KEEP ON MOVING ON

I write to process life as it presents itself to me.  Plain and simple.  The other day I wrote about the loneliness found in the aging population.  You only need to look around you and you can find it if you want to.  For me, writing about this loneliness helps me to understand that it is a normal passage of life.  Lucky are those who are the first to die in the partnership.  The first to die still has a family intact, an advocate when you cannot think or act on your own, and most important that someone close who knows when you need the family nearby.  You are never alone.

But once you lose that partner, you stand alone in the world facing most all these moments by yourself.  I remember after Pat died, thinking on more than one occasion, how long would it be before someone found me if I should collapse in the house?  And when I talk to those who live in my community who find themselves in the same position as myself, this conversation comes with lots of I-know-what-you-mean head nods.  Yes…yes…yes….me too is the common idiom.  

And the truth is, there have been occasions here in the community where people have died and it was a few days before they were found.  It happens.  We do not want it to be us…but it could happen. The most common assumption is that having children is a safety net for these things to not take place.  Not so.  Our children are busy living their own lives.  A full schedule makes time pass quickly between calls or visits.  

There is a level of fear that some express when it comes to these vulnerable moments.  I don’t know how you make those moments go away.  I try to fight them by staying busy, but the truth is this does not always satisfy either.

In the beginning of my journey of learning how to live alone, I wrote a poem titled, “Keep Moving”.

Keep moving.

No time to think

No time to miss

the things that gave me joy

So I just keep moving.

Keep moving.

To stop is to feel

I don’t want that now

the pain is too real.

Just keep moving.

Keep moving.

If I stop

I know the pain will take me

to places, I don’t want to be.

I just keep moving.

Keep moving.

A wife, a mother I used to be,

It feels so long ago

What am I now?

I really don’t know

so I just keep moving.

If I keep moving

the pain won’t be real.

If I keep moving

it will be hard to feel

the dark that fills my insides.

I just keep moving.

Oh, what do I do?

A wife, a mother I used to be.

What am I now

in this club, I did not want to join?

A child?

My parents both gone

a child no moe.

A wife?

My husband passed on

a lover no more.

A mother?

Children grown and gone

with lives of their own,

a mother no more.

A grandmother, yes.

So sweet when they are young

but as they grow

I am an old person they know.

So what am I these days?

I float—keep moving along

afraid to stop because

I know the pain will overtake me.

I keep moving.

No desire to stand still

Oh God

please tell me your will.

So many steps ahead.

What could each one bring?

If I keep moving will I

know when it is okay to stop?

Just breath—be quiet, listen, feel it.

A new day will dawn.

New things will come.

Stop moving long enough and

just take it slow.

Who am I now?

I just want to know.

Existing is not enough

purpose has to be the stuff.

Keep opening doors,

who knows what I will find.

Keep moving.

This will buy me time.

I hope the day will come

when I no longer feel the need to run

to fill my time and space.

With some luck

I will find my place.

STOP

Breath—Listen—Feel it

Everything will be OKAY.

There are times this still is my cry in the night.  I am better today than when I first wrote this.  But living alone can still be a struggle for me from time to time.  Loneliness is still that dark hole I feel occasionally.  Not sure of my place in the lives around me can still fill me with emotion and uncertainty.  But filling my time with things to do is all I can do and like that river of pain that flows beneath my soul, sometimes it rears its ugly head and I just have to let it pass through me until I get up and move forward again.  

I also recognize that I am in an emotional place…50 years ago this month I said yes to a marriage proposal that changed my life forever.  50 years ago.  How can time pass by so fast?  How can it be that long?  50 years ago I was starting a new life.  And now 50 years later I am starting a new phase again.  Life.  Passages.  Normal.  And all I can do is remember what I wrote back in the beginning of this new journey…to stop—breath—listen—feel it…and know that everything will be okay.

WHAT’S NEXT, con’t

Back in June, I had indicated that I was thinking about what remains in life, where do I go, how do I get there and what do I do to make it happen.  Traveling is high on my list.  How to afford that when traveling alone has a surcharge…imagine.  A penalty for having no one in your life.  An odd thought really.  

Anyway, a friend shared a website called “TrustedHousesitters.com”.  Travel anywhere in the world and your lodging only costs your attention to the house and animals left by the owners.  Not a bad tradeoff.  

The other list of things to check was where to go to downsize both physically and financially.  This has been what has taken up a lot of my time…getting an education about what is next.  I am glad that I looked into this now while I am of sound mind and body.  To deal with this later in the game means the kids would have to step up and take over and the issues that can arise for them can leave lifetime amounts of guilt…something I don’t want to create for them.

So I went searching for independent apartment living.  Pennsylvania is a wonderful state to live in for seniors.  The county has a Department of Aging that provides information that at first can overwhelm you.  Here is what I have learned in this journey as a senior living alone.

First, there are two kinds of institutions out there….for profit and not-for-profit.  When considering entering one of these, know that they look at your financial status and in most cases won’t accept you if you do not possess enough money to carry you through their statistical time period of needing assisted living.  So if you live and die suddenly…this is good.  If you live and go from living to nursing home care, this too is doable.  But if your life finds you needing long term assisted living, well, let’s just say this is the part that will drain your bank faster than water over a damn.  And although these senior institutions don’t want to kick you out due to lack of funds, they will.  

Now some have a benevolent society within the institution, but if your needs go beyond what they want to carry, you will be asked to leave the facility.  Good luck family!  In some instances, an application for financial need can be exercised but in these cases, the senior needs to be destitute. 

Let me share a story of a women I met and talked with regarding an incident with her father.  Her mother had died when she was a young women.  Her father never remarried.  Living a bare bones life his senior years found him barely making ends meet.  No pension…no savings…just social security and even that did not keep up with inflation over the years making it impossible to live on his $900 a month.  She and her husband built an in-law suite in their home and for over 15 years they lived compatibly together.  The father had put the daughter’s name on his checking account…just in case.  Over the years the son-in-law would do odd jobs for his neighbors or friends and would stick some of the money into his father-in-law's account to allow for those needs of the father without him having to ask for help.

