Change (it’s okay!)

On Thanksgiving day I read a poem called “thankful” by ullie kaye.  There were a few lines that stood out to me, so I’ve decided to put them here with chosen images, so I may remember.

i am thankful for skies that change color

for paths that change direction

and for seasons that remind me we are all just one breath away from a new beginning

A Sudden Calm

I’ve been feeling a bit more off balance than I’d like, and doing everything I can to get a grip. It comes and goes and I’m wishing I felt more solid.

Taking time to be with friends these last few days has been good, but I’m still feeling some anxiety.

After I wrote my blog yesterday, I was reading other things and it all started to get to me.

Then I read Matthew Dicks’ blog which is emailed to me every day. You may recognize the name—he’s the storyteller who created Homework for Life, a practice I continue.

Anyway, his blog was about meeting a friend in despair over the state of our world, and he talked to his friend, sharing the difficulties of the past—concentration camps in Germany, the draft during the Vietnam War, the economic issues of the 1970s — and he assured his friend that we all come out of these things by taking small steps. He ended the blog saying “In every small way, find a way,” and with this image:

I felt an immediate calm.

I’ve never seen this image before, but yesterday I never needed something as much as it. All I could do was stare at it. I didn’t even want to think about the meaning.

But today I did write about it in my journal:

I look at this truncated tree, and the instrument that did the damage. I feel it is my life that got cut down—my teaching life and my married life. And I’ve always known and felt there would be new directions for me, things I can’t imagine right now. So I see this so perfectly rendered and it moves me deeply. It removes anxiety. It’s factual.

This happened. 

And is still happening

In every small way, find a way.

Thanksgiving Gratitudes (of course!)

 I am grateful for three days spent with friends this week

And especially for the dinner I will be having today

The first holiday without Jim present.

I am grateful for you, my family and friends, who read this blog

Cheer me on

Comfort me.

I am grateful for all the medical professionals who helped us through this year

Of unprecedented hospital visits

And Hope Hospice as well.

I am grateful to everyone at Cypress Lake Middle

Always there for me.

I am grateful to my neighbors who have done so much for me.

I am grateful to those who have reached out across the miles,

Calling and writing and sending cards

Especially the SJA class of 1973.

I am grateful for my new church home

Providing the anchors I need.

I am grateful for all who helped me pull my retirement together,

Which was no small feat given my husband was dying.

I am grateful my healing from that horrible infection

Has been consistently good.

I am grateful for professional advice I’ve had to seek.

This Thanksgiving Day

Is for us all to remember

We will always make it through

Somehow, someway.

For that, I am mostly grateful.

Thanksgiving Day 2016

Meeting in Punta Gorda: a nonet

 

Seeing each other after three years

Three not so easy years, but this

meeting again, time collapsed

There was joy and laughter

and plenty of tears

We have Common

Boundary

Deep ties

Love

The Fall

Journal Entry

I am holding the touchstone as I write and it brings me a lot of peace. I need it.

Based on my readings today, I took a “fall” — perhaps I took on too much or obsessed too much and it brought me here.

But the more likely explanation is I am not allowing myself self-compassion. My friend Kara reminded me yesterday during a well-timed phone call that I need to prioritize my own care.

I had been feeling so good, moving along, so positive. But then, as Albert Camus said:

…the perpetual impulse forward always falls back to gather new strength. The fall is brutal, but we set out again.

Jim’s memorial service buoyed me up for a long time. There was bound to be a fall. I appreciate what Camus has to say. Instead of feeling weak and like I can’t handle things, I know now is time for gathering strength. The fall helps me do that.

And then I am gifted with a daily reading from Regina Brett’s new book. Did you ever see a title more appropriate for my current life?

Her essay today was entitled “If it was supposed to be different it would be.”

Bam!

Regina tells of her brother-in-law who took a literal fall in a hotel shower while on vacation and became a quadriplegic. That’s heavy duty, but inspiring. He went on to live a fulfilled life, even published a book of poetry.

There is life after the fall. It’s just a little detour!

This, after all, is part of grieving and it won’t be the last time.

I got ahead of myself. I got to thinking too far in the future and trying to figure things out I had no business worrying about. Awareness — yes.  Anxiety — no!

The touchstone in my hand continues to have a calming effect. 

