Mail is not always the bearer of glad tidings. Usually the mail box is crammed with catalogs, pleas for donations, bills and other junk mail. Not to mention the ubiquitous mailing labels. Today, Happy Birthday card arrived for my huband from the Claremont School of Theology. Addressed to Dr. Doyle Shields. I considered forwarding it to heaven, but I might get it back with 'insufficient postage.'
No need to remind me that his birthday on July 24th is one of the many 'firsts' survivors traverse on the path to the new normal. He would have been 88. A good run for a sickly child with low expectations for a long, productive life. Lucky me he landed in Ventura County where we met in July and ended up married in November. What a crazy impetuous, joyful decision that was in 1971. Who said it wouldn't last?
I write this in my new office in the room that was his old office. No resemblance to each other. My cats have made adjustments to my new digs as well. When Des held court in this room, the cats sat wherever they decided to perch. If it was on a pile of papers Des needed, he just sat back patiently until they moved on.
As for me, when Murphi nuzzles my hand clutching the mouse (not real), interfering with words of wisdom, I move him off my knuckles and finally show him the door. Not to worry about his wounded psyche. He'll be back.
Since I am not in a celebratory mood this month, A new life is about to emerge next month. Another great grandchild for Suzanne and Ryan. somewhere in mid-August, Matthew Ryan Jaeger, will join their family. .Big brother Lucas and Nathan can't wait. Life does go on. And we are grateful.
So says Sassy
Saturday, July 20, 2013
Monday, June 24, 2013
A Mixed Bag
This journey through the latest chapter in life without my life partner still seems like a bad dream at times. Other times, I am almost complacent. The good, bad and the almost surprising, weave in and out of the days and now nearly four months later in my untethered world.
Lately, days are full of laughter, nights not so much fun. But all in all, surviving and soon thriving is my goal.
I sit at my desk in my new office, once occupied by Des, typing in a room full of light and books and memories and files and family pictures. Murphi is stretched alongside the computer screen, purring softly. I peer out the window and see trees and sky.
What does Des see, I wonder. I feel his love here. More so in church, and even in the supermarket, where I reach for his Oatmeal crunch cookies and remember to put them back. Change surrounds me. Life goes on.
My Wednesday afternoons are taken up with a grief group conducted byt the assisted living people associated with Hospice. Went to my first one last week, getting lost looking for a streed named Westinghouse that is behind a Tire store off Telephone. I will go back again. Seems to fit my needs. The counsellor ended the session by having us share something humorous about our loved one. We all did and left laughing. How appropriate to celebrate his life this way.
He used to tell me, I'll miss you when I'm gone. Ain't that the truth.
So says Sassy
Lately, days are full of laughter, nights not so much fun. But all in all, surviving and soon thriving is my goal.
I sit at my desk in my new office, once occupied by Des, typing in a room full of light and books and memories and files and family pictures. Murphi is stretched alongside the computer screen, purring softly. I peer out the window and see trees and sky.
What does Des see, I wonder. I feel his love here. More so in church, and even in the supermarket, where I reach for his Oatmeal crunch cookies and remember to put them back. Change surrounds me. Life goes on.
My Wednesday afternoons are taken up with a grief group conducted byt the assisted living people associated with Hospice. Went to my first one last week, getting lost looking for a streed named Westinghouse that is behind a Tire store off Telephone. I will go back again. Seems to fit my needs. The counsellor ended the session by having us share something humorous about our loved one. We all did and left laughing. How appropriate to celebrate his life this way.
He used to tell me, I'll miss you when I'm gone. Ain't that the truth.
So says Sassy
Friday, June 14, 2013
Shifting Tides
I have been a widow for three months. Grief comes and goes, not in the five stages reflected in books on death and dying. I mourn in a crooked, winding path of sweet memories follwed by piercing guilt and empty wishes. I skipped over denial. I held Des when he breathed his last breath. It came so easy, silently, peaceful.
