FOUR YEARS GONE

Excuse me if I am not myself right now

It is an anniversary I have to get through somehow

Four years gone, how can it be

That four years ago you left me

You said I would be tough

And be just fine

Your strength you said

Came from mine

I wish I felt

What you said you knew

It would help me now

And get me through

These times when you are missed so much

I would give anything to feel your touch

So excuse me world if I am not myself right now

It is an anniversary I have to get through somehow.

IT IS THE SEASON OF HOLIDAYS!

Grandson Leighton at the Dog Train Party!

 I am going to just put it out there.  I am a kid during this time of year!  From the time, the first leaves start displaying their brilliant colors through the first snow fall my adrenaline flows fast and free!

Life, and I mean my adult life…started for me October 7, 1966.  Driving cross country through the mountains with the brilliant glow of the reds, yellows and golds of the trees welcoming me to Pennsylvania, I entered into a family that was grounded in unconditional love and I could feel the change and I embraced it’s every core!  

A holiday has never been just the day for me.  There is such joy in the planning, the preparation and the day….well the day for me is sitting back and watching all those I love and care for enjoy themselves.  

Halloween presents itself with a chance for me to dress up with the kids and go trick-or-treating.  As they got older and didn’t hang with “M-O-M”, I would dress up anyway and greet the kids at the door.  One year I dressed in an old black witches outfit, with a big hat.  I sat on our porch with a large bowl of goodies, head down and still, and when I would see their feet I would pop my head up with a scary “Happy Halloween”.  Those who came to my door grew to know that Mrs. Ford would be doing something silly.  

The pumpkins and fall decorations would hang around through Thanksgiving.  Joined by the pilgrims and the great planning for our Thanksgiving meal.  The Ford family gathered either at Grammy Ford’s or my house.  We are a foodie family which always creates such great excitement amongst us.  The joy for me as I watched the Ford family gather was how, no matter how much time had passed between visits with one another, there was always such a great presence of celebration (and without the drunk fighting).  The tradition carries on today at my son and daughter-in-law’s home.  

Christmas….ah Christmas.  I feel sorry for those who put all their effort into just THE day.  For me, from the moment Thanksgiving is done until I am forced to take the holiday decorations down, it is Christmas.  When my kids were young we would do the advent wreath.  It was such a joy to stop the day's hectic schedule, light a candle, pray and read a Christmas story to them.  Letting each one take a turn to open the advent calendar door or window.  One year to add the spirit of love and the spirit of giving to the lesson I began the tradition of a “secret Santa”.  They had to draw each other’s name, keep it a secret and at least once a week do something nice for that person and not tell them.  It was only at the end that they were allowed to share who they were.  

Along with the normal prep for the holiday I would have the kids make things to give as presents, instead of buy them.  One year we created a calendar and they had to pick a date at least once a month and write a promise to that person.  During the year, we had to keep track and fulfill that promise.  It could be a car wash, a visit to the grandma’s, or bring a dinner to them.  Grammy Ford told me once this was her favorite!  

Our neighborhood after a storm!

One year I drew a picture of Grammy Ford’s house and we had notecards made up.  The kids helped me find the right little basket, and we wrapped them and put ribbons around them.  I can still remember how excited they were. 

There was always the homemade Christmas decorations for the tree.  I loved teaching them the lessons of giving.  

New Year celebrations would round out the season.  They were always fun, yet not rowdy or crazy.  A small gathering of friends, or a dinner.  But a round-robin of phone calls to the family not there always came at midnight.  

When the older generation passed, it took a couple of years for new traditions to take hold.  In my life since losing Pat, I take great comfort in the fact that I know what we are doing for these family gatherings.  Life is so busy the rest of the year, and there can be many lonely moments, but not the holidays.  It is a time for us to come together and celebrate each other, catch up, and be reminded of what is truly important to our life, and that is the love we hold for each other. 

HOW CAN IT BE THAT YOU ARE GONE?

Forty-nine years ago this month a broken winged bird was carried half way across these States to a new life where unconditional love and healing allowed me to grow into the woman I am.  At moments, the energy consumes me like it was yesterday,

So how can you be gone?

How can you be gone when the morning sun invades my room, I still find myself reaching out to feel the warmth of your body and can at times still catch the smell of your sweet skin?

