Sunday, October 20, 2019


Every once in a while, Bob would sneak up behind me and whisper in my ear, “Spooky …”

And we would both chuckle ;-)


As I mentioned earlier, I talked with the kids this morning,  and am seriously considering what they are suggesting.

I will be visiting with them over the holiday weekend and we will be discussing it in finer detail. I did warn them that I could get pretty emotional and may end up crying … as I will be reliving the 1st year anniversary memories of how the end of this month Bob went into the local Peace Health hospital and never came back home alive again.

Today, last year, we had a surprise visit from relatives, and while showing them around outside we saw that the bitching creep next door: ron cook, the neighbor alongside us that has been running and screaming to candy scott, the Park manager here all summer long; about ‘the possibility of future trespass from my tomato plants and patio apple tree’ had nervily and belligerently laid HIS tomato cages against my boxes when he pulled all his crappy garden mess. So, I took a picture of the belligerent infraction (so the manager could not deny and flippantly dismiss the bold violation) and Bob walked it straight to candy’s office when the door opened and filed a complaint. She tried to say she had no way of knowing the boxes were ours and the cages were ron’s, but Bob backed her into a corner, insisting it be dealt with immediately since ron was the instigator and the primary complainer concerning infractions on private property … and he was in bold violation of the very thing he was trying to accuse us of. ron's claims were aimless – ours was not.

That attended to, we drove to Lexington Park & enjoyed the day there; putting a quarter of a mile walk under Bob’s belt & feeding squirrels – docs wanted Bob to walk, and Bob enjoyed feeding the furry little beggars. The walk was a bit nippy with the river winds blowing down off the dike and swirling around us, but the brilliant Fall colors tucked here and there among the evergreens added visual warmth.

That day in the Park was the last walk Bob ever took this side of Heaven. 

The stress of living here, at Heron Pointe, with the continual haranguing over ron’s and candy’s nonsensical ridiculousness killed my husband.

ron’s wire cages remained leaned against my planter boxes for weeks until the winds off the river here blew through our neighborhood and knocked them down while I sat death-watch with Bob in 2 hospitals in 2 States. candy never did speak to ron. But she kept giving ron an ear when he complained about us. 

Things went from bad to worse between all of us from the end of October to the middle of December 2018.

A year forward, things are still bad between me and them. I hold them both personally responsible for my husband’s wrongful death. Immediately following Bob’s physical death, I told them both that I hold them responsible. Every time they see me, they KNOW. My very presence won’t let them forget as long as I live here.

THAT is one of the reasons I am seriously considering what the kids are suggesting. I don’t engage in any of the Clubhouse activities – which was one of the selling points when we bought our house here 34 months ago (Bob only lived in this house 14 months before ending up in ER & ICU over ron’s stupid bullshit paranoias & candy’s arrogantly/ignorant biases; he was gone in 18 months after moving here), and I don’t walk around the Park either – which was another selling point: I find outside Park activities to engage in; which kinda defeats the purpose of living in a community such as this one.

I need to let go and move forward. I NEED TO LIVE. FULLY in the place my home exists in. I can’t do that here because no matter where I go in the Park, ron & candy are always in eyesight. And our home is no longer a home … it is just another house, now that Bob no longer lives here with me. I refuse to allow hate to keep me from joining Bob in Heaven. I refuse to hate – and it is hard, VERY HARD, to tamp it down knowing his killers are still on Park premises: ron sold and moved a block away – but STILL in the Park; and little hitler candy is still Park {manager}. It is very hard to live here. Occasionally, I run into ron at Baker’s Corner Mini Mart, and I have to have face-to-face convo with candy on occasion. Both instances are nauseating for me.

Memories of Bob fill every corner, and echo off the walls of this house – memories surround me when I am outside: the shed is full of my husband’s man stuff: stuff he had even before we married; stuff we carried from pillar to post in the moves we made over the last 2 decades after we left Cathlamet. I don’t even know what most of those crates, coffee can, boxes, and tool boxes hold. I just know it was stuff that meant something to him. Some of it even belonged to his Grandfather Smalley. I need to sort through it. Some day. And, of course, the 14 gardening boxes he designed and built for me – that ron bitched about nonstop – are running the length of the boundary line (the line that ron constantly moved according to his whims and candy upheld regardless of the surveyor we hired to mark the actual boundary line - the colored markings are still on the rock. Ignored by candy). Bob’s presence is everywhere I look, and it screams to my heart: “I am still here, my sexy Lady”. Yet the silence of his absence is deafening.

