Naval Gazing

Being alone as much as I have been over the last few years has caused me to be able to function around Steve’s work schedule but I find myself waiting for him to come home this week for some silly reason. I guess I am looking for something familiar and safe right now in my life. My routine is gone as crazy as it was it was still a routine.  I feel empty and lost right now. I feel for him in bed sometimes, or look for him around the corner yet I constantly hear his voice in my head. Whenever this happens, I make myself flashback to the tangible in this reality, his body in that funeral home and then reality sinks in again. God I know you are the one spouse in my life right now, I say it, I believe it, but I want someone to hold on to.

Am I in withdrawals from Steve? People live without husbands and wives all the time so I guess I am withdrawing from Steve’s companionship and his presence in our lives. I have never really been alone before and technically I’m not alone. I am blessed with wonderful family and friends, but when it comes to me being at home, paying my bills, cooking dinner for one, I count only me here and Millie of course. I am more fully aware that I am here, alone in this house with no prospects of cooking a full meal for my man again. I guess it would be different if the kids were younger, but then I wouldn’t be able to have the cry time I have now, because I would be trying to be strong for them. They would be my busy work, so I am grateful for all this quiet time, and the busy work you have set before me, God.

I know it sounds pathetic complaining about an adjustment in my routine. I am resilient if nothing else, but I really miss Steve and I miss my normal life. I cringe when I remember times I could have just beat him silly and wished he were somewhere else or that he was someone else. I am sure he had moments like that about me too. Life wasn’t always perfect, but it was ours, together, in sickness and in health, till death we were parted. We held true and fast for 29 years so we had that. We loved each other through all the bad times, we loved each other through all the good times, and we did all that together as a couple. How do I adjust to being one independent person? I believe there I go again with the identity issues. Who am I now?

Well right now I am a busy woman, looking for the right path to trod, with a lot less baggage. I am grateful for the distraction of selling off all this stuff. I am grateful I have no problem releasing all this stuff. I am so grateful for my great kids and my friends who have helped me through all the hard stuff.  I am grateful I have a tangible flashback so I can move forward when I need to. So when do I release him and do things like close down his Face book page, or close down his other email accounts? I feel if I do this, I will be erasing him and I don’t want to ever do that? When is that right time?

So here’s a terrible thought that keeps circling right now, I am glad I don’t have to cook or clean the way I did when Steve was around? I feel like such a horrible person when those thoughts come into my head but they are there none the less. What is this? Were these thoughts buried in my subconscious all this time?  Did I just suppress these thoughts all these years? Oh my, what a selfish person I am. It was a privilege to do that for my husband and my kids. I enjoyed doing for them and seeing them happy so why does not doing it feel good too? Am I releasing some past responsibilities? Am I realizing these things too soon and stepping on Steve’s memory and his grave? Should I even be thinking them much less putting them down on paper? Oh goodness I have to blot that out, press the erase button in my head. That is so bad, I feel so bad for feeling these things. Thinking is bad for me, I need to get out of this house and focus on someone other than me. The tendencies to get selfish and complacent are there, and I will be in trouble if I give into them. Lord I am binding my mind to yours, correct my thinking, please.

I am in much need of an attitude adjustment right now or how bout a book of instructions. Could this be a coping mechinism kicking in, a survival instinct? Is this part of my process of getting stronger? I seem to have more questions than answers right now, so I defer to your great plan in my life, Lord. Correct my thoughts, steer my thoughts in your right direction for me and protect my heart from hardness. I don't want to become hard hearted in the process of self preservation. Keep me mushy, keep me selfless, and send me people to love so I can stop my naval gazing and get about the life you have for me. Keep my thoughts pure and holy and keep fear and doubt far from me. Keep me, my Lord, in the palm of your Hand and hold me to your bosom so our hearts can beat as one. I am looking up once again. Keep me that way.

Up, Please

I awoke from a dream this morning. In the dream the trees were blowing so hard that acorns were dropping like missiles, and then my garbage man was delivering me a new can. I guess my life is shaking right now so hard it feels like acorns pelting me. I was the tree and I was the poor person being pelted by the acorns. I am glad to get a new trash can too. I have thrown out so much garbage, I need a new can. My poor old trash man's back is nearly thrown out by the bags of heavy trash he has had to lift out of my can. I only wish that it wasn't just a dream, maybe it is a desire in my heart, to unburden him. To unburden me is more like it. Lord I wish I had a new truck, and new can, so I wouldn't have to hoist this trash into the truck alone, but it is my business so I must deal with it.

My mind wanders so right now that I feel like I am turning in circles. I was blessed to have friends come in with fresh eyes to organize my piles of memories strewn about the house in no certain order. My house truly is a reflection of how I feel right now. I feel the need to withdraw to my bedroom and stay there if I could all day. But as life tugs at me, I have to leave the warmth of my bed, trudge pass the marketplace set up in my living room, to go to the kitchen for nourishment, coffee. Millie doesn't even want to get out of bed today. Ugh, I have business in town today which means I have to get dressed. I will get out of the house briefly, but I feel a rubber band always pulling me back. I would  much rather just stay here, holed in like a hermit. It is comfortable but not.

It will be six weeks tomorrow, that is about the longest Steve had been away from me while out on the road. I am feeling that yearning to hold him again and I need to hear his audible voice. It is not a sexual thing this need for intimacy, it is a familiar thing. When Steve was here, I felt safe and loved. I miss his warm touch when he would rub my shoulders, I miss him teasing me because I fell for another joke of his. I miss his breathing no matter how loud it was to me sometimes. I miss his annoying ways too like leaving Popsicle sticks all over the living room, or leaving his clothes on the floor. I feel like I am in a hole and no one knows I am there. Is this where you have me God? So I can only depend on you? It is beginning to get cold, I need a blanket.

I have so much to do and I just want to stay in bed and pull the covers up over me. Steve prodded me and I prodded him. I miss my accountability partner, we kept each other going. He was my greatest supporter and my cheerleader. I only hope I was for him as well. It seemed when I was up, he was down, when he was up, I was down. We kept a balance in our life like that and now I am down, and he is up but he has left the teeter totter and is never coming down again. That is so unfair and I can't understand what to do. Do I get off the teeter totter or wait for someone to hop on? Who would see me and know I need to be up or even want to be up? Most people like to be grounded because being on the ground means control. I want that feeling only up brings, a rush of whoopee and nearly flying. I want to see things I can't see from down here. I need my up partner back. I need balance back in my life.

I am trying to be up, it is hard to do alone, so God I am trusting you to send me my up partner. I will take anyone, the garbage man, my kids, a friend, even a large dog right now. I am desperately seeking an up partner, because I don't like the scenery, it seems muddy down here. Oh yes tears make for a a great pity party but wallowing in the mud of it really is a downer. I want to be out of the mud too so help me up. So you see how twisted a mind can get, when surrounded by memories and loneliness, shocked into leaving the comfort of one's life. I am normally an up person. I am nearly never the down one, but because my life has flipped over, I am the down person now desperately seeking an up person. This is not my comfort zone at all and I am having a hard time finding my bearings. It is messy here and I am too close to the ground. I feel like a child again with my arms up saying up daddy. I might be screaming it now, "UP DADDY". It is getting creepy down here and I need up. My daddy loves me, I will be up, if I have to start crawling and clawing my way by singing praise even though I don't feel like it. I will be up it is worth the energy I have to exert to get there.

Huh, just sitting here looking back at my dream, the new trash can was the kind where the truck lifts it and dumps it. No one touched it, the truck dumps it but the garbage man operates the mechanism. Hmm, I guess Lord  this is your way of bringing me up. Am I that heavy with all my trash you need a truck to lift me. Ha either way, I was up, right? No matter how much trash I throw in that can, you will lift me and dump my junk out. I like this feeling of up right now, dump me and my stinky garbage too. I guess I will stick with the garbage analogy today because you are showing me I don't need to wait on a person to bring me up, I only need you. You are my hero garbage man and I love your intimate ways of showing me you are here in my life. I may not physically feel your arms holding me, but I know they are lifting me up and this will be good enough for me today.