So it went until Dad had a stroke.  With the daughter and son-in-law both working, they were forced to place Dad into an assisted living facility where they immediately applied for financial aid.  Accepting him based on what they showed as Dad’s income, and sure he would qualify for help, they waited to hear that everything would be okay.  Protocol for the financial aid is to do an audit of the financial status of the senior requiring help.  The shock came back to the daughter when the facility phoned her to say their Dad did not qualify because the audit showed that he had $75,000 more than they indicated during the time period prior to entering the facility.  The daughter tried to explain it was their money in the Dad’s account and the reason they put the money into the checking account was to allow Dad the freedom to care for his needs without having to ask for it from her.  

The facility said this money had to be counted as the Dad’s unless they could prove it was their money.  Now forced to hire a lawyer the facility said those items that were deposited as checks showing the son’s name could be subtracted from the amount on the table, but those monies placed into the account as cash would remain on the table as Dad’s, so now they had to pay the facility $32,000 and again Dad was not eligible for aid.  They were forced to withdraw their father from the facility, take out a line of credit against their home and repay the facility the amount owed for Dad’s care.

Stories like this remind us what hardships can occur when we linger our senior years in a disabled condition needing assistance but not nursing care.  

Talking with this young women helped me solidify my own decision on where to go next.  

More to follow…..

MY WAR ON ME

I have not spoken much about my war on me.  It has been a long one.  Those inner voices that scream at me about how I don’t measure up to the rest of the world.  It dawned on me the other day, that if someone outside myself would actually speak to me that way, I would be fighting back.  More important if I spoke to others this way I would have no friends….EVER!!!!  So why do I do it?  

I have not said much about my new adventure in Weight Watchers.  But self-image is the core of my war. I have been going to WW since the middle of January and for whatever reason…this time, it seems to be working.  My fight with body image began very early in life.  I don’t recall not ever feeling fat and out of place.  When going through some old files I came across my 5th-grade report card where it showed my height and weight.  In 5th grade, I was 1/2 inch off my adult height and 155 lbs.  In 5th grade, I was my adult size surrounded by skinny “little girls”.  I carried that weight until I was pregnant with my first child at age 24.  Each of the four pregnancies put on more weight…and so goes my life.  

Another reminder of the outer messages received as a kid can be found in my autograph book that our 8th-grade tradition provided for opportunities for us to wish each other well in our high school life.  But along with the typical “Wishing-you-good-luck-in-high-school” thoughts were messages that said, “Fatty, fatty, two-by-four, can’t get through the kitchen door,” and “Roses are red, violets are blue, I’m sorry your fat and so are you.”  There were others too that were just as flattering.  Messages that I laughed at but inside the knife went deep.  

With an aunt in our family that topped 300 lbs, I was always told that “you are just like Aunt Betty”.  Another cut….As my pregnancies added more weight to my body, phone conversations from long distance family members would always include, “So have you lost any weight lately?”  Always a reminder that being me as I am was not good enough.  So the war in my head went on.  No matter what kind of person I was, or what I accomplished, or what I did…it was never enough to say I was okay.

So here I am…69 years old…alone and feeling in so many ways that I am still not good enough.  When I went for my annual physical this year, the doc said to me, “You know Marlene, you are so lucky to be as healthy as you are at this age with your weight….if only we could get you to drop some of those pounds.”

So, like many other times before, I decided to take myself to Weight Watchers and give it a try.  And this time, for whatever reason, it is working.  In the past I would go to WW and the first week would be great, the second good, the third I would begin to white knuckle it, the fourth and fifth weeks I would be looking for excuses to miss the meeting.  You know…I would gain so if I missed this week and was good the next I would go next time and lose…only that would not happen and I would drift away.  But not this time.

Since the middle of January I have lost over 23 pounds, but more important I feel physically great.  The new program is my perfect fit.  But more important is the inner war that always waged on no matter what I did… is quieting.  Really.  For the first time in too long to remember I am not screaming at me about what a failure I am.  The tools that WW shows me has given me choices and not made me feel like I have to deprive myself in order to loose weight.  Instead, it is choices…and I seem to have transferred that thinking into other areas of my self-worth.  Choices.  One simple word but the power it gives…amazing.  

I am making no promises here…just taking one day at a time and learning that the power of my choices can still allow for good times and happy moments. I am also learning that I am okay just being me and I can only hope that all of this can help push back those aging issues that can take us down, leaving me with time for all those adventures still on my bucket list, because by damn I am going for it!!!!

NO ROOM FOR HATE

As I  listen to the news that an accused 20-year-old was arrested for the hateful crime in the AME Church in Charleston, I am continually struck how the language of hate that we hear every day can motivate a young man, with a full life ahead of him, to decide to take on such a heinous act.  

Every time something like the shooting in Charleston happens, we all pause and ask why?  We will come together to mourn those whose life is so senselessly taken by another man’s hate.  Conversations will go on until we get tired of talking and the next ugly event takes place. And nothing changes.

Humanity has always struggled with its hate factor.  As the world opens up and accepts those who are different in religion or color, those on the fringe get more frustrated that no one is listening.  And the language and unwillingness of our politicians and news media to keep their angry ugly rhetoric in check only offers fuel to those on the fringe.  

This is why I try and not pass on hateful messages, or share what some perceive as jokes when it is a hate-filled depiction of one side or the other.  I can disagree politically with anyone and not lose my love of who they are.  If we all thought alike, approached things alike, then would we not all be alike? Buy the very same things? Do the same things?  We don’t.  We enjoy different colors.  We enjoy different places.  We eat different foods.  We celebrate different holidays.  And it’s amazing how we can all accept those kinds of differences without question.  But our disrespect for each other flows so freely on both radio and tv shows,  and sometimes to those in our life who believe different than us, and we forget how our words can affect those on the fringe of our thinking.

As the politicians continue to not work together and practice the politics of division, we create a divide in our peoples that is fueled by their inability to compromise and work together to create the best for the “whole of us”, not just part of us.  The money-fueled-lobbyist controls our politicians after we vote to put them in office.  