Anger has no place in my mourning. Anger is for the living, meaningless without a target. Void of energy. Yet, I am not embracing acceptance quite yet, To embrace acceptance, I must consider the future. Right now, ny goal is to live in the here and now.
His presence surrounds me, his voice breaks through the silence and I look at his snapshots, here and there around the house. Silly ones, as wearing his green top hat mugging for St. Patrick's day, or staring patiently at his beloved cat, Murphi sprawled across his desk, scattering papers and notes without a reprimand. His best buddy he calls him, the guys, he calls our cats. Of course, their female gender is not acknowleged. Although he did once muse aloud about his household of females. His harem I said.
This is my first blog since I stroked his face and told him he was going on a wonderful journey to see , at last, his brothers, Ep, Dick and Merle....his mother and father and friends who made a path for him to follow. I told him to save a place for me. I am comforted by my faith, family, friends and furry critters.
Des always said, sudden death, sudden glory. Meanwhile, I plan not to waste this gift of life. Love and gratitude - it is all there is.
So says Sassy
Anger has no place in my mourning. Anger is for the living, meaningless without a target. Void of energy. Yet, I am not embracing acceptance quite yet, To embrace acceptance, I must consider the future. Right now, ny goal is to live in the here and now.
His presence surrounds me, his voice breaks through the silence and I look at his snapshots, here and there around the house. Silly ones, as wearing his green top hat mugging for St. Patrick's day, or staring patiently at his beloved cat, Murphi sprawled across his desk, scattering papers and notes without a reprimand. His best buddy he calls him, the guys, he calls our cats. Of course, their female gender is not acknowleged. Although he did once muse aloud about his household of females. His harem I said.
This is my first blog since I stroked his face and told him he was going on a wonderful journey to see , at last, his brothers, Ep, Dick and Merle....his mother and father and friends who made a path for him to follow. I told him to save a place for me. I am comforted by my faith, family, friends and furry critters.
Des always said, sudden death, sudden glory. Meanwhile, I plan not to waste this gift of life. Love and gratitude - it is all there is.
So says Sassy
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Dumpster No.4 Departs
The dumpster arrived last Tuesday ready to absorb the past, But the garage views it with suspicion. On the first day, we label boxes 'save', Dump and donate. By the end of day four, after three loads gone, Dumping is only option. I was merciless. Des, I am sure is appalled. Hope he is over it by the time I join him in our heavenly palace.
Meanwhile the garage has room for my car, suitcases, a cabinet with tools and more, plus a bottom drawer with old, old letters he saved. These go back to 1983 when there was major chaos I won't share. But Yikes! How we got through that challenge, Only God knows and actually that's who saved our sanity.
I'm saving his office for when I no longer have bouts of sadness, especially on Sundays. I have been reading, "Fear" Essential Wisdom For Getting Through The Storm" by Thich Nhat Hanh. It is helping me deal with memories of those Sunday visits to the Mound when after visiting him, guilt followed me home.
Hahn reminds us that our memories can cause us real suffering, both emotionally and physically. Save them for a later time when we can look at them compassionately, he advises. My true home is in the here and now. The past is not my true home. Easy for him to say, I think.
Then I find a Plastic bag labeled 'Dick's handkerchiels for baptisms' and two neatly folded linen handkerchiefs are in it. Dick, his beloved brother, and baptisms to remind me of his calling.
Gratitude kicks in about here, and I know what a great ride these 41 years have been. Last week Sheb Wooley's. widow, Linda Dotson and I were reminiscing on the phone about what kind of mischief Des and Sheb were up to now. They were great friends. Linda said, "But Weren't we lucky gals to be loved by such wild, crazy guys?"
Absolutely, so says Sassy
Meanwhile the garage has room for my car, suitcases, a cabinet with tools and more, plus a bottom drawer with old, old letters he saved. These go back to 1983 when there was major chaos I won't share. But Yikes! How we got through that challenge, Only God knows and actually that's who saved our sanity.