King Sized Memories

One of the first purchases we made when we moved into this house was a king sized water bed. I had always wanted one and the heater was an added bonus. We needed a bigger bed, the kids were growing up, and when they wanted to snuggle, the queen bed didn’t fit the whole bunch of us. You see we would lie in the bed, and then the kids would trickle in on weekend mornings. The first one in would be the hot dog and as the others woke and came to wake us and snuggle, we got some ketchup and mustard too. Steve and I were always the bun and some mornings we had condiments with the hot dog, some mornings not. As they grew older and bigger,it was only us the plain old bun, not as fun, but Millie would come to greet us and be our hotdog sometimes.

As the kids grew bigger, we grew older as well and because the water bed was so close to the ground it was getting harder for Steve to get out of it. He had knee problems and he also began to flop a lot at night with his sleep apnea. With Steve's sleeping issues, those once small soothing waves turned into tsunamis when he rolled over or got back into bed. It got bad enough that I couldn’t sleep with him anymore in our waterbed. We opted for a regular king size bed. Once you go king, you never want to go back and Steve slept with so many pillows propping his knees we couldn’t  go back to a queen bed if we wanted to. While Steve was out on the road, that bed seemed much larger than normal so I used it like an office as I took my computer to bed along with a few books. It was quite roomy and I didn't have to remove anything until Steve came home.

Millie enjoyed that bed too. She piled up in the bed with me and took over Steve’s whole side of the bed when he was gone. I believe sometimes she resented him being home because then she had to assume the role of dog, and sleep on the floor. Millie always loved Steve, more than me even though I was the one who took care of her. She knew who the master of the house was and she wanted to please him. If she had a particularly tasty food item to hide for later, she would bury it under Steve’s pillow, just for him. You would not believe the things we found there over the years. I remember one night Steve plopped his head down on his pillow and said “ow”. Buried under his pillow was an enormous ham bone left over from our red beans that night. I thought Millie had taken it outside to eat, but no, she put it in her safe place to share with her master.

Once we went shopping in Montgomery for the whole day and Steve talked about going home to eat his Oreos with milk. Steve loved his Oreos and milk and we had some on the kitchen table waiting on us when we got home. We walked in the door, Millie gave us such a sweet greeting  and we were happily greeting her back until we saw the now empty Oreo bag lying on the floor. I thought Steve was going to blow a gasket he was so angry. He started yelling "Bad dog" at Millie for stealing his treat. His fantasy was now a tragedy made worse by settling in to watch television instead and finding Oreos in the couch cushions.  She had buried Steve’s Oreos in our couch because she never knew when we were coming home again. Millie is a smart dog and she felt that she needed to be prepared for hard times ahead so she laid in snacks for those times. We went to bed that night without the Oreos and milk and Steve was still grumbling about it as he turned down the sheets. Then he laid his head on his pillow, put his hand under his pillow to fluff it  and found the most beautiful surprise. Millie had saved him some Oreos too, stashed in her favorite place under Steve’s pillow. I was so touched by her love for her master, Steve not so much. I laughed for a long time after that and teased him about pouting over Oreos. I told him how blessed he was to have such a loving dog. He didn't see it my way, but through the years he forgave her and it became a good memory.

Our bed, I will sell, the memories I will keep. Mary has slept in there with me while they were in for the funeral and again just now over the last few days. It has been nice snuggling in it watching movies on my computer this Thanksgiving weekend. Think about how many memories your bed has. It wasn’t only our children snuggling with us in that bed playing hot dog, or Millie's favorite burial ground. My nephew, my granddaughter and some very privileged yard youngun’s snuggled there too. Why even my girlfriends and I retreat there just to sit and talk or pray. It is a refuge and a safe place to rest and get away from it all. Our bed was an important part of us like a conference table in any corporate office or a couch in a psychologist office. We talked things out in that bed, solved financial issues there, hugged and kissed away boo boo’s for our kids there, shared laughs and had many tickle sessions with the kids in that bed. There was jumping for joy on that big ole trampoline, and much crying in grief over many of life’s issues. This bed was an important piece of office furniture and very therapeutic for our whole family.

There were times when I hated that bed, because Steve stayed in it so much because of the bouts of depression he had early on in our married life. Many times we all piled into the bed, trying to wake him up, so we could all just be together sharing our love and joy.  You see those bad memories really have left and morphed into good ones now.  I suppose I won't miss the actual bed, just what it symbolizes.  It was the most comfortable, intimate, informal family gathering place in the house.  What I will miss will be the lost opportunities of having large family gatherings on it ever again. I guess my new bed will be smaller gatherings, but with the same king sized love of the old bed. That's the ticket.

Closet Grieving

I got a bit of a jolt yesterday. I had cleaned out Steve’s side of the closet this week a task I had needed to do for some time. I laughed as I saw how much I had encroached into his fair share of the closet.  It was a much smaller space now than when we first moved in here because most of Steve’s clothes were not on hangers anymore. They were in the truck with him or left in the drawers in his dresser.  The clothes left hanging were only his dress clothes and some old ties. He didn’t have many dress clothes, but he had his tuxedo and a few other suits which no longer fit him along with some other shirts which no longer fit him.  The ties were a holdover from his car selling days and he never wore ties anymore.  He also had some old tennis shoes he never wore and steel toe boots which he always wore if working on a construction site. He had several pairs of dress shoes, which didn’t fit anymore because his feet were too wide. So all in all, I could have gotten rid of this stuff sooner, had he allowed me to. Steve didn’t like me to touch his things much less get rid of it. I believe he felt like I was trying to get rid of him. So even though my clothes ever so slightly (about a foot), spilled over into his side, I left his treasures alone, until now.

It wasn’t the purging of his clothing that hurt as much as opening the closet to hang my clothes from the dryer and seeing the empty side of the closet.  At first I felt the need to squish my clothes back into my side and then I thought no that is ridiculous there was extra space now.  So I hung up my clothes and hogged the entire closet which is what Steve always accused me of doing. This small act really pierced me though and shocked me back into my present reality. Cleaning the house has been sorting through the past and all the memories that go with that. Hanging my clothes on the now empty side which was Steve’s for so many years, really slapped me in the face because it revealed my present and my future.

I had to take a break and deal with this issue. I felt like I was stepping on Steve’s grave and that small act of hogging felt like defiance. Was it breaking off some denial maybe?  Steve had been on the road over the last 6 years and though he was gone a lot, the closet always held his place in our home as does his toothbrush. Now reality is swallowing up his side of the closet. Reality is, I am not a closet hog it is that he is not here, and he won’t ever be here again and he doesn’t need the closet space. Wow, it is real. Fighting over closet space all those years seems so stupid. The void in my closet is my new reality and I will tell you I hate it. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it! How is that for anger? I don’t like to say the word hate, but it fits quiet well here. I HATE IT, I HATE IT, I HATE THIS! That was me screaming it. This is not a good reality for me right now and I guess just another stupid step in this grieving process. His toothbrush is coming with me, and there is nothing you can do about that.

That which doesn’t kill me makes me stronger, I know. If I were to be a super hero right now I am Wonder Woman. I wonder a lot about my future, I wonder what I will do without the love of my life here beside me to watch our grandchildren grow up. I wonder about loneliness and growing old alone. I am Wonder Woman and my superpower is wondering. I am sure you have a path set for me; you just want me to “wonder” in my desert and allow me to eat the manna you provide for now. Okay, Lord I will do it; by the hardest I will do it. I am just wondering how this will work. You are wonderful and marvelous and I know you want my best and you have good things for me. You are a wonder, and I am not. I am just curious. I will wait on you. I trust you know what is best.     

Sorry about the outburst today, Lord, I know you hate this for me too. But I suppose you don’t use terms like hate, you seriously dislike this, or commiserate with me. I really don’t like my life right now. I  felt you hug me when I felt like I was losing it. I am glad to still be under your mantle because your love surrounds me and diffuses these horrible feelings. I submit and release my anger and allow you to love me through this.