A big realization I had regarding how I got to the fall was that I ate all my meals alone last week, and that isn’t good for me. All other weeks, I got together at least one time with someone else. So that’s a warning flag! Fortunately, I have things lined up for this week.

I’m learning. Grounding back to remembering things have been, will be, and are exactly as they should be. If it was supposed to be different it would be.

Kacey Musgraves performed my favorite new song from her on the CMA Awards. It is called “The Architect” and I know I shared it before, but this is a sweet acoustic version. The song reminds me someone else is in charge (even as Kacey questions it.)

I cannot avoid the falls. There will surely be more as I navigate this new life. I need to keep doing the things that anchor me. Line up time with friends. Get a lot of rest. The best I can do is to be aware and listen well for guidance, because I know it is always there when I need it.

All in the right time.

What a Busy Week

It’s late Friday afternoon, and I’m just getting to this blog. It’s been quite a week, but I seem to be coming to the end of the long road of financial and legal matters. I’ve had several ideas on where to take this, but will keep it short and sweet.

I picked up Jim’s touchstone today.

This is a flat stone in a display I can take out and hold in my hand. It contains some of his ashes.

When I die, there will be one made in purple for me. Well, not for me…I guess for whoever wants it. It’s already paid for.

Which, by the way, I highly recommend making your arrangements and getting them paid for in advance. It saved me a lot of angst and trouble when Jim passed. I was able to pull out a card with his account number and phone number to call. Quick and easy. I have a friend whose husband died in June and she said going to the funeral home to make the arrangements was the worst. It was traumatizing to her.

Here is where the stone will sit when not in my hand. 

Now I’m working on building in a lot of “me” time as Thanksgiving week approaches. I am grateful my friend Pam has invited me to share dinner at Lexington Country Club on Thursday. My friend Iris will be in Siesta Key, so we will meet in Punta Gorda for lunch on Tuesday. Otherwise, I have books to read and shows to watch and I really need to get a walk in at Lakes Park during this cooler weather. I am doing my best to take small steps forward and enjoy life just as it is. 

Thank you, friends, for listening and sharing your thoughts. It motivates me to keep expressing here, which I truly believe is something I need.

Another Sunrise

Yesterday I faced some real truth

That I may not be able to stay in this home indefinitely

It is too costly and I will need to let it go

Sooner than I anticipated.

When I woke today I heard you say

It will be all right, It will be all right, It will be all right.

I got up, wrapped myself in your suede jacket

Sat on the lanai on this cool morning

And watched the peach sunrise

Rejoicing in the love we shared

As I watched the light change in the sky

And on the water

And I knew for certain

It will be all right.

Fleeting

 This morning on my way to get a warm-up on my coffee, I noticed the sky.

I took my coffee and granola bar out to the lanai, and sat with the sunrise. It was remarkable. I felt calm and brave. An osprey came and sat on the porch next door, keeping me company.

Then the osprey and the brilliant sky were gone. Another reminder on how fleeting beauty and companionship can be. Best to recognize it when it is here. My total time outside probably wasn’t much more than 5 minutes. This is what was left:

Whatever I Want It To Be

 

Yesterday, my sister asked me if I was coming to Ohio for Christmas.

I told her no, mostly because of health reasons

But in reality, I have no desire to travel during the busy holiday season.

Still, it brought up that I’ve been feeling uneasy about Christmas

Would I decorate?

Would I listen to Christmas music?

What would I do on the actual day?

And once I answered her question, I realized I needed to put some thought into this.

I took my journal and went out to the lanai on a gorgeous day

And I quickly realized this is all in my hands

I thought about all the ways Jim and I reimagined Christmas as we needed to

And that I could surely do the same

Then I got excited about listening to Christmas music.

And I thought yes, I can decorate as much as little as I want to.

The only rules are the ones I made for myself.

I might decide to write cards.

I might decide to buy gifts.

Right now, I’m not sure what direction I will take

But I am clear that it will be wonderful, and just what I want it to be.