Unless we collectively shout loud and long that enough is enough, these kinds of hate-filled acts will continue.  If we collectively, do not search for and work for the common good of the common man, then these kinds of hate-filled acts will continue.  If we collectively, cannot reach across the divide of beliefs to find those things we can make better, then these kinds of hate-filled acts will continue.  It lies within all of us to make these kinds of changes.  We must treat each other as we want to be treated.  It starts with me…and you…and you…and you…and you.

TIMING

Kathmandu before the Quake
March 2015 by Brian

Timing.  How many times in our life has it happened to us?  The right time in the right place.  Wrong time in the wrong place.  Timing is what I thought about as I followed the events in Nepal over the weekend.  Brian, a friend of our family, just returned from Nepal.  He posted some incredible pictures of his visit and as he tells me, “so many of the buildings and temples are now destroyed.”

Is it luck?  Our guardian angel?  Intuition?  What makes timing often play such an important part of our life.

Like many, I have experienced many timing events in my life.  One evening returning home from a company holiday party, Pat and I were driving home on Route 378, a 4 lane highway just north of Bethlehem.  Driving in a pack, I suddenly said to Pat, “hit your breaks”.  He responded by tapping the breaks causing us to remove ourselves out of the pack of cars enough that when suddenly, a car came flying across our two lanes from the other side, taking out the four cars ahead of us while we had enough space to get out of harms way by pulling up the side of hill.

“Why did you tell me to back off?” Pat asked as we sat there in shock at what we were seeing.

“I don’t know,” I remember saying, “I just became overwhelmed with fear and all I could do was ask you to pull back from the pack of cars.”

The greatest impact of timing for me came when, while volunteering at the American Legion in Fox Lake, Illinois, it was time to end the day, but I decided to wait and help make sure all the wounded military men were on the bus heading home.  It was that moment that I met the man who would become my best friend and husband of 45 years.  

Back to our young friend Brian and his trip to Nepal.  He has a request.  With his permission, I am including it here.

“I hope everyone I know will take a moment and consider donating to relief efforts for Nepal's earthquake.

We always think of these things as being so far away. However, less than four weeks ago I was trekking in Nepal and had a medical situation requiring a Medivac from the mountains. The person who was most instrumental to my immediate care, my guide Madan, and the person who coordinated my Medivac and hospital care, Prem, the company director, both lost homes in the disaster.

We live with so much more than many people in the worlds, including the infrastructure to be able to respond to natural disasters. Please give something to those with less and who today need the most. Just give to a legitimate charity…

Thanks,

Brian”

http://www.redcross.org/news/article/Red-Cross-Responding-to-78-Magnitude-Earthquake-in-Nepal

So I ask again, is it luck, a guardian angel, or intuition?  

STORYCORP.ME

I am the gatherer of stories—the memoirist, the family historian.  My favorite past time is asking people about their life and listening to their story.  We all have one you know.  We may not be rich and famous, but we still have the life we lived, filled with our own personal challenges, successes, and our own observations on how to do it better. 

There is something beautiful about the ordinary.  The simplicity of living.  The ability to find happiness where we stand.  Peel back all the material things in life and what do you find?  Us…all of us…the same in so many ways.  Which is why I find the project by the American Folklife Center interesting.  StoryCorp.me is a beta application released to enable anyone to interview others on their life story, asking questions like “What are your dreams for me?” (assuming here it is a child asking a parent or grandparent).  “What person influenced you the most in your life?”  “What is your earliest memory?”  

StoryCorp through the American Folklife Center is archiving these interviews at the Library of Congress to enable sharing of the human experience for generations to come.

There is a browse section on the application where you can listen to the latest uploaded interviews and I found the conversations fascinating between child and parent or grandparent.  Just the fact that so many young people are taking up this activity, tells me that our youth, who we too often perceive as not caring or are uninterested, are truly interested in the stories we have to tell.  So often through the interview you hear the young person say, “I didn’t know that.  Wow that is cool, or Wow that is interesting.”  And most often it is followed by, “I am so glad you shared that with me.”

One daughter and father were taping their interview at 4 in the morning!  But listening to them banter back and forth told me that this moment would be a precious memory in the life of the young women interviewing her father.  

Another interview was a young man interviewing his 94 year old neighbor.  You could hear through the conversations how the young man and his family had bonded with this 94 year old man and how important they had become to each other’s well being.  Simple lives, led in simple ways but providing profound outcomes for each.

Yes, I love to hear the stories of how others have lived, loved, and faced their challenges.  It lets me know that what I am thinking, feeling, and doing, may be ordinary, but it is my ordinary…and that is good.

So tell me, what is your earliest memory?

Post Script:  StoryCorp.me is a free application that you can load on your phone, IPad, or computer.  Do yourself a favor, download it and hand it off to your kids and see what conversations you can start.  I promise, you will be glad you did!

CHILDHOOD FRIENDSHIPS NEVER DIE

Tom, Pat and a friend from work 1966

Most all of us have walked through our life carrying the memory of an old friend within us.  That someone who lived through a portion of our life, leaving an impact and burning that special soft spot in our heart.  I have not had the experience, but I lived it through my late husband, Pat.  He had three friends through his childhood that he carried in his heart with great affection until the moment he died.

John, Tom, and Joe were the first three friends of Pat’s that I met.  I loved to see them together. They had a history, a connection…something, that in my life could only be imagined, never experienced.  I often told Pat how lucky he was, because he could not travel up or down the 309 corridor without bumping into someone who knew him from his childhood.  

John and Pat were close like brothers.  Their love and acceptance of each other was a beautiful thing to watch.  Of course it helped that John married Pat’s sister, but even so, they always carried each other close to the heart and being with John and Lucyann was always such a happy time.  Even distance did not put a wedge in their relationship.  

But Joe and Tom eventually drifted away physically, yet never in Pat’s memory, thoughts or feelings.  Right before he died he made me promise to try and find the two of them and give the message to them that they were never forgotten and how he carried them in his heart always as his best friends and with great affection. It was important to him that they all knew that he loved them.   I promised I would try.

