.

Here are some of the final words I wrote:

I’m glad many things are getting settled. Im glad Jim is not struggling and suffering anymore. I’m glad I 100% supported him and have no regrets at all.

I was with him every step of the way.

And now it’s a new life. So far, so good.

Jim—I love you forever and ever

And you will always be with me.

Then I put on “Helen Sadler’s Station” on my Apple Music and the first song that came up was Rodney Crowell’s “Making Memories of Us.”

I cried and cried…a pure combination of sadness at the loss and the happiness of the memories.

Tomorrow begins a new journey to record. 🌻

(Keith Urban’s live version of the song is perfect!)

Coming Out of a Long Struggle (Lectio Divina #2)

Something changed for me yesterday.

Prompted by things that have been happening, some communication I was doing with Jim, and reading that was inspiring me, I came back to myself.

At one point, I looked at my blog from September. I was particularly taken with the one where I had a picture of Alice in Wonderland looking at herself in a pond. At the time I had just been moved to a different hospital and I was wondering who I even was. I didn’t have my rituals. I wasn’t able to see my husband. I felt pretty lost. 

Somehow revisiting that time was good for me. I realized how far I have come from those days, and suddenly I just felt settled into the way things are. All day I felt it. I was doing a lot of reading. The company came and picked up all these oxygen supplies that have been sitting around here. Adios to that! I had a good trip to Target. And I went to Lectio Divina.

There we had a reading (find it below)where two things stuck out to me.

Struggling means living.

Divided parts/ integrated whole

I wrote this prayer:

Dear God, when I turn to you, you never let me down. In my anxiety and struggle, you gently lead me. Listening with faith, trusting your wisdom is what works. It’s the connection. The ability to have someone point the way. Intuition is God— is You. The miracle is always in the moment – – the miracle to release the struggle and feel alive. The miracle to heal the wounds, be energetic and free. There are a lot of people in the world who speak inspiring words. May I listen and honor the wisdom that comes my way over and over. Acknowledge them. Be grateful.🌻

So that took care of the struggle part.

Then I started to reflect on the parts versus the whole. I reflected:

I just looked at the scar on my arm, I thought of the bruise still on my right breast, and the open wound by my bellybutton. These are parts, but they don’t divide me. They are somehow integrating me into wellness.

Then I thought of Alice again.  I used her name to write an acrostic.

Alice was looking and I tried to look, but could not see.

Lately that is changing. I feel more like me.

In my tears and writing and walking and reading and chores and music listening, I’m coming back.

Can’t say anything will be the same as it was, but why would I want it to be?

Everything is temporary… Even the me I am today.

Intuition

 Way back in 2003, a friend gave me a dystopian novel called Just a Couple of Days. This book has been on my shelf all these years and I finally read it over this past month.

The book held my attention, although I actually wouldn’t recommend it. But last night while I was reading, something jumped out at me and it made me wonder… How is it we find what we need at the exact moment we probably need it?

It was this quote on page 329:

Faith is the genuine trust in intuition.

This year I have thought a great deal about faith and trust, but I haven’t thought a lot about intuition. But isn’t that what’s always happening?

Yesterday was a great example. Right before I went to church, I was having trouble with my printer. I looked up how to fix it according to the error code I was getting, and decided that I would figure it out when I got home from church. There appeared to be several steps that were unnerving me. This caused me anxiety. Right now I don’t need anything going wrong, even an error code on my printer. I would just like to get through a day without having to handle some kind of a crazy thing.

So it was on my mind while I was at church, and I found myself praying for an answer. I’m not sure why it had me so upset, but it did and I was trying very hard to hold it together.

Near the end of the service, I heard a little voice tell me that when I get home do research again and go from there. I realized that the information I had was from 2019, and I thought well, I’ll look and see if there’s anything more recent. Well, there was and it fixed the problem pronto with a couple easy steps. Where is my faith? My trust? Am I selling myself short?

Were my prayers answered in church? Or was it my intuition?

Are they the same thing?

What Might Go Right

I had written in my journal and was thinking about what I might want to write about here today when I saw this on my Facebook feed:

It seems every day I have some level of anxiety about the things I need to do. I pretty much hate that.

But when I look back over these past weeks and months, I realize a lot of things went right. I made decisions that worked well for the most part. I’m still trying to figure out the terrain of my life with a spouse who is no longer here, and I have plenty of people to help me.