Look at You

 

Look at you

 in Canyon De Chelly, 1986

You liked that tree

And asked me to take this picture

It was a trip of discovery 

We went with an idea in mind

Of the places we would visit

And it became so much more

This canyon and Walnut Creek Canyon

And Oak Creek Canyon

And even Sedona, which wasn’t a “thing” at the time

This was a reverse honeymoon

As we didn’t have plans to marry

But then we did four months later

After Scott barely survived a motorcycle accident

Everything about life takes twists and turns

Accidents and recommendations 

Then encountering a tree

And photographing the moment.

Like a Rainbow in the Desert

 Journal entry

Even when the loss of a loved one comes after a long illness…we must step over into a new country. The colors are different, the air has a different feel, and the sounds have a different echo than they did before…And we learn the colors and sounds of this new world, and after a while it becomes our world.

From Healing After Loss

I am feeling this. For a while, I kept seeing this place as “our home,“ but slowly that has changed. It is now feeling like “my home.” My first step in this was putting away the toaster that only Jim used, and then I changed up the sideboard. There is more to do.

My morning pace is much the same, but my days are quite different.

Kara sent me a card and wrote a gorgeous message in it. She said:

Jim is always with you and your heart, cheering you on from up above. I know he’s proud of you and still loving you with the essence of his being.

To this, I say yes yes yes!

Much of what I feel now is what I felt when I got divorced – – feeling my way through, figuring things out, making the evening mine and in a way that feeds me. And at that time, I had a solid grip on who I was becoming, and had entered the adventure willingly.

Although I didn’t enter this part of my life willingly, I knew it was coming, so all I can do is embrace it. The alternative is just too glum to think about. I can pace things out in a way that works for me.

So I set small goals for the week, and I break those up into the days. Little by little everything that needs to get done gets done. I really have nothing but time at this point.

Today I came across the coloring page that I posted above, and that motivated the title of this blog post. I recognize this place as Monument Valley, a place Jim and I visited in 1986. What we saw there was a dust storm, but also a lot of beauty. I have entered a new country, but there is always a rainbow above me and as I’ve said before, I have mighty helpers surrounding me. I don’t take any of this for granted. And I know that my strength comes from everything that Jim gave me starting over 40 years ago. I couldn’t be more thankful.

Jim in Monument Valley with dust devils in distance 

Many movies made here. Wagon is from a John Wayne film.

Friday Gratitudes

 Thankful today for…

Cooler weather

A week with a good combination of production and rest

Positive reverberations from last weekend

Music

Mexican food and sushi

Getting back to my massage therapist tomorrow

Crystal bowl event on Sunday

Authors who share great stories

All the people who have helped me…and who are still reaching out

I do not feel alone or forgotten

I feel rich and full of purpose. 💜🌻🩷

Great Memories and Smiling Faces

I have not been able to stop reflecting on how great the day went when we honored Jim. I knew right away something had shifted, although I couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

But now I think I know. After Jim passed, I kept having these flashbacks of him in the hospital, and how miserable he was, and how he slowly was getting sicker and sicker. I didn’t want to think about those things, and I tried to replace it with other memories, but it never seemed like I could do enough. 

Once I spent time in a room with so many great people, and we read through the tributes sent to us by people who had known him for over 40 years, I finally got steeped back into who he really was, and all the things that he had done for other people. It made it really real. The family picnics. The way he helped people in large and small ways. And the dynamite grilled cheese sandwich he could make! His easy going personality, his patience with and love of children, and just the many dimensions our prism of life together took.

November 9th is a day I will never forget because of the great memories shared in front of a sea of smiling faces of some of the best people I know.

(The pictures below were taken by these attendees by request. I did not get pictures of everyone.)

With Susan and Natalie from Lehigh days

Stacy…friends since 1993

Katie, Honey, Wendy, me, Debbie, Angela from CLMS

Lectio Divina #5

Every Monday late afternoon I participate in Lectio Divina, a contemplative prayer practice. The group of ladies I sit with (2 others with the name Helen) bring a lot of grace and insight into my life. I’m slowly getting to know them, and am grateful.

It was a rough election week, and I’ve done my best to guard myself from getting too involved in the chaos. I feel I’ve succeeded, as I haven’t had the anxiety and stress I’ve witnessed in others.

Our reading this past week was from a YouTube conversation between Adam Bucko and Mark Longhurst, the title “Letting Heartbreak Be Your Guide.” The segment we looked at was about being receptive to deep listening and wrestling with tough questions. It was definitely a very timely choice.

