My Chapter Two

OK, don't go getting all excited.  

I don't have a new man in my life. 

You see, in the widowed community, Chapter 2 refers to a new love or remarriage after loss. I know of some really beautiful Chapter 2s.  And it seems that most all of my not-yet-repartnered widowed friends want a Chapter 2 in the physical form. Not all want to remarry, but they want and need to have love in their lives again.  I get that … I just don’t want that.

So if they can be happy and fulfilled with their Chapter 2s - while still holding their lost loves in their heart - shouldn't I be able to do the same even though I choose to not date or remarry?  Yes, I think so.

My Chapter 1 was oh so beautiful and amazing, but it ended when my Vern died.

I don't want the end of my story to just be an appendix.

I want my own Chapter 2.

And I think I can have a pretty darn good one with just Dianne ... getting to know her better, accepting her flaws, appreciating her strengths, exploring new things, traveling, creating, being kind, sharing, learning, growing, loving.

I was asked to be a teacher in Brave Girl University last fall, to focus on mentoring widows. I was so honored and excited … and yet I still haven't submitted my classes. A big fail on my part. My insecurities, feeling 'less than' when looking at all of the other teachers and courses, being uncomfortable seeing myself on a video, thinking that no one will be interested in what I have to say, afraid of failing ... oh yeah, I've beaten myself up over this. And just when I had a course ready to submit, my laptop crashed and burned and I lost it all. Was that a sign I should throw in the towel?  I thought so for a bit, especially when someone else submitted a course nearly identical to what I had prepared and lost.

But then I realized that I do have something to share. I've lived this life. The caregiver years, Vern's death and these years alone. And I have a different perspective from many on how to face these ‘alone’ years. What I've experienced may help someone else, may give them hope that they will survive their own heartbreaking loss. And if even just one person needs it, then it will be worth it. So I’m back at it.

I wanted to come up with a name for this endeavor - a brand of sorts to wrap all of the things I'm doing under one umbrella: this widow blog, Brave Girl University, Grief Diaries, Soaring Spirits, a new blog for my ‘alone’ life, positive stuff.  Each time I’d come up with a possibility and check it out on Google I’d find multiple others had already thought of it. And then this morning Chapter 2 popped into my head.  I Googled it (adding the word widow to the search) and everything referenced dating and remarriage. But there weren’t any Facebook pages or blogs with that title. 

So there it is … My Chapter Two (or perhaps My Chapter, Too?)

I’m on a mission to create a new – or enhanced – definition of what that can mean for widowed folk. Something like:

Finding their life’s purpose and fulfillment

after the loss of their beloved spouse/partner

Stay tuned ….

P.S.  If you'd like to check out Brave Girl University, use diannewest as your coupon code and you'll get a FREE 30-day trial!  Just go to http://my.bravegirlsclub.com/, click on "Enroll in Brave Girl University" at the top of the page and insert the code.

https://www.amazon.com/author/diannewest
http://www.griefdiaries.com/
http://www.soaringspirits.org/

I have a dream ....

I decided to change my Facebook cover photo to a Martin Luther King quote today and as I looked at the many options it was quite easy to decide which one to use.

This quote takes me back to 1969, my senior year in high school. I was Class President and Salutatorian and had to give a speech at my graduation in mid-May. I met with my favorite teacher to talk about possible topics for my speech and he suggested basing it on this quote. It worked perfectly. That teacher? Yep, it was Vern West. He didn't come to graduation and I didn't expect to ever see him again.

But I did.  And my life was changed forever.

Whenever I think back to that summer of '69 I am utterly amazed at how it all just fell into place. True serendipity. So many little things that happened just the way they needed to happen for us to find one another. And we grabbed hold of it instead of letting it slip away.

I had a dream ... my life with my forever love. And while it ended sooner than I wanted, the reality of it was so much more than I could ever have imagined.

So perhaps there's still a dream left in me. Oh, not for a new love. I truly am not at all interested in that. Perhaps the reason I spend so much time seeking and doing and exploring new things is to put me into places where serendipity can once again work its magic to produce something beautiful. A 'garden' of some sort filled with love and hope and kindness and happiness.

I have a dream .... how about you?

It's all about the LOVE

The week leading up to my wedding anniversary was a tough one ... lots of emotions ... both good and bad ... plenty of triggers.  Ups and downs.  Good news, bad news.  Life.  And melancholy became my companion.

Where was the excitement to work on my anniversary random acts of kindness (RAKs)?  It was such a joyful experience last year to share flowers and donuts and balloons at the hospital. But the thought of entering a hospital this week just became more than I thought I could handle. 

And then I ran into Dr. Gollard, Vern's oncologist, at Starbuck's. It's been nearly 5 years since Vern & I last saw him. I hesitated approaching him, but was encouraged by my friend (thanks, ML). I introduced myself and thanked him for the care he gave my husband - and he immediately said "Vern, what a kind man" and followed it with "Ohio State". He remembered!  Those two drove me nuts talking football at appointments when I was anxious to hear blood count numbers and stats and progress. But Vern loved him because of those conversations.  

And thinking about that short little conversation helped me to recognize how important it is to me that Vern be remembered. And why I include his name on our anniversary RAKs. They are a physical reminder of the love we shared, the love we continue to share. So I got out my stencils and pens and ink sprays and the little RAK cards my friend Laurie gave me and got to work.