I first found what happened to Joe.  Joe was the Best Man at our wedding.  We quickly bonded as a couple as he too was married.  Through the first four years of our marriage, we spent most all our social time hanging out with Joe and his wife.  Sometime after my first pregnancy, Joe and his wife separated and divorced and our friendship drifted apart.  Life, family and work filled the time available for both Joe and Pat.  Over the years we did get in contact with him once, but Joe was embarrassed about how his wife left him (he was a man of great pride) and we did not stay in contact.  But that did not mean he was forgotten by Pat.  As I went on a hunt for him I decided to search the obituaries and I was saddened to discover he died in 2004.  I called John to share the news of my discovery and you could hear the breath leave him for a moment as he processed the news.

I first met Tom thru Pat at the Navy Hospital at the Great Lakes Navy Base where I worked.  Tom and Pat went into the Navy during the Viet Nam days on the buddy system.  Pat never cared what he did as long as he could do it with Tom.  In boot camp where they filled in their dream sheet of what they wanted to do in the Navy, Pat chose to put down what Tom wanted to do…dental tech.  In the end, Pat was the one who was selected to go to A school for Dental Tech, while Tom ended up in Corp school to become a Medic and eventually off to Viet Nam.  Pat never made it to his school because on the obstacle course he broke his foot which left him unfit for duty and back home to await discharge.  Tom’s schooling was at Great Lakes which allowed for me to get to know Tom through Pat while Pat was in the hospital awaiting orders to return home.  Tom went off to Viet Nam, returned home, attended college and went off to live his life.  Our first born son carries Thomas as part of his name in honor of the love Pat held for Tom.  

I was recently lucky to have come in contact with a cousin of Tom’s who shared contact information for him allowing me to fulfill that last wish for Pat.  When I called John to share the good news of finding Tom, he too was overjoyed, as he had spent part of last year searching for Tom without success.  

We promised to meet up soon and catch up on the life lived between visits…and when we do, I know Pat will be there too with a big smile on his face.

THANK YOU

Jimmy Fallon does this very funny routine on his show where he writes “Thank You” notes for some off the wall ideas.  

It got me to thinking…I  have a lot to be thankful for…so here are my "Thank You" notes.

Thank you birds…for coming to my bird feeder and entertaining me through your dinner hour.  The cardinals, wood peckers, and nut hatches are my favorite, but I love you all.  Even the squirrel that visits from time to time makes me smile.

Thank you sons, daughter, daughter-in-laws, and grandchildren…even though you all live hectic full lives, you do stop now and then and invite me in and it reminds me of the hectic crazy life I once had…and I am given the opportunity to be glad for the quiet at home.  (But don’t stop inviting me in….I need it from time to time!)

Thank you neighbors…for being helpful when I need it.  You are the reason I love living where I do.  And when I entertain thoughts of moving I am taken back by the idea that since my husband died, you have become my family and confidant.  How can I ever leave you voluntarily?  

Thank you to the employees at Whitman Pharmacy.  You know my name.  You may not be the bar on Cheers, but you make me feel just as good!

Thank you “friends” on Facebook.  I shall never have another birthday where I am forgotten as long as I have you all as friends.  You have no idea what that means for me!  

Thank you Trudy at Giant Food Store.  Seeing your friendly face when I go grocery shopping (my least favorite thing to do) always makes me smile.  You always make a point to step up and say hello.  Life is made better when I bowl next to you during our Thursday league!

Thank you to the neighbors who allow me to help you from time to time.  You give me an opportunity to earn brownie points for my trip to heaven…and Lord only knows I could use all the help I can get.

Thank you to Bill Wood, my lawn guy.  Not only do you have the instinct to know when to do the right thing, but you do it when it needs to be done and not just because you can.  I like the way you help me preserve my finances and make me look good too!

Thank you John L.  for taking time to visit during your trip around the US on your motorcycle.  Our conversation about our high school's 50th class reunion, erased any fear I may have had about attending the event next September.

Thank you to the PA at the doctor’s office.  You are so kind and friendly, that no matter how I feel going into the visit, I am made to feel better by our conversation once I am there.  You, it turns out, are the best medicine!

Thank you to the men I have dated since I lost my husband.  You have made me feel like Goldilocks…..some are too old, some are too young….some are too hot….and some are too cold….I’ll let you know when I find the one that is just right!

Thank you to the trash men that come twice a week and clear away what I don’t want.  No matter the weather, you always smile at me and wave.  You always make me wonder if I would be thinner doing what you do when I watch you chase the truck down the street, all the while throwing the trash into the back.  You must sleep well at night!

Thank you Toyota Service Department.  You may be pricy, but your attention to my car gives me confidence that my 2008 Toyota Solara will continue to give me pleasure as I drive down the street with my top down….the car top that is!  

Thank you Eileen for showing me through your daily living and good deeds, what living life to the fullest is all about.  No one…and I mean no one…does it better than you.

Thank you David for your phone calls and conversation.  You remind me of how much hard work goes into a loving relationship.  You are at the threshold of the best time of your life and I envy that.  Enjoy.  You will have plenty of stories to tell of all the good times.

Thank you to Joan for sharing a bedroom with me!  You showed me that travel can be fun and interesting when you are open to new experiences.  (Now do you think people will wonder what I mean by this?  :-)  )

Thank you to Carol, my neighbor, whose shared love of gardening makes our places look like a park  in the summer...to be enjoyed by us and our neighbors alike!

And last for today…thank you to my grumpy old friend.  You remind me and help me plant the seed in my head to be always grateful to all who help me travel through the winter of my life.  For when we reach the stage of life where we need help, we must never forget to say, “Thank you.”

I AM NOT UNIQUE, OR DIFFERENT, OR SPECIAL

As a young mother I took a workshop on how to best communicate with my children.  During the course of the workshop I was presented with the idea that no matter how unique you think you are, or how special, if your eyes are open and you look around you will see, even in the dark, you are not alone where you stand.

