Sometimes it's hard to think of

I've been going through photographs from trips taken, times sitting on the back patio in the evening, stuff done I felt like photographing for no other reason than to do it. It's hard to think, coming across a photo of Himself, and of Capt, that those men don't exist on this Earth anymore. Himself woodworking, or calmly enjoying a cigar and a bourbon at the end of the day. Capt standing in the waves of St. Croix, or trying on a new hat. All pictures of real events, real men, who actually were HERE and now aren't. To think that they don't exist here is hard. No one is going to walk through the door at the end of the day, or sketch out plans for another greenhouse, or research places to stay on some small Caribbean island, or suggest a long weekend in the North Georgia mountains. All that's gone, the sharing of the ideas and making of plans for a trip.

Now it's on me to do that. Make the plans, that is. A while back it was a trip with a friend to Barcelona. Now THAT was a trip. You see, the genesis of that trip occurred after Himself died. I got to be friends with a woman from church, and we fantasized about making a trip to Barcelona. Then after Capt died, I called her up and said "Let's do it" and we did. That started it all. 

Now, I'm making more plans. A short trip to the Keys with a friend made me realize that I did indeed want to return to diving. So I went to the local dive shop, scheduled a refresher class and got my equipment checked over. In a week I am leaving, by myself, for a week in the Keys. A small house rented, reservations for a couple of dives secured and paid for, and JOY!! A dear friend from high school, who I haven't seen in 20 years, invited me to stay with her on the way down and back up, as she lives about 2/3 the way there, perfect timing for a stop. That makes the trip double special. I'll let you know how it goes.

I've also scheduled a trip in late June to go to Bonaire (a small island off the coast of Venezuela) with a group of people for the purpose of diving the stellar coral reefs there. Not going alone, but also not going specifically with a Person. Capt was always my dive Person. We would go all over Florida, into the Caribbean, just the 2 of us, to see amazing things. Making these trips without him is doing something he would want me to do, and in fact instructed prior to his death. I'll let you know how it goes.

This Fall, maybe November, I want to go NORTH. To Iceland, specifically. I've heard tell that a trip there is pretty spectacular and there are 3 solid bucket list items I could check off. First: Northern lights. Very weather dependent, I know, but I won't see them in Alabama, that's for sure. Second: A volcano. They're having all sorts of volcanic issues there and I'm much more likely to see one there than here in Alabama. Third: Snorkel a tectonic rift. That's right. 2 continents meet each other and there's an opportunity to actually swim in it. I could dive, if I were dry-suit certified, which I am not, but I can snorkel it without needing any sort of extra education. Maybe one day. Probably not, as dry suits are unnecessary for Caribbean diving and I don't foresee enough cold water dives to justify the expense (and yes, they are exPENSive!) Anyway, Iceland is in the possibility list. It will get further investigations upon the return from Bonaire. I touched base with the woman I went to Spain with, and she's keen on the idea of joining me, depending on all the circumstances lining up well.

So yes, I'm traveling. I'm discovering my own voice, my own way, courage to do it all without relying on someone else. Scary, yes, a bit. It took more courage than you'd think to walk into the dive shop but many of the people there know me and were warm and welcoming. It's an exciting prospect, getting back into the sport Capt introduced me to. 

But I miss them. At night, I will roll over and scratch the fluffy little dog who's decided the best place to sleep is shoved up into the small of my back. His presence is comforting, but it's not Himself, or Capt. The mental dissonance of missing 2 men, although in different ways, is sometimes uncomfortable. I had 30 years with Himself, growing up together, kids, moves, career changes. his death felt like I'd been split in half. It was sudden and completely unexpected. I had 1 week short of 5 years with Capt. He had been sick for 6 months, gradually sliding downhill, but I never thought it would come to THAT end. Not as....I don't know....horrifying. Frightening, confusing, or messy. Just sad and kind of discouraging. 

Now? Pfft. I have no interest in doing it again. Not right now. I can't speak for the future or who I may meet but right now...nope. It hurts too much when it ends. It's too hard to explain to someone the feelings, and well, it's just too complicated. Where would I live? This house is a one-person house and I don't want to move. I have friends I can go to movies with, have meals out, and blessed, blessed solitude. 

I have gotten more involved with church. I joined the choir. The director asked if I'd sing soprano, as he was informed of my alto status initially. Unusual for a choir, we're short on sopranos. Anyway, I said sure, I'll see if I can squeeze out a high F or a G in a pinch, but don't expect more than that. It's fun and I like to sing. Occasionally I will fill in for a sick or unavailable person with the Mother's Morning Out program, which gives me a solid 3 hours of holding babies or corralling toddlers. I love little ones, in small doses, so it's just perfect. The occasional pot-luck dinner means 2 dozen deviled eggs. Breakfast with 5 other women once a week. Taco Tuesday with 2 of them. Plenty enough social life to keep me from becoming a weird hermit, but not so much I get frazzled with it. 

