Category Archives: Traditions

Going “home” for Christmas

30 Friday Dec 2016

Posted by in Dreaming, Gratitude, Grief, Traditions

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I spent Christmas 2016 in Santa Fe with all three of my adult children and their families, plus some of their extended families (in-laws, cousins), and my brother. I have spent the last three Christmases now with some of my kids, but this was the first time we have all been together in over 2 years, and it’s maybe 10 years since we all celebrated Christmas together.  I am adapting to the holidays without Kevin, but it’s not just about having distractions to keep me from thinking about him.  I found more of me this year, which I suppose is another step along my grief path to the rest of my life .  It was an awesome holiday vacation, and they just keep getting better.

family-2016

I lived in Santa Fe for 17 years as a young woman, wife and mother. We moved there when our daughter was 2 months old, and both of our boys were born there.  I’ve been back a few times since I left over 20 years ago, especially since the youngest son moved back there. When I left, it was a few years after my divorce from my kids’ dad, who still lives there.  I had always struggled to fit in, never quite feeling like I belonged there; not unaccepted but not embraced.  It was always a nice enough place to visit after the divorce, yet I never wanted to move back.  But now I think about it, partly because I have found some peace within myself about that the relationship he and I used to have and the one we have now.  Now I am more sensitive to the shortness of a life span, more aware of what makes me happy, more interested in thinking and being than doing. This trip I even went to see him for a few minutes and wish him and his girlfriend a Happy New Year.  (It wasn’t creepy; she had already given me a Christmas present, and my kids and brother were there also.)  How I feel about him is fodder for another story someday. Suffice it to say that I can now appreciate my own life differently.

Anyway, in these intervening years, I went back to college and completed a both an undergrad and graduate degree. I moved three more times, always for more progressive employment opportunities. I married and buried a second husband. I lost both my parents and a stepmother. I have traveled to nearly all 50 states, and been to Europe, Canada, and Jamaica. I learned how to drive a motorcycle, and I adopted two furry four-legged boys. I have read probably a thousand books. I’m now starting my own business. In other words, I have expanded my world view significantly, reprioritized my life a few times, and changed a lot. I like myself and the life I have created, and I have released old ideas of who I was and what my role was supposed to be. I had more confidence about this visit to Santa Fe than I have ever had.

I

kids-2016

Gabe & Kelsyn, Renae & Andrew, Tino & Jenna Olivia, Ava, Isla, Mayzie, & Nikos

 

always hate to leave my kids and tear up when it’s time to say our goodbyes.  I fantasize about moving to be with them all the time.  I scope out real estate ads and contemplate other job options. I daydream about a Waltons kind of close family (ironically, Waltons Mountain is here in Virginia). I imagine the kids think about it some, too, for me.

 

And then when I get on the plane, I feel myself relax, already anticipating the peace and quiet of my own home, with my own stuff around me, making the mental move back to my regular life. The freedom of not having to be in full-on parental mode and the independence of coming and going as I please without having to be accountable to anyone else.  When I get in the door, I breathe a sigh that comes from deep within and says “you’re home now.”  Is it the lure of Virginia and my house? I don’t think so; it’s my lifestyle. Which is portable. As am I. Portable, I mean. I would bet the kids are also happy to get back to their own lives.

I don’t think I am ready to move, and for sure the idea of packing and doing all it would take to make another cross-country move is daunting. So it’s time for a little transition or compromise of sorts on my part.  One easy thing I can do is to initiate more contact with my kids by phone and email, or preferably by Face-time or Skype. I also can re-evaluate my budget and see about more trips to see them. Although I whined that my flight yesterday left at 6 am, I was home by 2:30 local time, so a bit less than an 8 hour trip door to door. I have driven further than that and not been anywhere! I also introduced a tiny bit more Santa Fe style to the house.

pottery

Acoma on left, Jemez on right

I added a gift piece of Acoma pottery to my little collection that includes Jemez and Santa Clara Pueblo pieces already.  I bought two colorful ceramic light switch covers and installed them.

lightswitch

Lightswitch

And I brought a Native American wool blanket out to my family room so I can enjoy it daily. I can have it all, in a way…it’s not eccentric, it’s just me.