To prove the point, the instructor shared the story about how he decided to order these very special red glasses.  He desired to stand out…be different…a one-of-a-kind man.  “How many times do you see red eye glasses on anyone?” he said.  He searched and searched until he found just the right ones.  Spending good money for these one and only kind of glasses they finally arrived.  To his amazement after a couple of weeks he began to notice others had the same red pair of glasses.  How come he didn’t see this before?

I equate this same phenomenon with cars.  I cannot tell one new car from another.  Not like the old days when a Mustang or Corvette looked like a one and only.  Or my favorite, a Thunderbird.

So you go out and buy that one car that calls your name.  What happens?  Suddenly you notice that car everywhere.  You see them in all colors, on every street.  Yet before purchasing it myself I could not see my car anywhere….that I noticed.

So here I am today…a widow.  Looking back on life we had family members die.  But as a young person you grieved and then quickly got back into the rhythm of living.  Gone but not forgotten are those that had passed on.  

Today, I feel like I am living a cascading event of people passing away all around me.  Yes, I do live in an “active adult community”.  But I have noticed since I became “one”…a widow…that it is not unique, or different, or special…and even in the dark, I am not alone in this journey.  I am one of many and a continuing growing community.  

I am not sure how I am suppose to feel about all this.  I know the world pushes me to say, “get on with it”, but no matter what we think we know about “getting on with it”, when it is our turn we each have to find our own way through the loss, grief, and new growth that will eventually follow.  

I know one thing, I am more keenly aware of those around me.  In a crowd, I watch couples and find myself even wanting to go up to them and say, “hold tight to each other, for these moments are as fleeting as it was when raising your family.”  When I hear a couple bicker, I want to ask them, “Is this really worth the pain you are causing each other?”

But I know this is just life…just as the life I lived and took for granted.   The good thing about this realization, is accepting the fact, that I do not stand alone in the dark as I once thought I did.  And this is a good thing.

WHAT ARE YOUR VALENTINE'S DAY PLANS?

"Embracing my singleness" was an answer option by AARP, who sent out a questionnaire asking what my plans are for Valentine’s day.  The question options were typical of what you would expect from such a questionnaire.  Sweets for the sweetheart or dinner for two, etc.  One answer was “Will embrace my singleness.”  After filling in my answer, AARP sent a follow-up message giving you the total answers to date.  I was struck when it showed that the number one answer was “Will embrace my singleness.”  Boy, there are a lot of us singles out there!

Valentine’s Day, along with New Year’s Eve remains the two hardest days to get through since Pat passed away.  Oh what we take for granted when we have it and what is missed when we don’t.  

What fills me during these times, is the reality of how much I miss the tenderness of touch.  I can close my eyes and still remember the moments, but it only succeeds in making me yearn for that long hug and warm embrace even more.  I don’t know if I will ever be able to say that to be without intimacy is okay, but I have to find ways to get beyond the ache.  

With so many single men and women out there, one would think some places would do something to create a welcome to those without partners.  

I have kept one promise to myself.  I have begun to invite friends in.  Oh not a big party kind of invite, but small, intimate groups so conversation and laughter can occupy the time.  I remembered, with my last invitation, how much I loved preparing the meal and planning for friends.  And when they came, the joy of conversation and the hugs hello and good-bye felt wonderful! 

I haven’t figured out what I will do on Valentine's Day, but I will do something…go to the movies, attend a show, have some friends over….something.  I refuse to sit home and endure the commercials on TV that remind me how alone in life I am.  So if you see me knocking on your door, remember it is just me looking for a little TLC.

Happy Valentine’s Day to all of you!

LORD, HELP ME PRESERVE MY DIGNITY!!!!

Me as I start my new chapter in life!

I am in a new chapter of my life.  And the goal?  To keep my dignity about me!  The chapter you ask?  Surviving working with a trainer and physical therapist.  Beautiful people in body and spirit, both of them.  I especially enjoy the young man, Dean, who is my trainer.  A brilliant young man who takes his work very seriously.  But he puts my body in positions that I haven’t tried since I was six months old.

Age I could last lift my legs
over my head.

I mean, when is the last time you put your legs over your head?  You know the position.  The getting-ready-to-change-a-diaper position!   Okay…maybe six months is pushing it, but not more than two years old for sure!  The worst part about this position is the fear I will fart in his face as he pushes my leg toward the back of my head!!!!

I look around the room and there is a younger women who, laying on her back, brings her legs up over her head and reaches back toward the wall with her toes.  I think to myself, “My God what I am doing here?”

The work I do with Dean is not cardio…but it sure makes me sweat.  By the time I walk away from him I am sweating as if I was in a sauna and my face is as red as an apple.  From the outside it looks simple.  At least he makes it look simple.  

“Just stand with your back to the wall, open your arms to your side and your elbows at 90 degrees, hands up in the air….touching the wall with the back of your hands.”  He demonstrates and I think, ah an easy one.  Sure.  I stand with my back against the wall, lift my arms as if I am surrendering to the gunman, push my arms back to touch the wall…pushing…pushing…I can’t touch the damn wall!!!!  

“Don’t worry,” he says.  “You’ll get there, just don’t give up.”

I want you to know that standing in this surrender position and lifting my arms straight up and then back down is very hard for this 68 year old body!  

Balance is my weak spot.  I mean it is so bad that if a policeman pulled me over for a DUI, I would just have to surrender because I could not pass his “stand on one foot and lift the other” test.  I would fall over on my face and he would haul me in!

I'll always love to cook!

And can I ask, why the mirrors?  In this place there are mirrors everywhere.  I don’t even like to look at myself naked in the privacy of my own home and yet here I am in a room full of young sweaty bodies who seem to be able to tie their legs into pretzel holds, unable to move without catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror.  Do you know how hard it is to try and do these exercises while seeing my “old women’s body” flopping around on the floor?  Most of the time I just close my eyes…and that does not help either!!!

As hard as this is…and it is hard…I will not give up on working to get my strength back into my muscles.  There is so much I want to do and places I want to see, and all require a good deal of walking and hiking and damn it…I am going to do these things!!!  Until then, Lord, please help me preserve my dignity!