There was one sentence that really stood out to me: 

The contemplation part is the receptivity and consent, and the action part is simply letting God live through us as much as possible, letting Christ live and love and protest through us.

Protest? How often do we hear that word when discovering the role of God in our lives? I am still contemplating this, especially as there are many planning their resistance to things that could happen in our country that are hateful and wrong. 

It’s another reminder that we are all the voice of God in this world, and the intentions we have and the actions we take are important. Definitely something to contemplate on a daily basis.

On the way home, which is about a 3 minute drive, I heard this song by Maren Morris. It seemed to fit with my experience with the prayer group, and is a great message overall.

Keep Me In Your Heart

I was listening to the new Willie Nelson album today. It’s called Last Leaf on the Tree, and contains the usual Willie offering of covers and originals.

Today his cover of Warren Zevon’s song “Keep Me In Your Heart” caught my attention. As a big Zevon fan, I know that Warren wrote this for his wife when he was dying of a brain tumor. 

Today as I listened to the lyrics in a new way, I felt like these words were much of what Jim would have said when he was in the same position. As he was slowing transitioning over many days, I wondered what he was thinking, or if he was thinking. He had very little energy for talking.

So I take this song now as another message to me—and actually, a joyful one. It makes me feel good to hear it because I’m taking them as Jim’s words to me—words he was unable to give. I am adding to my playlist.

Give a listen to “Keep Me In Your Heart.”

A Word I Never Heard

 

I was quite taken with this post on Facebook. I have never heard the word sonder, but I definitely have felt it before. In fact, I would venture to say that 2024 has been all about sonder. If all the trials I’ve been put through showed me anything, it’s that we are all dealing with a lot in any given moment. It’s nonsense to think anyone can escape it. I just know I’ve had a huge awakening as to the depth of it all, and it does make a difference. It keeps it real, rather than falling back on platitudes. There is more to it than words can describe. And I think it’s why I like this new word.

As a side note, autocorrect wants to change sonder to “wonder.”  I like wonder as much as anyone. But sonder is just as important, if not more so. If nothing else, sonder and wonder keep us from falling into existential angst. And every day we avoid that is a win in my book.

Here’s a short video about SONDER 

Where You Are

 

Yesterday we had a celebration of Jim’s life, and I could not be happier with how things went. The turnout was great, and it was wonderful to have my incredible support system all together in one room.

In the morning I was working on finalizing the slideshow I planned to use. Family members and friends from out of state had sent their memories, and I had them on the slides ready to share. I had my teacher friends each assigned to read one of them, and it worked beautifully.

Anyway, while working on it and listening to a station on Apple Music, a song sung by Josh Grobin came on: “Where You Are.”  The lyrics hit me so hard I began to cry. And in that moment, I felt Jim behind me and he wrapped his arms around me, much like the photo above. It was such a calming presence, I stopped sobbing. I knew he was there more intensely than anytime since he’s passed. I realized later I had heard the song before, it’s been around for a while. But yesterday it was brand new and played just so I could connect with Jim in a profound way.

I told my friend Kara about it, and she insisted Jim sent me the song. I tend to agree with her. Because now when I listen (and cry) I immediately feel his arms around me. It is a beautiful gift I will cherish for a long time to come.

Nails It

After the year I have had, processing the election is just not something I’ve been interested in doing  I need to focus on my physical and emotional healing, and simply cannot put energy into this horrible result. I’m on the margins now, aware but not engaging.

However, if I could say something, it would be exactly what this guy says.

Click this link to watch: What about all we were taught?

I came upon this picture….

 

I came upon this picture

From the East Coast of Florida, 1991

I didn’t make note of which beach this actually is

Maybe Melbourne?

I loved seeing this, you in your bright white and blue

You were fully healthy and strong

We loved getting away from Ohio, seeing your family in Florida

Visiting the different areas, always something new to discover.

We had a good life together, you and me.

Thursday Thoughts

 

It has been one month since Jim made his transition. 

I could not write yesterday as I was totally numb from the election results. I had faith in the American people, so it is hard to accept so many are willing to exchange our democracy over racism and misogyny. I’m not surprised. I was just holding the highest good in my heart.

