Little baby green leaves are sprouting on all of the trees. The Rhododendron Bush is in full bloom out front, and the first of my tulips opened up yesterday. Spring is really here. As I look out my kitchen window, birds are back to feed at our squirrel resistant feeder that we purchased last year. Bruce would get so irritated at the squirrels when they would spill out the contents of an entire feeder. So, our investment in the squirrel proof one has paid off. Plus, our neighbor across the street has taken it upon himself to become the local squirrel feeder. He sets of trays of corn for them. They love it and we loved it! Now I love it.
There are many spring projects waiting for me to do. My birdbath needs a new coat of paint in it's interior. I still have raking, trimming of bushes and the garden area needs to be cleared off. Friday afternoon, I wrangled Lance to help me get down the lawn chairs that Bruce had hung up in the garage rafters last fall. As Lancer (as Bruce called him) was reaching up to lift them off of the bike hooks, he noticed the yellow twine that was tied around the rafters and the chairs. "Whose method was this?" he teased me...knowing full well it was his dad's secondary precaution to ensure the chairs remained safe above our heads through the winter. "This little twine nonsense is going to be no more!" he said. We worked together, me on the ground and he on the stepladder, with a scissors to cut the twine. Soon, all chairs were down. I had him pull a couple of other items out of the rafters to discard. An old box that said children's books caught his eye. We pulled it down and looked through the contents. A saver of books I am, therefore..these gems couldn't be thrown away! But, many will be given to the local charity store uptown. And some of my favorites will be held onto and put back on my bookcase to be read to this new baby within the year!
That twine has such memories. It was a Christmas gift years ago from Bruce's brother, Mike. Mike has a unique farmer-like life-style quality about him. He finds uses for all sorts of things and is the ultimate in saving this, that and the other. As he would say, "you never know when you might find a use for it". This ball of twine has come in handy many times over and over again. We haven't even used 1/8 of it yet! It sits in it's own pail out in the garage. When Bruce received it all wrapped up that Christmas, amoungst the laughter of family, little did we know that after all of this time, I would find a reason remember or write about it. We both found many uses for it over the years. From tying down the trunk down, tying up tomato plants, wrapping it around pieces of carpets, etc., it always came in handy. Bruce was overly cautious at times to make sure things were more secure than they needed to be. And that was what Lance was commenting on as he struggled to release the chairs from their perches. This twine and the memories associated with it really does represent the quirks that Bruce had that now seem so endearing to me. I am going to clean out the garage. There is a lot of stuff that will be thrown, sold and discarded. But, the twine will remain.
I attended church this morning times two! As a traditional Lutheran, it was a great celebration of Springtime. A local farmer brought in a lamb for the childen to pet. I too, wanted to stand up and go feel this creature of God. The message was how God knows our voices, just as a shephard knows the sounds of each one of his sheep. By the sounds we make, sheep make, our shephard knows when we are in need. He knows when we are content, safe, happy and loved. I liked the analogy. Then off I went to be a guest at the local Unitarian Universalist church with a friend. The celebration was of May Day. The Spring festivals that are part of many ancient traditions to herald in spring, the fertile soil and honor our God was celebrated. We did a May Pole Dance. The message was the same, yet different. I felt a part of both services.
So, now I am going to go out and pull on the lawn mower rope and see if I can get it started. Yes, I could wait and my children could do this for me, but I am capable and willing. Plus, I love being outside. I love Spring and nature. The birds will give me a concert as I work. Nothing is easy. I have been struggling these past few days with big issues that rest on my heart. Should I or shouldn't I continue doing some of the things that have become part of my life? Maybe while I am out communing in my yard with nature, some of the answers will be made clear. If not, I am willing to let them settle out on their own in their own time. Trusting that God's ear is listening to this faithful servant. But for now,I need to hear the birds sing, see the blue skies and feel the warmth of the sun. Enjoy this day. Deb
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Grieving Sons and Daughter
The time that grief has taken up in my own days and nights in seconds, minutes and hours has duplicated itself times three in our children. It isn't something we easily talk about. In fact, it is the unsaid words, the glances, the non-verbal responses to something I say in our moments spent together that tells me how sad they also are for their own loss. Like the ripple in the pond, not only are they affected, but their significant others who played such a big part in Bruce's life - in OUR life - and now in my life.
As a very close family before, during and now after Bruce's death; it isn't easy to watch them struggle. Being three siblings, each has their own personality and way of dealing with life's hazards that are thrown their way. As I write these words, I know that they may or may not read them. Guarding my fingers as I type to protect my young is tricky business. Telling enough, but not too much so that each one continues to have the utmost respect from me and from the readers is priority. Yet, I believe every family out there like ours who has lost a father, will know what I am speaking about. Perhaps in my telling our story, there will be healing in another son or daughter. The inner urgings of my heart will be my trusting guide as I continue on.
Our oldest son has taken on all of demands that that roll calls for. He is my business advisor and confidante. Being about to become a father himself, has put him in a precarious and sensitive position. He has so much on his mind these days as he manages our business and waits eagerly to hold his firstborn. His love for his dad is still so evident. As we talk, just the two of us; he shares his deepest feelings. He hurts that his best friend and teamtag business partner no longer sits across from him. He feels burdened and responsible to make our business successsful for himself, his new family and for me. He is trying to help his younger brother get started in the business as well. And with that attempt, at this time - so fresh after the loss of Bruce adds to the burdens he feels. Sometimes his temper shortens as these hurts surface as his protective mechanisms come into play. I wish I could take it all away and make his days seem easier.
As our daughter finishes her third year of medical school, she is working tirelessly to keep her grades at the top of her class. To do this, may ensure a better chance at selecting the residency program of her choice. She too, has tromped on ahead, through the sludge of life as her personal life and education demands her to. She continues to amaze me and all who know her. She keeps her goals on the front burner, she lets her grief ooze out at times, but always knowing she MUST do what she needs to do. I believe she told me recently, that "Dad would want her to do and act just what she is doing!" And that is so right. Of all three children, she is the most like him. Her sensitive but yet direct approach especially lends her the ability to cut to the chase in dealing with me or a patient that she is treating. She emailed me recently and told me she has been "dreaming about dad lately". And, her boyfriend shared with me that she was worried that she was going to forget what his voice sounded like. She trys hard around me to keep her cheery attitude and maintain that composure that everything is OK. Yet, little bits of information tell me that she too aches for her loss.