Standing by the shores of a lake I see you cast a shadow on the lake from your fishing boat, as I wait by the shore for the signal to bring in the trailer to load the boat.  How can this be when you are gone?

When doubt fills me, I am suddenly embraced by your voice letting me know all will be okay.  Oh, how can you be gone?

I see and hear you in our children, the way they live, love and play, so tell me how can you be gone?

Watching them live their lives is like watching reruns of ours.  How can it be that you are gone?

At moments when I do something dumb I still hear your voice call out, “Marlena!!”

Life has gone on since you passed.  But fall fills me with the memories of both the beginning and end of the time we had together.  The vibrant colors of fall take me back to that trip East through the Pennsylvania mountains a bloom with the brilliant red, yellow and gold of autumn and to that Thanksgiving Day with the last of the fall colors fading from the trees and the sun warming us through our sweet wedding day.  I ask again, how can you be gone?

It all went so fast.  This Thanksgiving brings our 49th wedding anniversary, along with the 4th year that you entered Hospice Care and I still ask, how can you be gone when I feel you around me so strong.

And again I ask how can you be gone?

Because you are.  And I thank you for the sweet memories that continue to fill me and remind me of our love.

SEEING LIFE THROUGH MY GRANDCHILDREN'S EYES

Northwestern Lehigh High School Class of 2015

My second grandchild graduated high school this past Saturday.  High School!!  I remember my own children graduating high school…hell, I remember graduating high school.  Funny how through the lives of our children and grandchildren we see how fast life passes by.  

As I sat surrounded by a thousand other grandmothers, grandfathers, parents, uncles, aunts, brothers and sisters, celebrating each graduate, I remembered the day Dani came home carried by an adoring father and mother.  Her sister, Britney waiting anxiously to hold her baby sister, all instantly becoming Dani’s adoration society.  

Because my son served his country for 20 years in the military, Britney and Dani, grew up in leaps and bounds before us.  Large chunks of time away from us as they lived in various military bases provided a distance both physically and emotionally.  

As I am in the winter of my life and look back through the eyes and activities of my children and grandchildren, I find it hard to absorb all that life has presented to me.  But more importantly how I feel today often surprises me.  My body may be that of a 68-year-old women, but my mind is still that young mother, raising her kids, worrying about their comings and goings, and keeping busy making time appear to fly by even faster.

I have few regrets in my adult life.  I have enjoyed most every minute of it and the time and energy I have spent being a mother and grandmother have fulfilled me in more ways than I can count.  And the joy that comes, when seeing life through the eyes of my grandchildren is indescribable as they are a living reminder of the wonderful life that I have been lucky enough to have lived.

DREAMS DO COME TRUE!

Jimmy Johnson's 10th Career Win at Dover!

Ever since Pat passed away I would shout out to the universe that I would buy the tickets if anyone was interested in attending an NASCAR race with me.  This year, my youngest son and his family gave me the trip as my birthday present.  We went to Dover yesterday and watched Jimmy Johnson win for the 10th time in his career at Dover!  If there was a first-time track to attend, I must say, this sure was a good choice!

The noise was incredible—thank God for earphones!  The body vibrations that were felt as 43 cars went flying by was unbelievable.  Watching seasoned fans was pure comedy!  

It was hot, but it could have been hotter!  Although we sat in the sun, a regular coating of sunscreen and hats kept us from getting burned.  By the end of the day, I did feel somewhat like a baked potato covered in grease and the shower I jumped into when I got home was refreshing!

I want to say something about my two young grandchildren who attended the race with me.  They were 6 and 9.  Although about half way through the race they began to ask about when they could go home, they were beyond wonderful at allowing the adults around them to enjoy the day.  They were so good that even another attendee of the race, seeing them seek refuge from the sun under the bleachers bought them ice cream.  As he handed the ice cream to Kelly, he just tipped his hat and walked away!  A sweet pay-it-forward moment!

Attending the race provided many entertaining opportunities.  From the skywriting planes to the parachute jumpers, to the fireworks and the entertainment….the day was filled with head-turning events and we didn’t even see it all!

Watching the seasoned fans provided its own share of funny entertaining memories.  There was the guy whose arms were burnt from the elbow down making the whiteness of his elbows up appear in stark contrast.  As we walked by he was lathering up the red part of his arms but exposing his chest and upper arms to the sun telling his buddies this would allow his burn to even out!  By the end of the day, I wondered if the exposed sunburned beer bellies or the hangovers would cause more pain!