The “reason for the season” reminds us of the goal for peace on earth, which begins with me.  I think I have finally achieved that, or at least I can see it.  I don’t have to GO home again, I take the sense of home with me where I go.  I felt at home there, and I feel that now here.  The best gift I got this Christmas is knowing that.

 

Journaling, again

29 Tuesday Nov 2016

Posted by in Grief, Reading, Sabbatical, Traditions, Transformation

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I haven’t found much immediate comfort when I am in the act of writing in my journal, but I do love to go back later and read whatever I wrote.  I guess it’s a good thing when you think your own life is kind of interesting!  Today is a day for that – the rereading. A few days ago was the 2nd anniversary of Kevin’s passing, and tomorrow would have been his 57th birthday. I still miss him like crazy.

For about the first year after he died, I kept a journal using the guest book from his memorial service. A blank page, though, is not my style.  I could fill it up (and then some) once I got going, but getting started is the hard part. Like many things we want to do, I suppose.  Some days take up a paragraph but some are several pages, and some days I didn’t write at all, and the rest of the time, I kept a factual record of what happened more so than a record of my feelings.  Still, it is good for me to see how much has changed, in me, in my world…or not.

What works better for me for journaling is a fill-in-the-blank kind of format.  A friend gave me one for recording info about my motorcycle trips, and I had one for camping also. Then I found a “Me” journal, similar in format to the other two.  I used that style for a long time. I didn’t write every day… Ha! I actually have gathered 13 years’ worth in only 2 volumes! It turns out if you write as infrequently as I do, you can do, you can get around 6 years in one book. me-journal  journal-sample

Of course, there have been other kinds of journals I have kept simultaneously, so it’s quite possible I forgot about the Me book and wrote in others.  What I liked about that format is that there was the front page to write on with blanks to fill in, and then the back side was blank, so I could write whatever I wanted.  But something was missing, something that could make it more, although I don’t know what more is.

I love stationery shops and bookstores, so as I wandered through them here and there, I searched for a better one, the exactly right one.  No luck – and this has gone on for years!  I wanted one that would help me be more proactive, keep my momentum up, encourage me, instead of just logging memories.  So I made my own version, following the ME format.  I took out the weather report line, and added in a “one thing I’ll do today” line. Then I took out the news report, and added in “what I’m reading or listening to.”   my-journalI also added a line for “I took care of myself today by…”  Since I did mine in an Excel format, I just printed them off and hole-punched them for my Day-Timer.  A few other tweaks here and there, and I have my own almost-perfect journal, albeit still more fact-laden than poetry and prose.  I still don’t write in it every day, but it is helpful when I’m feeling the blahs and blues, because I know when I go back later, I can usually glean some insights from what was going on and how I got in or out of that particular time.

One of the best values I have gotten from keeping a journal is emptying out my brain to make room for other memories, other feelings. I know when I’m “full,” that is different from “my cup runneth over.” When there is too much hanging on, and I can’t think, or can’t stop crying, or can’t move forward, that’s when I really need to put it down on paper and save it for another time, when I’m better able to honor those feelings and gently put them away.

I don’t know how long I’ll keep these journals. I kept a journal during my divorce from my first husband. I dragged it around with me during a few moves from state to state, but somewhere along the way, I tore it up. I maybe should have had a burning ceremony or something more dramatic, but I didn’t. I just shredded it and put it in the trash.  Some days now I wish I had it so I could remember better what my life was like and how far I have come since then.  I do still have old love letters, but that’s not the same.