But what to include inside these 50 little envelopes? What could make a difference?  And then I came across the More Love Letters website:  http://www.moreloveletters.com/   And I knew what to include.  

It's really that simple.  It's what the world needs more of.

So I began writing little love notes to anonymous people. I've joined the More Love Letters team and will be writing love letters regularly, but these little anniversary RAKs will just have a few important words for whoever finds them:  you are loved, you are beautiful, you can do this, you are amazing.  

And that's the thing ... I don't need to deliver them to a hospital. That was the right thing to do last year, but not this year.  I can place these in any number of spots ... tucked in with the canned goods at the grocery store ... dropped in a bin at Target or Hobby Lobby ... handed to the drive-through kid at McDonald's ... tucked inside a book at the library. Ready and waiting for whoever is supposed to find them.  

So I'll admit this here ... I did not distribute my RAKs yesterday. I spent the day in the house, with the blinds closed, in my jammies. All day. It was what I needed to do on that special day this year. Self-care. Yes, it's been nearly 5 years since my Vern left this world. But don't you dare say I should be 'over it'. I will miss him and the love we shared until the day I die. And it's OK. Really, it is. I'm not depressed. I'm living my life. I'm doing some really, really good things. These melancholy days just drop by every now and then - especially from August 23 to September 22 each year - and I must respect them. Remember them. Remember him.

Fill your cup

Becoming a widow changes us. Quite an understatement, eh?

While most of the changes we experience are difficult ... the grief, sleeplessness, tears, financial issues, being the only parent, loneliness ... there are actually some changes that could be considered positive.

And one of those is our expanding empathy.
We know more now.
Granted, they are things we wish we didn't know ... but there's no turning back the clock.

We've seen and experienced things non-widowed people have not. And it allows us ... almost forces us ... to reach out and identify with our widowed sisters and brothers who come after us.

Now I've always been pretty empathetic - even before Vern became ill. But after he died, it seems my empathy level ratcheted up pretty high. Probably at a rather unhealthy level.

And doing all of the volunteer work that I do for Soaring Spirits ... well, let's just say I have hundreds of opportunities every single day to feel the pain of my widowed family.

And sometimes it gets the best of me.
My heart actually hurts.
Sadness envelopes me.
A heaviness overwhelms me.
I want to just climb into bed and shut the world out.

These past few days have been hard ones. Shocking and devastating news has rocked our widowed community. A young widow experienced her second loss when her fiance died. Another young widow lost her husband's brother in a violent tragedy. I went to the hospital to visit a member of my local widow group and found her in ICU and intubated. And I feel. it. all.

I guess the point of this blog post is the importance of self-care. We need to recognize when our cup is empty. When we cannot do one more thing until we do something - whatever that might be - that fills our cup.

I thought I had hit that point today after my visit to the hospital (the same hospital my Vern was in when hospice became our only option). Instead, I went to lunch with a friend. And had some laughs with my son. And had a wonderful online chat with a dear Widowed Village friend who has found some new happiness.  And my cup filled. Without me curling up in a ball alone in a dark room.

Our wedding anniversary is this Sunday. It would have been #46. I will once again do random acts of kindness to honor him and our love. 46 of them. And I will do 2 more for a couple of my widow friends, to honor their loves. I think my cup is going to get much larger on Sunday.

Lights! Camera! Action!

Well my Amazon Prime order has arrived, so it's time ... time to face my fears and try doing a video. I ordered an inexpensive tripod (so I can shoot further away and a little above me (cuz I've been told that is more flattering LOL) and a cool little bluetooth device that allows me to start and stop the video from where I'm seated.  Who knew?  I sure didn't.

But since I agreed to join Brave Girl University, it's something I have to do ... and soon. I'm still struggling with all of this, but I believe opportunities are dropped in our path for a reason and we must be listening ... and brave enough ... to follow where they take us. So I'm working on some content and will do some video intros and see what comes of it all.

If you'd like to save a spot to find out what BGU is all about, just click on the link below this photo and it should take you to a page to leave your email address that links to me if you should decide to sign up for BGU.

Dianne's link to Brave Girl U

Yes, that means some $$ could come my way if anyone signs up using my link - but that is not why I'm doing this. We reach a lot of widows through the Soaring Spirits programs (Widowed Village, Camp Widow, Widow's Voice), but there are so very many who never find us, who don't find a group that can support them during their grief.  While most of the Brave Girls are not widowed ... unfortunately, many will be one day ... or someone they care about will become widowed. So my little corner of BGU will provide them with a space to connect with others, to learn that they are not alone, to find their tribe. (And I have committed to donate any funds I receive to Soaring Spirits International. One more way I can give back to an incredible organization that helped to save me.)

I am not a fan of being photographed and usually shy away from it whenever possible. So this video thing is a really, really big deal for me. Can't say conquering some of my insecurities about how I look was on my bucket list, but I guess it will be a good thing for me to have in my pocket.  Ok ... time to tackle this video thing.  Wish me luck!

I Can & I Will

http://bravegirlsclub.ontraport.com/t?orid=111&opid=2 

Oh boy - I said yes ... and now the self-doubt has settled in pretty hard.

