Sunshine on my shoulders

 Writing is my therapy. It is a tool for organizing my thoughts, and for coping with all of them. When I am feeling overwhelmed, it is a way to contain the mess, put it in a metaphorical box, and allow that box to hold onto everything so I don't have to. Consequently, most of the writing probably comes across as "Oh poor me, I'm suffering and having a hard time" and that can be sort of....I don't know...problematic (maybe?) 

Because, honestly, I am not always having a hard time. I just don't write as much when things are going well. Re-reading what-all has been written in the last few months made me realize that. I need to write more about the good stuff, reinforce the positive emotions...and just now, that phrase "positive emotions" can be a little problematic. It implies "good" and "bad" and frankly, I am not sure there are "bad" emotions, necessarily. There are emotions, and those are responses to events. I could get all philosophical about them but I won't, except to say emotional responses to events are as normal and natural as breathing and sleeping. 

Lately I've been doing really well, thus the slow-down in the writing. On the cold and rainy days, I am gloomy and eat too much ice cream. On the bright and sunny days (like yesterday and today) I am smiling, listening to music, and getting stuff done. Through all of these days I have the immense luxury of being able to roll with it, listen to my moods, and be kinder to myself than I would "normally".

I am trying to be kinder to myself. All my life, my sense of worth has been based on my ability to be productive. The sweet truth of the matter is that my worth (nor yours) is not based on production numbers or energy output. It's based on the simple fact that we are God's children, created by Him and loved with a completeness that none of us can even comprehend. 

How priceless is your unfailing love, O God! People take refuge in the shadow of your wings. Psalm 36:7

I have no idea what my long-term purpose is. I don't really know WHY God has orchestrated my life in such a manner. I see friends who are (still) married to the person they met 37-odd years ago. I'm not envious of that, they have what God gave them, and I am thankful they aren't enduring the losses of those people.  I wouldn't wish this sort of mess on anyone. I know that God has His own reasons for the things He does and I've seen enough miracles just in my own immediate family to know He's got this, knows what He's doing, and is completely trustworthy.

The Rock! His work is perfect, For all His ways are just; A God of faithfulness and without injustice. Righteous and upright is He. Deuteronomy 32:4

My point is, that here and now, in the midst of grief, a modicum of uncertainty about the future, and the apparent mess of my life, I'm actually doing well. I haven't reached a point of contentment yet, but I'm getting there. I am satisfied that the circumstances of the changes are meant to be, and the results will be good. Some of them already are, with the release from the frustrations of life here for 2 people who were (and still are, really) most central to my life. Knowing that they're happier than humanly possible is a source of immense comfort and satisfaction. It makes me smile between the tears, and converts sorrow into something much gentler- a sadness of missing them, but a peace of knowing it's "see you later". 

*edited a bit later to say this...

All that stuff said, I still pout and get annoyed when I realize there isn't ever going to be a 25th Anniversary Celebration. No 50th Anniversary. I won't be like my grandparents and get a write-up in the paper on my 70th anniversary. I won't sit on the front porch in a rocking chair, holding Himself's hand as we watch great-grandchildren wrestle in the front yard. Capt and I won't get old together and make fun of each other for our wrinkly knees. It ain't happening. Eventually I'll quit pouting about it, feeling sorry for myself, all that. One day. 

What timetable?

 The past several days (weeks, really) have felt like a slow crawl through cold mud. Exhausting, messy, no fun. Even debilitating at times. The weather didn't help. There have been a scattered day here and there, when the sun was shining outside, and that lit me up inside, and things got done. Those days felt really good. 

It made me think hard about this whole process. I went through it The First Time (UGH) but had kind of forgotten about it, the slogging part. The fact is, there is no timetable. There's nothing that says 

Week One: this this and this.

Week Two: that that and that.

After One Month: blah blah

After 3 Months: More blah blah

Granted, there are logistical issues to deal with on a particular time frame. Probably ought to make sure an attorney is consulted, to deal with the will, or if there isn't a will. Probably need to make sure insurances and bank accounts, and stuff that had his name on it is dealt with. Probably should have a funeral or memorial service. Hopefully you know someone who can help you with all that logistic stuff. I had people The First Time (UGH) and consequently knew pretty much what to do The Second Time (UGH). 

But all that stuff aside, there's no time frame for when you should Get Over It. There's no rush, which is a good thing because you probably never will Get Over It. You just get used to it. It's that whole New Normal thing.