This Solowingnow blog also has been my journal for the past year, along with other notes and pages here and there. I find it gives me peace to review these posts and also know how far I have come on this sabbatical, and how much I have learned about blogging. It appears I am consistent in my spurts and voids in my writing patterns. But this one is public, so to be sure, it is selective.  And that is one thing I have definitely learned: that it’s okay to be selective, that I don’t have to remember everything, that I don’t have to share everything.  My life is more peaceful when I choose to let certain things go away, or when I actively dismiss them by hitting the <delete> button.  Proof positive that this is MY life, MY way.

Another year gone, another new year starting.  I wonder what’s in store for me now!!

A PMI Lesson about the Election

09 Wednesday Nov 2016

Posted by in Grief, Traditions, Transformation

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The Myth of the 5 Stages of Grief

Those 5 stages of grief most of us are familiar with came from Dr Elisabeth Kubler-Ross about 50 years ago. They were Anger, Denial, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance. What most people don’t know is that they were framed around the idea of a grief resulting from learning that one was dying, not that someone (or something) had died. The concept was then generically applied to all kinds of grieving, and somewhere, somehow, lost in the translation were other feelings and emotions that also occur during grief.  This list includes

  • shock
  • sadness
  • blame
  • forgetfulness
  • guilt
  • searching
  • isolation
  • disorganization
  • forgiveness
  • confusion
  • hope
  • exhaustion
  • recovery
  • adjustment.

These feelings don’t occur sequentially, and they aren’t all necessary for one to fully grieve. Some of them will ricochet and recur. It doesn’t matter if you are grieving the loss of a person close to you, or an idea or dream you had, or plans in the making. Or a presidential term.

Transition

I have been learning about grieving for the past two years since my husband died.  I also learned about the transition time that occurs after the grievable event.  First there must be a letting go of the past, the person, the dreams, a time when our feelings are right at the surface and seem uncontrollable. Then there is a neutral time when feeling are sorting themselves out, searching for answers, trying on new routines, and re-entering the world.  Finally, there is a new beginning. A time of new patterns that stick, new relationships, new ways of thinking, a new normal.  It is all quite subjective, dependent upon the person and the circumstances. Let’s use this model to consider our election yesterday.

Subjective to Objective: a PMI Lesson

One other valuable lesson I learned is how to move from that place where I was stuck in subjective thinking about Poor Me to being more objective re: my future.  I recalled an old method I used from teaching about how to expand my thinking and calm (if not remove) emotional reactions to the situation…eventually. Not everything is positive or negative, pro or con, good or bad, right or wrong.  A great many things just are. They are interesting, or just worth noticing, without labeling. It helped me be open-minded about my new future and changed my attitude, and it took me several months to get to this stage. It really was a turning point to be able to honor my feeling without being attached to them or justify them.  But I was able to finally move beyond wherever I was stuck to a new place or new way of thinking.  It was active, so I could finally really “let go” and anticipate my recovery.

The way a PMI works is that you take an event, and you make an effort to find the good points (Plus), the bad points (Minus) and the neutral (Interesting) points .. neither good nor bad but still there in the mix. When Kevin died, it was hard, but not impossible, to find any good or Plus points: no pain for him, no fear, no expensive medical heroics, no incapacitation.  The bad or Minus points were more obvious: he was gone, I had no companion for dinner or date for New Year’s Eve, he couldn’t see his grandchildren grow up or take them hunting and fishing, my financial outlook was gouged, dog care and home maintenance became new chores for me.  On the interesting side, a challenging task, I was single for the first time in my adult life, perhaps I took it for granted that marriage is best because I was used to it, or that working for an employer or having dual income sources was safer because I had always done it that way. Two steps forward, one step back …is still forward progress.