Yesterday when in one of these moments of feeling my weakness, I remembered my promise to Jim. On October 4th I told him it was okay to let go, that I would be alright. I see that as a promise I made to him. So falling into anxiety or seeing myself as incapable of handling this life is dissing that promise. 

I have everything I need, as Adam Grant has illustrated above. I need to turn my attention to the things that will go right. It’s a promise I made to Jim, and now one I make to myself.

There is every reason to believe I will be fine. I want to allow an opening for a new life and unexpected adventures. But I can’t do it if I focus on the wrong things.

“Shrinking” Pain

Last night, I watched the first two episodes of the second season of the Apple TV show Shrinking. It’s a terrific show with a great cast, including Harrison Ford.

The show features an army vet with PTSD named Sean. Harrison Ford plays a therapist named Paul and he starts treating Sean. This is where it got interesting to me. Sean was having a hard time with a potential problem he saw coming up. Paul told him that when this happens he is to close his eyes and take himself through the absolute worst case scenario, saying the words out loud, and that he is to do this until he bursts into the light and is able to say PAIN SETS ME FREE.

As I was listening to this last night, and watching how Sean put it into action, I thought “This is something I really need to remember.” Yesterday I was having a hard time with really crappy memories coming up, feeling some trauma again, and actually not looking forward to the future. I had not been feeling that way, so it was a little disheartening. But this little segment showed me that perhaps I just need to walk my way through those times, and feel the pain that goes with it rather than avoiding it, which was probably what I was doing yesterday. I can free myself from the pain I’m holding in and doing my best to ignore.

I’m documenting this here, hopefully so I won’t forget.

If you have Apple TV, I highly recommend the show Shrinking.

[ADDENDUM] Within an hour of posting this I recognized I needed to use it. Let me tell you…it works.  Lots of tears, but lots of comfort, too.

Up-n-Down

My friend Becky told me that it would take two weeks before she would really grieve when her parents passed away. I’m coming up on two weeks and I’m starting to notice a difference in myself.

For a while, I’ve just been caught up in nice memories of Jim and our life together. I’ve been taking care of things and seeing friends and rejoining a church. All good.

But today, for some reason, it’s been a bit up-and-down. I’m starting to remember more traumatic things from the past several months. For example, my car accident. I really have not thought a whole lot about it in quite some time, but today things were starting to pop up.

I know it’s trauma. I know there’s a lot of healing to be done. I’m doing my very, very best to take care of myself.

And I have help. A little while ago, I received a booklet from the leader of the Lectio Divina prayer group I attended on Monday. She included a very nice letter with it. The booklet is called A Time to Grieve, and I already read a little bit of it, and it has very comforting words. I do need to say that when I received the book and the letter, I cried and cried and cried. And I think I really needed to do that.

*

All that aside for now, I do want to say that I took a big step today. Actually maybe two big steps. I decided it was time for a trip to Costco and on my way there took the overpass from Gladiolus Drive to Summerlin Road. That is something that I had been avoiding ever since my accident, because sometimes it’s hard to merge there and one time somebody nearly ran me off the road refusing to let me in. I always get a little nervous going there. But it was absolutely fine today. There was nobody I had to merge with. 

And then, as I was approaching Costco, a song came on the radio that just seem to have the perfect words. This song came out right at the end of my freshman year of high school and I loved it from the first time I heard it. These words telling me that things will get easier, and even being referred to as a child, just felt so perfect today. I have added this song to my special playlist that I listen to many mornings. Hopefully you know this song, and can sing along, keeping me in mind as you do. I appreciate it 🌻

I don’t usually do this, but today I must. I subscribe to Sherman Alexie on Substack, and on occasion he posts poems, micro-memoirs, and short stories he’s written. The one today really spoke to me. I think it is because I use the phrase “take care” quite a bit. In fact, I bet I said it to Jim every time I left him, along with “I love you.”  

The power of this poem, besides its format which is interesting in its own right, is that it makes you think of some small thing you are grateful for, something that helps you take care of yourself or others. For me today it’s fresh water and ice I have constant access to. It helps me stay hydrated and healthy. I like that I can rely on it.

Enjoy this poem “Take Care.” I hope it makes you think of one small thing you are grateful for today.