There are so many incredible teachers offering their existing classes and creating new classes for Brave Girl University (BGU) ... that part is pretty darn exciting. I'm already a subscriber to the Brave Girl Soul School, so that means that starting September 1st I'll also have access to all of these other classes at no additional cost!  Pretty awesome!

But seeing all of these amazing people share that they will be offering classes in BGU is really intimidating.  They have a following. They already have a presence in the Brave Girl/online art community.  Where do I fit in?  I'm not an artist.  I don't have any existing classes.  Can I do this? Will what I offer be of any value to anyone?  Sigh.

Where is my guy when I need him to boost me up and tell me I can do this?  Oh yeah ... he died ... and that's the only reason I've been asked to participate in this new adventure.

So enough of this not feeling good enough stuff. I'm a Brave Girl. I'm a widow. I'm a survivor. I have valuable resources to share with my widowed friends.

I've ordered a tripod and microphone for my iPhone. I've kept a notepad with me constantly to write down ideas and thoughts ever since that initial contact from Melody. I won't try to be like the others. I won't do any comparing. I will just share what I've learned along this road that has taken me from devastating grief to a new life that has purpose. I will share my heart and soul with the widowed community I love. And make sure they know that they are not alone ... in what they've experienced, how they feel, how others treat them, the struggles they endure every single day.

Yeah ... I can do this.
I CAN & I WILL!

Opening a New Door

To be honest, I wasn't entirely confident it was the right time for me to retire, but I now have no doubt whatsoever that it was absolutely the right time. I've been busy! Too busy for a job!

Lots of traveling - Camp Widow in Tampa, a beautiful Florida wedding of two dear widowed friends, Sister Camp in the Ozarks, Handmade U in Nebraska, Whimsical Women in Costa Rica. Mixed in there was some heavy work updating the Widowed Village website and moving 2500+ blogs from the Widow's Voice site to the new Soaring Spirits website, along with the monthly postings of all of our regional group meetings on two websites. I was so busy, it didn't feel like I was retired at all.

And that concerned me.

I had the Camp Widows in San Diego and Toronto to prepare for and attend, but the second half of 2015 was going to be much quieter. Would that be a good thing for me? Would I revert back to the cocooning I used to do on the weekends?  I wasn't sure.

And then I heard from Melody Ross ... yeah, THE Melody Ross, Brave Girl extraordinaire!!!  And she wanted me to join her new adventure BRAVE GIRL UNIVERSITY as a mentor/teacher for widowed Brave Girls.  If you know me really well, you know my self-confidence could use some work. So having Melody seek me out felt really, really good. Could I do this? I think so. Did I want to do this? YES!

The package with all of the details arrived the day before I flew off to San Diego for Camp Widow. Initial course content is due August 15. I don't have a website, I don't have any prepared content. Is this even possible? So I asked Melody & Kathy if there was any wiggle room to have my content come on after the September 1st debut. And they said 'yes'!

Brave Girl University (BGU) is going to be amazing. It will include Melody's Soul School courses along with the addition of an incredible community of teachers offering their art and life classes. If this piques your interest, please click on the photo below to 'save your spot' to see what is in store on September 1st. No obligation by clicking and adding your email address; it will just show that you learned about BGU from me. I hope you'll join me there!

A Lesson Learned

My little pity party yesterday has given me yet another life lesson.

When searching for the meaning of Pura Vida to include in yesterday’s blog, I also came across this one:

Pura vida! Means that no matter what your current situation is, life for someone else can always be less fortunate than your own. So you need to consider that maybe...just maybe, your situation isn't all that bad and that no matter how little or how much you have in life, we are all here together and life is short...so start living it "pura vida style".

I almost used it, but decided to go with the other, shorter, one.  It wasn't long after posting my blog that I received an urgent message from a Widowed Village friend that there was a new person in distress in the chat room. So I hopped on over there.

… and there was the lesson.

After things settled down, it was a real smack upside the head moment for me.  I can’t reveal the particulars, but less fortunate?  By miles.  And then I spent some time in Widville reading blogs and posts and got even more of those ‘smacks’. 

OK, Lord, I heard ya.   My “situation isn’t all that bad”.

And with His help I will be able to tackle each of the things that took me down this week.  A family issue,  my health, my age, the house, the mess, the feeling I’m being cast aside in a certain area of my life that I’ve devoted a lot of time to … yep, I’ve we’ve got this.

Pura Vida!

If you follow me on Facebook you know that I spent 10 days in Costa Rica last month. What a beautiful country ... fabulous resorts, gorgeous beach/ocean, spectacular rain forests, amazing waterfalls, beautiful people. I traveled alone, but met up with others who were attending an art retreat there. I ate some meals with them, ate some alone, enjoyed the retreat and took some tours ... a sunset sail and snorkeling (first time for me!), Blue River, Monte Verde cloud forest, Palo Verde National Park, Arenal volcano rain forest.  A simply amazing experience where I felt Vern right alongside me all the way.

Pura Vida! ... I couldn't tell you how many times I heard or uttered those words.  (And not just because it was the name of the drink I most enjoyed at the hotel.)  The words literally mean "pure life", but it goes beyond that. It symbolizes the idea of simply enjoying life and being happy ... ah ... sounds so easy, eh?  But it was ... there.  Not so much ... here.