In terms of the presidential election, I’ll admit that neither candidate seemed all that worthy to me, but they were the choices we gave ourselves. This is important to remember, since in most grief, the choice of loss is never ours to begin with, and that feeling of loss of control or helplessness is often disabling and frustrating.  On the Plus side, we get to vote in this country, and many more people got involved in the election than in the past.  We saw our first serious woman candidate. And the campaigning is over for now. I haven’t tried too hard to find more on this side. On the Minus side, the campaigning brought out the worst in not only the candidates but in their supporters and opponents.  The billions of dollars spent could have been put to much better use for people in need.  The stock market has plunged already. And the list goes on.   But then there is the Interesting side.  It is interesting that the polls and predictions were so far off.  It is interesting that the president-elect’s own party did not stand behind him publicly, yet he won. It will be interesting to see if he can deliver on his campaign promises. It will be interesting to watch how Congress responds to him. It will be interesting to find out who he selects as advisors and cabinet members, or if his nominees will be approved. It will be interesting to see if there is a sustained engagement by the people at local levels. It will be interesting to see if he can win in 4 more years, or to see who the Democrats will support then.

What Next?

This isn’t over yet. I am glad there will be a time of formal transition in Washington. This is a time when the healing begins, when we watch with curiosity, with speculation, and regain our balance.  During this time we also must take care of ourselves, put away any blame for the way it is or how things got this way, and forgive the process if it didn’t give us what we thought we wanted.  We should try and find a way to help instead of hinder the growth that can come from this. It may feel unnatural to bypass our emotional reactions, but in the best interests of our collective future, we must try.

Finally, I have learned from my introspection during this sabbatical of mine that grief doesn’t have to last forever, and love doesn’t have to die…and I mean love for ideals and dreams as much as for people. The opposite of love isn’t hate; it’s indifference. Care as much tomorrow as you do today about what you say matters to you. If you want change, what are you willing to do to make that happen? If you want tolerance, practice tolerance. If you want a voice, act..with constructive energy. Don’t let this election drama be for naught.

The paper chase

29 Thursday Sep 2016

Posted by in Gratitude, Reading, Traditions

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I miss the days of twice-weekly newspapers and once-a-day mail, of photo albums and paperback books.  I’m one of those people who likes to touch and reminisce and ponder and … well, you get the idea. Lately, one of my struggles has been trying to keep track of appointments and notes and receipts and itineraries.  I think I’m on about my 4th or 5th planner system this year. I keep trying to adjust to my Kindle and Microsoft Outlook and Evernote and Contacts.  But when my phone was hijacked a few months ago, I lost my patience.  Call me eccentric or what-have-you, but I have a “thing” for my paper. Paper has a way of slowing me down, thankfully. I don’t need the speed of light or sound or transactions zipping by me willy-nilly.20160630_133826

I like to have pictures up on the walls of my house, not my Facebook wall – pictures that are of my kids or grandkids, or which represent places and evoke memories of good times.  I like to cuddle with a blankie and a book (a real one, not an imaginary one on a screen) and a pillow. I like to flip through my address book and decide who to call today (and remember each place that person lived before this address). I like to look at the bulletin board and immediately see what time I leave for Sioux Falls next week (instead of clicking and searching). And I don’t care that my desk seems disorganized – I know where things are – because I wrote it on pink paper, or it was a small yellow post-it, or it was in the pile by the binders.

I was looking for someone’s phone number the other day. The problem was that it had been kept in my Contacts on the phone that was stolen from my car.  I had only had my new phone for about a month, so hadn’t transferred all the data yet.  Not only did I not have the phone number, I didn’t have the email address either.  I had to call someone else to get the info.

And then there was the email I read on my phone but which got lost in the ether and didn’t sync on my desktop computer, so I forgot to respond to someone who was waiting to confirm an appointment with me.  The grocery store app didn’t work inside the store, so it was useless to me. And it turns out my bank debit card doesn’t tell me my balance like my check register does, so I can spend-spend-spend until it’s too late!

I went to a new grocery store in town – Aldi. It cost $.25 to unlock the chain so I could use a grocery cart! If you didn’t have your own bags (which I did), you have buy them. The clerk is timed on how quickly she can get me through the lane, so I couldn’t bag my own groceries while she scanned; I had to wait until she was done. Then I bagged my own food. It was not a great shopping experience.