There was the typical fan crazed moments of booing and screaming even though the noise level in the stands only allowed for the wild body animation of movement to interpret the moment!  Decked out in fan shirts, hats and pins, the stands were alive with energy and enthusiasm.  I loved it all!

Thank you, Aaron, Kelly, Scott, Hayden and Ella for giving me another wonderful moment to treasure in my lifetime of memories!

I WILL DANCE WHEREVER I AM

Dancing along the waters edge with the sandpipers, searching for treasures that the surf leaves behind, feeling the sun warm my bare feet each time I get caught by the tidal push of water, I smile knowing how lucky I am to be here—or there…

I realize how blessed I am to be able to find happiness no matter where I am, no matter where I stand, a gift I am glad to possess.  I began to think about all those things that I can find joy in today.  Let me count the ways.

First and foremost are my family.  They have provided me the extreme of all emotions at times, but being happy with them, by them far outweighs anything else I know.

My friends are next.  Since losing Pat, I often don’t feel I have that “best or intimate” friend, but I am surrounded by a diverse group of people who manage to bring me joy when we spend time together.  I am always grateful to those who allow me to be with them—it helps keep the blues away!

My writing comforts me.  As a child, keeping things to myself was so ingrained in my soul, that being open about who I am and what I am about was hard.  Writing became my voice.  It does not matter if anyone reads it or likes it, or gets what I am trying to say.  Throwing my thoughts out to the universe frees me in ways I cannot explain.  The gift for me has been the discovery that I am alright.  I like me.

Being outdoors—in the woods—by a lake—near the ocean—standing by a waterfall—walking a trail--watching the birds—planting a garden—accepting the gifts provided by mother nature is easy and pure joy!  At times, there is not enough time in the day to do all I want to do or see all that I want to see!

Painting is play!  To paint is to be childlike—an area where I was short changed by a childhood that was taken away from me early in life.  Not anymore.  I keep the wonder of learning and exploring forefront in my activities.  Nothing stops me from playing today! 

Birds.  How can I not love birds?  They sing for me, dance for me, and entertain me in ways nothing else can.  In my life, I have always planted things around me that serve two purposes…the birds and me!  First it has to offer food or shelter up to the birds, and second it has to provide me pleasure in its existence.  I provide for them and the birds provide for me.  We make a perfect pair!

And last, but not least, music.  Nothing can carry me higher than the story of a song.  Music lifts me from sadness, will make my heart soar and take me places I didn’t know I wanted to go.  I write and paint with music in the background because it opens my mind and heart like nothing else can.

Life is an adventure and I want to enjoy it all. I know as I walk along the edge of the ocean dancing with the sandpipers, searching for the treasures that the surf leaves behind that I will dance wherever I am.

WELCOME TO MY NEIGHBORHOOD

As a child, I was surrounded by language that was demeaning and often ugly toward those who were different than “us”, especially if you were black, Catholic, Jewish, or gay.  By the time I was seven years old, I experienced enough to know to challenge this language, both in thought, word and deed.  

We lived in Waukegan, Illinois, and our home was located in the city where school was diverse.  I was a minority in my class.  Top this off with the fact that our home life was not the ideal and often surrounded with alcoholic chaos.  

For me, kindness and generosity, was often felt first outside my home…not from within.  So as a kid, when I would hear my parents and the adults with them, discuss people of color using derogatory terms, in my head I would be thinking, “but so-and-so is not like that, she/he is nice.”  The truth is, my experiences most always were the polar opposite of the language I was surrounded in.

So at an early age, I learned to not trust the adults in my life.  The seed was planted to not only challenge but to base my opinions on my own experiences.

This has brought great joy in my life.  By being open and accepting of differences, (even political ones), I have been blessed to make friends with very interesting and kind people.  

At my age, I have watched society grow more open and tolerant of one another.  I can remember the day when marrying outside one’s religious believes would bring condemnation from family, and often the member who dared to love outside the circle would face living outside the circle forever.  This behavior would bring about great sadness and turmoil to those involved.  

Although it is better today, than how we lived in my early life, it is obvious that we still have a long way to go by the headlines and activities I see today in states where laws are being passed that say, my religious beliefs give me a right to not treat you the same as I expect to be treated.  I don’t get it.  We live in a country that cherishes the right to practice our own faith without harassment or interference.  That government is separate from our faith and is to be allowed to govern the whole, not just the parts.  