I also started going to a Personal Trainer in August. That has done wonders for strength and flexibility. I also simply ENJOY it. I didn't think I would ever say this....but I enjoy exercise. Having a person with training who puts me through paces means it gets done as well. Sure, I could probably do 75% of it at home but I also know it would never happen. There's something about having someone encourage you through it, correct posture and stance, cheer you on...that makes it easier and more fun. I also get to complain like a Gen Xer about the music, and occasionally they have The Good Stuff (you know, AC/DC, Aerosmith, Led Zeppelin) going. But I never once expected to enjoy it so much. Also....muscles. wow. 

Ok so that's what's going on right now. God knows what He's doing with my life and I have learned over time to accept that and roll with it. No more "BUT WHYYYYY" or feeling like I'm picked on. God didn't TAKE these men from me! He GAVE them the perfect gift of getting to join Him! I love them too much to want to deny them that! 

And it doesn't get any better than that.

One month in....

Here it is, one month into 2024. Wasn't Blade Runner based in 2021 or something? Maybe it was that post-apocalyptic one with Mel Gibson...my post-menopausal brain that's so full of life experiences won't remember the names of unimportant things like movies. I can remember where I saw a specific Lego (under the table by the front door) or how much flour to use when making a loaf of bread (3 cups), but those are useful things. Anyway, where was I...Right. Future predictions that didn't turn out that way. I'm thankful for that. Maybe eventually they will be that way or maybe Mankind will always retain a modicum of decency and it will be more like Star Trek with a Prime Directive to be nice and let people be who they are. One can hope.  

I was thinking about it all earlier this morning, sitting on a warm heating pad (back issues), wrapped in a flannel robe with a cup of coffee on the table beside me. It's a cute little table Dad made in woodshop class in high school. He thinks it's terrible because he sees all the mistakes. I think it's wonderful because it's 70 years old and he made it, and it's stinkin' CUTE. Anyway, there I was thinking about stuff. About how my life has made these screeching direction changes, and how I managed (sometimes poorly, sometimes fairly well) to carry on. Technology cooperates beautifully with my tendency to get distracted and forget the important things (like paying bills, or eating). I only have one bill I have to actually PAY, rather than automatic draft, and they send me a monthly reminder. Once in a while I have forgotten to pay it and got a polite "yoohoo" email. Now I am cooking meals for my parents, and I won't forget to feed them so naturally there's cooked food right there and I might as well eat it. 

But those aformentioned screeching changes, they...y'know...change a person. What's important has changed. A need to Stay Alive, that's not so important anymore. Not that I'm depressed and trying to die, it's just not so...critical, I guess. I've also changed priorities. I spend more time with my family and less time trying to figure out which outfit or shoes to buy, looking for a bigger and better (whatever) to acquire. I have plenty, more than enough. Now I want to gather experiences. 

I am going out there and experiencing the heck out of this world, as much as I can. That trip to Spain created an opening to the rest of the world. This country has so much to offer, and so does everywhere else. God's creation is incredible, all over. I'm also learning the joys of solo travel. Not having to figure out where WE want to go or what WE want to do. If I make a decision and the sandwich at that shop was nasty, no one is to blame but me and I didn't disappoint anyone. I have PLANS. I'm going to the Keys. By myself. I'm going to Curacao (I can't do the little fiddly thing under the second c) with a group, to go scuba diving. I'm pondering going to Iceland, by myself, to satisfy some bucket list items. Northern lights, a volcano, and snorkeling a tectonic rift. That decision will be made after Curacao. I've heard people at the end of their lives say that experiences are the best. I want to have interesting stories, for when I'm not able to travel. My aunt (never married) has done that, traveled all her life. 

I've also learned that my house doesn't have to be PERFECT. I'm living here. My grandson is here every weekend and has a toy corner in the living room. It's a small house! My son is living here while his house (nearby) is being built. So is his Great Dane, Otto. Having had only dachshunds for the last 30 years, something that size is disconcerting, but he's sweet and prefers to sleep in the sun on the front porch. I'm still figuring out what to do with Capt's stuff, gradually. I have this enormous portrait painting of him done when he was in his 20's, and have about decided that's what I'm keeping, and the rest can go. The hats, the fishing and scuba gear, all that. I don't need it and someone else will be blessed by it. 

One of the struggles I've had, with both Himself and Capt, is the fear of being disrespectful of them. Both men wanted and got respect. They both had items they treasured, and held onto for strong reasons. I, however, have no such attachment to those things, but also know if they were HERE, and I got rid of them, they would be terribly upset and feel VERY disrespected. I have been reminded several times by my sons that Himself and Capt are no longer attached to said items, they don't CARE about them anymore. Let go! So, I am. Gradually, bit by bit. I keep one or two things that are also important to me, like the portrait of Capt, and the big sewing desk Himself made for me as a wedding gift. When I am gone, if there's no one who cares about them, it won't matter. I will no longer care either. But still, it's kind of hard. At this point, it's truly just the respect issue. I'm not keeping them because *I* can't let go, I just....I just don't want to dishonor them. 

The Road Warrior! I remembered the name of the movie!! Mad Max! HA!