I am 3 months apart now, from Capt's passing on. Nearly 8 years from Himself's. There is not a single day that I don't remember Himself. Currently, not an hour without thinking of Capt. And now that they're both gone, I tend to think of them at the same time, with the same sort of wistful reminiscence. I have these pictures of them. One I took of Himself, about 6 months before he left. It's moody lighting, at night, on the patio. He's smoking a cigar, part of his evening ritual after a long day's work...a glass of bourbon and a cigar, slowly enjoyed on the patio. Another of Capt, on the beach, kind of squinting off into the distance, looking at the ocean. Both of them doing something that relaxed them, so I look at those pictures and see them looking content.

I know widows who met someone and began a relationship 6 months after their husbands died. I know some who never entered into a relationship afterwards. I know one who was not fond of her husband and is happier now that he's gone. I know some who loved him so much she felt guilty when she smiled. There's no template for being a widow. It is as individual as the person experiencing it. 

In both relationships there were ups and downs. You can't have 2 people sharing the same lives without that. I have chosen to deal with the loss by remembering the good parts, and knowing we made it through the bad ones. Both times, there was unresolved stuff, and I am sad about not being able to settle it now, but comforted knowing it doesn't matter anymore. Himself and Capt are happy now. They love where they're at and are released from the unresolved stuff, as will I be eventually. I can't hold onto the unresolved feelings and situations. Nothing would be accomplished by that, except my own bitterness and regret. 

So yeah, those weren't perfect and blissful relationships. Who's are? But they were committed relationships, involving people who were determined to make it work, willing to do the work, and loving the person who was working. That's how it's done. That sense of commitment doesn't end immediately upon the loss of one of the people. I still have work to do, and will keep doing it, because I feel like I owe it to them to become the person they saw (most of the time), just as they are finally able to be the people I knew they were, completed and fully perfected. 

So here I am, 3 months later. Still sad and missing Capt. And I'm ok with that. 

*yawn*

Three times now I've started and stopped a post. I've tried to put into words the stuff that's happening, both internally and externally. And I can't. It's too vague. Like mist or smoke. The words are there then they aren't. Gone before I can get them down. I hate that. I've had one really good day recently, with energy and motivation, and stuff accomplished. It felt really good. Then the clouds came back, literal and metaphorical. It's this Winter weather. Rain, cold, then not cold and rain, and more rain. I need some sunshine. In a real and longer-than-a-day kind of way. I want to actually FEEL like getting outside and prepping the garden for Spring, get some things painted, get a red jacket made. But then I get tired. I want to sit down with a cup of coffee and disappear into some form of fiction. A movie, a binge-watching of ER, a good book. Something that ISN'T HERE.

Ah well. This too shall pass. I know it for what it is, and it isn't a permanent situation. At least I don't have small children who need me, or a job that must be done Or Else. Being able to binge-watch is a luxury I am not taking for granted. 

It's the time of year. It's Winter. I can't imagine how I'd be if I lived some place WAY up North with the super short days and blistering cold. I'll have energy come Spring. Things will get done. For now, I do what I can. 

To-do Too-Doo Tooo-dooo

Peace and quiet, that's what I'm hoping for today. I have learned to not bank on things hoped for, especially the little things like a day of peace and quiet, but one can always hope and plan. 

(Plans are meant to be disrupted. Why else would you have kids?)

Many are the plans in the mind of a man, but it is the purpose of the Lord that will stand. Proverbs 19:21

Laundry, maybe some cooking ahead for the week. Sorting through a giant pile of coats, formerly belonging to Capt but he doesn't need them anymore. They'll go to #2 Son, who'll see to it they are distributed to people who can make better use of them than I would. There's still laundry on the floor from last week, clean but I didn't feel like doing anything with it but I needed something from the bottom of the basket and frankly, I didn't feel like folding it and so what. It's my house/life and if I don't want to fold laundry then I won't. To-do to-do dee doo.

All that said, and the sub-surface whining voice that said it, I am attempting to re-start. I've managed to establish a couple of new habits since Capt's passing on, so I know it can be done. I want to set up a couple more, then perhaps eventually get to a place where my life looks like it is approximating one of a person who may actually have a bit of her sh*t together. This place is a mess and I don't want it to be ("place" being more of a metaphysical one than the actual abode...though that's a mess too.)  