Historically, all faiths have a history of challenge to it’s existence.  But we live in America.  We live in a country where we ALL have rights to be who we are, follow our own faith without harassment, and exist in peace.  

My own conversion to becoming a Catholic came about, not by someone trying to convert me, but by experiencing first hand from the Leuthe family of Milwaukee, the joy and binding love of a family unit, that just happened to be Catholic.  I was drawn to them all by their welcoming and outreach.  I have carried them in my heart since those days of long ago.  I have often thought, if they had been another religion I most likely would of converted to that, it was the joy of their existence that I longed for.  Making the decision to follow the Catholic faith, brought me first hand to the prejudice of such an act.  I didn’t convert because I was marrying a Catholic.  My conversion was personal.  Something my family didn’t understand.

I hold with honor, the distinction of being kicked out of my Grandmother Curnes’s funeral gathering, because I had the audacity to challenge the family support of George Wallace and his run for President under the umbrella of segregation. 

Our own existence cannot come without the acceptance of those around us, no matter who they are or what they believe.  For if I want the freedom to believe as I wish—and I do—then I must grant it to all those around me.  I have friends who are Buddhist, Jewish, Protestant, Catholic, Muslim, Agnostic, black, hispanic, foreign born, American, politically Republican, Democrat, Independent, gay and straight …all people who hold a special place in my heart.  I don’t love them because we all think alike, I love them because we accept each other for who we are.  Out of these relationships come wonderful conversations that broaden my own understanding of what it means to be human.  

I was given a writing assignment once, that asked me to describe how a tossed salad was like life.  It was easy.  One vegetable in the bowl alone would be boring and dull to eat, but mixed together with an assortment of fresh and tasty vegetables, bound together by a dressing makes for a satisfying edible experience.  

I believe in us.  I believe in the U.S.  I believe that goodness will prevail.  I welcome you to my neighborhood where diversity brings a richness in life that can only be measured by how I make you feel.  

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.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AARON!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AARON

Thirty-nine years ago, on February 25th, it was 80 degrees and Pat and I were trying to push along labour by walking around looking at boats, dreaming of the coming Spring and all the time we will be spending by the shore line of any body of water….him fishing and me chasing kids.  Later that day, my 9 pound, 1 ounce boy was born…our third son, fourth child, making our family complete.  Damian (age 4), Justin (age 2 1/2), Joliene (age 1 1/2) and now Aaron would fill my life in unimaginable ways. 

How is it possible that I have a child who is turning 39 when I am only 39? In my head that is!!!!  This year I will have my oldest turn 45, my second turn 43, and my third turn 41.  This cannot be! I remember living those ages.  Where does time go?  Why does it fly by so fast?  

I was glad that I recognized those moments that filled me with as much happiness as is allowed. I always wanted to freeze frame the time period as it was happening.  I had many of them when my kids were younger…although I must admit there were also those moments where I wanted to give them away to the first person that passed by.  Parenting is never just one emotion.  Ever! Being a parent is the extreme of everything you can feel….Joy…Fear…Love…Hate…Happy…Sad.  You cannot be a parent without recognizing that at any given moment you can be taken on the wild ride of your life.  I remember there were also times at night that I was glad to have put my head on the pillow and not have killed a kid that day.

Ah yes, parenting was tough, but oh what I would give to be standing there in that place again.  

Wait. I do when I visit any of my children’s families and see, feel and hear the craziness that fills each of their homes.  Kids, making noise, with sounds of “Mom….Mom…Mom” filling the air and I am reminded of how tough it really is to be a parent, and me going home to the quiet is good.

I am glad for all of you.  Your choices in spouses, the grandchildren you have blessed me with, and the lives you are all living, fill me with more happiness that you can ever imagine.  Thank you….thank you….thank you!

And Happy Birthday Aaron!

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.  

MORE MEMORIES FROM MY BEST FALL

We were so young!

Forty-eight years ago this fall was the beginning of a dream life with my new husband-to-be and a family who was built on love and kindness.  A six week whirlwind of activity and learning before getting married on Thanksgiving Day 1966.  

Navigating the winding roads of Montgomery County in Pennsylvania was my first challenge.  I came from Illinois where blocks were just that.  A square and easy to navigate.  Not here.  The name Cowpath Road should be your first clue.  I quickly learned that cows do not walk in a straight line because there were no straight roads anywhere in this state.  