Daily, life unfolds and continues on around me; but since 8:05 a.m., December 14th, 2018, the lively hum has gone out of it in my world. My heart continues to beat, but it is like a dying thing inside my constricted chest striving to survive. My eyes can see that Fall has painted some tree leaves bold and brilliant colors; but my mind can’t grasp the beauty anymore: my mind is finding it hard to grasp anything anymore as it sputters and misfires in an unwanted and paralyzing PTSD Widow’s Fog.

I am allowing life to pass me by because I have momentarily lost my enthusiasm for life since the love of my life is no longer a part of my life.

I KNOW no one can change my outlook on life but me … and I AM TRYING. But, some days, finding the motivation to re-engage with living life as Bob would want me to do, mockingly eludes me. And I lack the strength to chase it down.

THAT IS WHY I am giving serious consideration to the kids’ suggestion to move closer to them.

I need to be encouraged again to embrace life. Fully & with enthusiasm.

My biggest cheerleader is no longer walking this Earth … but his DNA is: in his grandkids. I need to reconnect to life again for their sake's. For my sake. For Bob’s legacy. Bob wants me to live again. Fully.

I need to be encouraged to take risks – risks to step out of my comfort zones and find out who I am now & what I am made of. I used to know.

Before Bob, I was my own encourager to embrace life and take risks.

Now, I am an emotional wreck. Standing on the sidelines of my life watching it pass me by.

All the color, all the zest, all the oomph has gone out of my life.

And I am seriously struggling to get it back; even a small semblance of it.

Since I was 17, I have been half of a completed couple; since last December 14th, 5 days before my 62nd birthday, I found myself a solo lobo again. It has been decades since I was solo. Let alone, a lobo. I liked being coupled with Bob. I sheathed my teeth for him. I loved him. I wanted always to make him proud of me.

I know he was, because he told people – in front of me – that he was proud of me. Because he honored me, I want to honor him. I want to honor his memory. I want to live fully. I want the kids to know I will snap out of this brain funk and agonizing heartache; I will be okay again.

I just need to convince myself.

And then DO IT.

I’ve never experienced or dealt with uncertainty before.


It is an unfamiliar feeling.

It is an uncomfortable feeling.

I am no stranger to adversity.

But I am a stranger to Widowhood.

Which is adversity on a whole new level.

Unknown territory – I don’t know the rules.

And the rules keep changing …

It is an unfair life game.

I don’t like it.

Not even a little bit.

Insecurities seem to be the wild card that can throw the whole game.

I’ve never been in the loser’s seat before.

And I have lost A LOT, on every level of my life, since December 14th, 2018.

Each loss resulting from an immobilizing legal severance of my life with my husband (Social Security benefits, bank account, house title, car title, phone service contract, ect.) catapulted me into a fresh grieving cycle. My husband’s physical death was reduced to a business transaction over and over again, and it seemed to me that he was simply erased from all their legal rosters as I was forced to print off countless copies of his Death Certificate and dance to their tunes and jump through their legal hoops.

It is a cruel game of death that never ends.

I am never allowed to rest from the draining effects on my life resulting from the loss of his physical life.

I am coming to understand that the cycle of grief will never end: it is a living entity that life ironically fans back to life in unguarded moments, and the pulsing ache of your beloved’s absence, that your soul absorbs.

I don’t like it.

I accepted my husband’s physical death the moment he breathed out his last breath. On a cold Winter morning. In OHSU. In another State. I was there. I saw it happen. I knew his spirit left his body before the “pronouncing doctor” pronounced it half an hour later. His Urn Box was in plain view every morning I woke up and every night I lay down to sleep – I keep a small Remembrance Urn on the livingroom fireplace hearth & my bedside nightstand: it will be buried with my when my time comes to meet with him beyond the clouds. I ferried his Urn Box to the family cemetery his great-grandfather established, and laid his cremains to rest alongside his relatives in our family plot block this past August: August 30th … on his 70th Birthday.

Bob's last morning on Earth
Bob's Remembrance Urn

I know my husband no longer lives here on Earth.

But, I also know he is still very much alive.

Unattainable – but alive.

And I am still very much in love with him.

Our lives continue: but, separately.

It is a tightrope walk for me.

Bob is no doubt happy as a lark – he always was an early riser and now he rides the clouds at daybreak and dusk. And probably in between too. There is no timeline in Heaven. Time is meaningless beyond the clouds.

