I'll Meet You There ...

Wednesday, September 18, 2019


I love the Grass Roots – every one of their songs speak to my heart.

But one song in particular, “Live For Today” took on a whole new meaning in 1977.

In 1977, Bob broke his leg and had to have reconstructive surgery on it – when he went into surgery, the doctor was up front with me, and said, “If no one comes out to talk to you after 8 hours, we have had to amputate the leg.”

So, at 20 years od age, I was facing the very real possibility of telling my husband he was a cripple when he was wheeled into his hospital room following surgery.

Bob was at that time, only 27 years old.

8 hours came and went.

I heard from no one.

I refused to cry – I prayed.

I prayed for strength to be strong for my husband.

I prayed for strength FOR my husband.

I prayed nonstop through the night and into the early morning hours.

When the surgeon finally came through the door and into the waiting room, I jumped to my feet.

I was scared. Tears filled my eyes.

But I refused to cry.

I had to be strong.

The surgeon walked over t me, and said, “It took a long time because we called a special team together to work on your husband’s leg … we were able to save it.”


Tears of relief. Tears of gratitude. Tears of thankfulness for Elohim’s faithfulness, despite the stupidity that put us here in this moment.

Weeks later – even with the blood thinner being administered to him every day while his leg healed - a blood clot broke loose and KILLED HIM RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME while I was visiting him at the hospital: an orderly walking past us saw what was happening and called Code. It was scary seeing my husband lift off his bed about a foot (or more) while they jump-started his heart that day.

This was Bob's 1st death (he had come close to death in a house fire as a toddler - and would die again for 25 minutes in 1981: his final death would take place December 14th, 2018).

And when he finally was able to safely come home, our mantra and new motto was: “Let others plan their futures … I’m busy loving you.”

Us, September 1977.

We never wasted a single day after that close call with the Grim Reaper.

We literally lived and loved “in the moment” because we understood that from that day forward, every day was a real blessing. And we weren’t going to waste them with worry 😉



Today, even with the AT/T & Red Canoe brouhaha, was pretty “okay” – it really was.

All things considered.

Grief, my constant companion for the past 9 months-13 days-15 hours & 25 minutes ago, decided to take me down a different route today … skipping the solitary water fall feature of the journey I am on; and moving me right into stormy weather with the lunatic fringe of society: bill collector ankle-biters and bank staff minions.

Most of the time since becoming a widow, I feel lethargic and my daily activity is aimless without Bob giving my days direction and fulfillment. So, I guess grief thought my boring and sad life needed to be mixed up some today.

Grief threw the clueless screwups of AT/T and the soulless legality of the banking world across my path this morning – and then stood back, hovering ever so slightly, on the edges of the mayhem …



And waiting.

I didn’t cry.

That is a good thing.

I didn’t put my fist through a wall, or break anything – specifically heads.

THAT was a very good thing.

All things considered.

But Grief would pop in and out of my day now and then.

Grief played the Death Game, used AT/T ankle-biters & Red Canoe minions to liven my day up.

The Death Game is an unfair game.

It is a cruel game.

It is a merciless game.

It is a game that expects you to know all the angles in a game you have never played before and are woefully ignorant of.

It is a game that blindsides you and mocks you when you don’t understand how to execute the next move smoothly – or knowledgably.

It is a game without soul.

It is a macabre game that pulls you into it against your will – you have no choice but to play it out: its tentacles reach into every area of your life, and you can’t escape it.

Today the death game revolved around AT/T & Red Canoe.

Tomorrow, next week, next month, next year, the game will revolve around something else.

The game never ends.

It is always evolving.

In the Death Game, a widow is never allowed to rest.

A widow is always kept off-kilter by soulless business venues, and legal snafus that keep pulling the scab off a healing wound.

Though businesses are pulsing with life and expanding with growth – they are soulless entities; businesses generate corporate $$$$$$$ - businesses are not people-friendly.

A corporation does not care that your husband died 9 months-13 days-15 hours & 25 minutes ago; and that you are desperately trying to find solid footing and keep “it” together. A corporation does not comprehend, nor does it care, that every time you have to deal with their “securities”, your own securities are seriously eroded.

A corporation doesn’t care that in your new and shaky life the last thing you need in your life is additional stress – a corporation thrives ON stress: it just naturally thinks you should too.