I returned home to some drama, a massive volunteer project, a messy house, overgrown yard, house issues.  Aaacckkk!!!  The thought of running back to Costa Rica definitely crossed my mind.

But I stayed, of course.

And here I am 3 weeks later and I’m in a funk. Haven’t been feeling great, not eating properly, not getting things done, tears popping up easily. And I spent most of the past two days just laying in bed, doing nothing, letting some crazy thoughts take root. Feeling I want to just hunker down as I did those early months. Wrap myself up in my little cocoon and keep the world away.

I know that’s not the healthiest way to deal with … ok, I’ll say it … depression … but it has worked for me before. The difference now is that I know I will be ok. I just sometimes need to give myself this little break. Close myself off by just not being available to always saying 'yes' to whatever is asked of me. Because I know I can't say 'no'.

So today I did not attend my local regional group meeting (I'm sorry, Rose, Ann, Lupe). Instead, I took my cup of hot tea out to the pool. Sat down on the edge and stuck my feet in the water. Opened up the lovely Bella Grace magazine and gave myself the gift of peace. 

... until I looked closer at the pool and realized the in-floor cleaning system wasn't working and it desperately needs a replastering and weeds have taken over the backyard, too. More things to add to the to-do list.  Sigh.

And then a mockingbird decided to start chattering ... and that reminded me of how much Vern loved those birds ... and that brought tears because he should be here.  A good ol' downpour. Guess that is what I needed because I did feel better after.

I've 'mostly' stayed offline today. I've worked a bit on my Bible journaling and some artsy stuff and then decided it was time to write a blog. It usually helps me to put this stuff in writing and just be done with it. 

My life is good. And I'm ok. I know I am lucky to have a paid-off house and a pension check, unlike so many of my dear widowed friends. I am grateful for what I have. But sometimes ... just sometimes ... I get so tired of having to always be the cheerful one, the positive one, the put my troubles aside one, the whatever anyone who reaches out needs one. It's who I am and I know I can't change that. So today I'm giving myself a gift. In the words of my favorite Brave Girl class ... I am closed for restoration. Today is all about me.  Dianne will return tomorrow ... or maybe Monday.

It's May ... again

It's May ... and, as has happened each year since Vern died, melancholy envelops me. This year it hit me with an overwhelming exhaustion, and I recognized the trigger.  Nine years ago today (9 years?!) we heard the word 'cancer', with surgery the next day, the bleed-out, a big mistake in the OR, followed by 4+ oh-so-hard cancer years. May brings remembrance, questions, what ifs, should haves.

And perhaps this year's melancholy includes a bit of post-retirement loss, too. I said often during my final weeks on the job that I didn't expect to be remembered, that it's normal that work goes on when someone leaves and they are forgotten. I guess I wasn't quite as prepared for the 'forgotten' piece as I thought I was.

I choose to put on the brave, positive public face and do my grieving privately. I'm traveling, I'm co-leading a local widows social group, doing LOTS of volunteering for Soaring Spirits International, taking online classes, attending women's retreats. All good stuff. Really good stuff. But regardless of all of the activity and the passage of time, I still miss him. Miss the life we had. Miss the life we should be living together right now.

In an effort to "one day ... find myself alive again" - I was blessed to attend two retreats last month that filled my soul and connected me to loving, beautiful, creative women. As I enjoyed the beauty of the Ozarks and the Nebraska farmland, I felt Vern with me. Seeing the beauty through my eyes. And that brings me peace. As I prepare to head to Costa Rica this week, a trip we thought we would do together one day, I know he would be proud of most of the things I've done during these past 4+ years spent alone. I truly believe that living my life well honors him. So "I will survive until I survive".

Retirement Thoughts

Yep ... that's me ... a retiree. Today.  Wow.

I've felt pretty 'giddy' these past couple of weeks as I've weeded out piles of stuff collected over the years and counted down the days. But today was a little bit hard. Felt weepy when I woke up, tears on the way into work. Decided to make a stop for coffee to get myself together before venturing into the office. And then I realized it wasn't leaving the organization I've worked for these past 29 years that had me tearing up. It was that Vern is not here to share this important milestone with me.

We had such wonderful plans for our retirement years ....

So I will move into this new chapter of my life ... without him by my side, but with him in my heart.

And I do have plans ... a trip to south Florida to share in the joyful marriage of an especially dear widow friend, soul care at a retreat in the Ozark Mountains, an art retreat in a fabulous old barn in Nebraska and an amazing retreat in Costa Rica.

I've accepted additional tasks in my volunteer role with Soaring Spirits that will keep me plenty busy, along with travel to our remaining 2015 Camp Widows in San Diego and Toronto.

I have several online art classes I've signed up for but not started ... I will get started now.

I have numerous books I've purchased that haven't been read ... I will read daily.

I have 30+ years of 'stuff' in this house that needs to be weeded out ... I will simplify.

I think I'm going to need to live to be at least 100 to accomplish all of this.

* * *

I don't like good-byes. I'm not especially comfortable in the spotlight and there are some other personal reasons involved that caused me to request no official office farewell. But I did receive many lovely emails, cards, gifts, phone calls, visits and hugs from my co-workers this week. My heart is full and it is good.