And then I had to take the recycling and trash out. For the paper person that I am, I was suddenly aware of how little paper I actually threw away, although I tend to print out what seems like a small tree’s worth of correspondence or research on my computer every week.  Things change fast enough, and I have no control over much of that.  But keeping my lifestyle simple and working for me seems like a small price to pay.  It helps me slow down and stop being in “instant” mode so much.  It could be my age, I guess, but I think it has to with my willingness to consciously remember and appreciate small, simple things.

I have an iPad on my nightstand, a small tablet computer on the kitchen counter, a Wii hooked up to the television, a smart phone, and television used as a monitor for my laptop in the office.  I am not a Luddite and not without adequate technology for when I want or need it.  But there is an itch that can’t be scratched with a swipe or a back arrow.  It’s like chasing a paper tiger. I realize that technology has given us many advantages and time savers – but they are negated when I have to do double-entry or make a second trip or get ambivalent about someone’s story I am seeing but not really reading. 

I’m again fixing my own meals instead of eating out so much, having coffee on the deck in the morning instead of at my desk, reading on the couch with the dogs on either side of me instead of watching television. And I’m sleeping better at night and not feeling rushed in the daytime.  Given my circumstances, I’m living the good life right now.

 

How much do you trust your GPS?

14 Thursday Jul 2016

Posted by in Traditions, Transformation

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Last weekend I went to Pittsburgh for a conference.  I checked MapQuest and was prepared for a road trip of between 335 and 374 miles and 6 hours of drive time, depending on the traffic and the route selected. When I set my GPS (who I call Gypsy), she gave me options of 377 and 380 miles.  Off we went.  She always gets me where I want to go, although sometimes I have to wonder at her logic and what she knows that I don’t know. This turned out to be one of those times I seriously argued with her!

We (me and Gypsy) had gone the first 20 miles when she told me that there was “stop and go traffic ahead.” I could visually verify that; red taillights in abundance and traffic was nearly stopped.  She asked if I wanted to reroute around the traffic, and I said yes.  Big mistake.  She apparently thought I meant take a different route entirely, because we never did get back on that interstate.  I was enjoying the scenic detour through most of Virginia and was okay with skirting Washington DC.  But then I found myself driving IN the mountains of West Virginia, sideways to where I thought I should be.  I ended up on a National Historic Scenic Highway or something, which was interesting, but my trip ended up taking 9 hours and covered 408 miles, at about 35-40 mph!  Which wouldn’t have been all bad if I had gotten to my destination.  Instead, I was somewhere in Pittsburgh but not downtown where I wanted to be. After a few tries at deleting my destination and resetting it, and one phone-a-friend call, I got out my phone and had Google take me the last 15 miles.  Admittedly, I never ran into any road construction or slow downs after the very first one, but Jeez, Louise!

On the return trip, I dubiously set my Gypsy again, and verified the route.  It took me the reverse way I thought I would have taken on the way up, so I was comfortable with that. It  was 380 miles and 6 hours of drive time.

It’s funny that I trust my Gypsy, but not all the way.  Life is like that, too, I guess.  I mostly trust people until they show me they can’t be trusted. I trust some brands and not others, based on my own experience, but occasionally taking someone else’s word for it.  And I start out trusting something, like Gypsy, but then if she takes me somewhere and I think I know better, I will just not follow her directions.  She tries and tries to get me to “make a legal U-turn,” but only until I shut off her guidance.

Why is it so hard to trust – to give up control and just go with the flow? It is interesting to me that right after Kevin died, I seemed to trust everything, but in retrospect I wonder if it was just apathy? My internal GPS didn’t care enough to battle for control. I was too tired to fight the good fight.  But now that I am adjusting to my new life, I find myself arguing with a computer in my car, defiantly not taking an exit she wants sometimes. Is it because I want my life back in my own hands again? Is it because I have now changed and I don’t care what others think – even if the other is a computer? Is it because I value my time more now and don’t want to do this joy ride when it is going to mean less time with my friends? It’s something to ponder.  A road trip with no destination in mind and the purpose of which is clearly to just go where the road takes me is not the same as having an end point and time in mind. I’ll take my motorcycle when I want to wander. My Gypsy is on a time-out for now.