That people may know, from the rising of the sun and from the west, that there is none besides me; I am the Lord, and there is no other. I form light and create darkness; I make well-being and create calamity; I am the Lord, who does all these things.  Isaiah 45:6-7

One step at a time, one day at a time.  One of the things my wise-beyond-his-years youngest said was that he is taking his life right now as it comes. Not being foolish with it, but he has figured out that God provides what he needs when he needs it (a job, a place to live, the help he needs) and he's learned to trust Him with all that. It's hard for me to grasp that. BUT YOU NEED A PLAN. WHAT ABOUT SCHOOL?  No, Mom, right now I need a roof over my head, a way to buy food, and to get that car fixed so I can have a way to get around. Priorities, he has them.

Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble. Matthew 6:34

That has made me realize that what I need to to take things a day at a time and not let Life overwhelm me. God has seen to it I have a roof, food, a car, and friends. I don't need to decide right now what I'm going to do next year, even how I intend to live out the next 45 years. I need to decide what I am going to do today. That's all. It's enough.  

The new habits, though, the concepts behind them, there's nothing wrong with that. In fact, they give me a certain feeling of control I haven't had for a while. When Capt died, and I couldn't do anything about it, I kind of felt like everything flew apart. Same thing happened when Himself died. All those plans, wishes, expectations, all flew right out the window and I thought NOW WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO. For a control freak like myself, that was disconcerting. I don't like disconcerting. But the couple of new habits I've been able to develop are ones that are simple day-starting and mind-organizing strategies that have allowed the day to begin focused on what matters, which then allows me to take the unexpected (pipes bursting, can't take a shower, where's the box of pipe fittings) and see them for what they are...inconveniences, not tragedies. Not only that, opportunities for a couple of people in my life to do what they love to do...help someone, fill a day that may have been sad for them and do a good deed. (Thanks, Dad and #3!)

For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control. 2 Timothy 1:7

Merry Christmas, Capt

Dear Capt,

Merry Christmas in Heaven, love! Every day you are right there in the thick of it, celebrating your redemption and the full-on love of Christ. What an incredible gift! You are fully released from the aggravation of being human. I'm so happy for you!

I got some great pics from A and D in the Bahamas....D is wearing your crocs, I know you approve! You are there with them in spirit, and they are remembering you fondly, with steaks and crocs and warm beaches. You'd be so proud of them! 

It's been stupid cold here. Frozen pipes, all the fun stuff. Fortunately, there's people here who can deal with it. I know if you were here, it wouldn't have happened because you'd have known how to prepare. I'll know next time. You know me, I learn through experience and mistakes. I'm glad you're not having to deal with all this. You get to sing and walk a warm beach with your bare feet, and stand in God's warm glory. I am so happy for you! (I said it before and I'll keep saying it. I am so happy for you!)

Love, I miss you. I miss your loud voice and your room-filling presence and your stupid crocs everywhere. I miss your opinions and your company on the front porch in the evenings, commenting on the birds and squirrels and plans for the future. I miss your clothes on the floor next to the laundry basket and the way you'd make up the bed in the morning. The surprise package in the mail- a new cookbook or plant or yet another pair of crocs in some design that caught your eye. The reading glasses that matched the crocs...and how you would get testy when I called your fashion sense "quirky". 

Honey...crocs and reading glasses that match qualifies as quirky. When they both match the boat...I mean...c'mon. 

and yes. I miss all that but you can have all the crocs you want that match the boat. Do you even wear shoes in Heaven? Or need reading glasses? I know you have a boat. You're happiest in a boat, with a Boykin riding along. Miss E is your fishing partner now. Good for you! 

All that said, I miss you. I know you're where you always wanted to be, especially that last 6 months when you were so sick and depressed. I am so thankful you've been released from all that. Really I am. But, I miss you today. I wish you were the one here to keep the pipes from freezing, and fixing the issues that come up. I wish you were the one to say Christmas isn't that big of a deal, why don't we go to the beach instead.  

But, you're not. You're doing more important things. I'm actually pretty much ok. Dad's going to make pancakes if I can blow Eli out of bed. I'm going to plaster on a smile and be thankful for the people I have here. I'm going to think about the wonderful times you and I had, and be thankful for those memories. 