Before leaving my office, I changed my voicemail message to one explaining I had retired and who to call now ... and ended with Mary Oliver's quote:

Think about that for yourself ... and do something to make it happen.

J O Y ?

2014 flew by quite quickly ... with some really good things that happened and some not-so-good.  Just like each year, actually. For all of us.  But we survive ... and we do our best to thrive in spite of all that life throws at us.  I think I've done a pretty decent job of thriving.

I've learned so much during Vern's illness, death and these alone years that have built up my armor to protect me from any serious injuries due to hurtful words and actions. And that is what helped me find my Word for 2015. It's certainly not one I was initially comfortable with. But it kept coming to me as the one I was supposed to choose for this year. To be honest, my personal definition of JOY is not the same in my 'before' and 'after' since Vern died. But if I adjust the meaning of the word to this ...

... well then, that's something I can relate to. So JOY it is.

And since this year also brings my retirement, I'm thinking JOY just might be the perfect word. 

I started writing this post in January but it got sidelined with all of the Camp Widow volunteer prep, so here I am now ... just two weeks away from my very last day of work. It feels good. It feels right. I'm ready to leave all of the experiences of these past 29 years of my work life at the doorstep of the Water District. I won't have to be 'that' Dianne any longer. And while I struggled with the loss of my 'Vern & Dianne' identity, this one is going to be pretty easy to let go. I feel good about all that I accomplished during those years and I'm now ready to start living the rest of my "one wild and precious life"!

A Very Grateful Brave Girl

It's been a difficult week. Really pretty darn ugly in fact. Rubbed me raw. Hurt my heart. Buckets of tears. And through it all I did what I always do in public ... just keep on keepin' on and no one had a clue to how close I came to falling apart. Or running away.  

But I didn't fall apart. And I didn't run away. Because, after all, that's not what I do. Ever. 

So I cocooned. Cocooning works for me. I came home from work each night and went straight to bed. Pulled those covers right up over my head. And slept more than I have since ... well since before Vern was diagnosed, I think.

And today - instead of doing the Light the Night Walk I had planned in memory of Vern - I stayed in my jammies and spent time at my laptop. Just did not have it in me to put on that happy face and be in a crowd today. The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society received my donation along with those of the few friends who supported me, so that's what was most important. 

And what did I receive?  Well ... I received an important reminder of a conversation I had with a very special little girl two years ago.

My November Brave Box arrived. Brave Girl Soul School is a gift I've given myself and this month's focus is Everyday Gratitude. I opened up the box of beautiful artwork and lessons and important words and knew this was what I needed to spend time on today. I really do believe that taking time to recognize the good things in our life, the everyday things that we often take for granted, can make a huge difference in how we hold up under life's struggles. I had lost sight of that this week.

So I started watching the project videos and there was Eden! What a wonderful gift to hear her sweet voice again. You see, Eden and I shared a seat on the Brave Bus at Brave Girl Camp in November 2012 and had a really wonderful conversation. That little girl is blessed well beyond her years. She saw me. Really saw me. And said things to me that touched my soul. 

But now it's two years later. And my soul was bruised and I had forgotten her words. Until tonight. Tonight I remembered.  Thank you, sweet Eden. What a blessing you are to me ... to this world.

A Trip Home ... and more

September ... it hasn't been a favorite month of mine during the past 4 years. Vern's final days were in September, and so many memories come flooding back at this time each year. I relive those final days at home, the 911 call, the hospital stay and move to hospice. Second guessing choices made, things missed, questions unanswered. And eventually remembering all of the love that surrounded him ... us ... during those final hours.

But there was a difference this year - and maybe a lesson to be learned.

Our very first international Camp Widow was taking place in Toronto on September 26-28 and I decided to make a stop in Michigan on my way there. That meant an extra busy few weeks at work before I left. And being the procrastinator that I am, packing was left to the weekend before my flight. I didn't plan on my car needing to go in for repair and having to get a rental - and the extra time the afternoon before my flight to return the rental and pick up my car. But that actually turned into a blessing, as there was no time to dwell on the September what-ifs.

Jeremy came with me ... to see family AND to help me by volunteering at Camp Widow. It was good. Really good. Although I'm not sure he enjoyed sitting through the long reunion lunches with my elementary and high school friends - but his reward was a University of Michigan football game on Saturday to make up for it. Not a great year for the Wolverines but we had fabulous seats and it was my first time in the Big House. And it stormed. Thunder, lightning, heavy rain, flooding, 60mph winds, hail ... oh Michigan, I remember you so well.

We had a nice family gathering and Jer got to see some cousins he hasn't seen in many years. And I was able to visit my sister Bev. She's in a nursing home; not sure she recognized me but I had some things I needed to say to her. Important things. She was widowed in 2002 and I didn't know then what I do know now. I believe she heard me.

From http://www.mykindaperfect.com/

So staying really busy was helpful in keeping those hard memories at bay. We said goodbye to family on the 21st and drove across the Ambassador Bridge to Windsor, Ontario. I purposely chose to not be with family or friends on the 4 year anniversary of Vern's death. I wanted that time to myself ... to walk along the riverfront, to remember, to be grateful for the years we had together. But that's not how it turned out. Instead we were grilled by Customs, interrogated by Immigration, nearly not allowed in the country, late arriving at the hotel, even later returning the car after finally finding the airport. Oh Canada ... what a welcome. Was there a lesson somewhere in there?  Yes, I think there was.