How about you? Do you argue with your GPS? Do you follow it faithfully? Maybe you rely on paper maps? Or do you only go where you have been before? I’d like to hear what you have to say, and to know I’m not the only one….

 

Dragonflies

27 Monday Jun 2016

Posted by in Traditions, Transformation, Uncategorized

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There is a story about a woman grieving the death of her daughter, or maybe it’s the other way around. Anyway, the one asks for a sign that the other is okay in heaven, and her yard is suddenly filled with dragonflies – which the other one had loved. It was the sign.

This story (or a version of it) was told at the funeral of my mom Elsie in 2002. At the church, it was just a nice story. Until we got home later that day.  My brother pulled open the drapes to let in some sunlight, and there near the window, behind the drapes, was a dragonfly wind chime my mother must have put there. (Sidebar: my mom didn’t really like wind chimes; she thought they were noisy.) This discovery caused all of us to pause for a bit, each of us remembering the story told at the funeral.

Since then, dragonflies have become a “thing” in our family.  At last count, I had about 58 of them in or around my house, depending on whether you counted a string of lights as one or as 10, and decorated flip-flops at 2 or 20 (I did not count in 10’s and 20’s.). Since then, most birthday gifts and often the Christmas gifts have some dragonfly motif on them – for everyone in the family.

I recently came across an article about the symbolism of the dragonfly.  In almost every part of the world, it symbolizes change, the kind of change that is about the deeper meaning of life. Dragonflies also represent power and poise, because it is so agile and can move in all six directions (up, down, forward, backward, and side to side). A dragonfly can fly faster than my old Schwinn scooter could run (45 mph v. 30 mph).  And a dragonfly represents simplicity because it is so effective and efficient in how much power it uses (compared to other insects) to what it does – and with graceful movements at that.

Because of their short lifespan (only a few months), it seems to me they really excel at living in the moment, moving away from and toward their desires with 360* insight. Ah, the wonderful, beautiful dragonfly.

I thought of it more than usual today because I have been working on some tedious details of the new business, but when I went out to get the mail, I had an escort of dragonflies. They t20160627_170628old me to slow down, to remember the dance, to smell the flowers. They will take care of moving in six directions at once; all I have to do is watch them.

It’s satisfying – it’s calming -it’s …. it’s important and it makes me feel good to be welcomed by my dragonflies wherever I go. And to have my kids or grandchildren or nieces or other family stay connected to me and each other through our dragonflies. Once in while, we all get the same gift with the dragonfly on it, but sometimes they are all different, as we are different, too. It’s a game to find one the others don’t have, or that they would love. We, too, beyond the surface and look deeper into our relationships and other aspects of our lives. The amazing dragonfly, whose gifts come with age and maturity, keeps us mindful to live without regrets.

What do you share with  your family that keeps you connected, even when things change? What have you kept over the years, to remind you of your connections? Do you keep them out where people can admire them, or are they tucked away for your eyes only?

Pieces of the Grieving Process

20 Monday Jun 2016

Posted by in Grief, Traditions, Transformation

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Yesterday morning I made myself some pancakes for breakfast. As I got out the plate from the cupboard, I was suddenly struck by the blah-ness of that plate.  I have used these plates for about a year and a half. Guess what happened a year and a half ago?? Yes, you guessed it; I started the next phase of my life.  I used to have these very pretty plates that I worked hard for, and I mean worked. I wanted them but didn’t want to pay the retail price, so I took a job selling Princess House products to earn them. It took me about a year to buy the full set and the stainless steel pots and pans, plus a few pretty bowls (I love big bowls!).  BTW, both sets of dishes are PH.