LIFE LIES DEAD AT MY DOOR

I am coming up on year three of widowhood.  What a journey this has been!  Our youth allows death to appear remote to us unless it touches us close to home.  Preparing for this time I believe is impossible, and I believe surviving this time period is a test of one’s core.  We are all born into a family, never alone until for many, we reach this time of life only to find all those that started out with us are, one by one, leaving this earth, allowing for us to stand more and more alone.

Life today is a yo-yo for me.  I enjoy being with family and friends—really enjoy it. It is easy today for me to laugh and have a good time.  Then the moment comes when it is time to go home.  Oh how I miss those moments of conversation that carries the good times on the journey home…”remember so-and-so and how funny?” or “Wasn’t it a great night, boy it was so good to…”

In life as a single, the moment lies dead as soon as you walk through a door.  You go home in silence.  Once inside your own place, there is just you.  You close the door and all you hear are your own footsteps making your way through the house.  

When you have that someone to share those moments with, it extends the good feelings.  You get to travel in the air of good times.  There is a contentment that fills you.  

Finding ways to embrace this stage of my life is my biggest challenge today and the one hardest for me to overcome.  I must learn to live alone and be okay with it. I cannot spend the rest of my life running from the silence. I must find ways to explore it’s existence for it is with me everyday now.  I must seize this moment to find my creative soul.  I must make it a positive in my life.  I have to in order to survive….no not survive, but live.  Complete, with joy in my heart and wings on my feet.  That is my goal.

But not today…for today, life lies dead at my door.  

TAKE CARE CARETAKERS

As I traveled these past couple of weeks I once again met some incredible people whose positive attitude and outlook on life can only impress once you hear what life has dealt them.  Each of us has a story to tell and in them all, the life’s lesson is that it is not what happens in life, but what you do with life once the hardship has passed.  

Possessing a positive spirit does not come without some pain in the background.  I easily see that those who carry a happy spirit make a personal choice to do so.  Being around people who choose this is nothing, if not a motivation for each of us to figure out the secret of living with a happy spirit.

One of the common threads of discussion this past week was caretaking our loved ones through illness and eventually their death.  Until someone walks this walk with a loved one, it is hard to think about what it is like.  Most will respond with, “Oh, I don’t think I can handle that.”  The truth is, that we often find ourselves in the middle of what we think we can handle before we realize it.  

Listening to the sharing that went on this past couple of weeks I am reminded of the lessons I learned in my own journey of taking care of my family through their end days on this earth.  The last 13 years was the hardest for me.  First, my Dad was with me the last 3 1/2 years of his life when my husband became ill a year before my Dad died.  

I too thought I could not handle what eventually I became good at.  The hardest part was caring for my Dad’s personal hygiene.  Quickly though, it became “doing what needs to be done” without thought of how I felt or how he felt.  The blessing for him was that by the time it reached that point his mental  faculties were lost and he did not realize who was taking care of him.  A blessing for both of us.

Caring for Pat for the years he was ill was the toughest yet most tender part of our life together.    Not because of how the fun things in life took a back seat to the caretaking, but because there is so many other issues wrapped up in the days spent by the side of a loved one who has entered the dying process.  There is the preparation of the loss.  Each day I found myself trying to give my best, because I knew how much I would miss him when he was gone.  I tried to soak in every good moment I could, yet there were the days when fatigue and depression would set upon me and I was unable to give him my best.  That would often be followed by guilt, which he would never let me own because he recognized how hard this was.  That would only be followed by more guilt because his kindness and love toward me was so complete and unconditional.  

As the years went on, and I became more and more teathered to the house, standing at the door watching the world go on while feeling trapped became the most challenging moment for me.  Pat deserved the best of me during this time, because i always knew that if it were me in that bed he would of given the best of himself.  But how to do that on a day in and day out basis?

People would offer up their help, but we believed in the commitment of “for better or for worse, in sickness and in health”.  This was our journey and we did not want to impose on anyone, especially our children until our need for them was required. As caretakers when we think of help, we don’t think of ourselves as much as we should.  When someone offers up their services to us, we immediately think of what can be done for the person who is ill.  The truth is, we should be asking what do I need so I can continue to do my best.  That is when I concluded that I needed to find every small way I could to refresh my soul.  

I bought a convertible so that when heading out on errands, I could put my top down and enjoy the ride on a back road to the grocery store, listening to music or just the sounds of the wind blowing in and the birds singing their songs.

I decided to bring in someone to clean the house at least once a month.  Seems silly on many levels to do this,  as my place is small and hearing my mother’s voice in my ear, “anyone can clean this in a minute.”  But the truth is when we are bogged down in the chores of everyday, it can get hard and be downright depressing.  Having someone come in and clean the corners lifted my spirit.

I needed a challenge not connected with death and dying. I decided to try something totally out of my comfort zone.  I took up oil painting.  Now I never have considered myself an artist, but I needed something so alien to me, that it challenged me and kept me engaged.  I bought videos, books, watched how to you tube videos and began to play.  I loved it (and still do) even though I still don’t consider myself an artist I just love to play.

These are just a couple of things I did to keep me engaged, challenged, and inspired by the world.  Instead of standing by a window watching the world live, go and do, I brought what I could into the house.  I was inspired and it brought a level of comfort to me as I was tethered to the house doing my best for Pat.  

By working to stay positive, even in the face of his death, we had happy times…laughing moments…and tender sharing moments.  All possible because I was in a better frame of mind…not a bitter one.

So caretakers….take care.  When you stand before someone who says to you, “if you need anything call me”, put yourself on that list of needs.  If you take care of yourself then you will have all you need to care for the ones you love.

Are you listening Dee?

THE PORCH AT EL TOVAR LODGE

View from the Porch at El Tovar Lodge

By the second day of our trip to the Grand Canyon, I turned to Joliene and asked, “What have you noticed about the people who live and work here in the Canyon?”  

Her response was, “You noticed it too, didn’t you?”  

What we noticed was how rough everyone looked, like their life had not been easy.  Every face had a character about it, a spirit of toughness…both in men and women.  I found myself trying to guess how they lived when not here in the Park.  