45 Random Acts of Kindness

45 years ago today ... it was hot and sticky in southeastern Michigan. I recall picking up our wedding cake from the neighbor who baked it (with my hair in those pink spongy curlers) and placing the cake in the trunk of my car to deliver to the church. No big reception for us (no $$) so we were just using the church hall to have some cake and open gifts after the ceremony. The rain didn't arrive until during the ceremony, and that just made the sanctuary even more humid. Perspiration dripped from my guy's face ... humidity or nerves?  Probably both. It was a whirlwind romance that neither of us could have ever predicted. "Where it began, I can't begin to know when ... but then I know it's growing strong. Was in the spring, then spring became the summer. Who'd have believed you'd come along."

It was the summer of '69.  I was just 18, Vern was 28. He had been one of my high school teachers, but there was no hint of what was to come until after I graduated. Our first date was June 8th, we were engaged on July 8th and married on August 23rd. That speedy time frame didn't seem out of the ordinary to us at all. We just knew that we were meant to be. And we were.

I was blessed to spend 41 years with Vern. Truly blessed that he chose me. And blessed that I was able to care for him and hold him as he took his last breath. I spent our 42nd anniversary alone here in our house; I was at Brave Girl Camp in Idaho on our 43rd; and last year I drove his Mustang up to Mt. Charleston and had a special hummingbird visit.

This year I ventured over to St. Rose Siena Hospital ... yes, the hospital Vern spent many, many, many weeks in during that long, hard cancer battle. I haven't been back there since that last time in September 2010 .... but it felt like that was the place I needed to do my 45 random acts of kindness in honor of Vern and our wedding anniversary. I know what it's like to pull into that parking lot and fear what is to come. I know what it's like to sit in the ER waiting and waiting and waiting. I know what it's like to watch that poisonous chemo being infused into the man I loved. And I know what it's like to feel alone, to feel that no one cares or understands just how horribly hard it is to put one foot in front of the other as we watch our loved one suffer. So I wanted to do just a little something to help some unknown people perhaps traveling that same road ... to let them know they are not alone and they are loved.

So I prepared the cards, added some cash or gift cards to the envelopes,bought flowers and balloons and helium. And off Jer and I went. First stop was to pick up 6 dozen Krispy Kremes, and then off to St. Rose. 

Cards attached to bags filled with surprises.

What an amazing morning. There have been some major changes at the hospital, lots of construction (finally a parking garage is being built!). We found our way into the ER waiting room and made some staff extremely happy with the hot Krispy Kremes. I explained why we were doing this and they were surprised and so appreciative. We then headed up to the 3rd floor - that's where we spent a lot of time as it was the chemo and surgical floor. More donuts for the staff. And I gave the gift cards to the charge nurse to give out to those who really need them. Jer and I then headed down the hall and gave out flower bouquets to the patients. Oh my - this was extra, extra special and something I will do regularly. We met a couple who had just celebrated their 55th wedding anniversary and a woman who had just celebrated her 45th anniversary in the hospital - and a lovely Iranian woman who was overwhelmed with our gift and kept shouting to God to bless us. Patients and staff were so surprised at our generosity - and so very thankful. Then we were off to the parking lot to fill up balloons with helium and attach a card with some cash in it to 20 cars. We chose to place them on the cars in the ER parking spaces and were paid a visit by a Security guard. When I explained what we were doing he was rather impressed and gave us the ok to continue.  

The back of my car filled with goodies.

The ER parking lot

I don't like to honor the day Vern died ... that is a day for private reflection for me. But this ... oh yes, this is something I will do again and again. On our wedding anniversary, on his birthday ... and I'm thinking once a month 'just because'. 

I am only one, but still I am one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something; and because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do something I can do.   Edward Everett Hale 

I expect to pass through this world but once; any good thing therefore that I can do, or any kindness that I can show to any fellow creature, let me do it now; let me not defer or neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again. 
Stephen Grellet  

There is Love

This date ... May 4 ... the date the word  C A N C E R  was first uttered ... continues to hold power over me. It casts its shadow each year, taking me back to that fateful day. In all honesty, however, the word 'cancer' had first paid a visit to my brain the afternoon before - when Dr. J called us with the results of that morning's MRI saying "My God, you have a tumor on your spine. You're meeting with a surgeon at 7am tomorrow morning." 

I do think there's some changes occurring as the years pass, however, as I now can see how much love surrounded us that day. It was there holding back the fear as I struggled to get Vern into the car that morning. It filled that small room in the surgeon's office when he showed us the MRI and explained how bad things were. It enveloped us in the car as we sat absorbing all that had been shared with us before entering the hospital.

source

And while there were many awful, hurtful things that occurred during those first days and weeks,  L O V E  was there ... always.  I find myself on this date each year, reading back through our CaringBridge journal. Reminding me of  ... the daily struggle, the wonderful medical personnel we were blessed with, along with those who should have chosen a different profession, the miracles we were granted, the joys we encountered in the midst of the horrors. I'm grateful I have those entries. But I didn't share everything there. I wanted those posts to be positive; I worked so very hard to keep Vern positive. I didn't share the personal hurts of disappearing friends, didn't share the disappointing behavior of friends and family, co-workers and my boss. But reading those entries jogs this old brain of mine - and while the unwritten hurts flicker into my mind they are now quickly replaced with the reminder that LOVE triumphed over all of it. The deep love shared by Vern & I and the eternal love of our God who was there throughout each of those 1602 days that cancer shared our lives. 