The youngest sibling may be last but never least in my eyes. The protective armour that he acquired years ago,remains intact to all who meet him. That armour I feel was partly our fault. Our ups and downs of marital bliss or blisslessness threatened his tender youth. I do know how deep his feelings run. As he sits as his father's desk, his heart hurts just as his siblings do. His thoughts are kept out of ear range most days as he walks through his own maze of grief. Trying to honor his father's wishes and become something that might not be him is difficult to do in these first months. And, perhaps it is that he still doesn't know what it is that he wants. It wouldn't surprise me. As, I too have struggled with those same thoughts for years. That is, what do I want to be when I grow up? He treats himself to moments doing what feels good. Like rock climbing and biking.
Learning to live without someone that we have taken for granted is a process we are all finding out. As I feel the need to journal, the keystrokes appear along with my thoughts. The sadness seeps out and doesn't always feel good, yet - I couldn't hold it in. I fear it would explode if I did that. Instead, I choose to write. To share. Perhaps healing will come from these moments spent. I pray that Ty, through his love of music finds release. And, that Lance churns out his frustrations in his outdoor activities. Knowing Ab,in her free moments she is sorting out her feelings too.
I am blessed. I live in the place I belong, with the people I love the most. And, I am attempting to do the right work on purpose. I am learning to live without the man of my life. My love for him continues on. In everything I do, his memory will not fade. We were too many years as one for me to forget him now. The children won't forget him either. He was bigger than life to them as well. He lived large, laughed loud and loved. He lived for his kids. Now, they are living for him. Deb
ps..To Wendy, Luke and Shayna...the significant others of my children. I love you all. Thank you for being there for them and for me. I know that Bruce is looking down from heaven with great pride and admiration at your loving ways.
As a very close family before, during and now after Bruce's death; it isn't easy to watch them struggle. Being three siblings, each has their own personality and way of dealing with life's hazards that are thrown their way. As I write these words, I know that they may or may not read them. Guarding my fingers as I type to protect my young is tricky business. Telling enough, but not too much so that each one continues to have the utmost respect from me and from the readers is priority. Yet, I believe every family out there like ours who has lost a father, will know what I am speaking about. Perhaps in my telling our story, there will be healing in another son or daughter. The inner urgings of my heart will be my trusting guide as I continue on.
Our oldest son has taken on all of demands that that roll calls for. He is my business advisor and confidante. Being about to become a father himself, has put him in a precarious and sensitive position. He has so much on his mind these days as he manages our business and waits eagerly to hold his firstborn. His love for his dad is still so evident. As we talk, just the two of us; he shares his deepest feelings. He hurts that his best friend and teamtag business partner no longer sits across from him. He feels burdened and responsible to make our business successsful for himself, his new family and for me. He is trying to help his younger brother get started in the business as well. And with that attempt, at this time - so fresh after the loss of Bruce adds to the burdens he feels. Sometimes his temper shortens as these hurts surface as his protective mechanisms come into play. I wish I could take it all away and make his days seem easier.
As our daughter finishes her third year of medical school, she is working tirelessly to keep her grades at the top of her class. To do this, may ensure a better chance at selecting the residency program of her choice. She too, has tromped on ahead, through the sludge of life as her personal life and education demands her to. She continues to amaze me and all who know her. She keeps her goals on the front burner, she lets her grief ooze out at times, but always knowing she MUST do what she needs to do. I believe she told me recently, that "Dad would want her to do and act just what she is doing!" And that is so right. Of all three children, she is the most like him. Her sensitive but yet direct approach especially lends her the ability to cut to the chase in dealing with me or a patient that she is treating. She emailed me recently and told me she has been "dreaming about dad lately". And, her boyfriend shared with me that she was worried that she was going to forget what his voice sounded like. She trys hard around me to keep her cheery attitude and maintain that composure that everything is OK. Yet, little bits of information tell me that she too aches for her loss.
The youngest sibling may be last but never least in my eyes. The protective armour that he acquired years ago,remains intact to all who meet him. That armour I feel was partly our fault. Our ups and downs of marital bliss or blisslessness threatened his tender youth. I do know how deep his feelings run. As he sits as his father's desk, his heart hurts just as his siblings do. His thoughts are kept out of ear range most days as he walks through his own maze of grief. Trying to honor his father's wishes and become something that might not be him is difficult to do in these first months. And, perhaps it is that he still doesn't know what it is that he wants. It wouldn't surprise me. As, I too have struggled with those same thoughts for years. That is, what do I want to be when I grow up? He treats himself to moments doing what feels good. Like rock climbing and biking.
Learning to live without someone that we have taken for granted is a process we are all finding out. As I feel the need to journal, the keystrokes appear along with my thoughts. The sadness seeps out and doesn't always feel good, yet - I couldn't hold it in. I fear it would explode if I did that. Instead, I choose to write. To share. Perhaps healing will come from these moments spent. I pray that Ty, through his love of music finds release. And, that Lance churns out his frustrations in his outdoor activities. Knowing Ab,in her free moments she is sorting out her feelings too.
I am blessed. I live in the place I belong, with the people I love the most. And, I am attempting to do the right work on purpose. I am learning to live without the man of my life. My love for him continues on. In everything I do, his memory will not fade. We were too many years as one for me to forget him now. The children won't forget him either. He was bigger than life to them as well. He lived large, laughed loud and loved. He lived for his kids. Now, they are living for him. Deb
ps..To Wendy, Luke and Shayna...the significant others of my children. I love you all. Thank you for being there for them and for me. I know that Bruce is looking down from heaven with great pride and admiration at your loving ways.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Bomb shelters and grocery stores
I am having trouble wanting to go to the grocery store. I should have gone tonight on the way home from work. I have no bread, except for some dollar buns. I am out of juice and have a cup of milk left maybe. BUT... I couldn't make myself turn into the grocery store. I don't want to go. I don't have an appetite to fulfil. I have no one to cook for anymore.
You see, there is food at home here to eat. Although the refrigerator still is bare and getting barer, I can find something to eat. There are quite a few canned goods in the house. And with that thought came the bomb shelter thought. Growing up in the 60's, we were inundated with thoughts of BOMB SHELTERS during the infamous Cold War...I actually thought they were kind of cool. I remember during the CUBAN MISSiLE CRISIS, I must have been about in 4th grade, my parents having a very serious discussion with their friends during a break in their game of pepper or 500. I heard them saying.."You know, we aren't that far from the gulf of Mexico!" We could get bombed, or invaded and it wouldn't take long before "THEY" were here!" I wasn't for sure what all of this talk was about, but I could SENSE from their voices, that they were scared. I had never heard my parents talk like this before. Maybe that is why...even now, after 40 some years.. it seem so real- that conversation, like it was just yesterday.