It is only here, on Earth, where time means anything. Where time flies too quickly when sudden illness strikes. Where time stands still for the brokenhearted. Where time can be filled with bittersweet poignancy that can make you laugh, cry, scream, and wail all at the same time.

All Bob feels right now is joy. Pure joy.

I would like to feel joy again.

The kids seem to think moving to Oregon will help me reacquaint myself with joy again.

We’ll see.

The kids reminded me this morning that there is nothing to fear from fear, but fear itself. And that there is opportunity and possibility in the unknown.

Bob’s physical death is my catalyst for change.

But, CAN I … “boldly go into the unknown” … where, I “have never gone before”?

If I do this, I will certainly move towards an uncertain future. I will certainly not stay comfortable in my familiar surroundings. I will be taking a HUGE leap of faith. I have serious trust issues – Bob understood that. Will everyone else?

I don’t have all the answers.

I don’t even have some of the answers.

But, I know Someone Who does – and I will seek His face and ask for direction. Clear & precise direction.

I can’t afford to mess up.

And I am a wreck right now …

The final decision will affect my life.

For the rest of my life.

I can’t afford to mess up.

I remember that Yeshua was a man well acquainted with sorrow – He “gets” me.

And, if He can rise above grief: SO CAN I!

His grace is sufficient for me.

With eyes ahead, looking towards a future, the thought of moving closer to the kids is exciting – and daunting.

We will discuss it some more over the holiday weekend: we are a very small family – 5 people in our immediate circle sans Bob: 9 including Liam's family members. I will pray about it and it will go where it will go …

I’d sure like to see life in color again.

Saturday, October 19, 2019


We are definitely into the Fall season here in the PNW – the rain is falling fast and furious:

So, I am holed up in the house ...

Since I won’t be going anywhere any time soon, I decided to dust off the Grief Share ‘Loss of A Spouse’ booklet and give it another peek; it really wasn’t very helpful earlier this year:

But now, I think I can concentrate better ...

So, I will give the read another {go} ;-)

Some things my eyes lit upon when cracking the book open this morning were:

Do something that you can enjoy yourself. Pick an activity that might become a new tradition for you. I can do that. I’m okay with that too: it’s a whole new world now, and I have to be comfortable in it.

Spend some time reminiscing with people who shared a love for your spouse. I am already doing that; our friends have been great! And they have become family to me – including me in their couples’ time (https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/06/going-up-to-country.html, https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/08/blueberry-picking-time-in-oregon.html, & https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/09/i-can-do-it.html). I appreciate that: and I am careful not to rely too much on them: they are willing to be my new family & willingly offer to help when I need help, but their husbands are not my husband: I must learn to do on my own all over again. And I am :-D

Try to get proper nutrition. Make sure to drink eight 8-ounce glasses of water daily. I can do that. I have cookathons when my freezer supply of meals runs low (https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/06/getting-stuff-done.html, https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/08/4-make-ahead-freezer-meals.html); that way if I find myself in a mental funk, I always have balanced meals to eat ;-) And I make sure to drink sufficient water too – not just coffees, colas, or teas: WATER. I pee a lot, but at least I will not end up in ER because of dehydration. LOL Gotta find the humor in the small stuff that is so necessary :-D

Try to get enough sleep (7 to 8 hours a night); in addition, try to lie down 2 or 3 times a day (30 minutes), even if you don’t sleep. I am doing that. And the strange thing is … I NEVER did that when Bob was still here on Earth, with me! Before, I was ALWAYS A NIGHT OWL – I was lucky to get 4 hours of sleep any given day or any given week. All my life! Bob was an understanding man – Bob was a good husband. Now, since Bob graduated to a better and higher level of living … I somehow got HIS SLEEPING habit and pattern <:-O I am up at the crack of dawn (where before I was finally stumbling off towards bed) and in bed around 10 p.m. IT IS STRANGE TO ME. I am definitely getting enough sleep. And I find that I am incredibly tired some days – even days I don’t do anything more stressful or straining than pouring coffee. LOL – so I am also getting periodic cat-naps.