          

Ham Delivery

Yesterday was Thanksgiving, the first holiday since Steve died and I was planning on working through it alone. I was perfectly alright with this idea but family and friends were a bit concerned. It is sweet and comforting to me how much they care, and obviously they know what is best for me. I did concede, to their wishes and made plans to go to a friend’s house later in the day to celebrate with their family and have my plate of turkey. My heart really wasn't into it though. I was on the phone the whole morning with family wishing me a Happy Thanksgiving and I must confess, this did more harm than good for me. I began yearning for my family and I began to dwell on the fact that we were not together and that I would have to wait for ThanksChristmas. ThankChristmas was a holiday that we created to spend time together under one roof as a family to celebrate both Thanksgiving and Christmas in one weekend and it was still two weeks away.  Beside it was too late now to go to any of them so I trudged on in my miserable task of estate sale preparation.

My daughter called and texted me throughout the day, she was spending the day with her boyfriend. These plans had been set a long time ago and I knew that and was glad she had someone to be with that day. I know Mary would have come in to be with me if I had only asked, but I didn't want to ask, I wanted to be alone. During one of her phone calls she asked me if I had received a delivery that day and I told her no. No one works on Thanksgiving I said but she assured me she had ordered a ham online and it would be delivered on Thanksgiving. She asked what my plans for the day were and I told her I was leaving around 4:30 p.m. to go to my friends house. As our conversation wound down, she sounded a bit aggravated with the delivery not being here yet and was going to call the company because I needed it before 4:30 p.m.  She called me right back, saying they assured delivery by 4:00 p.m. or she would get her money back. So now I had something to look forward to, a ham for the weekend, since I knew she was planning to come in this weekend to help me. Who thinks to buy a ham for a gift? I suspect it was because she and I prefer ham over turkey any day and she knew she was coming in this weekend.

I continued my tedious task, but noticed I took more breaks than normal. My heart wasn't into it at all. I cried more, I suspect a bit of self pity tried to take root so I watched a movie on my computer. Mary continued to text me saying she loved me and would be coming early the next morning to be with me. She even told me my cooking was so much better than what she ate at her boyfriend’s house. What a sweet child, to lie to her mom to make her feel better. Her father taught her well. All this texting made me more aware that I really wanted someone with me today since it was not turning out to be the productive day I had hoped it would be. I was caving in to my loneliness and the next step was chocolate. I was going to make those darn brownies in the pantry if this kept up.

It was after three o'clock and I decided to get myself ready. I didn't cook the brownies, hurray for me. I cranked my music louder and that seemed to work. I was searching under my dresser for my other shoe when the doorbell rang. Ah, it must be the ham delivery person, I thought as I scrambled to put on my shoe and answer the door.  I opened the door and what to my tear weary eyes did appear the most adorable ham delivery person in the history of ham delivery people. Mary, my crazy, deceitful, sweet, adorable daughter stood in the doorway, with a ham in a grocery bag. She had pulled one over on me and I have never been so glad in my life. I burst into tears as we hugged because I needed her so badly and she delivered. I was overwhelmed that God brought us together in such a fun way. It was so nice to know she loved me so much that she would give up her plans because she knew I needed her.

We cooked the ham and had the best Thanksgiving dinner ever and I did cook the brownies too. This was a special occasion and we needed a dessert. Chocolate is good for everything in case you didn't know that. We watched two movies on my computer laying on my bed and just had a wonderful evening. We lay in bed talking then we did our Thank you prayers as the evening drew to a close and I had to go to sleep. It was a perfectly, lovely, emotional, wonderful day. If I could put any more descriptive words in that sentence I would have but I am afraid the grammar police already frown on me. I want to thank God for my beautiful ham delivery girl, and for knowing I needed my daughter yesterday to soothe my soul. I thank God also because she needed me yesterday too and we propped each other up.

Happy Thanksgiving, darling

Thanksgiving is Steve's favorite holiday. I slipped and said it is his favorite holiday.  I am struggling with the tenses in my language I have to change from is and does to did and was when referring to Steve. I get frustrated sometimes when this happens. Anyway in honor of you, Steve I will say my Thank you prayers this year and will continue it as our family tradition. Thank you prayers were and will continue to be a big part of our Thanksgiving celebration. Every day we have things to be thankful for, and we go to bed thanking God each night for our day. At Thanksgiving, we get the opportunity to share with our family, some of the things we were particularly grateful for through out the year. Our focus is on how good God has been to us even if we were not so great ourselves. We love our corporate thank you prayers, because we get to hear the hearts of our children once a year as they pray aloud. I know I sound confused in my tenses again, but I purposely say it that way, because I feel Steve is all around is.

 Our thank you prayers usually take place after the meal. It was a family decision to eat our meal first,while it was warm instead of the cold after prayer meal we had eaten a few times. It was a good compromise for the kids, which took away their excuses to pray a quick prayer because the food was getting cold. We either stay around the dinner table or go into the living room after our meal and start from the youngest to the oldest thanking God. When it gets around to Steve, the kids mumble, "big prayer" then we smile and settle in to listen to Steve's prayer. Big prayer didn't mean the most spiritual prayer when the kids first started to say it many years ago. It meant it would take the longest and they usually groaned it out as they rolled their eyes and sighed loudly.  They were impatient, but secretly I think they all loved to hear what their father would say about them, after his usual opening of thanking God for the day and the many benefits He blessed us with. Next came the juicy part of his prayer, the part each child waited for as Steve would thank God for each child, and the gifts He had blessed each one of them with. He recognized each child's accomplishments through the year, and prayed a prayer of blessing over them. Each one of the kids beamed with joy at the mention of their name and the recognition of their accomplishments of the year.  Big prayer evolved  from an impatient  childish complaint and a family joke, into a wonderful tradition of their father corporately praying for his family once a year.  Steve, this house holds years of your prayers in the walls and woodwork, and your voice still resounds as echos of prayers past uplift me this year.

I am thankful God gave you to me for the few short 29 years we were married. I am thankful for the joy you brought to me, the love you shared with me, and the beautiful fruit from our union. I am thankful for the wonderful father and provider you were for us. I am thankful you are in a better place this year and that you have no cares anymore. I am thankful you get to see your mom again and you get to ask God all those questions you wanted to ask Him one day. I am thankful that you showed us how to be strong. I am thankful I have a loving family to lean on and great friends to pull me through the loneliness. I am thankful for what is to come whatever it may be. I am thankful God loves me more than I can imagine and He wants the best for me. I am so thankful that we live in a free country where I can blog my mind away.

Honey, you are missed more than you will ever know, but I know you don't care because you probably don't think of such things now. I guess it comforts me to know that you are missed by so many people. I will miss slapping your hand as you reach for the turkey skin. I will miss you taking credit for the meal I cooked after your big contribution of carving the bird. I will miss you complimenting the meal I cooked at the end of the meal as we start sliding our chairs away from the table. I will miss you sleeping in the chair or the bed after the big meal. I will miss you rooting for the other team during the football games. I will miss that sweet I love you from across the noisy room when our eyes met and we felt the complete joy of a full house again. I miss you Steve, you will never be forgotten. Happy Thanksgiving my darling, I know it is your best one ever because you are at the kings banqueting table this year.

Piles of Memories

I find myself wanting to keep every memento from my last few days with Steve. I found a few receipts today one from his birthday October 9th our last meal we ate out together. I found a receipt for the silly things he bought at our favorite dollar store. Steve left a note on my computer written on an orange sticky note. It said Our love is not ordinary, it is Extraordinary, ILYM. I stroke it as if I am trying to touch him, to connect with him again. I know it is strange, but this sticky note brings me closer to him right now. He signed it ILYM, this means I love you munga. Munga was our word for love you more than I can ever say. We signed all our correspondences with this and it is a special word to us.

It has been difficult going through our belongings alone, lingering too long on a memory from time to time. This is probably the reason it is taking so long to get things ready to sell. I want to keep too much. I want to save most everything Steve had.  Truth is I want to keep Steve, but I can't. I find myself backtracking, keeping a thing then tossing it. It is like it sticks to my hand when I try to toss something. Memories keep me going backwards and forward, whatever the direction, I feel like I am spinning my wheels right now. I need to get over this hump and clear the way to move forward.  A new life awaits me, a much smaller life and I can't see it yet through these piles of memories which surround me.