So what does this have to do with me, the grocery store and food? My folks had started about the same time buying WHOLESALE GROCERIES... I am not sure how or why, but dad build a little 'walk in pantry' down in our wet/cobwebby/old basement! It definitely wasn't my fantasy walk-in pantry that I have had in my imagination and shared with Bruce for the past 5 years! It did have it's own light in this little room in the corner and many shelves. It was this room, that they talked about making into our bomb shelter. I could imagine what it might look like! The reason I could envision it, was because we took tours of BOMB SHELTERs at the LOCAL County FAIRS. It was one of my favorite things to do. I could imagine having a bed on one of these flat shelves. It would be sort of like camping. Maybe.. Wouldn't it?
This pantry held all of the groceries that arrived in cases to our home. It also held mom's home canned tomatoes/ sweet pickles/ dill pickles/ jams/ and home canned beef. This home canned beef is still one of my family's favorite meals. If you have ever had a hotbeef sandwich w/ gravy and mashed potatoes to die for...then you know what I am talking about. Bruce loved this home canned beef. We got together about 5 years ago with all of my siblings and canned up our own beef. It is marvelous..wonderful..GOD knew what he was doing when he gave someone the gift, the insight to think about inventing a pressure cooker and canning home canned beef.
Right now, I need some comfort food. I need some home canned beef and mashed potatoes and gravy. One time for our OUI VINTAGER's group a few years ago...Bruce and I made this and called it our BLUE PLATE SPECIAL. Store bought food just won't do. Not today, or tonight. I would rather go without, or scrounge for something. I understand why some people eat or don't eat when they are sad or lonely. Why waste the effort? For others, it is about feeding their need to feel loved.
Last night, I had dinner with a friend of mine. She too is a widow. I told her, I have now made the rounds. I am back to the 'first widow' who called me right after Bruce died. We compared notes. I shared how unrealistic I was 10 weeks ago, during our first visit. And, how the reality has now sunk in. My life is now how it will be. I am back in the world of the living. RAW...OPEN...THE REST of MY LIFE IS PLAYING right this moment ...the curtain is up.. I asked her about the grocery store - "was it hard to go there?"... she said what I had affirmed. "OH YES!".
Maybe tomorrow it will be better. I do have a friend coming in from out of town and I plan to PLAN some sort of menu. Tonight, I will finish up the cottage cheese and open up a can of crushed pineapple.
Really, we are so lucky. We didn't have to deal with an atomic bomb back in the 60s'. It was just a scare. I have always had enough to eat and more. I have never gone to bed starving like so many children do in our world. I don't need to go to the store quite yet. This too shall pass. Until then, thoughts from me to make you think. Deb
You see, there is food at home here to eat. Although the refrigerator still is bare and getting barer, I can find something to eat. There are quite a few canned goods in the house. And with that thought came the bomb shelter thought. Growing up in the 60's, we were inundated with thoughts of BOMB SHELTERS during the infamous Cold War...I actually thought they were kind of cool. I remember during the CUBAN MISSiLE CRISIS, I must have been about in 4th grade, my parents having a very serious discussion with their friends during a break in their game of pepper or 500. I heard them saying.."You know, we aren't that far from the gulf of Mexico!" We could get bombed, or invaded and it wouldn't take long before "THEY" were here!" I wasn't for sure what all of this talk was about, but I could SENSE from their voices, that they were scared. I had never heard my parents talk like this before. Maybe that is why...even now, after 40 some years.. it seem so real- that conversation, like it was just yesterday.
So what does this have to do with me, the grocery store and food? My folks had started about the same time buying WHOLESALE GROCERIES... I am not sure how or why, but dad build a little 'walk in pantry' down in our wet/cobwebby/old basement! It definitely wasn't my fantasy walk-in pantry that I have had in my imagination and shared with Bruce for the past 5 years! It did have it's own light in this little room in the corner and many shelves. It was this room, that they talked about making into our bomb shelter. I could imagine what it might look like! The reason I could envision it, was because we took tours of BOMB SHELTERs at the LOCAL County FAIRS. It was one of my favorite things to do. I could imagine having a bed on one of these flat shelves. It would be sort of like camping. Maybe.. Wouldn't it?
This pantry held all of the groceries that arrived in cases to our home. It also held mom's home canned tomatoes/ sweet pickles/ dill pickles/ jams/ and home canned beef. This home canned beef is still one of my family's favorite meals. If you have ever had a hotbeef sandwich w/ gravy and mashed potatoes to die for...then you know what I am talking about. Bruce loved this home canned beef. We got together about 5 years ago with all of my siblings and canned up our own beef. It is marvelous..wonderful..GOD knew what he was doing when he gave someone the gift, the insight to think about inventing a pressure cooker and canning home canned beef.
Right now, I need some comfort food. I need some home canned beef and mashed potatoes and gravy. One time for our OUI VINTAGER's group a few years ago...Bruce and I made this and called it our BLUE PLATE SPECIAL. Store bought food just won't do. Not today, or tonight. I would rather go without, or scrounge for something. I understand why some people eat or don't eat when they are sad or lonely. Why waste the effort? For others, it is about feeding their need to feel loved.
Last night, I had dinner with a friend of mine. She too is a widow. I told her, I have now made the rounds. I am back to the 'first widow' who called me right after Bruce died. We compared notes. I shared how unrealistic I was 10 weeks ago, during our first visit. And, how the reality has now sunk in. My life is now how it will be. I am back in the world of the living. RAW...OPEN...THE REST of MY LIFE IS PLAYING right this moment ...the curtain is up.. I asked her about the grocery store - "was it hard to go there?"... she said what I had affirmed. "OH YES!".
Maybe tomorrow it will be better. I do have a friend coming in from out of town and I plan to PLAN some sort of menu. Tonight, I will finish up the cottage cheese and open up a can of crushed pineapple.