I had forgotten this quote that I shared in my July 5, 2006 journal entry. It held me up then and it holds me up now. It was written by Jim Chaffee, caregiver and husband to his wife, Janice, who died in February 2007 after a 3-year battle with multiple myeloma.

"So when my spirit screams "...where the hell are you, God?" my questioning void is filled with the companionship of the One who cried, "My God, My God, why have You forsaken me?" There is no formula here, people, no four easy steps to lead us into understanding grief, no purpose driven "ah-ha" to explain why all this is happening. Christ simply and passionately hikes up His robe, sits down next to me, pulls my tear-stained face into His chest, and He weeps...He weeps with me, He weeps for my wife, He weeps long, deep, body rattling sobs, with snot and tears dripping from His chin. He weeps. From the bowels of one who has felt forsaken, who has felt loss, who aches when I cry "This just isn't fair!", who truly feels my pain, He weeps. And in His tears, in that sacred space called sorrow, I know God is there."   © Jim Chaffee

There is Love

Perhaps

I'm feeling something ... not sure exactly what it is. But there's a shift and it's not entirely pleasant or positive. Could be caused by many things but I find I'm reacting ... to things, to people, to their social media posts, to their blogs ... differently than I normally would. My compassion level seems to have taken a hit. Have I spent too much time making sure others were ok while not addressing my own grief?  Perhaps.

The house is very quiet now. Except for those 'house' sounds. You know, the ones you don't usually hear because the tv is on and people are around. Jer moved out in September, so the quiet is more intense. I know that's easily fixed by just turning something 'on' but I'm kind of liking this quiet so maybe I'll just let it be. Perhaps.

I can retire with full 30 year benefits next January. Part of me thinks it would be wonderful. No alarm. None of those 'work issues'. But part of me is frightened. Work is my main 'social' outlet. Sad, huh?  I talk and interact with people all day long there. When I stop working it will just be me. Alone. Here in this house. Ah, these life decisions. Retirement? Perhaps.

I thought I had already dealt with my "aloneness" ... wrote a blog about it in Widowed Village nearly two years ago. But I guess there's a transition with that, too. This aloneness feels different. It's more final. It's my life. And I have to keep pushing those ugly thoughts aside. Like ... if something happens to me how long would I lie here before anyone noticed I was missing?  Ugh. Not a pleasant thought at all. I think I'll worry about that another time. Perhaps.

You may have noticed I've used the term "house" instead of "home" in here. Michele's keynote speech at the recent Tampa Camp Widow addressed making our house a home. It hit home with me (no pun intended). My dear Brave Girls spread that same message. And I'm trying. Really, I am. I am not proud of the way I have lived since Vern died. It's been my ugly little secret. Well, not so little. It's pretty big, actually. I have boxes and boxes and boxes of stuff everywhere. Mostly unopened mail. I can't tell you why. I don't understand it myself. I just have had a need to ignore it ... to pick it up out of the mail box and put it on the counter until it becomes too much and gets moved into yet another box. So I'm working on it. One box at a time. Should I have talked early on to a counselor about why I'm behaving this way? Perhaps.

And I just realized that all of these things settling into my thoughts right now may just be related to timing. May 4 is 2 weeks from today. May 4 ... the day that everything changed. It may have been 4 years ago, but I can go back to those exact moments in a heartbeat. I can see the MRI, hear the conversation, see his face, feel his fears. Yes, maybe my melancholy is just related to timing. Perhaps.

My time at the ocean

If I had written this post when I first arrived home last evening, it would have had a different theme.  I was on a super high after spending 4 days in Folly Beach, South Carolina at an ArtBeach Retreat. A beautiful beach house, butterflies, amazing art lessons, sunrises that take your breath away, wonderful women, daily dolphin visits, yoga on the beach, dragonflies, Hummer limo ride, laughter, connections, sharing. It was exactly what I needed at this time in my life. It filled my heart and touched my soul.

Even the flight delays yesterday didn't dampen my spirit. I was excited to return home, to get busy DOING the things I've been thinking, planning, preparing to do but could not actually get STARTED doing. I felt I had turned an important corner.

And then life hit me up side the head yet again. I don't want to share details, but think it's important for other widows - other people - to know that there is no escaping the ups and downs of life. They happen to all of us. What we must do is find a way to live through them. Somehow. Tears during the night when the issue first surfaced. Little sleep. More tears. Tears again this morning when my feelings were hurt by some silly Facebook stuff. Good Lord, I'm 62 years old.  But a hurt nonetheless ... and it caused my ugly feelings to surface ... I am friendless, invisible, unappreciated, unliked, unwanted.