I'm saving his office for when I no longer have bouts of sadness, especially on Sundays. I have been reading, "Fear" Essential Wisdom For Getting Through The Storm" by Thich Nhat Hanh. It is helping me deal with memories of those Sunday visits to the Mound when after visiting him, guilt followed me home.
Hahn reminds us that our memories can cause us real suffering, both emotionally and physically. Save them for a later time when we can look at them compassionately, he advises. My true home is in the here and now. The past is not my true home. Easy for him to say, I think.
Then I find a Plastic bag labeled 'Dick's handkerchiels for baptisms' and two neatly folded linen handkerchiefs are in it. Dick, his beloved brother, and baptisms to remind me of his calling.
Gratitude kicks in about here, and I know what a great ride these 41 years have been. Last week Sheb Wooley's. widow, Linda Dotson and I were reminiscing on the phone about what kind of mischief Des and Sheb were up to now. They were great friends. Linda said, "But Weren't we lucky gals to be loved by such wild, crazy guys?"
Absolutely, so says Sassy
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Snapshots of Happiness
It is more fun to go through old snapshots than clean out a garage. Our garage holds strange and unfahomable tools and other things that Des was loathe to toss out. This is the week we start the sorting with a handyman named Dana referred to me by my Dr. Murphy who happens to be his brother. I recommend either one whether you have pain in you joints or in your clutter. But I digress.
About snapshots, they seem to multiply faster than ants at a picnic. Boxes and albums abound. I started to separate families into separate stacks so I can offer them for the taking, when I noticed a common thread. Des and I looked happy, smiling at the camera with eyes that smiled too.
There we were at the foot of the Eiffel Tower, waiting our turn to go up to the top. In another we wore bright orange life vests on a cruise to Alaska during a lesson on what to do if the ship goes down. Titanic flashed across my mind, but then I can get dramatic.
Again on the water, we are headed down the Columbia River following the path of Lewis and Clark in a bright red paddle wheel vessel. More water, riding on the Maid of the Mist in NiagaraFalls. Did I mention I can't swim?
A last on land, there I am sitting on a swing in the back yard of brother and sister-in-law Dick and Siby Shields while she hangs out the wash in a soft summer breeze in Ripley, New York. Still life in motion.
All these lead me to start an album, pictures and narratives of our life, lived with gratitude.. I've decided to highlight grand travels to Paris as well as tedious road trips across the country, west to east and back again.
We got acquainted with our blended families through our travels. Wish I had a snapshot of Des surrounded by my noisy Italian family in the basement of a home in Chicago. A comic strip would show him with a cloud above his head, asking 'what did I get into?'
On the other hand, I got up close and personal with a cow on Dick's farm, awed at how big they are, city slicker that I was. Des and were extremes in our backgrounds. He was the youngest of 7 children, I was an only child. I never finished college, he earned a doctorate. Still our values matched and do did our faith. Love made it work, warts and all.
So says Sassy
About snapshots, they seem to multiply faster than ants at a picnic. Boxes and albums abound. I started to separate families into separate stacks so I can offer them for the taking, when I noticed a common thread. Des and I looked happy, smiling at the camera with eyes that smiled too.
There we were at the foot of the Eiffel Tower, waiting our turn to go up to the top. In another we wore bright orange life vests on a cruise to Alaska during a lesson on what to do if the ship goes down. Titanic flashed across my mind, but then I can get dramatic.
Again on the water, we are headed down the Columbia River following the path of Lewis and Clark in a bright red paddle wheel vessel. More water, riding on the Maid of the Mist in NiagaraFalls. Did I mention I can't swim?
A last on land, there I am sitting on a swing in the back yard of brother and sister-in-law Dick and Siby Shields while she hangs out the wash in a soft summer breeze in Ripley, New York. Still life in motion.
All these lead me to start an album, pictures and narratives of our life, lived with gratitude.. I've decided to highlight grand travels to Paris as well as tedious road trips across the country, west to east and back again.