Really, we are so lucky. We didn't have to deal with an atomic bomb back in the 60s'. It was just a scare. I have always had enough to eat and more. I have never gone to bed starving like so many children do in our world. I don't need to go to the store quite yet. This too shall pass. Until then, thoughts from me to make you think. Deb
Sunday, April 15, 2007
A wish has come true
Finally, it was here. A day that I had been waiting to happen for years. Saturday morning, I woke and dragged myself out to the kitchen to make my one cup of instant coffee, put my one piece of toast in the toaster, and pour my one cup of orange juice. That is when the discovery took place. I looked around and saw this perfectly clean kitchen. The counters were clean, the sink was empty, everything was in it's place. The floor was swept. It could have been a photo moment it was that perfect. It was that moment that I knew that one of my wishes had come true. In my quiet whispered self talk voice, I said to myself, "Well Deb, it has arrived! You are now at the moment you have wished for over and over.
As a mom of three young kids, it seemed that I spent hours cleaning, picking up and putting away - sometimes it felt like all day. The house would be all neat and clean for about 30 minutes. Then, they would come in the door and plop down their stuff, take off their shoes, get something to eat, put their dishes in the sink or on the counter. This is called the messes of life! When raising children one grows semi-used to these messes. But, in the back of my mind, I would say to myself, "I CAN'T wait for the day when everything is always picked up, always put away, always cleaned and neat." So it was; that yesterday morning my "can't wait" day had arrived.
Even though our children are young adults. Our home is still their home. Mail arrives for two of our three children still. It is Abby's base while in medical school. Her stuff resides in her bedroom still. Lance shuffles in once or twice a week to pick up mail, read the sports page and scavange through the refrigerator. Therefore, up until just recently - messes remained a part of my life. Bruce was rather neat. He had his piles, but he got as angst about these common area messes as I did.
Now, ten weeks after Bruce's death - my single life is settling into the household as well. I guess that life is assuming some sort of normal widow appearance. The refrigerator is definitley bare. If Bruce could see it, he would be utterly shocked and go immediatly to the store and grocery shop. In fact, many times even when it was full of mostly leftovers, he could be heard saying, "There is nothing in this house to eat, I am going up to the store, what do you need?" He always had his own list of items he would add which included three different types of chips, the pepsi and squirt that he drank, cheddar cheese, sour cream, butter, peanut butter and some sort of cold meat. He always made sure there were 'baking supplies ' in the house, flour, sugar, chocolate chips, a brownie mix or two. Yes, he had his thoughts on his stomach most days. Of course, I loved the fact that he liked to shop, except that we usually had a stock pile of 6 bags of chocolate chips, doritos, refried beans, noodles, etc.. He many times would say when he got home with 6 bags of groceries, " I thought I would just pick up a few extra things, I didn't know if we needed them, but you know we will use them up." No wonder the kids stayed around so long, there was always a supply of "good" snacks to eat! How could you get mad at a guy who brought home bags of DOVE chocolates?
Since he died, I had been going to the store every week, but since Abby hasn't been home for a few weeks, I decided I could survive on what I had in the house. Since there have been a few duplicates purchased in the past sic months. Therefore, I have consumed the last bag of tostitos, bits and pieces too, all fresh fruit and vegetables have been devoured and I am working on the one dozen eggs. THere is a hunk of cheddar that is almost gone too. The shelves of the refrigerator can now be wiped off without even moving things!
Yes, I do remember that wish of a clean kitchen I used to have. Also, I remember thinking at the same time that I wouldn't want that to come too soon, because that would mean that all the kids had grown and it would be just Bruce and I around. Now, with Bruce gone, the day has arrived. I didn't cry over my reality. Instead, I used his butter on my toast, stirred the cup of instant coffee he always drank, went out on the driveway and picked up the paper and sat down to read my sections before getting dressed to go to work. Life continues. Age is upon me, but it isn't the end of my world. In six weeks the stork is delivering me a little package. A mess will soon be back in this kitchen of mine. Love to you all, Deb
As a mom of three young kids, it seemed that I spent hours cleaning, picking up and putting away - sometimes it felt like all day. The house would be all neat and clean for about 30 minutes. Then, they would come in the door and plop down their stuff, take off their shoes, get something to eat, put their dishes in the sink or on the counter. This is called the messes of life! When raising children one grows semi-used to these messes. But, in the back of my mind, I would say to myself, "I CAN'T wait for the day when everything is always picked up, always put away, always cleaned and neat." So it was; that yesterday morning my "can't wait" day had arrived.
Even though our children are young adults. Our home is still their home. Mail arrives for two of our three children still. It is Abby's base while in medical school. Her stuff resides in her bedroom still. Lance shuffles in once or twice a week to pick up mail, read the sports page and scavange through the refrigerator. Therefore, up until just recently - messes remained a part of my life. Bruce was rather neat. He had his piles, but he got as angst about these common area messes as I did.
Now, ten weeks after Bruce's death - my single life is settling into the household as well. I guess that life is assuming some sort of normal widow appearance. The refrigerator is definitley bare. If Bruce could see it, he would be utterly shocked and go immediatly to the store and grocery shop. In fact, many times even when it was full of mostly leftovers, he could be heard saying, "There is nothing in this house to eat, I am going up to the store, what do you need?" He always had his own list of items he would add which included three different types of chips, the pepsi and squirt that he drank, cheddar cheese, sour cream, butter, peanut butter and some sort of cold meat. He always made sure there were 'baking supplies ' in the house, flour, sugar, chocolate chips, a brownie mix or two. Yes, he had his thoughts on his stomach most days. Of course, I loved the fact that he liked to shop, except that we usually had a stock pile of 6 bags of chocolate chips, doritos, refried beans, noodles, etc.. He many times would say when he got home with 6 bags of groceries, " I thought I would just pick up a few extra things, I didn't know if we needed them, but you know we will use them up." No wonder the kids stayed around so long, there was always a supply of "good" snacks to eat! How could you get mad at a guy who brought home bags of DOVE chocolates?
Since he died, I had been going to the store every week, but since Abby hasn't been home for a few weeks, I decided I could survive on what I had in the house. Since there have been a few duplicates purchased in the past sic months. Therefore, I have consumed the last bag of tostitos, bits and pieces too, all fresh fruit and vegetables have been devoured and I am working on the one dozen eggs. THere is a hunk of cheddar that is almost gone too. The shelves of the refrigerator can now be wiped off without even moving things!