Life cannot be easy because the Canyon and the desert that surrounds it is not easy.  There is a harshness to the surroundings that I have never experienced before.  I found myself wondering about those who first stepped foot on these lands.  

The area surrounding the dessert is full of pine trees and cactus.  Wildlife in the area was once bountiful according to a Native American I spoke with, who allowed me to pepper her with questions.  Grasses grew waste high at one time, but for the last 100 years the area became more barren with the droughts that have become common thru today.  

On the way out of the Canyon we had stopped at an outlook over the rim that belonged to the Native Americans.  I struck up a conversation with the young man behind his table of goods.  I was fascinated with his slow, thoughtful and deliberate way of speech when he spoke of the reservation we were standing on.  His pride at being a Native American and the fact that they survive in such harsh surroundings was prominent but not boastful.  He shared the history of his land and as he spoke i wondered how many times had he gently shared this story so that the rest of us would understand what had happened to his people when the white man came through.  

There was a well earned pride of toughness in the two Native American’s that I spoke to.  

Looking at the Porch at El Tovar Lodge

There was a sweetness among the guests I met on the porch of the El Tovar Lodge.  From an older gentlemen in his 80’s—83 to be exact—whose age seemed prominent in his life these days without his love  by his side.  I heard about his retired life to Sun City (Phoenix) with his beautiful late wife and how his children would join them every year at Christmas here at the Lodge.  He was planning one more trip with the kids at Christmas this coming year, but he told me this would be his last.  His heart, body, and spirit no longer could carry him to this place filled with so many memories of his beloved.  

Then I met a couple from San Antonio, Texas.  A lawyer and his wife, also taking a sentimental journey to the Lodge and Canyon.  The last time they were here was a year before they were married and that was 26 years ago.  They seemed to be reconnecting and deciding that life is too special to just work and not stop to play.  I wanted to tell them how right they are.  That life can turn as fast a switch for a light and I was happy that they had recognized this before it was to late.

I met a women who worked for the Lodge for 5 years.  This was her day off and she was on the porch with me taking pictures of the storm rolling through the Canyon.  Hers was a tale of love lost at a young age, and she came to the Lodge to work.  She had no place else to go and no one to go with.  She was from Indiana originally.  It was apparent her heart was here in the Canyon.  The passion that filled her conversation as she spoke about the Canyon and how unforgiving it can be, yet tender and mesmerizing too, was apparent.  She has seen death from carelessness here at the Canyon.  There is no forgiveness for mistakes on the rims edge.

Other conversations on the porch of the El Tovar shared with me were equally as interesting and thought provoking.  All of us in our own way searching for that connection, that belonging, that desire to be at home in our hearts and spirits.  The porch was a very meditative experience for me.  As a conversation would end I found myself mulling over my experience and what I learned, and it is this;  I may be emotionally alone, but one cannot ever be alone unless we put ourselves out in the wilderness into total isolation.  I need only to open my mouth and say hello.  I did it on the porch at El Tovar.  I kept saying hello to everyone that crossed my path and sat beside me.  I learned from those who spoke to me.  I invited conversation into my moment and I felt connected, even if it was just for the few minutes we spent together.  Then I let go.  And I was me.  Just me.  No one ran away from me.  I didn’t have to do anything to earn their friendship or kindness.  I just sat there, gave it away, and let it fly.  And it was good.

I also gave thought to how life is a risk.  If we don’t take them we will never know where we may land or what opportunities can be opened to us.  Risk does not come without failure, but failure is only an opportunity to learn and then move on.  

Most important I know that life is worth living every day.  Age is only a marker on the body, but the mind can carry you anywhere.  When Pat died, the vulnerability of my youth came flying forward and was my guide in getting through these days.  Without him by my side, I thought I lost that confidence in accepting who I am and what I am and how the world would see me.  I became that young vulnerable women again who was afraid to be me.

But the conversations on the porch at El Tovar, and the people who touched my life, taught me that I am okay, just the way I am.  And that too is good.

ALL IS RIGHT WITH THE WORLD, AGAIN

As I lay in bed (at the hospital for a sleep study) last night, I read over my last few journal entries and see how “drippy” my thinking as been this past week.  This happens now and then.  Accepting unwelcome change never comes easy.  And losing my husband qualifies big time on that account.  

I’m lucky to know that in my life’s journey I realized early on to not hang on to destructive and painful feelings and attitudes.  They do me no good except to slow me down and cause more pain.  But to deny them is also wrong.  I found a way to process these times in order for me to move on with life.  I do keep a lot inside, (except in my writings) and I know these moments are as important as the “happy” times and together make up who I am.  To deny one affects the other.  I practice giving both their equal due.  

I have mentioned in previous writings that painful memories flow like a river inside of me (inside all of us) and now and then they overflow their banks and I have to take time and work through them.

There is a lady in my community, a widow like myself, that  I have always looked to for motivation, as she appears strong and very content in her life today and when I mentioned to her how thrown I was by the emotions that filled me when my children and their families all peeled away and returned to their life.  She said, “I cry every time we go on vacation together.”  “Just like you, as they leave me and head home ahead of me, I am sad and emotional to say good-bye”, she continued.  “It is that I am having fun with them, and I really hate to see it end.”

And there is the truth.  The week down at the shore with my gang was fun, and memorable.  No pressure to do anything but what we wanted to do, and I loved every day until they started, one by one, to head on home.

This was the first time our family had gotten together for a vacation and the saying good-bye threw me and I fell all the way back to those first moments of being alone after losing Pat.   This morning, in the early light of dawn I am doing much better. 

When I cannot seem to shake an attitude or mood, I find it helpful to read back over my writings.  I find that once expressed, the hight of the emotions levels off and when I read them back, although I recognize the feelings, I am not as intense with them.  That is the sign to myself that everything will be okay.  And so it will.  And now I am off to be with two of my grandchildren.  And I tell you…they are better than puppy dogs as they run up to me, throw their arms around me and shout, “Grammy, I missed you!”  

“I missed you too,” I reply as they cling to my legs giving me all they got at the moment.  All is right with the world once again.