Many may be surprised to learn I have these feelings ... often. They see my posts on Facebook and in Widowed Village. I'm the cheerleader, the volunteer, the positive one, the 'never say no' gal. I'm the one trying new things, stepping outside my comfort zone. But rest assured I carry these ugly feelings with me wherever I go; I just work extra hard to try to keep them below the surface. I believe it's important to not put a focus on the negative. When Vern was alive, I didn't have to work hard at that. His support and love helped me to be strong and confident. But now ... now it's just me. And it's hard work to do this stuff on my own. While I'm missing him.  But I must. There is no other choice.

During the cancer years and since Vern's death, I have bristled when people would say how STRONG I was. It felt like an excuse to not have to offer assistance or encouragement or anything at all ... because my strength during these hard times surely meant I didn't need anything from anyone. So I've resented the word STRONG.  But during the retreat we had an opportunity to get henna tattoos (they aren't permanent) ... and I chose to have the Japanese symbol for STRONG painted on my left wrist. Time for me to embrace it. I AM strong. Damn it. I have to be.

Oh - and then I decided to get another henna tattoo on my right forearm. Love this one. I'll surprise a few people at work tomorrow, I'm sure.

So what are my take-aways from all this?

• I know that I must find a way to spend time at the ocean regularly. It has to become a priority. Don't know yet how that will happen, but I am going to put that on my vision board and keep those positive thoughts vibrating out into the universe. 
• I know that I need to spend time doing something creative each day. Journaling, painting, doodling, stitching ... whatever speaks to me each day.
• I know I need to spend less time on my laptop. I didn't take it with me on this trip and I got along just fine. Going to try setting a timer to limit myself.
• I know that I am strong ... and that's ok.
• And the big issue?  Well, I'll think about it tomorrow (as Scarlett O'Hara said).

A dream ... finally

I honestly don't recall the last time I remembered a dream. Before Vern got sick I had vivid dreams and remembered them all. But during the cancer years I didn't sleep much and when I did it was for very short periods of time. He needed me a lot during the nights and I guess I never had enough time to get into that 'dream' sleep.  My body apparently got used to that and it became my routine even after Vern died.

I've envied my widow friends who share amazing dreams or visits from their lost loves and wished that I could have that experience.  And - finally - it has happened.  I awoke this morning remembering a little visit from my Vern. A soft voice in my ear of love, support, reassurance. And a reminder that he is with me always, holding me up whenever I need it.

You see, it's been a rough week.  Can't share details, but an old wound was reopened and it hurt. Bad. I didn't expect that it would. Thought that I had settled all of that. Sent that person off to Pluto, thanks to Brave Girl Camp, where their actions could no longer hurt me. And it was working. But this action got through. And I cried. And I thought very seriously about retiring immediately and running away. Somewhere. Anywhere. To a place where I knew no one and no one could ever hurt me again.

And I missed Vern. Deeply.

Really needed to talk to him about this. He always had such an amazing ability to understand an issue completely and to be able to offer suggestions to help me find my way through the rough spots.

And last night he did that again in my dream. I am grateful. I am blessed.

And I've now sent this person to a galaxy in the Hubble Ultra Deep Field ...  I googled to find what the farthest distance was from Earth, since Pluto obviously didn't cut it.

Time

I've passed the 3 year mark ... sounds like a long time. But it doesn't always feel like a long time. And yet, some days it feels like forever .... I miss him.

When someone asks how long it's been and they hear '3 years' I usually see the look. It's been that long? You should be "over it" by now.  And I resent that - but I don't show it. I've become really, really good at hiding my true feelings. It's just easier that way. For me. I don't necessarily recommend it for others.

The days leading up to September 22 were once again harder than the actual day. I took a couple of days off work so I could have the time to reflect, to feel what I needed to feel. And I wallowed in it. Felt it. Grieved it. All of it.  And then I decided I needed to finally do something I'd been putting off ... get his Mustang running again. So on Saturday, Sept. 21st, I spent several hours doing just that. AAA got it running again with a new battery; I took it down for an oil change and a car wash. Because the battery had died, it didn't pass the smog test so that meant I had to go to DMV to get a 10-day extension (since the license tags expired at the end of July while it sat in the driveway). And the A/C compressor died, too. Just couldn't be easy, could it?  But I did it all and it felt good.

September 22 was a lovely Sunday. Cooler temps, a light breeze, a perfect day for a drive with the top down. I headed out to Red Rock Canyon, a favorite spot for Vern & I over the years. Learned that I qualified for a $10 Lifetime Pass to the National Parks - a perk for hitting 62 this year. I drove along the 13 mile loop, stopping now and then to take photos. Had to pull off when the Diamond Rio song "One More Day" came on; it always makes me cry. And then The Calling's "I'll Go Wherever You Will Go" played. OK - thank you Mr. Radio DJ Guy. That's quite enough.  Decided to head down the road to Spring Mountain Ranch while I was in the area and it was beautiful. Found a little bench in the shade by the ranch house and just enjoyed the view and let my thoughts flow.

I've chosen to spend this special day alone the first two years. That felt like the right thing to do then. But this was the right thing for me to do this year. Nature and all its beauty can have quite a healing power. Am I "over it"?  Oh no ... don't expect that to ever happen. But time has allowed me to learn how to recognize and listen to that inner voice that knows exactly what I need to do to get through the tough days - and time has given me the strength to be selfish when I must ... to do what I must to live this life without my Vern. 

"But for those who love, time is eternity."