Yes, I do remember that wish of a clean kitchen I used to have. Also, I remember thinking at the same time that I wouldn't want that to come too soon, because that would mean that all the kids had grown and it would be just Bruce and I around. Now, with Bruce gone, the day has arrived. I didn't cry over my reality. Instead, I used his butter on my toast, stirred the cup of instant coffee he always drank, went out on the driveway and picked up the paper and sat down to read my sections before getting dressed to go to work. Life continues. Age is upon me, but it isn't the end of my world. In six weeks the stork is delivering me a little package. A mess will soon be back in this kitchen of mine. Love to you all, Deb
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Getting through grief with a little help from my friends
Lately I have been so off kilter. Blaming it on the delayed warm weather but I really know it is my other reason. The reason that I continue to write. I am finding out that the grieving process is a long and arduous task. Nancy, my friend has used the word THROUGH to describe the process of getting to the other side of grief. I am wishing it was somehow easier to do. But, now I understand what she was talking about, helping me through, praying me through, etc. There are no shortcuts. There are ups and downs of emotions and thoughts. But it is a one way street and the path is not always easy to see. Somehow, someday I will be THROUGH this period of grief. Yet, I believe I will only be on the other side,looking back at a reflection of who I am at that moment, remembering who I was then.
I met yesterday with a friend of mine. Almost weekly I have met with a friend or new acquaintance that is also in the same boat I am in. She is alone, not on her own choosing, but rather because her spouse has also died. I am finding their company comforting. We understand one another. It is almost like we speak the same foreign language. We spent time comparing notes. The part that is the most difficult to comprehend is the total aloneness we both feel. The silent emptiness of our homes. The feeling that a part of our own bodies are no longer there. My empathy grows daily for all of the women I have known throughout my life who lost their spouse. This includes my grandma, my aunts and many family friends of my parents. I sense their feelings so much more deeply now.
The tears come at the most inconvenient times. The sadness covers me, and I find myself yearning for it to lift... to get out of the fog... to brighter days. I have acquired a new technique of pinching myself. When I feel myself getting sad enough to cry in front of people, I will pinch the back of my hand hard. If I feel the pain of the pinch, perhaps I won't sob in front of the person. Maybe, I will just shed one tear. It does seem to work. I find I am even conscious that my eyes didn't spill out a tear. Maybe I will just have to blow my nose one time. That won't be as bad as seeing a tear. All of these new activities I am adapting to make my presence more acceptable in front of others. To make their life easier!
Who am I? Who are we, the widows who were a part of a marriage? I don't belong to my husband's family anymore. I really felt this at Easter. Decisions that I had once been a part of now feel foreign. I don't have any legal representation in that life anymore. It is really nothing that anyone has said or done, it just is. Being no longer married seems odd. I didn't choose to not be married anymore. I can no longer check the married box, I now check the widowed box. All of the things that were so important to me have evaporated into thin air. The uncomfortableness of family gatherings. Should one talk about the deceased or not? I wanted to talk, but didn't feel like others did. What does one talk to the widow about then? The weather is a good subject, safe for a while. I brought up that I was going to use the "grief card" in dealing with a business question. A chuckle from a family member made me realize how silly or odd that must have sounded.
I have always been a strong proponent in giving anyone the benefit of the doubt. Many times, my mantra has been. "I have not walked in their shoes, I don't know what it must be like to be them. So, therefore I can not judge them for how they do things." So, it is with widows, my IN crowd. I have decided I am giving any and all women left alone not of their own choosing the huge benefit of just being who they are without trying to fix them, to judge them or to understand them. But rather to allow them a FREE PASS THROUGH their moments of now.
My friend, Judy said she feels most comfortable around her grandchildren. That she feels most like herself. That person she used to be when her husband was alive. What is it about children that bring out the soothing balm of easier times in life? I am so eager to become a grandma. I know that this new baby is going to be such "GOOD GRIEF" THERAPY for me. Maybe tomorrow I will feel more like myself. But, then again, who is myself now? That is the question of the day.
Deb
I met yesterday with a friend of mine. Almost weekly I have met with a friend or new acquaintance that is also in the same boat I am in. She is alone, not on her own choosing, but rather because her spouse has also died. I am finding their company comforting. We understand one another. It is almost like we speak the same foreign language. We spent time comparing notes. The part that is the most difficult to comprehend is the total aloneness we both feel. The silent emptiness of our homes. The feeling that a part of our own bodies are no longer there. My empathy grows daily for all of the women I have known throughout my life who lost their spouse. This includes my grandma, my aunts and many family friends of my parents. I sense their feelings so much more deeply now.
The tears come at the most inconvenient times. The sadness covers me, and I find myself yearning for it to lift... to get out of the fog... to brighter days. I have acquired a new technique of pinching myself. When I feel myself getting sad enough to cry in front of people, I will pinch the back of my hand hard. If I feel the pain of the pinch, perhaps I won't sob in front of the person. Maybe, I will just shed one tear. It does seem to work. I find I am even conscious that my eyes didn't spill out a tear. Maybe I will just have to blow my nose one time. That won't be as bad as seeing a tear. All of these new activities I am adapting to make my presence more acceptable in front of others. To make their life easier!
Who am I? Who are we, the widows who were a part of a marriage? I don't belong to my husband's family anymore. I really felt this at Easter. Decisions that I had once been a part of now feel foreign. I don't have any legal representation in that life anymore. It is really nothing that anyone has said or done, it just is. Being no longer married seems odd. I didn't choose to not be married anymore. I can no longer check the married box, I now check the widowed box. All of the things that were so important to me have evaporated into thin air. The uncomfortableness of family gatherings. Should one talk about the deceased or not? I wanted to talk, but didn't feel like others did. What does one talk to the widow about then? The weather is a good subject, safe for a while. I brought up that I was going to use the "grief card" in dealing with a business question. A chuckle from a family member made me realize how silly or odd that must have sounded.
I have always been a strong proponent in giving anyone the benefit of the doubt. Many times, my mantra has been. "I have not walked in their shoes, I don't know what it must be like to be them. So, therefore I can not judge them for how they do things." So, it is with widows, my IN crowd. I have decided I am giving any and all women left alone not of their own choosing the huge benefit of just being who they are without trying to fix them, to judge them or to understand them. But rather to allow them a FREE PASS THROUGH their moments of now.
My friend, Judy said she feels most comfortable around her grandchildren. That she feels most like herself. That person she used to be when her husband was alive. What is it about children that bring out the soothing balm of easier times in life? I am so eager to become a grandma. I know that this new baby is going to be such "GOOD GRIEF" THERAPY for me. Maybe tomorrow I will feel more like myself. But, then again, who is myself now? That is the question of the day.