5 short years, you and I had. Not always blissful, but always interesting. 3 fabulous years of adventure and learning, 1 year of COVID bullshit, and 9 months of WhattheHeckisGoingOn doctors visits and, honestly, misery. You couldn't help that. I don't blame you at all. God knows what He's doing and something good will eventually come of it. Through all of it, I loved you, and still do. So...

Merry Christmas in Heaven, love. Enjoy the sand, sun, and Glory.

Joy to the World, y'all

 I'm doing kinda sorta Christmassy stuff. Cookies and all. Looking up cheeseball recipes (as if you really need a recipe for that). I don't feel any regret for not getting more into it all, more a sense of relief for having no guilt over the lack of culturally mandated Christmas Cheer. Normally, when I don't do something the way I expect myself to, I get guilty about it. The personal expectations are really much higher than everyone else's. Maybe it's age. At 57, caring what others think about (whatever) has gone by the wayside. Now? A little bitty Christmas tree, and a warm blanket. That's all that's needed around here. 

That said, I am baking cookies today. Good ol' All-American Toll House cookies are cooling, and soon I'll start Oatmeal of the Quaker Oats- From-the-Back-of-the-Box cookies. Only I add more spice to them. And nuts. I believe in nuts in my cookies. There's also got a can of pumpkin that is looking for a recipe in which to participate. That will require some research. It's fun, this cookie making. They'll all go to assorted sons and their housemates. Goodness knows I don't need them. A couple of cookies with the afternoon cup of coffee and that's it. But the Assorted Sons like them, and it's probably a safe bet they aren't making them. The house sure smells good.

I found a good looking cheeseball recipe, ripe for alterations. Recipes, in this house, are merely suggestions. All I need are the proportions of cream cheese to shredded cheese, and the rest is flexible. Why a cheeseball? Because it's not really Christmas without it. And they're tasty. They're so....I dunno....AMERICAN. Like cocktail wieners in a crockpot, or 7 layer bean dip. Simply yummy stuff, but not fancy or intimidating. No fancy charcuterie or butter board here. Nope. 

Another favorite are cheese straws. I use my great grandmother's recipe, and since I can't recall it right off the top of my head, you'll just have to believe me. Flour, butter, and cheese. Kind of like shortbread cookies only cheese instead of sugar. Roll the dough into a log, and roll the log in something pretty like minced parsley or paprika. If you're brave, ground cayenne. Chill for a while. Slice them into coins and bake. Those things can be problematic because...baked cheese. So good.

I'm not too worried about the whole Joy Joy Christmas Spirit thing. My kids are all grown, and doing their lives, as they should. I reflect on the miracle of Jesus' birth, and why it all happened. What an incredible gift that was/is/ever will be. It's freezing cold today and I have a warm home, a nice smelling candle, a dog who's impatient about getting on the couch, and enough coffee. I had a lovely conversation with my oldest son, and have plans to get the youngest tomorrow. The best part of right now...all my kids are cared for, have roofs over their heads and food on the table. 

The truth of the matter is this...I am blessed beyond all anything I could ever earn. I will see all of my children in Heaven, for eternity....and there is NOTHING better than that. I will see Himself, Capt, my grandparents, parents, all the people who matter to me the most. The sense of relief that comes with that assurance is...well. There's no appropriate word for it. Joy to the World, indeed.

Stream of consciousness

The Setting: The living room of a small house in East Alabama. It's a wintery-cold day, grey and rainy but not committed enough to actually snow.  I'm ensconced on the sofa, heating pad behind me, thick blanket pulled up to my chest. The small, scruffy dog is buried under the blanket, pressing against my left thigh. I forced him to go outside a few minutes ago, and he's pouting. On the table to the right is a stack of partially read books, a jar of pens, a freshly refilled cup of coffee, and a plate of recently re-discovered banana muffins. They've been toasted and buttered.

Sounds pretty idyllic, no? It is. I know that. I am blessed beyond reason. I have a list of reasons to quit feeling sorry for myself, that gets recited when the pity-party becomes egregious. There's the standard stuff- roof over my head, food to eat, the material things that make life comfortable and easy. Chances are, if you're reading this, you enjoy the same things. It's easy to take them for granted, when you have them daily, when you don't have to worry about the next meal, clean water, or a place to live. Complacency is a way of life for a lot of us. Our worries involve other things. The health of a loved one. Our jobs next year. Relationships. 

I was chuckling to myself yesterday. I have this project going right now. I'm going to put shelves up on a big blank wall in my living room. I want my books out. They're my friends and I want to see them. I know some of you understand what I'm saying here. Anyway, part of that means brackets. I spent time yesterday putting up the brackets where I *thought* (key word there...*thought*) I wanted them. Then an hour or so spent looking at them and being dissatisfied. Too close, too busy, yuck. So they were removed and spread further out (after consulting with a building site on how far apart was too far, for the type of shelf) Ok, better. And now there's a BUNCH of BIG holes in the wall, from the former bracket location. I am not disturbed by them, but I know a couple of men, both of whom I've had a very close relationship, who would have had a litter of kittens over the wall damage. Pfft, I thought. That's what spackle is for. A bit of spackle, a dab of paint, and no one will be the wiser and if I don't even do that much, there will be books in front of the holes. The wall is a hot mess, but I'm happier with the spacing of the brackets (also, based on the location of the studs. I'm a ditz but at least I know that much)

One of my sons will be here (from Atlanta) Christmas weekend. I imagine the one who lives 10 miles away will also show up at some time. The other Atlanta son will (Lord willing and the creek don't rise) be here the following weekend. It will be good to spend time with them even though they were here just a couple of weeks ago. Right now, in my season of grief, I can't get enough of time with them. It's such a comfort, especially since Capt loved them so much, like they were his own. I hope it's sunny/clear enough, and the wood is dry, so we can have a fire in the firepit. There's something about doing that. No one complains when they're sitting around a warm fire, especially if their bellies are full of something delicious. 

Christmas Eve is Dad's birthday. He'll be 86, going on 45. When I can, I cook a good meal and it double-duties as his Birthday and Christmas Dinner. That gets me out of having to do anything Christmas Day. This year, I'm planning on doing a Thai curry and rice. He'll like that. In the distant past, when Himself was alive, I would spend the week prior to Christmas making all sorts of snacky stuff, like cheese balls and homemade crackers, dips and sauces and things to heat up in a crockpot. A big pan of homemade cinnamon rolls would be made the night before, to rise in the fridge, and go in the oven first thing. We would snack and graze all day, playing with new toys and games, just fiddling around in our pajamas and doing very little in the way of work. Now, I have no idea what I'll do. Maybe a cheeseball and crackers. I asked Dad to make pancakes Christmas morning, and we'll walk over there. After that, I don't know. We're all adults now, so I'm not sure it matters. Christmas wasn't a big thing for Capt. It has become more about worship, and gratitude for Christ's birth, than anything resembling a cultural norm, for me. 

Isn't it interesting how life forms around the circumstances of the Now. When you're 35 and everything feels settled, you think it's always going to be that way and let's make some traditions. Sometimes those traditions get blown out of the water and you have to adapt to new circumstances. I have tried, in my own way, to keep a couple of my favorite ones going. Whenever we have made a special trip somewhere, a dive trip to Roatan, a week in Key Largo, 10 days on Route 66...I get a commemorative Christmas ornament. I have so many memories tied to a bauble to hang on a tree. Right now, it hurts too much to bring those out. They are in a couple of boxes in the attic. Last year was the first time since Himself's demise that I could look at all of them, the ones my kids made in 2nd grade, memories of assorted trips and events going back to 1986. It was the first time I could combine all of them, from 1986 to 2021, with joy and smiles, without longing and grief. The tree was loaded with those memories and I could tell the story behind each one of them. It was both comforting and poignant. This year, I couldn't even unpack the box. Even thinking about it was a hard NO. Sitting here on my couch, with a silly dog under the blanket over my knees, thinking about it all, I know eventually I'll return to being able to do the stuff that developed over 35+ years of relationship. But for now, I'm ignoring it and working on being able to thank God for what I had, instead of being grieved for what I no longer have. 

(and yes, this post is a little bit stream-of-conscious, but that's the mood I'm in right now)

Right now I'm working on figuring out my place in the world. What are God's intentions for me, how will I recognize them and properly act on them? Why am I here, in this position? I fill the time doing small things. Punching holes in walls while improperly hanging brackets. Patching a friend's pajamas. Eating a muffin. When Himself died, it took about 9 months to get my feet under my legs and start doing a thing. I have plans for Spring, about 8 months after Capt's passing away. Nothing much before then, just little things, busy work. Shelves, sewing, Thai curries. Things that are comfortingly familiar that don't require a whole lot of thought. It is a massive blessing from God that I have the luxury to be able to manage life that way. I am grateful.