I have paths and piles throughout my house. Another memory flashes when I look at the mess I have made just to organize this chaos. Steve would not like this at all. Once, back in 1996 I was painting the boys room  and I had the rooms torn down and had things in the living room and hallway that aren't usually there.  I knew it was a mess but I couldn't put it all back until the paint was dry. Steve came home late from work and passed out on the couch. Around 4 a.m. I heard thunder and saw strobe lightening, then heard the sound of a freight train. I jumped out of bed, screamed 'Tornado" to Steve as I ran to get the kids into the hallway. Steve jolted from his hard slumber, stumbled over something out of place and hit his head on the corner wall of the hallway. A tornado hit on the other side of our neighborhood and Steve was the only injury in our neighborhood thank God. I felt so awful  listening to him curse and stumble his way down the hall to us. He did have to have stitches and he often reminded me of that when I "cleaned up" after that. I made a concerted effort to make sure he couldn't trip over anything again. So my house, in the state it is in right now, reminds me of that time, another memory, I laugh, I cry.

The pictures in the hallway were all family pictures. I packed then unpacked them so I could look again. I am drawn to the ones mostly of Steve right now, the young man he once was. That boy I fell in love with a couple of years ago it seems. His smile always got to me because it never failed to make me feel so loved. It was as if the warmth from his heart transferred directly into mine. It was a direct deposit every time and to see the pictures and see his smile again stirs that deposit of love again and makes it like he isn't really gone. I know I shouldn't do that, but I have to ride this wave for a minute.  I know he still loves me and I him, so of course I still feel it strong right now. I am scared of the day it fades. Will it fade? Will his smile fade in my memory? Will the warmth of his love for me fade? Time to jump off the wave.

It doesn't matter where I turn right now, I will just step in another pile of memories. I need to get this sale over with. His toothbrush is still in the bathroom, his clothes still in the closet for now. I just feel after this sale, when I let most of our possessions go, he will be more gone than he is now. Does that make sense? Maybe someone else should have boxed all this stuff up for me and carted it all off. If I only had more time, and didn't have to rush to close this door of my life. I would love to hang around here, in this house, if I could afford to, just to hang out with Steve a while longer. I feel like I am throwing him away each time I put his things into a pile or a box. Yet again I digress and get back on that wave. 

Life does go on, but does it have to move so swiftly? Have you ever had to pack in a hurry and you always either left something or felt like you had forgotten something? Well this is the state I am in right now. The current in my life is so swift, my feet are knocked out from under me and I occasionally go under water and come up gasping for air. I just want to be on land for a minute to catch my breathe. Lord I know you are taking me into a deeper trust relationship with you. I want to go deeper, but it is very frightening and very hard to keep from getting tired. I think  that if I stop to get my bearings, I may not like what I see, so I guess keep me rolling down the river. I trust you and only you.  Don't let me drown.

Flooring Issues

I never thought about faces much until now. When I walk out into the world I see people’s faces change when the spot me. It is no one’s fault it is the brain sending messages to the face. Our emotions take over and then the “Oh there’s Renee, poor thing face” comes out. We don’t mean to do it, I do it too. It is like a dimmer switch in a light. People soften their emotions and reign in their glee, sorrow, zealousness and take them down a notch. I guess it is called respect for the dead and respect for the person in mourning.

It was a sad time yesterday going into the home improvement store yesterday to return the flooring Steve and I had bought to put in our house exactly one week before he died. We had such a fun day together looking at flooring and we had finally found some we both agreed on and was at such a great sale price. We applied for the store credit card and got an extra 10% off. Steve was so proud and excited  that we were going to finally get this done. Of course we knew we would pay the card off before the end of this year, but we now had something to help us fix up our house if we needed it. We couldn’t bring the flooring home that day because it was too much and wouldn’t fit in our car, but we did bring the underlayment and duct tape home. The plan was for me to return with a truck as soon as I could to retrieve the flooring from their store. This was the major concern in my life right at that point, getting the flooring home, and when could we lay it down in our house.

That weekend, my friends and I went to see a movie and I hoped it might fit in the van we took there so we could bring it home with us. The guy at the store took one look at the minivan and was able to tell us immediately it would not fit. This meant I had to have a pick up truck to retrieve our flooring from their warehouse.  We had a pickup but it was being repaired and I didn't have access to it but it should be done soon. I would have to wait on it or find someone to get it for me. Then came that Tuesday morning, one week after our perfectly lovely day and Steve was gone. Flooring was no longer on my mind, so I wondered why the store called me the weekend after the memorial service. They snapped me back to thinking about flooring again wondering when we would get the flooring from their storeroom. I told her what had happened, and the poor girl, I could see her face drop in my mind, as she started to trip over her words of condolences. I could tell she felt bad, but there was no way any of us expected this to happen, least of all her. She noted this in her computer as she expressed her apologies to me and I assured her I would let her know what my decision was about the flooring soon. At this point, I didn't know if I was going to keep it or send it back.

We got our card in the mail the next week.  I could have kept the flooring, but really didn’t want it anymore. I still see Steve’s face at the store and our excited conversation afterward in the car ride home. It is a painful memory, since a week before there was so much promise and joy in our lives, and then it all came crashing in within a week’s time. It occured to me this morning that I hadn't even thought about waiting for the other shoe to drop. That used to be a bad habit for me but I have released that and no longer expect negative things to come at me. The shoe dropped hard and I am okay with it. The people from the credit department returned the flooring on the phone for me the next week when they called since I hadn’t taken possession of it and all I had to do was bring in the rest when I could. It took me a month, but I got it all back safe and sound yesterday. I am done with that free and clear of that and it is now in the past.  It was just another thing to check off my list. I no longer have to think of flooring.At this moment in my life, I never want to look for flooring again.   

 The girls at the store remembered us and that day we were in there. The dimmer switch went on and their faces went down a notch when we spoke of how awful it was that this happened. I meanwhile just wanted not to talk, and my mind was screaming "just zero me out so I can leave without crying". I really struggled with my emotions, and was glad I brought my friend Mary with me because I may have broken down without her there.  Trying not to cry is like trying to hold a lion back on a leash from a delicious piece of meat. I did very well all things considered.  I will start a mourning cheer, “Push it out, Push it out, way out of your mind until you get home at least then you can ride the wave for a little while and jump off before it drowns you". Not very catchy or fluid I know, but work with me, I am not at my best right now. 

 If you know about extreme sports, that is what going out in public is for me right now. The challenge is seeing how many people I can avoid and if I have to talk to people, how long can I swallow back tears without them busting forth?  It does sound like pride, I know, but I don't want to make people feel bad about their helplessness either. Let's talk happy talk, what is going on in your life right now? I am not sure if I am mourning right, putting off my crying, but it seems like the right thing for me to do right now and I will do it. I am a happy person and I don't want to bring any sorrow to anyone. I feel like when I am around people, I will rub off on them. So it is best if you see me, to give me the look briefly, smile, then tell me what is going on in your life. I already know what is consuming mine. If you tell me you love me, I may cry, but it is happy tears, not sad ones so don't start saying I am sorry because you haven't done anything wrong. God sends people like you to give me hugs, not remind me of my loss. I love you all and love your support. Steve is smiling, so I will too and no I am not in denial. This is my grief and I will handle it with joy.

My Thanksgiving

This weekend brought me some much needed better than chocolate bliss. My children came home to help me clean out the dreaded shed. Steve always got testy with me when I had yard sales or spoke about cleaning the shed out. He always warned me about selling his tools, or giving them away. I always reassured him I would never give away his stuff. Well at least the important stuff. I could never sell his tools, because I knew he would need to use them again one day to work around the house. What is a honey do weekend without tools? So now we pass them down to my boys whose wives will have honey do’s for them. I am so delighted that my boys will have their dad’s tools and not some strangers from the estate sale I am planning.  Sorting through all those tools, with memories of Habitat construction sites attached to so many of them I must confess, Steve was right,  his tools were an extension of him. I had a dreaded craft room but my craft stuff doesn’t have the memories his tools did.