Deb
Thursday, April 5, 2007
The Irony of Providence
Two words have been popping into my thinking these days. Irony and Providence. I had to look both of them up to make sure my brain was thinking straight. Irony is defined as a figure of speech in which the words express a meaning that is in the direct opporsite of the intended meaning/ or an outcome of events contrary to what was,or might have been,expected. Providence on the other hand is defined as the foreseeing care of God or nature/ God / or care exercised in providing for the future.
I am not sure who is exactly steering my boat of life, but I know for a fact that who ever is in charge is pushing the buttons that are labeled IRONY and PROVIDENCE.
Because Bruce's untimely death wasn't in our future plans and seems exactly opposite of what I would have wanted or needed at this time of my life, it seems ironic that I am in this situation. Yet, there are many markers, much like mile markers that are popping up that are demonstrating that it is part of a grand plan.
The little baby that is soon to be called our grandchild is the first of these signs. His or her parents-to-be worried that a baby of their own might not be part of their life. So, getting the news in October that a life was stirring in the Tokheims' future was so exciting for us. May is right around the corner, along with spring and the birth of our first grandchild.
The quilting classes I had been thinking about taking for a few years but never had are now in progress. The putting together of pieces of fabric has given me so much food for thought. As I am piecing together my future, my past is being dismantled. All that I have known for so long, on how to live is no longer. I think about the craft of quilting and the history of how it was that our foremothers used old clothing to make a blanket. The love that was hand-stitched into each quilt and the time that is involved is mind bobbling to me, a new-age quilter using the sewing machine to speed up the process. It has been a gift to learn this craft. The concentration, the exactness required are skills that I have needed in my life. There used to be a saying about, "I'm not taking it to the fair" meaning...I don't need to be perfect in whatever I am doing. I must admit it was something that came into my thoughts when I would be working on a project/ cooking/ cleaning etc; because it had been ingrained as a child. I understand and like the concept of not being perfect. I AM NOT PERFECT by no means. Trying and doing my best has been part of the life I have lived. Yet, perfecting little things like measurements of small pieces of fabric to get the desired end result is critical in quilting. Working on this small but important skill is rubbing off on other aspects of my life. Perhaps I find myself backspacing a bit more in my journaling. Or, using less exclamation points.
The quietness that has surrounded me is deafening at times. And in that I see the irony of life and death. Bruce's loud voice, unique laugh and overwhelming presence was part of my past so that I can appreciate my future. His way was edgy, rough and definitely one a kind. At times I was embarrassed by his gruffness, his directness, his uniqueness. But, now I know why we were paired together. He was a teacher for me. While he was alive, I didn't need to have these qualities as long as I was with him. From now on, as I am going about my life, what would Bruce do, say or think might be popping into my thoughts as I too ponder how to handle a situation.
As I got out of the car last evening, I noticed the tulip bulbs are pushing up out of the ground. These are bulbs we purchased at the Amsterdam Airport in the fall of 05 on our way home from Switzerland. (Our last big vacation together) They are weathering the cold, snow and ice of life. Their determination to break forth is innate. I can't wait for them to bloom. In those last two sentences, I see myself. As ironic as it seems I too am determined to move through this grief process and bloom again. When I was a manager with Weekenders for several years, we named our group. I used the acroynym for my name. DEB...Dreams Ever Blooming. At the time, I wondered if was a bit silly and over the top. Now, I know it was meant to be. It is me. The coldest day in February has passed and Spring is upon us. Life is bursting forth.
The black and white, cold and hot, death and birth, quiet and loudness of life is all around us. Newness of meaning happens when situations change in one's life. May Good Friday and Easter weekend point out the irony and providence that exists in your life too. God Bless Debbie
I am not sure who is exactly steering my boat of life, but I know for a fact that who ever is in charge is pushing the buttons that are labeled IRONY and PROVIDENCE.
Because Bruce's untimely death wasn't in our future plans and seems exactly opposite of what I would have wanted or needed at this time of my life, it seems ironic that I am in this situation. Yet, there are many markers, much like mile markers that are popping up that are demonstrating that it is part of a grand plan.
The little baby that is soon to be called our grandchild is the first of these signs. His or her parents-to-be worried that a baby of their own might not be part of their life. So, getting the news in October that a life was stirring in the Tokheims' future was so exciting for us. May is right around the corner, along with spring and the birth of our first grandchild.
The quilting classes I had been thinking about taking for a few years but never had are now in progress. The putting together of pieces of fabric has given me so much food for thought. As I am piecing together my future, my past is being dismantled. All that I have known for so long, on how to live is no longer. I think about the craft of quilting and the history of how it was that our foremothers used old clothing to make a blanket. The love that was hand-stitched into each quilt and the time that is involved is mind bobbling to me, a new-age quilter using the sewing machine to speed up the process. It has been a gift to learn this craft. The concentration, the exactness required are skills that I have needed in my life. There used to be a saying about, "I'm not taking it to the fair" meaning...I don't need to be perfect in whatever I am doing. I must admit it was something that came into my thoughts when I would be working on a project/ cooking/ cleaning etc; because it had been ingrained as a child. I understand and like the concept of not being perfect. I AM NOT PERFECT by no means. Trying and doing my best has been part of the life I have lived. Yet, perfecting little things like measurements of small pieces of fabric to get the desired end result is critical in quilting. Working on this small but important skill is rubbing off on other aspects of my life. Perhaps I find myself backspacing a bit more in my journaling. Or, using less exclamation points.
The quietness that has surrounded me is deafening at times. And in that I see the irony of life and death. Bruce's loud voice, unique laugh and overwhelming presence was part of my past so that I can appreciate my future. His way was edgy, rough and definitely one a kind. At times I was embarrassed by his gruffness, his directness, his uniqueness. But, now I know why we were paired together. He was a teacher for me. While he was alive, I didn't need to have these qualities as long as I was with him. From now on, as I am going about my life, what would Bruce do, say or think might be popping into my thoughts as I too ponder how to handle a situation.
As I got out of the car last evening, I noticed the tulip bulbs are pushing up out of the ground. These are bulbs we purchased at the Amsterdam Airport in the fall of 05 on our way home from Switzerland. (Our last big vacation together) They are weathering the cold, snow and ice of life. Their determination to break forth is innate. I can't wait for them to bloom. In those last two sentences, I see myself. As ironic as it seems I too am determined to move through this grief process and bloom again. When I was a manager with Weekenders for several years, we named our group. I used the acroynym for my name. DEB...Dreams Ever Blooming. At the time, I wondered if was a bit silly and over the top. Now, I know it was meant to be. It is me. The coldest day in February has passed and Spring is upon us. Life is bursting forth.