RETURNING TO REALITY

I have another bucket-list item checked off my list today.  For over 40 years I have always wanted to be at the ocean when a good storm would bring up the waves and pound the shore line.  With Hurricane Arthur moving up the east coast, it’s power is being felt in the thunderous surf.  As the day went on, the heaving of the waves, and thunderous sounds of the ocean roar filled the shore community .  

The sad part for the little ones this week is that the fire works they so looked forward to are postponed until the evening of our departure.  But as the evening rolled on individuals up and down the shore line set off fireworks—enough to satisfy anyone wanting to see the colors of the red, white and blue.  It still is a week of wonderful memories.

But tonight, as I stood on the waters edge it filled me with so many emotions.  I enjoy walking the edge of the ocean when the rest of the world has abandoned the beach, but my sense of aloneness filled me in ways I have yet to be able to describe. Everyone has left except for my one son and his family and they are walking the beach searching for sea treasures.  I am getting a glimpse of what remains when they all return to their lives…me.  I have never felt so connected as I was when I was a wife and young mother.  Today I am an observer of what use to be.  Surrounded by purpose and partnership was the most fulfilling part of my life.  Without it, I am lost and trying hard to find a way to accept this and enjoy the days left to me.   

As I look around me  at those who have lost a loved one, and are as old or older than I am, I wonder what they have done in their life to accept this change.  I want to know if the smile I see on their face is genuine or just a mask that hides the truth inside their soul.  

I never believed that accepting the changes in life would be linear or easy.  I miss having that special someone to talk over life's challenges and daily happenings.  I write I guess, because it is all I have to process what goes on inside my head.  Some days it is not enough, but I keep on keeping on!

SOUVENIRS FROM THE BEACH

Happy July 4th!  Today is the last full day of our family vacation in Sea Isle City.  Although,  Hurricane Arthur is playing havoc with any 4th of July plans, the rest of the week has been good.  

Treasurers have been gathered from the ocean’s edge by both adults and kids.  Stones, shells, conch…oh the conch.  Aaron found the first one—and the biggest one—Scott found the second one and Lauren came in last night with one she found lying on the beach.  The conch finds brought more smiles than anything else we have experienced all week.  In all my years this is the first time I have seen them outside of a seaside gift shop.  The colors on the finds have been beautiful too.  

I love watching Lauren stroll up and down on the beach in search of any treasure the ocean releases.  She gets this beautiful glow on her face and you know she is having fun.  In fact, as I write this, she and Honor are at the beach in search of new treasures in the rains from Hurricane Arthur.  

Last night Leighton, my grandson, caught a small shark.  “Did you hear about the man who caught a shark with his bare hands?” he asks with that glint in his eye.  “A manly man”, he says with a smile and then a bigger smile when you finally learn it was him!  

Logan (7) and Ella (5), the youngest of the grandkids, are the most fun to watch return from the beach.  “Look, Grammy!”, they shout.  “Look what we found!  Aren’t they pretty?”  Sand buckets filled with shells and stones, all treasures to take home—souvenirs from the beach!

Chewie spent most all his time like this
on the front porch at Sea Isle City.

There has been laughter—much laughter.  The boys have been the source of most of that.  I do believe true to a man’s form, they never stop being kids.  Friends of the family, Scott and Meredith were here with us in the beginning of the week.  Scott and Aaron, my youngest son, are a duo together that brings mischief wherever they go.  The man next door said to us, “Boy after Scott left it got quiet here.”    We laughed.  Our family reputation is in tack, we can blame it all on Scott, despite the fact that we know who is the real culprit.  

I will be sad to see this time with my family end.  I needed to see and feel my family around me and in today’s world of crazy work schedules and kid activities it can be a challenge to make it happen.  I thank all of them for accepting my invitation to gather together. I hope they all were able to find their own souvenirs from the beach.

THE THINGS I SEE AT THE SHORE!

I see this week in hanging out with the kids that aging does have its perks.  I provided the setting for us all to come together.  I even supplied many of the basic needs, but in asking everyone to provide one meal a night has made my existence here seem too easy at times.  

I’m sitting back and watching the people in charge of the meal do their  thing and I get to visit.  Of course with a gang this large there are those pick up times but that seems easy in comparison to how I remember life as a mother of four and whatever friends they had hanging around.

I am not the type of person that feels the need to have her hands in everything that goes on.  I keep an eye on the care given the surroundings but outside of that I feel like I am floating this week.  What a joy.  Sitting by the seaside, smelling the ocean, listening to the waves beat up against the shore is pure heaven.  Even the threat of Tropical Storm Arthur is not upsetting me.  We may lose the opportunity to see the fireworks if it stays on through the night, but I have always wanted to be near the ocean during a storm to feel and see the power of the waves.  Another thing on my bucket list.  So no matter what happens…fireworks…storm…it will be pure joy to me!

The real fun for me is sitting on the front porch and watching the people head on down to the beach.  All shapes, sizes and walking styles.  Today I watched a good looking gray haired man—but he knew it—strut his stuff.  A gold necklace pulling your eye to a chest full of hair, and a copper tone tan that let you know he is no stranger to the beach.  He stands on the board walk, spots a beautiful set of blond twins coming down the boardwalk, so he pauses, puts his one leg up and stretches, showing how far his legs go up in a suit that is made more for a teen than a old man, even one with a descent body!  The girls go by, and he makes a point to watch them and then turn to see if they are looking back at him.  I about busted my gut laughing.

Last night, while spending the evening porch sitting and watching the boardwalk stroll, I noticed a young women stop under the light post, but due to my aging eyes could not quite make out what she was doing.  Turning to the kids I asked, “Can you make out what she is doing?”  To our amazement as we watched her pull her pants up while standing up we realized she just dropped and peed on the boardwalk.  Not believing what we saw, the guys ran up to check the spot where she was and shouted back to us on the porch, “Yep, there is a wet spot!”  Another great laugh!

We watched a man get a ticket for parking in the “do not park beyond this point spot”, a woman in a van back right into the fire hydrant, and the hunt for parking spaces during peak beach time is pure sport.

Yep, I’m having a great time.  I’m glad I am here!