We got acquainted with our blended families through our travels. Wish I had a snapshot of Des surrounded by my noisy Italian family in the basement of a home in Chicago. A comic strip would show him with a cloud above his head, asking 'what did I get into?'
On the other hand, I got up close and personal with a cow on Dick's farm, awed at how big they are, city slicker that I was. Des and were extremes in our backgrounds. He was the youngest of 7 children, I was an only child. I never finished college, he earned a doctorate. Still our values matched and do did our faith. Love made it work, warts and all.
So says Sassy
Monday, April 15, 2013
My New Title
I lost my status as a wife on March 12, 2013. Now I am a widow and I don't like it. I used to be somebody who belonged to someone. We were a couple. Now I am a single.
Widows come in all sizes, ages and ability to cope. I have gone through the early stages when a wave of sorrow washes over me like a sudden tsunami and I weep like a forlorn child.
Shopping in supermarkets bring on silent sadness as I pass watermelon. Des loved water melon. And cinammon rolls and cheese omelets and peanut buttter cups, and he loved me.
A week before he died, he wanted to just talk. So I put down the book by Joel Osteen I had been reading to him and put my head on his shoulder. We reminisced about highlights we had enjoyed over the years, especially the three months we spent in Hastings Nebraska where he ran agape groups for Bud Israel, the pastor of the local Methodist Church. We loved the people and they seemed to love us. Even me. Especially when Des told them I could analyze handwriting. He like to brag about me, share his limelight. A sweet guy.
"We were a good couple," he said. I agreed. Why did I marry you, he asked. Because I was adorable, I said to make him laugh. I loved to make him laugh. It was a moving conversation. We both agreed that we would do it all over again.
Next morning, his speech was not good, another stroke maybe? Who knows. A few more days and he was gone. But that last evening of clarity was a gift implanted in my memory.
So, now I cope. Little by little. I am most emotional in church where it is so easy to feel his presence, I try to remember to bring a tissue, but my pal Donna hands me one wordlessly. Easter was glorious and I saw him in the stained glass scene of Jesus surrounded by children. I used to place him up there as a young boy, but on Easter morning when I looked up, he was all grown up, standing next to Jesus and looking at me. Believe it or not. Another gift of faith.
The Hospice organization sent me information on ongoing grief groups I might want to attend. I'll think about it. This week my doctor told me I was resiliant. Hope he is right.
Widows come in all sizes, ages and ability to cope. I have gone through the early stages when a wave of sorrow washes over me like a sudden tsunami and I weep like a forlorn child.
Shopping in supermarkets bring on silent sadness as I pass watermelon. Des loved water melon. And cinammon rolls and cheese omelets and peanut buttter cups, and he loved me.
A week before he died, he wanted to just talk. So I put down the book by Joel Osteen I had been reading to him and put my head on his shoulder. We reminisced about highlights we had enjoyed over the years, especially the three months we spent in Hastings Nebraska where he ran agape groups for Bud Israel, the pastor of the local Methodist Church. We loved the people and they seemed to love us. Even me. Especially when Des told them I could analyze handwriting. He like to brag about me, share his limelight. A sweet guy.
"We were a good couple," he said. I agreed. Why did I marry you, he asked. Because I was adorable, I said to make him laugh. I loved to make him laugh. It was a moving conversation. We both agreed that we would do it all over again.
Next morning, his speech was not good, another stroke maybe? Who knows. A few more days and he was gone. But that last evening of clarity was a gift implanted in my memory.
So, now I cope. Little by little. I am most emotional in church where it is so easy to feel his presence, I try to remember to bring a tissue, but my pal Donna hands me one wordlessly. Easter was glorious and I saw him in the stained glass scene of Jesus surrounded by children. I used to place him up there as a young boy, but on Easter morning when I looked up, he was all grown up, standing next to Jesus and looking at me. Believe it or not. Another gift of faith.
The Hospice organization sent me information on ongoing grief groups I might want to attend. I'll think about it. This week my doctor told me I was resiliant. Hope he is right.
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