We are all a bit wiser now, knowing what we now know.

Here is some great healing news…I was able to sleep on my right side the last couple of nights  I’ve had to sleep on my back ever since the accident, but my preferred method is on my side. This has been amazing. Even more amazing is that today I will take my first shower since August 19th! My wound nurse brought waterproof bandages for me and said go for it. I was so over wiping down with cleaning cloths and washing my hair in the sink. The shower is another sign of my progress in healing, and is a game-changer. It brings back another element of normalcy I definitely can use.

I’m glad the rainy weather will be past us after today. I want nice weather for Scott’s visit and for the Saturday event, which will be emotional and wonderful. 

Everything is a step I am taking to re-form my life. I am grateful for all the love and support I have. 

Go Kamala!

 

The day is finally here. Election Day 2024.

I have faith the Harris-Walz ticket will prevail.

This campaign season has been intertwined with the events in my life.

I was in the hospital from the car accident when the June debate took place.

I was visiting Jim at Gulf Coast when a nurse came in with the news Biden was dropping out.

I was recovering from surgery when the Democratic National Convention happened, and I watched the three joyful nights in my hospital room.

The night in September when Harris slayed her opponent in the debate was when I was recovering from the second surgery.

And since then I’ve watched many rallies and interviews and have kept the faith that good will win. That the American experiment will continue.

Likewise, I am still healing from all my traumas this year, and I know that I am moving forward and am in the process of figuring out a new life for myself. My own experiment! 

I go forward with optimism, trust, and joy.

Here are Kamala’s words from her last speech in Philadelphia. On this day, I want to reinforce she is the leader we are ready for in this moment:

Pic Collage 1991-93

 

JOY

Nine times we visited Cancun, Mexico and our vacation was never complete unless we visited Chemuyil, a lovely little beach off the beaten path. We were first directed there as a place to do some great snorkeling, and it was for a while. Eventually we witnessed the reefs dying from the suntan lotion, but the beauty of the beach and its smattering of palm trees never changed. One time when we were there, a boy band from England was shooting a music video. The beach had a bar and little huts where they would serve you fresh caught fish, cooked up with homemade tortillas, beans, rice, a steamed jicama. I know that since the days we were there, that part of the Yucatán Peninsula has built up into a huge tourist attraction called Rivera Maya. But we remember when it was jungle, and we would drive for 90 minutes just to relax on the most beautiful beach in the world,

ACHIEVEMENT

I wrote about this Mexican adventure a few years ago. I am pictured here on the steps of the El Castillo in the ancient city of Chichen Itza. When we first went there as part of a tour in 1987, I was afraid to climb the very steep steps. But in 1992 I changed my tune. I wanted the challenge of overcoming the fear. We rented a car and drove for hours to get there and it was worth it. Mission accomplished!

COURAGE

Before this year, 1993 was the year of our greatest challenges. In June of that year, some discs blew out in Jim’s lower back, and he had surgery to fuse them. Sadly, the fusion didn’t take, and he spent the rest of his life with a crack in his back which disabled him from working, golfing, and many other things. This was a huge adjustment for me, not to mention the financial strain we were under, given that he made a decent income and we had a brand new house. That summer, his aunt and uncle completed the cabin they were building on the New River in the Blue Ridge Mountains, and in the fall Jim’s doctor said he could make the trip there. It was our first visit, and we fell in love with the place. It became our home away from home for many years to come. I use the word Courage here, but what I really was building was Spiritual Courage. Earlier this year when faced with Jim’s terminal illness, I thought a lot about 1993 and all we went through, and it helped me know we could get through this year, no matter what. Jim took this photo of me standing on a petrified log in the river. It wasn’t until doing this blog that I can see how this photo mirrors the one that he took of me at Coe Lake eleven years earlier, the photo that began this series. In that picture, I was starting a new direction. In the picture above, it was the same.

And now I find myself once again gathering my courage to move forward into a new life. I know even though he is not here physically, Jim is here in spirit helping me find joy, achieve new goals, and continue to build spiritual courage. It has always worked in the past. I see no reason that would change now. 🌻

Saints and Souls

Doug, Dan, and Jim  (RIP all)

Favorite picture of Jim

Today was a combination All Saints and All Souls Day at church. We were told we could bring in a photograph in a frame to display on a table during the service. We were also allowed to send in a picture digitally for a slideshow. I did both.