A few days after Kevin died, for some reason (subconscious, I’m sure), I put the pretty plates away and began using the clear glass plates and cereal bowls.  In fact,  I have never really liked the clear plates since I got those.  I can’t imagine buying a set like that now.  Anyway, before my pancakes got cold, I pulled the pretty set from where they had been stored and replaced the clear ones in the cabinet.  I am sure my pancakes tasted better! I know I felt better.

I had just finished breakfast when my phone rang, and it was a long-time friend of mine. Josie lost her husband Mike after a very quick diagnosis of pancreatic cancer in January of 2000, so 16 years ago.  I told her about the dishes, and she said, “Oh, Pat, I did the same thing!”  She said she sat at the table and cried one night shortly after Mike’s funeral, and it was because the dishes reminded her of Mike. She put them in a box and the next day went and bought a new set of dishes she has used ever since. We laughed over that, wondering what it was about the dishes. She has not regretted getting rid of her first set; I just put mine away in the bottom of the cupboards.

Later on I went upstairs for something and glanced at my bed.  It’s the same bed we shared, and I haven’t even changed the quilt, although sometimes I flip it over when I’m too lazy to wash it and so buy me a few more days. Oddly, I sleep on his side of the bed now, but when I’m in another bed in a hotel or at my sister’s, I sleep on “my” side. And I park on my side of the driveway still.  I sit at my same place at the dinner table. I sit at the same end of the couch when watching a movie. And I use my same sink at the double-sink vanity in the bathroom. But I gave away his recliner, his truck, and his boat, and I sold his motorcycle.

Why do certain things affect us the way they do, and others don’t? I can’t say.  Why do some things strike us as appropriate or inappropriate, acceptable or unacceptable, or necessary or unnecessary in the early days of our grief…and then shift again later (or not), as we move along in the grieving process and on through the days. This grief is a bit mercurial. I’m just glad I can laugh about it now. And I am okay with not having the answers. I just like noting that it is what it is.

Do you have a dish preference above? It’s okay either way; I’ve made up my mind which one I’m using, so I’m not looking for advice or agreement. I’m just curious.

 

The ties that bind

13 Friday May 2016

Posted by in Grief, Traditions

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One of the more difficult realities after a spouse passes away is the level of familial relationships that are retained or maintained or just fall away. It’s not the same as a divorce, where both spouses are still around and often friends or family are pressured to take sides.  But especially in a second marriage, where there was a divorce previously, there are some occasional awkward times that can grow more uncomfortable as times goes on. In my case, there are also miles between us, making it easy for all of us to neglect our relationship.

dfamilywedding

I’ve been through my own divorce, and that of my parents also. So I know something about this.  I was fortunate that in the care of my parents, there were so many other intertwining ties that family events involved many of the same people anyway.  I’d have to say I actually had a good model for how to stay on friendly terms with the rest of the family afPapa Duggan and Laylater the decree. If Kevin and I had divorced, there is no doubt I’d never had a continuing relationship with his kids. We just were never on the same plane.

But a death adds a layer of complexity, especially when the children are his and hers, and are mostly adults already Kids k funeralwhen you get married.  And you live at least a thousand miles away…or a few hundred anyway for about half  of the time, so physical contact is nil.

It’s hard to know what my role is at this juncture – nearly 1-1/2 years later. There is not much contact of any kind between his kids and me, or for that matter, between his brothers and me. I do talk with his Mom about once a month or so.  Now the first one of his kids is getting married.  The uncles and grandma are not planning to attend the wedding. Kevin should be (and would want to be) represented at the wedding, and he will be there in spirit and in the brother and sister and niece and nephew of the bride.  No matter what, I know it won’t be the same for the bride to not have him there.

And I won’t be there either. It’s unfortunate timing that I’ll be near there just two weeks before that for graduations of my niece and nephew.  Yesterday, I was asked if I  would be attending the wedding, and I said I felt like I was really just someone they used to know, since there hasn’t been much communication between us at all.  When that made its way back to the bride, she contacted me and said that although we hadn’t been close, she never thought of me as just her dad’s wife.  She said she thought I was “the most amazing spouse for my dad and now that he’s gone that means more to me than you will ever know. I feel so at peace knowing that he left this world a happy man and we have you to thank for that.” So yeah, I’ve been crying for the past two hours over that. Just when you think you’re about to move on, you find you’re about to step into some quicksand.