We built our home with some of those very tools, the boys remembering running wire through the walls, pounding nails into two by four’s, and of course the barked out command or two from Steve about safety. Josh made me take a safety break or two through the day when my back started tiring from lifting things I shouldn’t have lifted. I heard Steve’s voice as they reminisced and repeated the words he had spoken to them so many years ago. He does live on in his children and I really enjoyed their banter. It brought me so much pleasure to see them work and play together again as the chore turned to a treasure hunt. They were very generous to one another about who took what, and divided the tools and yard implements up amongst themselves and made a pile for their brother Kyle who couldn’t be here. Kyle did call on the phone though and reminded the boys of how  he had cleaned out the shed so many more times than they ever had, so it was their turn now.

We did break for a time to have some fun. Fortunately our football team played later in the day and we could watch the second half of the game to see them win for us on Saturday. I had pulled out a Chicken Tetrazzini casserole left over from the week we were fed by the love of others. (As that part of the funeral experience is fondly referred to now) My boys had other plans in mind; they wanted a trip to a Mexican restaurant here in town they used to frequent as teenagers. So we went out to eat with my two best girlfriends who happened by just as LSU was about to pull out their victory. It was a wonderful meal, made better by a beautiful blanket of family.

I was in heaven I must say, topped only by the bonfire we had both nights. We burned the left over logs from the week they were here for the funeral. We talked about family things and how fun the day had been and how much we missed Kyle and other family members. Our dogs were by our side and so was the small dog who has pretty much taken up with us since that funeral week. We argued about the moon on Saturday night. It looked full to most of us, but according to Josh's Iphone it was only a waxing gibbous. No matter the phase it was in it was still the same beautiful sky we were treated to the week of the funeral and of course we reminisced on that and how Steve would have loved that week.

Sunday was much of the same except Mary and Ryan had to go home that day. We worked in the morning, and everyone started to get hungry. I had put a pot roast in the oven hoping we could all eat together, but Ryan and Mary had to get back home for school on Monday. I hadn’t given much thought to food for Sunday except for the roast.  I searched my kitchen and threw together my poor man’s meal which was corned beef hash on a piece of toast and some scrambled eggs. The hash came from my emergency rations I had pulled out to get rid of. Laugh if you must about the rations, but they came in handy on this Sunday morning as the kids’ devoured every last bite. Ryan left shortly after brunch, and Mary hung out a bit longer, getting as much homework done as she possibly could before she left to go back to college. She was enjoying her time with the boys and the smell of that home cooked pot roast was too much for her. So Mary lingered just long enough to get her share of the roast.   She had a hard time leaving me, she always does. I think she worries about me too much. I love her for that, but really, I am okay.

The boys and I continued the work in the shed after Mary left. As Mathu’s pile grew, he decided he needed to take a trip to Wally World to get some plastic tubs to take them all home in.  Josh had brought plastic tubs with him but realized he gotten the wrong size tops to close them with so of course he couldn’t close his tubs up yet.  Ryan had also done his homage to Wally World on Saturday after he assessed his pile of tools. Watching Mathu straining to carry one of his tub o’ tools to the car made my heart leap. My shed was cleaned out of the important stuff, I didn’t betray Steve to strangers, and my children got to inherit their dad’s tools. I was beside myself and there was still another meal to finish.

 I was in mom mode and wasn’t going to waste a moment. I made the best mashed potatoes and gravy I think I ever made Sunday with the roast and some string beans. Not just regular string beans, they were French cut with chicken boullion really special.  I had made a meal out of what was available, the hash, old bread, and eggs, I cleaned the shed, loved on my kids and both our football teams won this weekend. It was a good weekend and believe me I savored every moment and will continue  to cling to this memory as I trudge through to the priceing stage for my upcoming estate sale.

My kids were very concerned that I am spending Thanksgiving alone but I hope I have reassured them I will be fine. I need to have peace of mind about selling my junk, so I need to stay focused on the task at hand. If I left, my mind would be here thinking on all that needs to be done. As far as I am concerned I had my Thanksgiving weekend this past weekend with them. We had pot roast instead of Turkey, but we had the gravy and mashed potatoes, deviled eggs and even football. Thanksgiving is about family, not turkey on a certain day so I consider it done for me; now let me get back to work. I am full.

A Time to..(reply "n" for next)

What is up with my biological clock? I am waking at odd hours, getting sleepy very early. This time change/grief thing is messing with my clock. I really don’t seem concerned with the time much either. I hardly look a clock right now. That is weird for me. I remember some of the stupid stuff Steve and I argued over. Early in our married life, he slept a lot. At the time I didn’t know it was a coping measure for depression. We argued about how much he slept. Here recently within the last few months, I have been staying up later and sleeping later and he would say I was in the bed too much. I always reminded him that it was I who was up with the kids early every morning to get them to school, and I got up when they were sick, etc. It seems to me that life was balancing out finally.

Since I was young, I remember just wanting to be a wife and mother when I grew up. Oh yes and once I wanted to be a forest ranger. Go figure. I had always wanted to travel so instead I joined the Navy and saw Guam and Japan, southern California and Alabama where I am now settled in. I became a wife and mother and took that job very seriously most of the time. It did not come without sacrifice. I always wanted to be available to my kids and Steve because this is what I knew I was supposed to do I wanted to do. I was a stay at home, close to the phone, ready to run errands at a moment’s notice mom/wife. Now, my kids were grown, my husband on the road I had been trying to find my new way in life. I find that discovery time now shortened.

The phone is still always by my side out of habit I guess waiting on Steve to call or one of the children. The phone was one of the many tools of my trade along with the vacuum, car, pots/pans and time. Steve and I talked through two phone batteries a day on many days since his first heart attack. I carried the phone from room to room doing everything but vacuuming while on the phone with him. We spent hours on the phone, I mostly listened because Steve was a talker and he had a lot to unload. I took pleasure in knowing he wanted to spend time with me even if it was only on the phone. I won’t deny it was annoying sometimes when I was out with my girlfriends and he wanted to talk for hours. I just couldn’t do it then, and I think he felt a sense of disconnect when we couldn’t talk. I know now that he knew he was on borrowed time.

Still, my time is busy time now. I got a text on my phone from face book showing me a message from my son. It can’t print the whole message, only small amounts at a time, and then I have to hit reply and enter the letter "n" for it to continue, so I can read more of the message. I did this about 3 times to read the whole message. As I was doing this I realized it was my life right now. I am pressing "n" on a daily basis because I truly have no idea what is coming. I am no longer a wife, I have lost that identity. I will always stay a mother, I pray, but my children are grown so I am not needed there like I used to be. So I am in a state of "n".

I find myself curious about "n" and even sometimes excited. It has been so long since I had a job I wonder what I will do. What can I do? My resume should say wife and mother since that is pretty much all I have been doing over these last 29 years. What is the "n" going to bring for me? Is my new identity mother and widow? I don’t know how to do the widow part and quite frankly I am rebelling against that term in my inner being. That was not the plan I planned for my life. I am not angry just not very accepting. Ok maybe denial, there I said it. Is that part of this process of grieving? I don’t want to be a widow. I loved being a wife and really want to be a wife to Steve. I can’t ever see being a wife to anyone else so that means accepting the widow part of my identity. I can be alone, but it gets lonely. I have my kids, but who will I call to talk about their lives on the personal level I did with Steve? I need to get a life and I just don’t know where it will be or how it will look and I don’t like pressing"n". I want to see the whole message please God. My trust in you is strong, but give me a hint please.

For everything there is a season, I am going through everything in our house right now sorting through the years we spent together. I will be selling most of the things in my house, except whatever I am keeping or the children are taking. Even some of my sentimentals will be memories now instead of tangibles I can flash on a memory while holding.  How wierd is it to have an estate sale and still be living? God had told me to downsize before all of this, I guess He really meant it. It is time to leave this place and move on. My life is much smaller right now even though I still have too much of my stuff in boxes. I will downsize again probably. Lots of memory lane going on right now. Good and bad lanes, but the bad made our good much better and stronger.