The picture of Jim with his brother and youngest son is from 2003 at our old apartment building. It was the perfect picture to display because sadly, all three of these men have passed within the last few years. 

The picture of Jim in the woods I send for the slideshow. It has risen to the place of honor as my favorite photo of him. When we would visit the Blue Ridge Mountains in North Carolina, he would take his coffee in the morning and go sit in the woods. One day, I think in 1999, I decided to take my camera and go find him. The look you see is his surprise at seeing me show up in his hiding spot. I saw him before he saw me, and that is why I had my camera ready for the photo when he looked my way.

There was one prayer today during the service that was especially meaningful. I was reminder that our loved ones on the other side are never far from us. They come to us as we go to them. Its a reciprocal relationship.

*

Today I changed where I had been sitting, and chose to sit by a woman that lives in my neighborhood. After the service, I had a brownie and some iced tea and talked to some people. On my way out, a woman named Trish stopped me. She is a member of the grief group, but hadn't been there the day I went. She lost her husband a year and a half ago. We had a good conversation, and then she pulled out this book and handed it to me:

She said she was looking for someone else she was going to give it to, but that woman wasn't there. After our conversation, she knew the book was meant for me instead. I was touched by her kindness and generosity and insight. This is a book with a reading for each day of the year, so I went home and read today's passage. It quoted from Charlotte's Web. I liked that right away, because I don't always just want to be reading Bible quotes. I think I'm going to love reading this book each day, and I have another new friend. I cannot say enough how supported I feel by this church community.

I will leave you with the final words from today's passage:

We never stop loving the one who is gone, and we will help our own healing and enhance the lives of others if, in some way, we open our arms to someone in need. I know I have love to share. I will be on the lookout.

Welcome Back

 

I had a lot of pent-up nervous energy this morning

And the temperature outside was a beautiful 73°

So I thought it was a perfect time to go out and walk in the park

Which I haven’t done since last spring

So I drove down to Waka-hatchee, which is the closest park to me

There was barely anybody there

I felt the park welcoming me back

I took a stroll around the lake

Took this picture of the sun shining through the Spanish moss

Saw a big old gator

My nervous energy had come from a week with a lot of emotional happenings

Yesterday was a case in point

I went to the funeral home to get the death certificates

And I asked about Jim’s ashes

They were ready for me, so I got them

But I was not prepared for what was going to occur

I burst out crying right there

Seeing the last physical manifestation of my husband

Was a bit overwhelming

I didn’t expect that to happen at all

I managed to get a grip and do the other things I had to do

Which included stopping in the HR department at the School District

Yesterday being my first official day of retirement

When I pulled my car into the garage

I told Jim “You’re finally home”

Then I cried and cried and cried

It’s been nearly 17 weeks since he left here

I had no idea his ashes would feel this important to me

I’ve ordered rosewood box to keep them in

I always thought maybe I’d scatter them 

but now I know I won’t

They belong here

Welcome home, my Love

Pic Collage 1988-90

 

DEDICATION

We loved visiting the Southwest, and enjoyed this trip to Arizona. At the time I owned a Money Mailer franchise, and their 1988 annual conference was there. We took a harrowing Jeep ride into the desert with a guy named Charlie, and had an incredible hayride under the vast desert starry sky.

FRIENDSHIP

One of the best things about being friends is that we like many of the same things. In December 1989 Money Mailer had their conference on Marco Island, back when it was a bit wild and wooly. During this trip we also visited the Everglades and then on to Orlando to see family. We had to visit our favorite park as well— Epcot Center. It was this trip that helped me learn I liked the southwest part of Florida best, compared to the other places we’d been. Later, it would help us make the decision to come to Fort Myers.

UNCONDITIONAL LOVE

Christmas morning 1990 with our Black Lab, B.J. I’m going to share here what I wrote to Jim on the frame:

“Traditions aren’t supposed to come and go…but unfortunately this one did. Every Christmas we have a picture of B.J. opening his dog biscuits. Remember how they would be wrapped under the tree and he’d go by and sniff them, but never open them? This was the last Christmas in our old home, and our last Christmas with the Beej. Boy, do I miss him still”