Pat would give me directions on finding my way to the main highway to my new job.  “Just go straight to the first stop sign, turn right, follow that road straight to when the road ends, turn left and follow straight to the stop sign and turn right.”

The word “straight” should not have been used.  I would find myself driving down a road that contained 90 degree right angle turns and it would not take long for me to stop, pull over and forget where in his directions I was.  Did I turn?  Didn’t I?  Some turns were so tight I found myself turning on the turn signals.  

I have come a long way since those days.  Today I am a back road driver to anywhere I want to go and love the adventure of seeing where the road takes me!

Another moment I remember about this time period was when Pat and I found our first apartment.  November 1st we signed a lease for our first apartment in Lansdale, near the jobs we both had found.  When I tell you that Pat and I had nothing when we got married, believe it.  We not only had nothing, we had such a small wedding we even had nothing after the ceremony.  I would not have changed a thing.  We shopped at garage sales, auctions, and thrift shops.  It was fun.  One day while Pat and I were at the apartment that was soon to be our new home, preparing the kitchen for our move in time in a couple of weeks, a knock came at the door.  It was the apartment manager coming to tell us that Pat’s mother had called and wanted us to come home because she thought we had been there too long….alone.

I still laugh today as I did then, knowing that poor Mom, who was a widow of a couple of years at that time, trying to send off her oldest son in his new life without the love of her life by her side  and only today recognizing how difficult a time this was for her.  

Yes, that first fall of the rest of my life was a whirl wind of navigating, finding a job, setting up an apartment, preparing for a wedding, meeting members of my new family and learning that with love and kindness anything was possible.  

Fall will always remain a special time for me.  Surrounded by the signs of a dying summer and glorious displays of color and warmth to remind me that with every ending there is a glorious new beginning!

MISSING WHAT I HAVE LOST

I have gotten some calls with concerns because of some of my recent posts about loneliness and depression.  I believe our subconscious  often sends us messages when we are unable to recognize it any other way.  

As I sit and analyze what I had posted I acknowledge that I am in a tender spot these past couple of weeks.  I miss my old life and know that it can never be…and I don’t like it.

Fall was always a most happy time for me. As Christmas for me is a season and not just the day, so it is when Fall sets in, blessing us with the canopy of color and warmth.   It was 48 years ago this month that I moved from Illinois to Pennsylvania to start my new life.  From the first week of October until Thanksgiving Day, my memories are filled with the most joyous time of my life.

Pulling a 4 x 6 U-Haul trailer with my 66 VW from Ingleside to Harleysville was a most joyous ride.  We couldn’t travel more than 40 miles an hour as the U-Haul contained all my worldly processions.  Half way through the trip Pat asked me if we could spend the night at a hotel as he was getting tired.  “Can you promise to behave yourself?” I asked.

“I can’t promise that,” he said.

“Then keep on trucking!”, I replied. 

 And he did…for a total travel time of 23 hours.  When he pulled into his mother’s driveway, he backed in, walked in the front door with me tagging behind, and said, “Mom, take care of Marlene, I am tired and I am going to bed.”

And he did, leaving me to deal with the greetings to my new family to be.  So began a whirlwind six weeks of meeting and getting to know what life is like when it is surrounded by love.

My first introduction to this family were the family meals.  Every meal found the family hanging at the table after we finished eating, talking about the day and all that it brought.  I met new family members around that table and learned to laugh with abandon and joy at the teasing and camaraderie.  It was a tradition that got carried on through our own family.  No matter how busy we were, we spent many dinners at the dining room table in our home.  It was always special to me.

There were embarrassing moments too during that six weeks.  My husband’s grandmother, Muddy, lived with the family.  A proper Irish women with high standards who, although crippled with arthritis, was always doing what she could to help with the household duties.  

One day, after coming home from my new job, I found Muddy pacing back and forth in the living room waiting for me to return.  When I walked into the house, she grabbed my hand and took me up to her room.  I could not imagine what I had done wrong as she was visibly upset.  It turns out that she had found, in doing my laundry, that I was not in procession of the appropriate undergarments for a young women about to get married.  So bad. she thought, that she went up to the room I shared with Pat’s sister and went into my drawers and threw out all my underwear.  