So yes, it is true, you have to take the good with the bad sometimes. I hope moving back to my mom and dad’s house doesn’t strain my relationship with them. It is hard living with people, especially fighting over that thermostat level. I know they want me there to help me get back on track. I only pray I can be a blessing to them and not a burden on them. I hope I will be able to be a help to them too as they grow older. So I go back home to the place I ran from so many years ago, trying to find myself. I go back there looking to find myself again, but I go back a much different person with many experiences to share. So Lord, grab my hand and "Take me back to the start" to quote a Coldplay song, I'm ready to get going..."n"

Midnight Ramblings

I have just now since venturing out, been taunted by depression. It tries to make me tired and so sleepy that I want to just crawl up in bed and do nothing, but I must push through it so I do. If I don’t, the mantle will be removed, and I will be cold again. But every once in a while I have a night like tonight where I can’t sleep I can only stare at the ceiling, memories flooding my brain, and my heart. Get up and pack. So I crank the praise music, pack, get weary, sit down, type, then I’m up to pack again.  I find I am losing heart with the packing, I need a motivation intervention.  I always have been a wait till the last minute girl, but I pulled through at the end usually. Most people call that procrastination; I call it extreme stress motivation. Why do I do that to myself, is that what I need to get juiced enough to move? I need more juice now.

I think all this is overwhelming. I have an elephant to eat, and I have been taking one bite at a time, but now it just gets stuck in my mouth and I don't want to swallow. I am full. I have so much to do and so little time to do it in. That proverb has lost it's significance as reality hits hard I need a new one to cling to. I have a time frame and I must get rid of this stuff the first weekend in Dec. anytime before is impossible, any time after not worth it.

 I am also trying to prepare for our family celebration of ThanksChristmas. It is two weeks after Thanksgiving and 2 weeks before Christmas. Steve and I came up with the idea 2 years ago to have our own holiday so we could all be in one place together. Holidays are usually split between in-laws  so this gave our kids the opportunity to do what they needed for the holidays so they wouldn’t stress out. This will be our third one, I was getting ready for it before life fell in on me. I had already special ordered the cards from online and they arrived the day after Steve died. I think this may be the last ThanksChristmas since I will not have a house to have another one at. We may do a destination one, but to me it isn’t the same as having it in your own home with your own decorations and special ornaments on the tree. Not to mention all the food we would have to bring to feed my small army.

After ThanksChristmas I will have to prepare my house to sell. I know it will sell, but for a lot less than it should. We were in process of fixing it up to sell, perhaps in 4 or 5 years down the line. We were doing it a little at a time as money and time permitted. I really am in new territory now. Wow life comes at you fast when you least expect it. I wonder why I even plan for tomorrow; it may not be here for me. I guess it is the hope in me that keeps me planning. I am glad I expect too much. I expect God will show Himself big for me,again.  I just don’t want to take his generosity for granted. I just know he is my Father and wants the best for me.

I ramble on, and pack away as the hours slowly count down until dawn and the busyness in my brain  starts to blur and and I get sluggish. Soon I will be too tired to try to think. Then I can just pass out for the remainder of the night. Tomorrow, I will wake early, work hard, and be exhausted tomorrow night since I won’t have much sleep tonight. That is how Steve used to do it on the road and how he delivered his many loads on time. He was so gifted at being able to see the big picture, and analyze it so the solution was just there. I miss the security of that, and I miss watching him in action as a problem presented and he worked it out. The things he thought of and knew that never in this lifetime, would have crossed my mind never ceased to amaze me. I miss him so badly right now. I better get back to packing and not thinking. I will think on that tomorrow, tonight I pack.

The Widow Maker

Steve got lonely out there, away from us all the time. He also heard so many stories about trucker’s wives and what they did while hubby was away. Steve and I trusted each other completely but I am sure that had to bother him somewhat. He was from a divorced family so he expected me to leave him. Many times he tried to push me away while were having problems in our marriage because that was what he knew to be the solution. You do know no marriage is perfect, ours wasn’t, but we made it through because of our commitment, our covenant with each other and God. God was the third party and I entered into this union with both of them. Before Steve realized I would never leave him, he could never understand why I never left. I believe he tried his best to push me away, because he had so much emotional pain that he never wanted me to hurt. I know that he loved me that much and I loved him enough not to abandon him in his pain. I always told him, till death do us part. Honey, I hate to say I told you so. I am so sorry it was this way. I really thought we would be together till we just rotted away in each other’s arms.

He had a heart attack in 2006 in Charlotte, NC. He put a nurse on the phone to tell me what had happened because I thought he was joking on the phone when he said he had a heart attack. He always joked that way with me, so I needed proof. The nurse told me he was having a heart attack and they were going to put a stent in his heart. I freaked out, called mom and dad and of course the kids. I waited around for the doctor to call after the procedure, then met two of my sons and drove up there. That was a grueling ride, which seemed to take forever. We got there around 9:00p.m. He looked good, but scared, as was I, but just being able to see each other was all we needed. The boys had to empty out the truck so the company he drove for could come get their truck. If you could see all the stuff he had on that truck, you would know why my boys were very grateful not to have emptied his truck this time around.

The doctor told us it was a major heart attack, The Widow Maker was the non technical name. It was a miracle he was alive then. We knew it was serious business, and took it that way. Steve was in the hospital for 5 days and was told he had to have 2 more stents when he got back home and he should be good. Steve called his three stents the Trinity and I felt it countered the name of his heart attack well. The Widow maker, I had often in jest told people I felt like a widow, since I always had to go places alone, as a third wheel. I vowed to never say that again and I didn’t. I felt I had cursed him in some way and realized my words had weight in the atmosphere. Now don’t think I don’t know God took Steve when it was his time, I know this, but my words must be measured because someone is always listening.

Steve came out of that experience with a passionate urgency for life.  Our conversations were deeper, he said what was on his heart much more and he struggled with a fear. His fear was, he didn’t want to leave this earth and be in heaven if his loved ones weren’t going to be there too. His passion was trying to turn the hearts of his family to more serious spiritual matters of salvation. His favorite thing to say was he didn’t have time, or time was short. Did he know something then? I wondered as I just wrote it off as a fear of another heart attack. His phone calls got longer his thoughts deeper and more serious and he would get frustrated with all of us if we had to get off the phone. I believe he knew and was cramming a lifetime worth of conversations into us. He loved us so much and we loved him too but we didn’t understand his sense of urgency, until now.

God knew, and he even knew his death would be special. Steve had a funny feeling, parked his truck at a filling station and stepped out then collapsed. He never wanted to be one of those truckers who died in his truck and wasn’t found for a few days. I understand Steve wasn’t able to be revived even though they worked on him, he went quickly. I am consoled by that. I am consoled to know this happened in the best possible place, Minnesota, where he bought his truck and where his company is based out of. They went to pick it up, cleaned it out for us, and his wonderful boss helped me sell it back to the dealership for more than our pay off. God took care of Steve and his family. God took care of me, because I entered into covenant with him and Steve 29 years ago. We didn’t give up, and I am not giving up now, God you are stuck with me. You have prepared me to be a widow. Is this why Steve was a truck driver so I could get used to the alone time?

We never know when our last breath will be on this earth, we all have a time to live, and a time to die. This is a matter Steve and I spoke about often while watching war movies. Yes that first heart attack probably was a widow maker and maybe was Steve's time to die but I think God gave him the extra time he needed to finish, and now he is waiting for us in the next place we will be, Heaven.  I , more than Steve, needed the extra time to learn to walk alone, but never alone, as a widow under God's mantle. Thank you God for that extra time.