Take Care  poem SHERMAN ALEXIE OCT 16 This morning, before we ended the call, my friend said "Take care," a common phrase, yes, and delivered by habit but let's take a moment to recognize its uncommon grace, its call for all of us to take care of ourselves, of course, but also to take care of others, and, today, let it be a call to take care, to notice, the smaller beauties of the things that surround us. I feel silly but I'm going to celebrate the shredded wheat squares that I ate for breakfast. Ah, the crisp and slight sweetness of the cereal are also the two aspects of personality that I love most in people—so here is my honor song for that blend of human satire and kindness—the gentle mockery and gentle praise—the edge of tender and tender of edge—that leave me laughing and grateful for loving and being loved.   LIKE COMMENT RESTACK

Lectio Divina #1

 On Sunday I returned to a church I haven’t been to in 20 years.

It felt great to be back.

There are many reasons I knew I needed to find a faith community again. And Iona-Hope Episcopal is the perfect place. It has grown in amazing ways since I was last there.

I have been keeping an eye on them for years. I have been visiting the labyrinth they installed about five years ago. When I knew I needed something to anchor my life, now that my husband and career are gone, I checked out the many activities they have. I will be attending a grief group called Moving On this Thursday. I also want to join their book club.

Yesterday afternoon, I joined the Lectio Divina group. It is a contemplative way to study scripture. Here is the reading we did. We start by considering a word or phrase, and keep reading it three more times for deeper understanding. Writing and art are encouraged.  

After the process, this is what I wrote:

In God, I have all I need

In God, I can be sad, but not shattered

In God, my world is good

In God, I praise all of nature and its cycles, including life and death

In God, I have gratitude for all that came before, all that is here now, and all that will be

In God, I have an anchor at all times

In God, I open my heart to peace and know it

When I  wonder “How exactly do I do this?”

The answer is always 

through the grace and wholeness of who God created me to be

Monday Gratitudes

 

Jim with high school friend Russ Fernlund (2012)

It’s been one week since Jim left this plane of existence.

Today I am grateful that I got through this first week.

I’m grateful I got to talk to his oldest friend on Saturday.

I’m grateful Annmarie and I had a delicious lunch together.

I am grateful to all who checked in on me and helped during the hurricane.

I’m grateful I’m slowly chipping away at things that need to be done here.

It feels good.

I’m grateful I decided to return to a church home. I felt incredibly welcome.

I’m grateful I will have a prayer group and a grief group.

I’m grateful for the books I’m reading. 

I’m grateful for the shows I’m watching. They keep me entertained.

I’m grateful for good food and good neighbors.

I’m grateful for those who follow this blog!

Brighter and Lighter

 Journal entry

I saw this meme from Adam Grant and I realize that’s exactly where I am.

 I've worked really hard to stay in the present moment because it was too difficult to envision a bright future knowing Jim was terminally ill. Which reminds me of what I heard earlier this year – – that all love affairs come to a bad end. The couple either breaks up or one of them dies. 

Now that I know Jim is out of pain, I can look to the future in a new way. I will keep working on my healing, make new connections, do some things I have not been able to do.

I’m not a caretaker anymore. Wow – – first time I’ve said those words.

I have a gazillion things ahead of me to do, and it will take a long time.

I still have burdens – – but I know they will lighten.

I take everything Jim gave me and carry it into a brighter future.

2024 has been beyond challenging. Yet, I saw such goodness and generosity and care coming our way every day. We were given exactly what we needed in each moment, even those weeks we were separated. The world is full of amazing human beings, who are capable of caring, listening, reaching out, going the extra mile for us. It’s really astounding to look back and realize all those wonderful people who helped us. I’m talking about nurses and hospital staff and chaplains and social workers and hospice. 

I enter this phase with new vision and understanding. I carry with me the inspiration of all those people who helped us. I want to be one of those people for others.

I will find my place. And it will be exactly where I need to be.

Signs of a Life

 I didn’t even notice them anymore, the things Jim always had in certain places. Over these past months, they were just part of the landscape of my home.

Then yesterday, these items jumped out. After years and years of them being staged in the same place, it felt weird to suddenly “notice them.” 

I realize that there are many things I can dispose of—like his large supply of prescription drugs. Adios!

But these items are going to remain where they are. They were his daily items, the mark of his life, and I’m not willing to let go yet.