Once she got them outside into the trash, she began to have second thoughts about her decision but before she could retrieve them from the trash the trash man had come and emptied the can.  There I was, standing before her with the only pair of underwear I owned on my body and Muddy slipping some money into my hands, apologizing for what she had done.

I wanted to run and hide I was so embarrassed.  What is worse I did not know my way around enough to know where to go that evening to shop for new ones.  I had to wait for Pat to return from work and ask him to take me shopping.  If I could have run away that very moment and never show my face again, I would of, but I could not find my way out of a paper bag at that time.  I was forced to stand and deal with the experience and process it all the best I could.  

It was the first time I learned the first lesson from my new husband to be…and that was, “when someone does something to you out of love, you cannot be mad at them. She only wanted the best for you and wanted you to be able to give your best to me.”  

My first taste of unconditional love…something that would take a few more lessons for me to learn, but learn I did.  He showed me over and over again, how to look at life with love in my heart.  With Pat gone from me, and this Fall season flooding me with memories of my early days in this incredible journey called life, I do find myself fluctuating in emotions.  

I miss my cheerleader and friend…

MY THOUGHTS ON DEATH WITH DIGNITY

I have been following the Brittany Maynard story.  In case you have not heard, she is the women who diagnosed with a brain tumor and no hope of a cure, moved to Oregon so she could take advantage of their Death with Dignity Law.  I have been aware that Oregon had this law for a few years now.  In 2011, a documentary titled, “How to Die in Oregon”, won the 2011 Sundance Film Festival award.  

I remember the impact that documentary had on me at the time as I was in year 12 of a 13 year battle of my husband’s illness which came after caring for my father, my husband’s grandmother, uncle, and mother-in-law through their dying days.  Some have floated off willingly and some, like my mother, went the hard way.  Death is never easy, the loss can be unbearable, and I believe on some level watching someone suffer is a gift to the survivor to be able to let go.  

But having walked this walk with others I have loved, what about me?   What do I want when it is my turn. If my death were as peaceful as my husband’s or my husband’s grandmother, then let it go “naturally”.  I believe none of us knows for sure how we will think or behave when we sit across from the doctor and he/she tells us that our time has come.  I have told my children that I want no heroic measures…let me go when that moment comes.  

But if my end would knowingly come with some major hardships and pain for me and for the family being asked to care for me, I think I would want the option to end it sooner...or not.  When I have had this conversation with others, they say, “but it should be God who decides when you should die, not you.  Just let God and nature take it’s course.”

I find myself thinking that because we have allowed medicine to take us into a realm of being, that if “nature had been allowed from the beginning to take it’s own path” we would have not reached, then why not allow medicine to stop the artificial lane we reached as a result of that choice.  

I don’t have the answers.  I know faith, fear, and hopelessness guides many decisions in each of us.  But having the right, when faced with an awful end, such as Brittany Maynard faces, then why not bless her with the peace and allow her to choose her own death with dignity.

All of us fear the end that is filled with pain and loss of dignity as those around us try and care for us.  Is this living or existing and then existing on what level?  I know I pray that when it is my turn, take me quickly and “please dear God, don’t let me die while on the toilet!”

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?

LAUGHING IS THE BEST MEDICINE

As my Virginia and North Carolina trip winds down, and we start thinking about heading back home, I sit here laughing just remembering all the reasons we laughed these last few days.

As we traveled to explore retirement possibilities for Dee, we experienced things you don’t want to hear on a road trip, like, when we got out of the car we heard someone say in another part of the parking lot, “Ya know…some people just need killin!”  

That is one way to make a person perk up!

Out of my mouth, as we were shuffling things around the car in the parking lot, I shouted out “So how many drugs did you bring?” Laughing Lucyann, John and Dee began to watch over their shoulder to see if anyone heard us!

I mix up the words vibrator and massager.  To me they both vibrate so I don’t understand all the fuss…So while sitting in the dining area of the hotel in Asheville, rubbing a sore area between my shoulders, I say to my sister-in-law, “Sure wish I had a vibrator!”  A man at another table started for a long time at me as I finished my breakfast.  And I thought he was flirting!  

Going to the farmer’s market is John and Lucyann’s past time.  I know why.  Not only can you get a bounty of wonderful food, but there is entertainment too.  It makes for a great way to start the day.  But I also discovered another reason.  The friendliness of the people in the south is a great experience.  Here is why I say that:  I am wearing what I fondly refer to as “my people attracter” pendant that my friend Flo made.  It is a beautiful piece of agate created into a necklace.  No matter how many times I wear it, someone comes out of the crowd and let’s me know how beautiful it is.  A nice way to start a conversation with a stranger.