Try to take a 10-to-20-minute walk each day. This is hit and miss, due to the weather. When the weather is accommodating, I get out and walk (https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/06/walkin-loop.html, https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/08/vitamin-d-day.html, https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/08/halloween-already.html, https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/09/sunday-funday-2.html, & https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/09/me-you.html) – but when it rains, freezes, or snows … I hole up: as I am doing today. Can’t afford to get sick. I walked everyday last Winter, regardless of the weather, and ended up laid up in bed for months. I am inclined, though, to think it was not getting wet feet that was the real culprit; but rather, being in the hospitals for months on end sitting death-watch with Bob: I really had influenza, not a cold. But, I am being wise and not taking chances – I can’t afford to get sick: I am letting the Peace Health Financial Assistance go the end of this month because it is more stressful to keep it than to save towards medical “what ifs”. I NEED to stay healthy (https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/01/coping-with-angina.html, https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/05/low-impact-workout-for-seniors.html, https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/04/simple-exercises-for-seniors-building.html).

Understand why you cry. This is a biggie for me. I rarely ever cried – even with Bob. Crying, to me, always meant weakness. IF I cried at all, I did it where no one could see or hear me. I always had to stifle my emotions growing up – always had to be the strong one: the one others looked to for strength and direction. I think I cry more easily and readily now because there is no one in my life now who can see or hear me. But still, it is strange and uncomfortable for me to suddenly find myself crying because my heart misses Bob. It happens without warning – even when my thoughts are not even on Bob at that particular moment (but something I am looking at will trigger an emotion connected somehow to Bob). It is strange to …. at this point in my life, be acting like a girly-girl. It is weird. It is uncomfortable. It is uncontrollable. I am learning to accept it.

And Alyna & Liam have moved to a rural part of Oregon and want me to move closer to were they are so they can keep closer tabs on me and be readily available if and when I need them to be: they want family cohesiveness. Bob would want that too. I am thinking about it: seriously. But it is a big step with a lot of considerations: there is a LOT I would have to cut loose and leave behind. Primarily the gardening boxes Bob designed and built for me, & rain barrels (that directly led to his death), the home we remodeled – where Bob refashioned everything specifically for me, and the freezers … there would be no place for them. The kids are thinking I would be comfortable in my own apartment in the same Retirement Community Liam’s grandma is in – I am not so sure I want to be “old” yet! I am not so sure I want to give up my personal freedoms just to have them pop in whenever they can. I vacillate between agreeable boldness to do it … and bulking at the exchange of freedoms it would cost me. It is a complex situation. I will need to seek Elohim’s wisdom and The Ruach’s guidance.

And this is about all I can deal with today …

To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die;
A time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal;
A time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
A time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose;
A time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew;
A time to keep silence, and a time to speak; A time to love, and a time to hate;
A time of war, and a time of peace. (Ecclesiastes 3:1-8)

Friday, October 18, 2019


Man: I MISS him.
Simple things like making Friday Challah can bring back memories that sends me to my knees.
I am liberated woman.
I don't need anyone to take care of me - I am capable of taking care of me. I have been taking care of me since I learned to walk. Serious truth spoken.
I always told Bob, "I love you, Babe. But ... I don't {need} you; I choose you. I want you. But, I don't need you to take care of me."
And he smiled and pulled me into a kiss when I said it because he knew I needed him in ways I wasn't even aware of.
Bob always loved me with a looooong lead rope and a free hand.
Bob knew me; Bob looked into the depths of me - the part of me I never showed anyone else: Bob understood me.
He knew I was lying.
I didn't know that until recently.
I wasn't intentionally lying.
I realize now ... that I do need him for all the reasons he was aware of and I wasn't; I always needed him.
Bob brought unconditional love into my life.
Bob gave me life; together we, who were both so heart-wounded when we met, learned to love - we built a life full of LIFE, LOVE, PASSIONTRUST, LAUGHTER, HAPPINESS.
Bob completed me.
And now I am broken ... and I am not sure I will ever be whole again.

Thursday, October 17, 2019

1 CORINTHIANS ~Chapter 14

So …

This chapter always causes a firestorm in church between men and women.

So, let me clarify the hot potato topic: v. 34 – women talking in church. When this book was written Jewish men and women were separated in the synagogues by a partition: Greek men and women freely mingled, and Greek women were very vociferous; that lead to chaos. Greeks thrived on chaos – chaos was their religion. ALL THIS VERSE IS SAYING IS: save the loud and boisterous questions for later on – at home. When in a public house of worship, let calmness reign: do not shout across the room for your husband to clarify something for you! Ask for clarification at home.