Fill in the Blanks

I look back on the day; I pause as always. I have a hard time completing this sentence. I usually say I look back on the day, and then hesitate, and think in my mind, the day Steve died, my life changed forever, my world turned upside down, or I lost control. Fill in the blanks with the least dramatic word for now. I look back on the day Steve died. Do you ever wonder how will I handle a situation? I must say, on TV things are much different and I have found myself judging peoples reactions to tragedy. I have witnessed many women pass out, act a fool, become violent, or zombie out, when told of a death of a loved one. Then again, who would ever think it would happen to you. Shock, good word for the jolt to your brain. I wonder what the officer who came to my door thought as I reacted to the news about my husband’s death. The poor man to have to deliver news like that.

We must have gone inside the house, that is a blank. I remember he squatted in front of me I think he may have said something about a prayer list at church. Where did the other man go I thought there were two of them? I see his face, then blank,  then trying to call my friend Mary and my fingers and mind not working to dial a telephone. then blank. The officer did call Mary to come once I could find her on my phone list. How long did it take her to get there? What did he say to her? I can only remember bits and pieces the rest a blank. I fill in blanks by guessing or asking people. I remember wanting to tell my oldest son Josh so he could call the rest of my kids and telling  Mary to keep calling him he was sleeping.

Shock, who knew it could take your mind and your voice. My sisters say they spoke to me, and even my mom couldn’t understand what I said on the phone to them. It was garble to them, but it was clear to me what I said, Steve is dead, get here quick I need you! Lots more blank time until my dear friend ordered me something to take the edge off. Now I don’t like to take drugs at all. I want to be in my right mind but this was the first time a pill put me back in my right mind. I never would have believed it.

My memory is still spotty about that day, who came to my house, what I did, what they did. It seemed to take forever to hug one of my kids. They were all at least 3 hours away, and my parents over four hours. My friends did pray away a migraine which was starting. There was cleaning going on too and the phone call which lasted forever from the hospital about donating Steve’s eyes and tissue. I consented not knowing how grueling that would be, but I knew he would have done it because we talked about it before. Steve was a giver and loved helping people so I went through it for him.

I remember the devil tormenting me with regret, anxiety, and all the negative, self pity stuff he could put on me. (I didn’t remember that this happened on the day Steve died, until another friend told me I had told her about this on that day, blank).  I did the strangest thing, I laughed every time a thought came into my head like that. I knew it was a lie and a trap being set for me at least my spirit knew this and was protecting me. Selma has been a place of spiritual growth for me, and in my weakest time, the enemy of my soul was trying to take back ground. My spirit fought back.

 I believe this is one of the reasons I am doing so well. Negative things could not stick to me. It was like when I visited the beach with my friends the following week. My daughter Mary and I walked the beach, our feet felt heavy and sand would not come off of our feet, it was sticking to us and gathering more sand. We had sand shoes, like if we had stepped into heavy mud.  If you were wondering if there was still oil on the beach, the answer is yes we were BPeed on. Well in all fairness it could have been dispersant our feet turned orange but it was still BP. The gooey stuff looked like wet brown sugar on the shoreline, and the warmth of our feet caused  the goo to melt and stick to us, and then more and more collected as we walked the contaminated shoreline. Fortunately we  grew uncomfortable in these new shoes and didn’t allow too much to collect. We got back to the beach house, scraped our feet and washed them off with dish soap. We dealt with it pretty quickly. Just  think this could have been my soul too, if my spirit hadn’t fought to keep the negative thoughts from collecting. I could be toting around a heavy burden right now. I believe this accelerated my healing process, to laugh in the face of danger.

There was some blanking also on the day of Steve’s memorial service. The service was great, but I don’t remember too many faces there or things that were said. I do remember smiling and thinking that is so sweet a few times as people spoke. I think whatever was said went directly into my soul and my ears were not working. I confess I did have to medicate before the service, so maybe that is why. Either way medicated or not, I think it was destined to be a blur.
I am fascinated how all that affected my body too. I had  serious sores in my mouth for nearly a week after this.  I see why they say stress can kill. My poor friend Mary had a good friend die the same morning as Steve and I called her to my house? Of course I didn’t know about her loss until she got to my house. She needed to go to the beach too because she had stress issues with her health after that week. The analogy of the body being one, if one part is a bit off, so is the body, I am glad the body also covers, protects and heals the spot affected. It all connects and it did connect to help us begin to heal even though my physical body was manifesting stuff.

 I will always be indebted to my dear friend Mary for taking on such a burden. I am grateful to have my mind back. So I walk forward with parts of my memory of that day gone, it is okay. If you were there, that day I thank you for your love. The important thing about the day I lost my mind is I remember that I was loved that day.

Widow, me?

It is four weeks today. How should I mark this new marker of time in my life, by weeks, or months or does it just start becoming months after the first month. This is all new ground for me. I struggle with the word widow. To me it is a terrible word that now identifies my present position in life.  Is it because I hate black widow spiders? I never once thought I would ever have to deal with this title. The day we were married I thought we would be married forever like my parents who just celebrated their 50^th wedding anniversary two years ago. Steve wasn’t a police officer or in the military anymore or in any high risk career field, so I really took our life for granted I guess. The word widow doesn’t even feel good in my mouth and leaves a sour taste. I avoid thinking and speaking it. Yet still, it winds its way into my thoughts from time to time.

I wonder, will people avoid me because they don’t know what to say? How long do the sad looks last on people’s faces? Do I carry the face of a woman who has just lost her husband?  I hope not. I actually feel bad for people, because there truly is nothing anyone can do or say. It is like packing or unpacking, you have to do it all by yourself so you will know where everything is. I will say, the best comfort is the invisible stuff like prayers and of course love reaching out to you. I have done it many times for others and often feel helpless but I know prayer is the most I can do for a grieving person.

My present situation does make me aware of people walking around in this world. I wonder how many people I may have been impatient with who may be dealing with a tragedy in their lives too. People like me who just keep swallowing down the lump in my throat, to keep from crying. Everyone has to venture out from the safety of their home to buy milk, eggs and bread or just carry on daily business like banking.  I was so blessed each of the 3 times I have been to Wally World and had not seen anyone I knew. That in itself, in Selma Alabama, is a miracle.  I don’t want to break down in public and God knew that so He cleared the way for me.

I woke up a few days ago, at 4 a.m. with the title of this blog, the Widow’s mantle. I felt driven to blog, which is something I have shied away from. To pour out all my thoughts in a public way seemed too foreign to me but I will be obedient. I blog. I know I am still under the thick mantle of God’s protection over me. This thick, warm widow’s mantle is so snuggly, warm and secure.  You just walk, and your steps are guided by heavenly forces it is like you just sit in a hammock and swing. My needs have been met so much that I am a bit off guard by it.  I have been supernaturally taken care of and believe God will continue until I get my feet back under me.  The picture in my mind of the mantle is like I see on TV when someone rescues a person; they throw a blanket around their shoulders. I also see it as me under covers as a little girl, reading a book with my flashlight. Either way I feel secure, hidden and protected.

 Is this how Mother Teresa and other saints felt every day? The security of knowing God is your security. He will take you to a safe place and tend to what it is He wants done in my life today, tomorrow and the rest of my days. Peace that passes understanding. Yes, I’m a believer because today I am walking on a cloud with a beautiful covering over my head. I love the mantle, just not the widow part.

Waves

Today I go back home, alone, well me and Millie our dog. It is amazing how much comfort one of God’s creatures can give just by their presence. She is my prayer dog, she only needs to come and sit with me and I feel better. Since all this happened, I have spent a lot of time outside the house when I can, burning trash and swinging. God sure is louder outside of my house. I can see a squirrel or hear the birds singing and I just feel so connected. It is because my Creator is in all his creation and is drawn to my soul. I feel hugged by it all.