So here I am at the bread maker’s stand when the young lady starts her flattering comments about my pendant.  Then her male partner starts in.  As we were chatting I catch out of the corner of my eye a man standing there staring at me, quietly mouthing the word beautiful…beautiful…over and over again.  Getting all flush I thank them all and let them know I may just never leave this place because they have made me feel so good!  And they did.  Once again I thank Flo for her creative conversation piece!

Another moment that put a smile on my face happened last night.  John and Lucyann went out to the back yard for their evening ritual, while I finished up some emails in their family room.  I suddenly heard two young men chatting outside and realized they were on the property.  Soon they came walking across the front of the two windows in the room.  I called out, “Can I help you?”  

The one young man took off running across the street.  I went to the door, opened it and asked what they wanted. 

 “I can’t find my cat,” he said.  

“What does your cat look like?”

“It has spots,” he replied all the while fidgeting. (I’m thinking, spots?  I never knew a cat to have spots.)

“So why did your friend run?” I asked.

“I don’t know, maybe he is scared.”

“Why would your friend be scared of looking for a cat?”

“I dunno,” he replied.

“So what is your name?”

“Billie Bob,” he answered.

“What is your last name?” I asked.

“Billie Jones.”

“Can I bet on that?” I asked.

“No ma’am,” he said as he took off down the road.

I don’t know what they were up to, but I loved his honesty!

Another lesson learned this week is that you can’t be too literal with some people.  A young mother, with her four year old son showed up at her sister’s house only to discover that her son forgot to put underwear on.  So she told him to grab a pair of his cousin’s underwear as they both were the same age and near the same size.  Dutifully he did, not seeming to be bothered that his cousin was a girl.  As the visit was coming to an end, she called him back into the house.  He came running, with his cousin beside him.  

“Take Annie’s underwear off.  We are leaving now,” she said.

“No, I don’t want to.”

“I said, take Annie’s underwear off now!  We are leaving.”

Whining now, he says, “but I don’t want to.”

“Look,” the mother begins to shout, “take off Annie’s underwear right now or I’ll spank your butt.”

With that he runs over to his cousin Annie, knocks her down and pulls off her underwear!

Yes, as this week comes to an end and I find myself back home again, I will miss the side splitting laughter that was experienced over and over during this trip.  But boy do I have a million reasons to smile!!!

LIVING LIFE LOVING UNCONDITIONALLY

Beth, Michael, Marlene, John, and Lucyann

Spending these past few days with my sister-in-law, brother-in-law, and their friend, Dee, has been wonderful for me.  I love the life that Lucy and John lead.  They recently retired. Their days start out at the local farmer’s market.  In the afternoon, we plan a meal, chop the vegetables and begin the process of preparing the days food.  Hanging around the kitchen, drinking wine, laughing, sharing, and reminiscing are great fun.  Taking time out to watch the sunset and then back to the kitchen to put the final touches on the evening meal seal the day.  Before we know it, the night is over, our stomachs ache from the laughing, and it is time to head to bed.

To be with people that love you just the way you are is a wonderful thing.  Accepting each one’s idiosyncrasies is such a joy and more often just gives more fuel for a good laugh.  

The family I married into is a great example of how to live life.  From the first time I stepped into their front door I was greeted with love and friendship.  There has not been one day in the family that a fight occurred.  Now we are all not perfect, but they absolutely unconditionally love each other.  No jealousy about how much this one or that one has, only a celebration of each one’s success.  When the family would get together, even when distance and time separated us, a stranger would think we were together all the time by the joy and fun we would have.   

They have been a group that not only embraced each other, but outside friends too.  Few holidays are remembered without a friend or two joining the family.

I love the influence that being a “Ford” has done to my life and that of my kids.  I am sad to say that in my family, a family reunion often meant ducking beer bottles and hiding under a table to be safe.  I eventually came to a point where I could accept my family for who they were and tell the stories of life as a child without tears.  They were what they were.  But I feel so lucky to have become a part of this family who taught me how to live and love unconditionally.  

I will be sad to have to say good-bye to my sweet family and friends.  But I know I’ll always be welcome to return whenever I want.