A corporation is always hungry, but it doesn’t feel.

A corporation expects you to pick yourself up and do better no matter what you are going through. A corporation has no time – and makes no room – for slackers. And face it: a widow is a slacker because a widow’s thought process now moves in slo-mo; there is no fast-lane for widows.

I know that – I want to pick myself and do better too. And most days I manage. But my turbo-jets now misfire because my Maintenance Man, who used to fuel my jets is no longer here. My jets have significantly cooled …

And Grief won’t leave me alone.

Grief won’t allow that scab to heal and scar over, so I CAN move forward, and move on – even at a snail’s pace.

Grief keeps bringing my husband’s death to the forefront of my immediate life … and making me go through the whole dying process all over again when dealing with ankle-biters and minions.

Grief won’t let my husband’s dying days, rest.

And Grief won’t give me rest.

Every time I have to deal with AT/T screwups, or Red Canoe banking legalities … Bob’s dying days are ALL I SEE AND EXPERIENCE.

Because Bob’s physical death is WHY I am constantly dealing with AT/T ankle-biters and Red Canoe staff minions.

I have, finally, after MONTHS of struggling, come to terms with grief being in my life like a misbehaving sibling. I understand that, in some perverse and morbid way, Grief has become a twisted “family member” that I will never be wholly separated from.

But Grief, does not want to be simply an annoyance like a misbehaving sibling, or that obnoxious Aunt or Uncle that makes your life hell 1 holiday every year, and then slips back into obscurity for another 10 or 11 months – no, Grief is not content to limit itself in a widow’s life: Grief wants to be a tempestuous B.R.A.T. that refuses to be ignored, or shelved. It has more stamina than we ever will.

And it will rear its ugly head in every – and all – places, in a widow’s daily life.

Widows have to lean into it – accept it, and roll with it.

Stop fighting against it.

That's the best practice when dealing with bratty Grief.

So, that is how I dealt with mischievous Grief’s Death Game today: I leaned into it. And I made the Game of Death work FOR ME ON MY TERMS.

I beat Grief at its own game today; I didn’t allow it opportunity to win … I played my hand for all it was worth – with a wild abandon that surprised Grief. I admit, I did grieve, as was intended by Grief …


In the midst of my grief, I was able to joke and laugh my way out of the depressing clutches of the soulless tools Grief was attempting to use to blindside me.

I was able to meld the bold & tenacious woman I was before Bob came into my life, with the tempered and respectable woman I grew to become as Bob’s wife. I believe I honored both of us today while dealing with the ankle-biters and minions.

And though I do get frustrated when dealing with ankle-biters & minions, I try not to let bitterness or anger rule my actions – that would serve no real purpose, and it would solve nothing; instead it may make things worse than they already are. So, I try to wisely meld the past me and the present me into a workable force that will move mountains I simply do not have the strength, at the moment, to climb.

In the midst of the tumultuous storms – like I found myself in today – I try not to feel bitter towards the people who work for soulless corporations: they are struggling with their own issues; perhaps some are dealing with loss too.

They don’t know me – they have to study both sides of the coin, so to speak, before they can make a move on their part in the Game.

We are ALL pawns in the Death Game.

They don’t understand the depth and the breadth of my loss. They don’t comprehend that my loss IS the reason for the recent snafus; if Bob were still alive, here on earth, THERE WOULD BE NO SNAFUS. There would have been no need to change the status of our JOINT accounts that directly LED TO the snafus we were all dealing with today.

The mess exists BECAUSE of my husband’s physical death that threw a monkey wrench in a smoothly operating business agreement at both corporate branches.

I understand that they don’t understand.  And, compassionately, I understand that they are very lucky that they don’t understand my situation.

I cut them a break; give them some slack, and let the Game play itself out to a “satisfactory” end – the ankle-biters ended the day satisfied; the minions ended their day satisfied; and I ended my day satisfied that everyone is satisfied and I could go home, where I didn’t have to keep re-living Bob’s dying days before uncaring audiences.

Today the Death Game revolved around AT/T & Red Canoe.

Tomorrow, next week, next month, next year, the game will revolve around something else.

The game never ends.

But I can trust Elohim to have my back.