Obviously, women spoke in fellowship gatherings – some women were even ministering women. There are many, many instances where Jewish women were placed in positions of leadership. THIS PARTICULAR VERSE DOES NOT SPEAK TO THAT ISSUE.

It is okay for women to speak in fellowship – it is not okay for women to shout across the room to get their husband’s attention.

That said, let us commence to reading today’s Study ;-)

1 CORINTHIANS ~Chapter 14

Make love your goal, and aspire to all the spiritual gifts, especially that of prophesy. For when one speaks in a strange tongue, he speaks not so much to men as to Elohim, because no one understands him. He is really telling mysteries of The Ruach Ha’Kodesh. He who prophesies, on the other hand, speaks to men for their upbuilding, encouragement, and consolation.

When one speaks in an unknown tongue, he may edify himself, but when he prophesies, he edifies the whole congregation. Surely, I wish that all of you could speak in tongues; but I would much rather have you prophecy. He who prophecies is more important than the man who speaks with tongues, unless he interprets what he says so that the faith of the congregation may be strengthened.

Brethren, suppose I come to you speaking in tongues, what good could I do if I did not bring you some revelation, or information, or prophecy, or teaching? Even lifeless instruments, such as the flute or the harp, might give some distinct sound, foe how else can anyone know what is played? So also, the bugle – if it does not give a clear note, who will be ready for battle? Therefore, in speaking, you too must use a language that men can understand, otherwise how would anyone know what you say? You would just be talking into the air!

Truly, there are in the world many different languages, and none without meaning. But if I do not understand the meaning of a language, I am a foreigner to the man who speaks it, and he is a foreigner to me. So it is with you. Since you are eager to acquire spiritual gifts, ask for them in abundant measure, for the upbuilding of the church. Therefore, the man who speaks in a tongue should pray for the power to interpret his message.

Now, if I pray in a strange tongue, my spirit does the praying but my understanding is blank. What must I do? I will pray with my spirit, but also with my understanding. And I will sing praises with my spirit, but also with my understanding. Otherwise, if you pronounce a blessing in The Ruach, how can an unlearned man say “Amen” to your thanksgiving if he does not understand what you are saying? It is well enough for you to give thanks that way, but it is of no value to the man who cannot understand you.

I am thankful to Elohim that I speak in tongues, more than all of you. Still, in public worship I would rather speak 5 words that are understandable, so as to instruct others, than 10,000 words in a strange tongue.

Brethren, do not be children in your thinking. In matters of evil, be as babes: but in understanding you must be grown up. In the Law it is written. “I will speak to this people in other languages and by other lips, and yet not even so will they listen to Me, says the Lord”.

So, this speaking in tongues is intended for a sign, not for the Believers – but for the unbelievers; whereas prophesying is a sign for the Believer rather than the unbeliever. For if the whole congregation is assembled and everyone speaks in tongues, and some untaught persons or unbelievers happen to come in, would they not say that you are demented? But if everyone prophesies, and some unbeliever or untaught person should come in, then he may be convinced of his sin by all, and all will put questions to him. In short, the secrets of his heart will be revealed and he will fall upon his face and worship Elohim, declaring, “God is truly among you!”

What can we learn from this my Brethren? When you come together, each one may have a part to contribute – a song, a teaching, a speaking in tongues, a revelation, or an interpretation … Everything should aim at building up The Faith. If anyone speaks in a tongue, let it be done by 2, or at most, 3 speakers, one after the other, with an interpreter. And, if there is no one present to explain what was said, let them remain silent in the meeting and each speak his message to himself and to Elohim.

The number of prophets to speak should be limited to 2 or 3, while the others should consider carefully what is said. If a revelation comes to someone seated, let the first speaker stop talking. You can all witness, one by one, and in this way, all may learn and all may be stimulated. The prophets should exercise control over themselves. For Elohim is a God of peace, not of disorder, as can be seen in all the assemblies of saints.

Your women must keep silent at the church meetings. They must take a subordinate place, as the Law says. If they have questions to ask, they may ask their husbands at home. For, it is considered a disgrace for women to speak in the church. Did the Word of Elohei originate with you, or, are you the ones whom it has reached?

What I am writing to you is at Adonai Yeshua’s command. If any one of you thinks that he is a prophet or inspired, let him recognize the fact. If he does not admit it, let him remain in ignorance. Anyway, brethren, strive to prophesy and, as for speaking in tongues, do not forbid that. And always see to it that everything is done properly and in orderly manner.