Just East of Eden : YOU’VE COME A LONG WAY, HONEY

Thursday, January 16, 2020

YOU’VE COME A LONG WAY, HONEY

My Babe was my King Bee, and I was his “honey”.

Bob also called me his “Lady” – that always made me laugh because I am about as far from a ‘lady’ as anyone can be; I didn’t mind him calling me “honey” though: I can be sweet at times ;-)

Before Bob, I didn’t cotton much to sweet-talk. I came of age in the 1970’s, when women’s lib was on big-time, and I was a very liberated teenager: I shunned anything that made females less than – and that included cutsie phrases that labeled them as the weaker sex: “lady, honey, sweetie, sugar, luvee, kitten, mama, woman”, ect.; I was firm in guys using my Name when they addressed me.

But when Bob called me “Honey”, somehow it soothed me – it didn’t rankle like when other fellas called me honey.

Bob loved me, maybe that was the reason.

While the weather is keeping me indoors with a box of Kleenex at my fingertips, I have a lot of time to reflect on this time, last year – and view fast forward at how far I have managed to come in reaching this time, this year.

This time last year, I was 33 days into widowhood. I had no $$$ of my own – ALL income ended when Bob’s breathing this side of Heaven, ended; if it were not for good and faithful friends who loved me and quickly rallied the wagons about me, I would have gone under … in every regard: but, they loved me back to life, and supported me financially until the Social Security Admins pulled their heads out of their asses and started behaving like decent human beings.

On this day, last year, the Social Security Administration did start behaving like decent human beings: to stay ahead of overwhelming grief, I had forced myself to get out of the house, and gone to Keenager’s Senior Meet & Greet; checking the mail on my way home – I got a notification letter from Social Security Administration informing me that they had Bob’s December payment pending that had not been sent out following his death, and that I had a right to claim it. The hitch was that I only had 2 days in which to make the claim. 2 days! So, I rushed downtown to the local Social Security Office and managed to finagle an extension on the claim since my Birth Certificate was acceptable, and they already had Bob’s Death Certificate on file. All they needed was a certified copy of our Marriage License … which I was able to acquire speedily since Cathlamet is only an hour drive ‘round trip. That snafu righted, the rightful monies that Bob secured for me since Day 1 of our marriage, finally came to me, and carried me through until a steady income began in March of 2019.

Alex did help some financially too, and he was paid back asap – in fact, he was the first one I repaid because I was on to his {help} from the get-go: Alex never helps anyone unless he thinks it is beneficial to him. And by April he was letting me know that he had helped me and it would be helpful to him if he could move into my home. NO! Absolutely not! He had lived with us twice before when he was in dire straits, and it always ended badly. There was NO WAY I was going to allow him to take over my home and start running my life now that Bob is no longer here to make his son behave :-( Alex had, for 44 years, always tried putting me “in place” and placing his father in a difficult position every time he wanted to visit – at one point, blankly stating, “I want to come and visit you dad, but I don’t want Val to be in the house when I come” … to which demand, Bob replied, “This is Val’s House, Alex – she is my wife, I am not going to ask her to leave it so you can come visit. If you want to visit me, I welcome that; but I’m not going to ask Val to leave the house.” Alex didn’t come visit – his demand wasn’t catered to, so he stayed away. There was no real reason for his demand – other than he was, and will always be, a bona fide brat; he just wanted to try to drive a wedge between us and generally make our lives miserable. I can count on 1 hand all the times Alex deemed to visit his father after he turned 18 and the child support payments ended. So, when Alex again reminded me of “his help after Dad died”, and threw me a pack of lies about his father, backed with an ultimatum when I refused to let him move in with me, in July … I let him walk. After 44 years of continual trauma drama from that 50 year old brat, I am finally enjoying some peace: I don’t miss dodging the poisoned darts.

Our daughter, Stacey, has never helped me. At any point in life. She is stuck on herself and incapable of empathy, compassion, or love – in any way, shape, or form – when it comes to me, her mother. Her anger angst started when she was 9 years old, and has snowballed over the years until it has become a beast out of control that has destroyed her life. I won’t allow her anger to destroy me also. So, when she went on the attack again in November 2019 and gave me a pack of lies, with an ultimatum … similar to what Alex gave me in July … I let her walk too – she is a taker, not a giver. I am finally enjoying some peace: I don’t miss dodging the poisoned darts.

I can't count on the kids for anything, except a heaping dose of misery.

I don’t know who the hell those 2 think they are, but they are not going to run rough-shod over me anymore. I allowed it when their father was alive because family members – even shitty family members – was important to Bob; but it isn’t that important to me. I don’t need the aggravation on top of dealing with widowhood adjustments. Do I miss my daughter? YES! Do I miss her attitude? No. Not at all. Do I miss our grandchildren? Absolutely. But, with the exception of my 5 year old grandson, they are all adults (29, 25, 23, 5) and know my phone number and house address. If they ever get brave enough to buck their parents and want to call or visit me, I welcome that.

I chased after everyone when Bob was still here, because family was important to Bob. But, Bob is no longer here – and his children have made it very apparent to me that family does not hold the same importance to them; unless their demands are met. I refuse to kowtow to them. And I can withstand their mexican standoffs. I am restructuring and rebuilding my life: they can grow up and be part of that … or they can sulk in a corner and cry out to everyone who passes how mistreated they are: the choice is theirs.

The same can be said for Bob’s siblings, and my siblings: if they want to be in my life … they will make an effort to be IN my life; on the other hand, there are definitely 3 who I never want to see – or hear – again: Rose (Bob’s mother), Ralph (Bob’s brother), and Ramona (my sister) – I have forgiven them, but I have not forgotten how they treated us … specifically, Bob - how Rose and Ralph spoke of Bob after he was dead is inexcusable. The rest are welcome if they want to be welcomed. But, I am not chasing after anyone, anymore. Those days are past.

I am moving forward with my husband’s voice instilling confidence in me every step of the way. On his death bed, Bob held my hand, and said, “I have faith in you, Honey; we both know that whatever you set your mind to doing, is as good as done.”

My choice is to move forward. That is what Bob wanted for me. Bob had faith in me that I would accomplish that … I intend to. Moving forward would be very difficult if not for friends along the way. Good, faithful and loyal friends: Cheryl, Mike, Kerry, Pam; these old friends have stuck every week/every month throughout 2019 – visiting, helping me get things done around the house that require a man’s thinking/brute strength … getting me out of the house and out of my head every month; my new friends at Keenager’s; these friends ‘adopted’ me in my early widowhood and have stuck also … I am thankful, and blessed beyond measure. In December 2019, I joined two Senior Citizen Centers; I am making new friends in these places also – which is shocking to me since I have never been comfortable in social gatherings. But Elohim has been faithful to place people in my life that mean me good and not harm: Elohim’s grace is sufficient for me ;-)

Sitting here today, in Bob’s recliner, I can see in my mind’s eye – Bob smiling that sexy smile meant only for me, and saying softly, “I’ve seen everything you’ve had to wade through and overcome. I’m proud of you. You’ve come a long way Honey”. If he were still here, in the flesh, he’d be reaching for my hand and giving it a squeeze of encouragement.