So if it’s true what Neale Donald Walsch said in Conversations with God (and I believe it is true), that the only reason to do anything is as an expression of who you are, the question I must ask myself is, do I cut these ties that bind, or do I mend the edges that are frayed?  It’s not about what they will think, or even what I might want them to think of me.  It’s about how do I see myself in this relationship, and how do I express that?  I have offered to meet up with them when I am back for graduations, and at least the bride has accepted. It’s a start.

 

Re-entry into my life

25 Thursday Feb 2016

Posted by in Grief, Traditions

≈ 1 Comment

 

From last camper

I grew up camping, with 3 sisters, 1 brother, our parents, and a very small camper.  When I got older, I would go tent camping with girlfriends in high school, and eventually with husband #1 (and 3 children). The n there were years when the only thing close to camping was a hotel room, until I met husband #2. We tent camped, went to a small travel trailer, then to a nice 5th wheel.  We explored South Dakota, where we lived; Saskatoon, Canada; Lake of the Ozarks, Missouri; Black  Hills; Badlands of both North and South Dakota; county parks in Minnesota; and many state parks in South Dakota as well.  We sold our 5th wheel when we moved to Virginia, thinking we’d get another one once we were settled here.  We hadn’t gotten around to that yet when Kevin died. I wasn’t sure I was up for camping solo after that.  But that was then, and this is now.

One of the things you do when you are grieving, when you are starting to remember, is to choose happy times. We had so much fun making memories camping, from when the water heater started on fire, to the rhubarb pie we forgot on the table when it rained, to going to the theatre because it was raining, to Gabe slicing his foot with an axe chopping firewood, to Donald’s motorized margarita maker, to the turtle that didn’t’ make it across the road in time, to stunning sunsets, and great fish fries.  Oh, and the time I tried to make tangerine yogurt.  Or when Kevin cracked the camper on the immovable yellow post at the gas station, to losing the tv antenna because we forgot to put it down, and on and on and on.

There were also such peaceful times when he would go out fishing early and I would get to sleep I late, meander along trails with the dogs, being mesmerized by the campfire, and reading a good book.  No worries.  True R&R.

Camping was one of our very favorite things to do.  The first summer we had our first camper we went out 11 weekends. I don’t think we slowed down much until we got to Pierre and everything was 2-3 hours away instead of 1/2 hour to an hour. On a weekend, that was a big difference.

So I started thinking about it again recently. I wondered if I would enjoy it by myself (well, me and the dogs).  I went to RV shows, I researched campers online, visited a few stores. And then I found the one.  I brought her home today.  I admit I was freaked out when I pulled out of the dealer’s place this afternoon, but it didn’t take long for me to get comfortable behind the wheel.  Backing it in the storage lot between a utility trailer and a pop up camper was challenging, but also exhilarating when I did it.  That’s progress!  I even got it unhitched without too much trouble.  Thanks to my friend Diane for her help. I’d still be there if it wasn’t for her.

This whole adventure signals to me that I am well on the mend from my grieving days.  I am truly “solowingnow,” getting on with my life, refusing to sit home alone in silence or deny myself the pleasure of activities I used to enjoy.  I know it won’t be the same as when Kevin was with me, but I also know I am capable, ready, and willing to take a few more risks, meet some new people, and make new memories.

It’s a Summerland 2020, and it sleeps 3.  Hint: that means I still have room for at least one more camping buddy, or two if they are very friendly, or if one takes the floor. And we might have to share the dogs. I am excited to get started!  I have almost all the camping “stuff” from before, so it’s a matter of time to get it all down from the attic and see what I need this time around. I suppose it’s possible the next RV movie will be about me, but let’s hope it’s not quite that eventful.  Just a way to re-enter the world on my own terms.