His coffee mug next to the brewer

His pill cases in his sink

His slippers at the foot of our bed

Escaping Tunnel Vision

 

In June, I began reading the book pictured above that was on the New York Times Bestseller list, with the idea that there would things to implement in my classroom. Needless to say, my life got interrupted and I only recently got back to it. I decided to keep reading it for my own sake, rather than my students’, and I’m glad I did.

In his book, Grant takes us through all the ways we think in shallow ways, or make arguments that don’t work, or lean toward our own biases. He talks about concepts like challenge teams and motivational interviewing, which caught my attention. His approach is easy to follow, with great examples, and lots of graphics.

I picked up the book once I got home from the hospital, and eventually I was taking it to read when I visited Jim since he was mostly sleeping. The text energized me and made me think in new ways.  I credit it with helping me through the difficult decisions I had to make regarding Jim’s care. It has caused me to turn to people to help me think things through, something I don’t think I typically did enough, unless it was with Jim.

The other night I woke to go to the bathroom, and found I was having a hard time getting back to sleep. I decided to finish the last 20 pages of the book. One of the chapters was called “Escaping Tunnel Vision.” There were two quotes that I ended up marking.

I realized that for years, I have been living a kind of tunnel vision, and for a very good reason. My husband was ill, and in a very slow decline, and it was demanding more of me — more of my time, energy, worry, and anxiety. I had gotten to the point I thought I would never want to travel again, that doing something just for fun seemed long ago and far away. I think this was preying on my mind more than I knew. I just thought it was where I was in life — but now I see it was the situation, not necessarily who I had become.

The tunnel vision was necessary, don’t get me wrong. I had to put first things first, and I will never regret I did. And now I am thankful I had this book in hand to help me see my way out.

Reading the last few chapters was exhilarating. Here were two important quotes to me:

At work and in life, the best we can do is plan for what we want to learn and contribute over the next year or two, and stay open to what might come next. 

Our identities are open systems, and so are our lives.. We don’t have to stay tethered to old images of where we go or who we want to be. The simplest way to start rethinking our options is to question what we do daily.

I believe Adam Grant has provided a blueprint for me as I forge a new life without my husband and enter retirement. A lot of people ask if I will sub, and my immediate response is NO. It feels like “been there, done that.”

I have felt for a long time, and REALLY feel now, that there is something else waiting for me. Something that will be fulfilling in a new way. I have no idea what it is, but since Jim’s passing and finishing this book, I feel like I have escaped the tunnel. And I don’t think this is disrespectful to Jim. If I know him — and I do — he is cheering for me from the other side.

Never Alone

When we marry, we figure there will be a day our partner may be gone. Today is that day for me.

After a chaotic morning of notifying people, talking with friends, canceling appointments, and fielding other calls, I came to a place where I just had to STOP.

I decided to calm down with a coloring app. I saw this picture, and thought of it as Jim moving on to wherever he is.

But as I started coloring, I noticed there is someone else in the boat.  

That’s when I knew this picture is me, moving into my future, but always with Jim beside me.

Our marriage guaranteed I am never alone.

You and Me

 

When Jim and I met, we were like two wildflowers.

Neither one of us was exactly where we wanted to be in life. We just knew we weren’t planted in the right spots.

In one of our early meetings right before we parted, Jim went to his car and pulled out a cassette tape that was called Neil Diamond’s Love Songs. He gave it to me.

I listened to that thing nearly nonstop.

It had some of my favorite songs on it: Joni Mitchell’s “Chelsea Morning.”  Leonard Cohen’s “Suzanne.” Randy Newman’s “I Think It’s Going to Rain Today.”

And the song by Neil Diamond called “Stones.”

Yesterday I moved Jim to hospice care.

Today I went onto Apple Music looking for the Love Songs album. What I discovered is it’s really just the Stones album, perhaps with the songs in a slightly different order.

So I listened to Stones wondering if it would make me fall apart.

But it was the exact opposite.

It took me back to the beginning of our relationship when I felt that he was seeing things in me that no one else had ever seen. It took me back to that time when I started to gain a lot of strength in who I was and into understanding what my life could be. It’s amazing when this happens. I don’t know if it happens with everybody this way, but it sure was a great thing for me. 