The black and white, cold and hot, death and birth, quiet and loudness of life is all around us. Newness of meaning happens when situations change in one's life. May Good Friday and Easter weekend point out the irony and providence that exists in your life too. God Bless Debbie
Sunday, April 1, 2007
The Wedding
Yesterday was the wedding of one of Abby's best friends. I had been looking forward to going to the wedding. My week last week had been a good one. I hadn't cried. Yes, now I measure my weeks in tears.
Let me take that back; I cried at the Relay for Life Ceremony on Friday night. I went out the the Highschool reluctantly. It was an event of bittersweetness. Many people I know that are SURVIVORS were there..and I am so very thankful, but - dammit; I am there because my husband had just died and his memory was being honored instead. As I walked along the track alone, many people I knew would come up and visit and walk with me for a while. A few of the team members who knew Bruce from the Utility Department in town had his name written on their sleeves. The tears welled up in my eyes as I saw his name. As the slide show was presented to music, I waited to see his photo. His name and photo came across the screen. The friends who were seated around me, reached back to touch me. Just that slight show of empathy caused the tearducts to open. I got a grip on myself. My conscious being begins to think now when I begin to cry. I find myself trying to control the amount of crying I do. I don't want my shoulders to move. I swallow to hold back the lump in my throat that might cause me to take a deep breath. It is awful to feel so conscious of my sadness.
So yesterday, as the wedding began, I had convinced myself that I was going to enjoy the wedding as Bruce would have enjoyed it. Especially the reception and the drinking part! Drown my sorrows is how the saying goes, right? He loved Val and all of Abby's girlfriends. They loved him too. These are girls that have been part of our lives since 4th grade ~ 16 yrs or so. He really liked being around beautiful women and let me tell you, this class of 1998 must hold the title for most beautiful women of River Falls! It was EYE CANDY to Bruce to have Abby's friends continue to come to the house all of these years! Not only are they all beautiful both inside and out, but they are smart! The 9 bridesmaids in strapless robin's egg blue chiffon tea-length dresses made their way down the aisle. As I saw Abby, she made me proud. She was stunningly beautiful to look at! Her upswept hair, her smile and her confident presence. Her gait in highheels would be identifiable if you didn't see her face. She must take after me. As a little girl, I too had a definite little stomp of a walk. And to this day, I still have trouble acting ladylike in heels. Anyway: as the bride began to make her way down the aisle, I couldn't help but cry. This is always when the tears flow, even with Bruce. But- this wedding was especially meaningful. Val had let us know almost one year ago about this wedding date. On our refrig, was the "SAVE THE DATE photo postcard of Val and Chris" The wedding invite arrived in December, the week Bruce came home from the hospital. And, when Val visited Bruce one week before he passed away, they cajoled as usual. She calling him- "Brucie" and he calling her "Vallie". He told her he would be at her wedding for sure! He always had such a positive outlook in front of people. But, now I wonder if he secretly knew he wouldn't be there. Seeing her dad, John walk her down the aisle, brought out the sadness I felt for Abby. Our only daughter won't have her dad physically be able to do that! In my selfish moment of tears, I envisioned that future day. My sons sat on either side of me and both sensed how I felt. Lance first held my hand and then Ty later. I wonder if they had assigned times to be there for me. Seated between the boys and their significant others, I felt Bruce's absence. It was huge. On either side of me was a gap between me and the boys. This was a space of loniliness. Always at weddings Bruce and I would find ourselves reaching for each other's hands. Our shoulders always touched one anothers. Weddings are such a great time for renewal of one's vows to the person you love. So...yes, the sadness couldn't help but be there. I allowed it to ebb and flow throughout the evening, yet controlling the tears. Many wonderful friends came up to me and hugged me. Anytime a male came up to give me a hug, I would tell him from now on, whenever I see him, I expect and need a hug! I do love how this excites the guys, young and old. They all act the part of a good guy! "You bet you can count on me to give you a hug!" Yes, the hugging deficiency is definitely a problem for me. Now I feel bad for all of the times, I told Bruce, " BRUCE.....PLEASE leave me alone, don't touch me!"... as any married woman will attest...sometimes it just gets too much...that is until it will never be again!
The reception was grand and fun! I began by drinking a couple of beers. Steve and Peggy (parents of Sara the nurse friend of Abby who came and cared for Bruce) sat with me and made sure my glass was filled. Peggy (who is a cancer survivor-yeah!!!!) had given me a card and gift of two bracelets after the wedding. Made by a local company's employees over their lunch breaks, these beaded bracelets are made in memory of cancer patients. Each color symbolized a type of cancer. She gave me the 'white' bracelet that represents lung cancer and the 'black' bracelet that represents mourning. They were the perfect gift at the perfect time! Plus, I had black and white on! Who would of thunk...I tell you God's plan is down to the minutest details at times!
During the evening festivities,many people were there at just the right moment, but two for sure helped me get through this tough evening. Liz, a roommate of Abby's during college spent time with me. She gave me kudos upon kudos for being brave and writing my honest and raw thoughts. Encouraging me to continue until I have nothing more to say. As a French teacher, I respect her intelligence and honesty in the moments we visited, danced and drank a shot together! (it was just one shot! ) She wants to take me to her YOGA class, the one where they sweat to death in heat! I will have to try it for sure if only just once. She also is a middle school teacher. I believe these teachers have an opportunity to affect a student, good, bad or indifferently. I believe a middle schooler especially a girl, or any emotionally charged student from a stressful home enviroment can be turned around and given an opportunity of their lifetime if a teacher such as Liz comes into their life. She is that kind of person. I wanted to so reinforce her committment to be there for her students.
The other person who touched my heart in a very special way, was a guy that Abby went to senior prom with. They went only as friends. His mom recently died. He is a sweet sweet guy. He had come up to me earlier in the evening to ask me to dance with him. I was so impressed. Besides Lance, and John the father of the bride, he was the only guy who asked me to dance. As we danced the slow dance I had requested, we visited about our losses. His mom and my husband. It dawned on me what my role for him was to be. I asked him if I could be his substitute mom from now on! He immediately melted, nodding and hugged me tightly. I know I can't replace his real mom. But, maybe I can fill the void he feels in his life. I believe it was just what he needed to hear.
