STAY-AT-HOME CHRISTMAS

I have always been a stay-at-home-Christmas type of person … I am usually sick at Christmas time. That has been the story of my life since the beginning of my life. I have weak lungs and a defective heart: winter holidays are literally hell for me – I do not feel up to entertaining free-wheeling, raucous relatives; and I don’t feel like being dragged from house to house when I look and feel like I’ve been run over by a Mack truck.

My mother bitched about it. Bob’s mother bitched about it. Our children bitch about it.

Bob understood it.

And I can’t help it.

That’s the way it is.

Bob didn’t bitch about it because he preferred to avoid the holiday insanity too … in houses, and on the roadways. The only exceptions we made were the years we would drive to Portland to pick his son up and take him back home every holiday – and later, when we were empty-nesters, Bob would take me daytripping over out-of-the-way-backroads for Christmas Day or my birthday, on December 29th. Picking and dropping Alex off wasn’t optional – and Gloria NEVER once suggested doing her share of driving either way; and no matter how I feel, getting out of the house at least once a month, is a must for mental health and a happy marriage (I could always sleep on the way home if the drive was too draining).

Last year’s Christmas time was the strangest; and I really don’t recall most of it. Last year at Christmas, I was an 11-day-old-Widow. I was emotionally numb, physically drained, and spiritually freefalling: I didn’t blame Elohim, and I wasn’t angry with Yeshua – I just didn’t want to deal with anything or anyone, so I shifted into neutral and simply tried to exist without Bob’s presence in my new and unwanted life.

I was also very, very sick; but I didn’t know that because I had pretty much shut down all feeling sensors in order to survive my husband’s physical death. At some point, I had picked up an influenza bug, and didn’t pay close attention to the symptoms because I had SO MUCH to DO following my bump from Wife to Widow. Legalities and bureaucratic bullshit to wade through: there was no time to be sick; my entire future depended on tending to the legalities, and wading through the Social Security Administrative bullshit – in times of bereavement, Widows are not allowed to grieve … time and business marches on, and we are expected to do the same. So, I did.

I tied up loose ends at OHSU, I came home and took care of funeral arrangements; I cried –RIVERS OF TEARS; I cleared Bob’s side of the closet – and learned how to rehang a dislodged sliding shower door; I learned to live in our home solo with the understanding that Bob would never be coming through the front door again; I boldly faced down my husband’s killers when meeting them face to face; I received the Official Death Certificate and began to remove Bob’s Name off legal joint contracts; I brought my husband’s cremains home; I applied for my own Social Security Benefits & reported my husband’s physical death … and learned that Social Security had penalized my husband for taking early Retirement; and his benefits were slashed 25% - wasn’t expecting THAT on top of everything else: I also was informed that I would receive nothing from Social Security Administration (Bob’s Benefits, or my own) until March of 2019; I learned that all the LEGAL “joint” safeguards my husband had put in place against this day to protect me from legal vultures WERE WORTHLESS due to government snafu’s enacted and passed into law by dubbya and obama; I was blessed with loving and compassionate friends who circled the wagons of friendship around me and carried me for months (emotionally, financially, and spiritually – I am truly blessed!); I started cooking whole meals again, instead of snacking and crying.

ALL THIS faced and dealt with BEFORE CHRISTMAS.

Christmas Day, 2018, I was musing views of cremation (https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2018/12/views-on-cremation.html).

Fun, huh?

To balance that morbid thought out, and to overcome the weight of the emotional, physical, and spiritual strain that was pulling me down since Bob’s spirit had left earth 11 days previously … I hopped into the car and went for a Daytrip drive. Bob and I always did that. Even though I was always fighting burning lungs, a raging headache, a leaky nose & running eyes at Christmas time, Bob knew I couldn’t stand being cooped up: I didn’t want to be dealing with people, but I was always game to enjoy a scenic adventure out of the house, where facing and dealing with people was very slim. So, we’d pack a lunch with a thermos of hot homemade chicken soup (nature’s natural penicillin ;-)) for me – sandwiches and goodie snacks for him – and a thermos of hot coffee for the both of us; and off we’d go. So, that is what I did the Christmas of 2018 too.

I was acting on sheer adrenalin.

And I had absolutely no destination plan in mind.

I was just escaping.

I remember coming back home over Wildwood Drive, so I knew then that I had daytripped what Bob and I had dubbed, “the Longview-Pe Ell-Vader Loop Daytrip Drive”. To this day, I don’t recall much of that drive – but I KNOW I did it because of the way I had come back home. My heart had guided me along that familiar route: my heart was having a hard time saying good-bye too:

Raymond to Pe Ell Route - I took a side spur and avoided Chehalis freeway. Thank Elohim, I did not hit a cat along the backroad! I usually hit a cat about here because there is a large farm along the way, and a kamikaze cat is always darting across the road in front of the car. Thank You, Yeshua! I would have remembered hitting another cat, no matter what mental fog I was in at the time …

Pe Ell-Boisfort-Wildwood Drive-Vader; and home along West Side Highway

Longview-Pe Ell-Longview Loop, Daytrip Drive

In 2020, I need to change directions, and figure out how to get to the interior of Oregon on the backroads; there are places I want to go and see: some old - some new …

There has GOT TO BE backroad routes among all those names on the map ... 

… my aim is to avoid all freeway travel. I’m working on it.

But, for now, this 2019 Christmas, I am just sitting it out at home.

I really feel crappy and I’m literally physically zapped with the coughing, sneezing, and a continual pounding migraine headache that is making my teeth ache and my right eye twitch with every painful throb.

I intend to spend the day huddled in Bob’s recliner, swaddled in his blanket Alyna and I made for him for Father’s Day a decade ago, and watch Hallmark Christmas movies between catnaps.

Alyna called this morning; Krisa, Sara, and Cheryl sent me a text; and Pam called, and wants me to go to lunch with her this coming Sunday - we'll see. If the inflammation in my lungs backs down, I'll go.

Between movies, catnaps, and phone chats, I was checking out FB Pages earlier to respond to holiday greetings from Friends and Family – and to touch base with those I hadn’t seen or heard from in months. When I checked Connie’s FB Page, tears came hot and swift. Her brother, Brian, had lost his battle with aggressive leukemia earlier this month. No one in the family had said a word to me – no one; and I had diligently inquired since hearing he had been diagnosed. I am assuming no one wanted to bother me while I was grieving, myself; but I would have like to have been informed. From what I read on Connie’s Page, Brian’s spirit had left Earth 1 year/1 day/7 hours & 15 minutes after Bob’s spirit had left Earth; their spirits are free to fly now - no more pain, only gain.

My thoughts are with Bob’s Aunt Marie, and his cousin Connie. It will be a hard time for them this Christmas.