I’d listen to that tape he gave me and I think, even if this doesn’t last, even if this relationship ends, I am now somebody new and I am going to be fine no matter what happens.

(Honestly, I felt the relationship would last, but I was ready either way.)

At 26 years old, this was quite a revelation for me

Now I’m 69 years old. And I know that I was right about my relationship with Jim from day one.

I’m about to retire from a career I would’ve never had without him.

I am about to embark on a new life without him here physically. 

He will always be with me in my heart and soul.

We’ve had a great life together.

We planted and we harvested.

We were wild flowers who grew together, supported each other, and never wavered in our love.

When he leaves this physical plane, I know once again I will be fine.

The depth of what occurred over these past 40+ years will carry me forward into an unknown future.

Once again, because of Jim, I’m ready.

Jim and I  Fall 1982

I loved this video for the song because it reflects what I’ve written here. 

Now I Know

 My heart feels lighter today.

Two days ago, I talked to one of the hospice services in our area. I was pretty much told that I needed to bring my husband home and figure out how to care for him.

I was an agony. I am still in recovery from a horrible infection I had, and he is totally dependent. I even talked to a private nursing company in the area, but it did nothing to assuage my fears.

I kept thinking there had to be another way. So I asked to see the other hospice company – – Hope Hospice. I had talked to them once before, so wasn’t really sure what I thought I was going to gain.

But I went with best intentions.

Before I went up to Jim’s room in the afternoon to meet with them, I did something I have not done at all in all my visits to the hospital. I stopped in the chapel.

And there on the wall was a dove. This commonly is a symbol for the Holy Spirit.

It was the Holy Spirit in 1993 that gave me a prayer that I have memorized and I say often.

And I heard that prayer again while I stood there, looking at the dove on the wall.

Do not be afraid

Do not be afraid

Everything will be all right

Did you ever think you’d be left without a way?

Do not spend one minute of worry

You will know what to do and when to do it

Do not be afraid

Everything will be all right

I went up to Jim‘s room and I talked to him. On the advice of my friend Becky, who had been through this with her parents, I told him it’s OK to go. I told him I will be all right, and it is because of all the strength he has given me. He came in my life when I needed somebody to see me for who I was, and he did that.

I asked him if he felt he was transitioning, and he nodded yes.

The nurses from hospice came in, and I told them the horror story of this year starting with the cancer diagnosis. I expressed my concerns on bringing him home, that I didn’t think that was appropriate or helpful. 

And then to my complete surprise, they told me there is another way to go. There is something called General In-Patient and it would mean that Jim could do hospice right there in the hospital. Hospice would manage his comfort care. This was such a huge relief, I cannot even explain!  The interesting thing is this program is only about a month old in the Lee health system. It was the answer to my prayers… My “I don’t know”prayers.

They called me later and said Jim is approved for the program. I have a few more questions to ask before I commit, and believe this is most likely the way to go. They will keep him comfortable and out of pain. He hasn’t eaten anything since before his surgery, so I’m really not sure how long he will last. 

These last several months have all been about letting him go, and it’s happened gradually. I actually think that was a gift to me rather than losing him at all at once. It has helped me know I will be OK on my own.

On my way out I stopped back in the chapel and I said thank you.

Don’t Know

 I haven’t written in a couple of days because my mind is whirring. One day I think I know the direction, the next I see different possibilities. Nothing is defined and so many questions people can’t answer.

I want to do what is best for Jim, but it feels impossible to know what that is. 

This just came across my FB feed and I related 100%. I’ve been doing this…and once again, I know that I will know the right decision when it is time to know. Back to that word…TRUST.  

This Place

 Yesterday, this showed up in FB Memories:

The place I am as I write this is Jim’s ICU room. I understand that he’s progressed enough he may be moved to another level.

Before writing here, I looked up the poem this quote is from. It not only assures me I’m in the right place, but that God is waiting for me…always.

 I am finding that in facing my fears, I sometimes have a residual effect.  For example, yesterday I took a cold, hard look at finances, and ended up having money terror dreams. Been a long time since I had that happen, and I don’t like it now.

I am reminded that grace is always within reach. I can’tbe unkind to myself through worthless worry. I need not be confused about the plan. God has it well in hand, and as I said a few weeks ago, God didn’t bring us this far to drop us into a lonely sea. 

There is a way, and it’s certain.

Here is the full poem: