I made an on-the-spot decision a few weeks ago to finally deal with the rest of Kevin’s hunting, fishing, motorcycling, golf, outdoor and other guy stuff. I just decided that the day had arrived, and I went into action. That’s one thing about me; it may take a while to finally decide, but when I do, I’m all in!

His things hadn’t been in my way, since the majority of his gear was in one of three attic spaces in the house, so I didn’t have to look at it or work around it. The remainder was stored on a loft I had built in the garage after he died. The problem with enough space is that it’s easy to ignore what you are hanging onto.  As it happens, our neighborhood was having a community yard sale in a little under 2 weeks, so timing seemed right to purge.

It’s been nearly 2-1/2 years since he died. I thought it would be easy enough by now to finally get rid of his things. Unfortunately, it turns out all his stuff – even stuff I didn’t know he had – has apron strings (or in his case, bungee cords) attached to memories. Not only did I have to exert myself physically to drag boxes, tubs, and clumsy chunky things down two flights of stairs, and organize them in the garage, but I got a renewed flood of memories of our years together…and some speculation about him before us. (Some things I didn’t know he/we had, or what they were for, or why we had 3 or 4 or 8 of them!)

The good news is that I was mostly laughing through my tears. When it got too hard, I texted my brother, or called a sister. They had some of the same memories, although from a different perspective.   The motorcycle rides, the camping trips, the holidays, that reunion at the cabin at the lake.  Telling Dad what LLC stood for when we all rode into Welcome that day.  The houses and yards we had designed, refreshed, and lived in,  The discussion of how many guns or fishing rods he needed versus how many pairs of black shoes I needed. The wood carving tools and the smoker grill that were gifts from Buddy and Bo to him on Father’s Day. That day when he put on his blaze orange coveralls and drove my motorcycle home for me after it had a new belt or something put on it, in the snow and freezing cold. The walking stick he had carved, and we were glad we had with us when we came upon that rattler in Nebraska. Golfing and the M&Ms he cajoled me with (I got a handful every time I swung and DIDN’T miss hitting the ball).  The bicycle rides pulling Buddy behind us in a pet Burley. And more.

As I pulled clothes out of Rubbermaid tubs and sorted them on the couch, the dogs pulled them onto the floor or found ways to snuggle up in them and smell Daddy. When I put the cot up in the garage, the dogs immediately wanted up and then found their way straight to the foot of the cot where they napped with Daddy when we went camping. These were the harder tears.  I’m sure that they, too, were reliving memories.

Letting go is painful, and it raised all kinds of questions.  How do you put a price on a memory? What has value? What IS valuable? How much stuff do we really need???  Why have we kept what appears to be junk, or at least stuff we know we do not and will not need (like the kingpin stabilizer thing for the 5th wheel camper we sold almost 4 years ago)? How do you cleanse the profit so it doesn’t feel like blood money and you can spend it with a smile? What am I going to sell that I will want next week, or someday?  How do you reconcile the fact that it’s been 2-1/2 years and you are still crying? What is the difference between “letting go of” and “getting rid of?”

Well, the garage sale came and went. In the end, it was a good feeling to release the physical STUFF.  Then I also decided it was only fair to take some of the same medicine myself, and I have now managed to accumulate four excess boxes of my own clothes, plus one box of shoes and boots.  I called the Viet Nam Veteran’s place, and they are coming to pick it all up in a few days. They will also take the remainder of the things that did not get sold at the garage sale. I truly wish for others who need these things to be able to get them at whatever wicked-good prices the thrift store will determine.

It’s interesting how easy it was to pull my own things off the hangers.  They are all articles I know I can replace easily if I want to.  It turns out I can replace his stuff, too, if I want. I can never replace him, though, and I don’t have to. I still have him and my memories in my heart.

So, the question was about value.  I got more than I bargained for:

• I gained appreciation again, for Kevin’s eye for quality – which included me, right? He chose me as surely as he chose a hunting jacket or a hammer or cot or fancy arrows. 
• I gained miles of smiles as I remembered things I might not have thought of, things for which there are no pictures, things like 3 tackle boxes that brought him fun and peace on the river, and I had good fish to eat as often as I wanted it.
  

  
• I gained the satisfaction of knowing that those kids that bought the decoys will have a ball carrying on the traditions he enjoyed.
• I gained garage space, which isn’t there to fill up again, but the spaces in between what’s left present a clean, organized, clutter-free place that I pass through every day, now without stumbling or squeezing or stepping over. I don’t have to whine any more about all his crap!
• I gained a newfound friendship with my neighbors, people I had seen around but hadn’t really talked to much, but who came over and spent time with me, helping get down a tree stand or organizing the tables, and buying the power washer and chain saw.

All in all, the value was way more than the dollars. Priceless, truly.

I am trying something new today. It is Small Business Week, and the local business incubator is offering free co-working space this week. It’s an alternative to working from my office at home. Theoretically, it offers an energetic vibe and some stimulation because of the various other people present working on their own thing. Theoretically. Because except for two people in the conference room with a closed door, and one in an office with a closed door, the place is as empty as a lot of courthouses on a Friday afternoon. I’m it.

The idea is appealing, and I’ve been thinking and exploring this concept for over a month. It’s nice to have a 30-second commute at home, in jammies if desired, but there is a “real thing” aspect if you go to an office outside the home. Even though it doesn’t offer the company I expected, I have already learned a few things.

First, I brought my old laptop, because the newer one is fairly large and heavy compared to this one. I forgot my mouse, so am having to use the touchpad. Lesson 1, like packing to go on a trip, don’t skimp on what you bring along, especially if it will help you be productive.

Second, expectations don’t need to be high or low. Instead, just keep an open mind. It’s actually aesthetically pleasing here, although a bit contemporary for my taste. I read somewhere recently that creativity is sparked by trying something new – whether it’s a new place, a new view in an old place, a different route taken, a new food, etc. On the way here today, I came the back way, and it was nice and refreshing, driving through residential areas with tree-lined roads instead of taking the fast highway.

Third, it took a while for this computer to boot up. Instead of zipping right to the last-saved place, I had to log in and saw a Dashboard screen I don’t usually see unless I seek it out. Interesting factoid: I have published 100 posts; this is 101. As I scrolled through the archive, I smiled to myself to remember what this or that post was about. Likewise, I am pleased to recognize the forward progress and occasional momentum I have gained on this journey. I have changed, no doubt about it.

One hundred is a milestone of sorts. Our president has been in office 100 days, and there is a bit of news surrounding that. I recently noted I hadn’t ridden my motorcycle “even 100” miles last year. I had a garage sale last weekend, and the $100 bills I have set aside….and I took a few $5’s and $10’s to spend. One hundred degrees for summer temperature is not far off, and there is no dispute that that is HOT no matter where you are.

One hundred one is a new start, a rollover-and-reset for the counter, a next level begun. I’m there. I didn’t know it would be now; I didn’t even see it coming … didn’t set my sights on it at all. It happened. As life does. It goes on. Here I go!

Don’t you just love it when things make total, complete, perfect sense the first time??? Yes, it happened to me again a few weeks ago. I opened myself up to the world of possibilities and what could be even better than this thinking, and sure enough, something better showed up! It happened like this.

My friend Diane loaned me a book, so it’s all her fault – in such a wonderful, good way. Thank you, Diane!!!  And since I’m an “ollin” kind of girl (as in “all in”), I read the entire book in 2 days, called and talked to the author (by accident, but still, she answered the phone!), decided to get certified to teach this concept, and started online classes…again with help from Diane, who just happens to be certified to teach this already. I now have 8 copies of the book, 3 sets of participant materials for my first Beta students, and a level of enthusiasm that I am so happy to feel all the way to my toes. Oh, and I already modified a presentation I gave this week on Effective Communication to incorporate some of these ideas, with some effective results.

The book is The Change Cycle, by Ann Salerno and Lillie Brock. It’s about how to navigate change, and not just survive it, but thrive in the midst and afterglow of a change at the organizational level, too.  Suffice it to say that the book draws on the work of Mazlow’s Hierarchy, Elisabeth Kubler-Ross’s work on death and dying, Bill Bridges’ work on Transitions, and the authors’ own research and experiences initially in South Africa but also in the US for the past 20 years.  They offer that there 6 stages of change, with some predictable and unpredictable responses, and that there are clear, proven ways to help people assess what stage they are in and how to move beyond that to complete the cycle of change.

It’s what I would have said/preached/taught/told people if I was already through all 6 stages as a result of Kevin’s death if I wrote this book. The transition I had to go through since then – and am still going through in varying ways – has been pretty much the very experience described in this book. Like they were flies on the walls of my house for the past 2+ years.  It’s amazing, and comforting, and mysterious, and interesting, and useful.

I keep saying things like I have “turned a corner” in my grief, and I surely have turned many corners.  But one could expect that 4 corners and you’re done.  Not so.  What I have discovered is that the corners are sometimes left and sometimes right, and sometimes just zigzags. This is still progress, and in fact, it’s all part of the predictable process. Who knew?!? This is what I wanted to hear, to know, by about a week after Kevin died…how long this would take, what would happen, etc.

The trick is that not everyone goes through things at the same rate or in exactly the same way. It turns out I am in Stage 4 of the 6 stages, and that is affirming to me. I’m normal, I’m past the “danger zone,” I’m rocking my new life as well as anyone. More than this, though, I was guided through an exercise to help me figure out what my fears are (and yes, I have them like everyone else). It wasn’t what I expected, but it was a revelation. And it immediately made sense to me, and made sense of my last year, and made sense about my future. I know you’re curious what it could possibly be, but let’s just say it’s personal.

Anyway, the point is, I am Solowingnow with winged arms, not leaded feet. I am eager, not anxious. I am throwing the doors wide open, not just cautiously peeking out the windows at my life.  It’s like I drank the Kool-Aid, the good kind, the sweet kind. Best of all, this Change Cycle work allows me to put my own fingerprints all over it, to truly make a Duggan Difference with it.  My friend Karn reminded me today of what I used to tell her: when the student is ready, the teacher will come.  Well, this student is ready, and my teachers came in the form of a friend with a recommendation of a book to read and the book itself.  Interestingly, Diane has referred to this book for the past 2 years, and it’s only now that I was hearing her. Imagine that. I wasn’t ready then.

Couple this with the Access Consciousness studying I’ve been doing and you can see that my energy is flowing, good things are happening, more is on the way, and I’m open to receiving it all.

As for that other change, can you believe that I haven’t had a single night sweat in about a month?!?? And I haven’t even had to get up to pee.  What do you say to that???  Coincidence? I think not.  I think it’s finally the right time.  My time. My turn. My way. Gosh-Almighty, it’s good to be me right now!