So, the silver lining continues. In losing a husband, I have gained a son. I do hope he takes me up on 'calling me whenever he needs to talk' or stopping by for a visit and helping him navigate his world without his mom. It is the physical presence that we miss the most about the people we love when they are no longer here. As Val and Chris begin their life as one, I too, am beginning my life as one. Here's to the many couples out there who love one another til death do we part. May you live happily ever after. Fondly, Deb and forever Bruce
Let me take that back; I cried at the Relay for Life Ceremony on Friday night. I went out the the Highschool reluctantly. It was an event of bittersweetness. Many people I know that are SURVIVORS were there..and I am so very thankful, but - dammit; I am there because my husband had just died and his memory was being honored instead. As I walked along the track alone, many people I knew would come up and visit and walk with me for a while. A few of the team members who knew Bruce from the Utility Department in town had his name written on their sleeves. The tears welled up in my eyes as I saw his name. As the slide show was presented to music, I waited to see his photo. His name and photo came across the screen. The friends who were seated around me, reached back to touch me. Just that slight show of empathy caused the tearducts to open. I got a grip on myself. My conscious being begins to think now when I begin to cry. I find myself trying to control the amount of crying I do. I don't want my shoulders to move. I swallow to hold back the lump in my throat that might cause me to take a deep breath. It is awful to feel so conscious of my sadness.
So yesterday, as the wedding began, I had convinced myself that I was going to enjoy the wedding as Bruce would have enjoyed it. Especially the reception and the drinking part! Drown my sorrows is how the saying goes, right? He loved Val and all of Abby's girlfriends. They loved him too. These are girls that have been part of our lives since 4th grade ~ 16 yrs or so. He really liked being around beautiful women and let me tell you, this class of 1998 must hold the title for most beautiful women of River Falls! It was EYE CANDY to Bruce to have Abby's friends continue to come to the house all of these years! Not only are they all beautiful both inside and out, but they are smart! The 9 bridesmaids in strapless robin's egg blue chiffon tea-length dresses made their way down the aisle. As I saw Abby, she made me proud. She was stunningly beautiful to look at! Her upswept hair, her smile and her confident presence. Her gait in highheels would be identifiable if you didn't see her face. She must take after me. As a little girl, I too had a definite little stomp of a walk. And to this day, I still have trouble acting ladylike in heels. Anyway: as the bride began to make her way down the aisle, I couldn't help but cry. This is always when the tears flow, even with Bruce. But- this wedding was especially meaningful. Val had let us know almost one year ago about this wedding date. On our refrig, was the "SAVE THE DATE photo postcard of Val and Chris" The wedding invite arrived in December, the week Bruce came home from the hospital. And, when Val visited Bruce one week before he passed away, they cajoled as usual. She calling him- "Brucie" and he calling her "Vallie". He told her he would be at her wedding for sure! He always had such a positive outlook in front of people. But, now I wonder if he secretly knew he wouldn't be there. Seeing her dad, John walk her down the aisle, brought out the sadness I felt for Abby. Our only daughter won't have her dad physically be able to do that! In my selfish moment of tears, I envisioned that future day. My sons sat on either side of me and both sensed how I felt. Lance first held my hand and then Ty later. I wonder if they had assigned times to be there for me. Seated between the boys and their significant others, I felt Bruce's absence. It was huge. On either side of me was a gap between me and the boys. This was a space of loniliness. Always at weddings Bruce and I would find ourselves reaching for each other's hands. Our shoulders always touched one anothers. Weddings are such a great time for renewal of one's vows to the person you love. So...yes, the sadness couldn't help but be there. I allowed it to ebb and flow throughout the evening, yet controlling the tears. Many wonderful friends came up to me and hugged me. Anytime a male came up to give me a hug, I would tell him from now on, whenever I see him, I expect and need a hug! I do love how this excites the guys, young and old. They all act the part of a good guy! "You bet you can count on me to give you a hug!" Yes, the hugging deficiency is definitely a problem for me. Now I feel bad for all of the times, I told Bruce, " BRUCE.....PLEASE leave me alone, don't touch me!"... as any married woman will attest...sometimes it just gets too much...that is until it will never be again!
The reception was grand and fun! I began by drinking a couple of beers. Steve and Peggy (parents of Sara the nurse friend of Abby who came and cared for Bruce) sat with me and made sure my glass was filled. Peggy (who is a cancer survivor-yeah!!!!) had given me a card and gift of two bracelets after the wedding. Made by a local company's employees over their lunch breaks, these beaded bracelets are made in memory of cancer patients. Each color symbolized a type of cancer. She gave me the 'white' bracelet that represents lung cancer and the 'black' bracelet that represents mourning. They were the perfect gift at the perfect time! Plus, I had black and white on! Who would of thunk...I tell you God's plan is down to the minutest details at times!
During the evening festivities,many people were there at just the right moment, but two for sure helped me get through this tough evening. Liz, a roommate of Abby's during college spent time with me. She gave me kudos upon kudos for being brave and writing my honest and raw thoughts. Encouraging me to continue until I have nothing more to say. As a French teacher, I respect her intelligence and honesty in the moments we visited, danced and drank a shot together! (it was just one shot! ) She wants to take me to her YOGA class, the one where they sweat to death in heat! I will have to try it for sure if only just once. She also is a middle school teacher. I believe these teachers have an opportunity to affect a student, good, bad or indifferently. I believe a middle schooler especially a girl, or any emotionally charged student from a stressful home enviroment can be turned around and given an opportunity of their lifetime if a teacher such as Liz comes into their life. She is that kind of person. I wanted to so reinforce her committment to be there for her students.
The other person who touched my heart in a very special way, was a guy that Abby went to senior prom with. They went only as friends. His mom recently died. He is a sweet sweet guy. He had come up to me earlier in the evening to ask me to dance with him. I was so impressed. Besides Lance, and John the father of the bride, he was the only guy who asked me to dance. As we danced the slow dance I had requested, we visited about our losses. His mom and my husband. It dawned on me what my role for him was to be. I asked him if I could be his substitute mom from now on! He immediately melted, nodding and hugged me tightly. I know I can't replace his real mom. But, maybe I can fill the void he feels in his life. I believe it was just what he needed to hear.
So, the silver lining continues. In losing a husband, I have gained a son. I do hope he takes me up on 'calling me whenever he needs to talk' or stopping by for a visit and helping him navigate his world without his mom. It is the physical presence that we miss the most about the people we love when they are no longer here. As Val and Chris begin their life as one, I too, am beginning my life as one. Here's to the many couples out there who love one another til death do we part. May you live happily ever after. Fondly, Deb and forever Bruce
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