I went to the beach with friends after Steve died. It was cold and windy but so beautiful to me. I took solace as I woke early each morning, went downstairs and either sat in the swing, or went out onto the beach. I was hugged by God with each breeze that kissed my face with sand. My feet were caressed by God as I walked in the sand each day. The gulls sang songs of searching and hunger as the hunger for God welled up in my spirit. There was a crane standing vigil in place of my prayer dog Millie, in our area most days and stray cats prowling nearby. I felt safe in the dark as I sat looking upward into the heavens as they overtook my sense of loneliness. I was not alone; I was being loved by God through the beauty of His creation. The song the waves played as they pushed toward the shoreline soothed me like a mother’s lullaby. I heard an unevenness in the wave song as some  make a louder crack sound at times. It was here I realized what I had been saying was true, mourning comes in waves. Some waves crack harder than others, it is the motion of life. I find myself crying harder at times, sometimes less and sometimes not at all. There is no guilt in the amount of tears and there is no set pattern. Everyone is different. Every wave is different.

So I will be waving today again, as I travel home to my quiet house. I waved all the way here remembering the many places Steve and I stopped along to way to visit our kids here over the years. I remember with gratitude this past Fourth of July when we came here and had a fun time. I believe the key is to ride the wave, but know when to jump off. Who can drive with tears on your glasses, right? This venturing out from under this mantle of God has been tough. I would much rather stay under covers with Him but then life would pass me by, and I would miss doing my part. So today I do the wavy walk. Life goes on.

Joy comes in the Mourning

Joy comes in the mourning.  Yes I know.  How can this be, so soon?  Well here is how, family.  I am visiting with my son, Mathu, witnessing his proposal of marriage to his girlfriend Amy, the love of his life. Today is also his birthday. You just can't help but be happy around such wonderful family events. Life is moving on despite our sadness. Mathu called us when Steve was home for his birthday on October 9. He told us his plans over our speaker phone together. Steve made fun of me when I cried about the happy news and ten day later he passed away. Tears are appropriate  in joy and sadness aren’t they?

My family surrounded me during the week it took to have the memorial service for Steve, he died in Minnesota and we are in Alabama and it took a few days to get him home.  God blessed us with that wonderful week together to begin the healing process with each other. We remembered good times, cried, and yes we laughed and even sang.  We had a bonfire every night and just enjoyed each other’s company.  My one son, Ryan, stayed at a friend’s home down the street, and every morning when he and his wife, Shannon and my granddaughter, Hannah who is 18mths, came in the house, her little smile just filled my heart, and my home with such joy. I have renamed her JOY.

During this time also, my friends, and family,  brought food, encouragement, and love to our little house. Honestly we didn’t need for anything.  Food, toilet paper, even Kleenex was brought in and an occasional bottle of blackberry wine. We celebrated our family and the fruitfulness of our union which  now included wives, a granddaughter,  a myriad of friends and friends of friends. A cute neighbor dog even took up  with us and won’t leave.  Years ago a church friend told me I was as strong as the cedars of Lebanon. I laughed because I knew this was so far from true.This came back to me that week as I watched my children stand so strong. We laughed often about us raising trees, since all my kids were much taller than I am, not a great feat since I am only 5’2. Even a cedar has to be small at one time, but it grows strong over time. I watched my saplings grow beyond me.  Seeing my forest surrounding me, being strong for each other, and for me, I have never been more proud as a mother, and yes much joy leapt in my heart at their courage and love.

I am also proud of my parents, who came and stayed. How hard it is for parents to watch their child in pain? They were so strong for us and continue to be. I am proud to be their daughter. My siblings, each came, all 5 of them which is really a tough thing to do with kids, school and work. Their support brought much joy to me because even though we are separated by miles, our hearts are still connected. I fed on their love and strength. And then there were the church friends, acquaintances, strangers who were Steve’s trucker friends, even my sweet mail lady who touched my heart.  Joy can come in mourning, and I am nearly overdosed. It overwhelms my senses sometimes and I cry. When people hug me I wonder, is it a self pity cry, is it a mourning cry, or is it a how sweet are God’s people cry? I tend to go with the how sweet are God’s people, since they seem like tears of joy.   I still float on prayers, and all this joy stuff could change any moment, but I don’t think so. I love joy too much. So can you walk and float at the same time? I am.

My Provider and my Strength

I say God is my spouse, my provider, my strongtower. I often wonder sometimes if I  believe my own words. I got a miracle yesterday that really made me dance and shout and cry alot. One of my biggest fears is the IRS. Steve always would tease me about being fearful of the revenuers. I never want to do anything wrong and least of all get on the bad side of the IRS. Don't ask me where that came from, maybe watching too many news stories.
Anyway, a few days after Steve's memorial service, I receieved a notice from them saying we under reported in 2008 and we owed them money. I will only say it was more than 500.00. I set the letter aside and figured, great, I will deal with that in a couple of weeks.  I  know Steve was gone, but I really was mad at him about this. Knowing my fear, how could he not report all our income? He knew how important all those receipts were and of course he knew of my fear of the IRS bogie man. I felt like he had let me down and failed me. I really don't have the funds to be paying stuff like this right now. My resources are very limited.
Yesterday, I decided to pay the bogey man. I opened the letter again, gulped at the amount as I read through and read that we both had to sign this paper agreeing to the amount. If I signed his name, it would be forgery and I would be thrown in jail. (well that is what my mind told me) So I called the number to ask what I should do.
After holding for an assister (their word not mine) for thirty minutes he answered. He identified himself as Mr. So and So and gave me an identification number for him. I got to say I nearly passed out from my nerves. This was so serious a matter that the IRS identify by numbers? Is that so people won't hunt them down? Anyway as he was looking up my account I told him I really had only one question. If my husband is deceased, should I sign his name? Won't that be forgery? He said to just put deceased by the name. Then he asked when he had died and I told him. He said hold on mam, let me take care of this for you.
I held on and  held my breath too. What was he doing? It took a few minutes so I wiled away the moments by crying a bit from fear? from sorrow, from anger? who knows, just another wave I guess. The man came back on the phone and said he had taken care of it and I should be getting a letter in the mail in a few weeks. I asked him how much do I owe now? Did he extend me? He said no it was wiped clean and I would owe nothing.  NOTHING? After I collected myself because I was crying harder now, I thanked him, and yes I blessed the IRS agent with a sincere God bless you as I hung up the phone.
My provider, my strongtower, my perfect spouse, had already gone before me in this matter, and taken away my bogey man fear. I just let loose and began sobbing so hard at the realization of my miracle. I am so small Lord that you would take this time to do that for me. I am deeply humbled and I feel your love  and your mantle so strong sometimes I feel I will fall over.
A friend called about the time I was winding down. Poor thing, I think she, like everyone else, thinks I sit here sobbing all day about my loss. Little do they know, tears are happy too.
Steve always said "God loves you but he loves me a little bit more" I felt this yesterday. I often thought does he really believe that? Well guess what, I believe it now. I am walking through this.....

Has it been 3 weeks

I am used to being alone, my husband was a truck driver for the last  six years. Right now I am poking my head out of a very thick layer of protection, a mantle set upon my head by God's people by their prayers. I woke this morning thinking how I used to say I was 29 and holding for each birthday after 29. Well I can now say I was married 29 and holding when asked how long I am married. I feel like I am in holding, but in reality, I am still married to the love of my life on earth, Steve. We are separated but when we took our vows God was there too.  God signed up with us so you see if either of us died, we wouldn't ever be alone, our spouse is always with us. So now more than ever, I feel God's presence all around me. He is going before me working out the details of my life as I am entering this next phase of life.
Interesting this all happened in the fall. I turned 50 this year, and if our lives are seasonal, I consider myself  in fall. Fall, how interesting since that is a concern of mine right now. I don't want to fall, I want to walk, not crawl through all of this. I have wondered if I am mourning right. What is right? I guess I am pretty strong, all those years of saying "that which doesn't kill us makes us stronger" must have stuck.
Some days I am so at peace with where Steve is, that he is no longer in pain, and doesn't have to "chase money down the road ". It scares me and I wonder, did I love him? Did I love him enough? Why am I at peace and not missing him as badly as I should? Did God go before me and allow this truck driver stuff to prepare me for his absence? I sometimes wonder, but every time the phone rings, or doesn't ring, I really miss him. Steve I love you, I miss you, but we talked about this so much I feel like I was preparing for a life without you already. Although, we never really did get this financial part together I trust it will come This is how I feel at this moment, in a second I may change.