SUNDAY~FUNDAY #10

Another solo lobo Mother’s Day.

Last year was my 1^st E.V.E.R. Mother’s Day without anyone to celebrate it with me.

I was aware of that aspect of last year’s Mother’s Day … but I wasn’t that aware of it: my mind was on drift 98% of last year – my 1^st year of Widow Wifing (my interpretation of widowhood and permanently married). 2019 passed shrouded in a murky mind fog.

This Mother’s Day, I am more present … and I am aware that I have spent the day alone.

No husband.

No kids.

No ‘significant other’.

I spend 98% of my days alone every day of every week, all year long. But, holidays get tough. No one wants to be alone on a Holiday. Before Fall/Winter of 2018, I had Bob and grandchildren to celebrate with. Now Bob and the grandchildren are absent from my life.

Now, I celebrate and honor myself.

Daddy's "little Dividend" recorded feet prints.

Solo Lobo.

You happiness depends on YOUR outlook on your life - have a positive one.

That’s what these Sunday~Funday’s are about. Celebrating and honoring my life. And living my life as fully as I possibly can; given my age, my finances, situations and circumstances.

This Sunday~Funday, I jumped the river and revisited a shady place Bob and I liked to enjoy on one of our many sporadic daytrips drives: Fishhawk Falls.

Longview, WA – Rainier, OR Bridge.

Sorry about the noise ... it's a busy highway; and the scenic viewpoint turnout is right off the highway edge.

Bob, Me, Stacey & Alex. 1975

No one wants to stay home on a Holiday - so we were on the road; making our own happiness. Bob's Gypsy Bone wasn't as itchy as mine ... but he did enjoy showing me beautiful places that were welcoming to us and our family. Nature was very welcoming.

Bob wasn’t here to guide me with the route – I was relying on memory alone, and nothing was looking familiar along the route. Landmarks change in 2 years’ time. So, I pulled over and punched my destination point into the Horizon’s GPS feature. That went okay … the GPS feedback did not.

The navigational GPS in the Highlander took me down some adventurous unknowns and unexpected roadways … but, I was proud of myself (and Yeshua & Bob were no doubt proud of me too ;-)) that I didn’t loose my cool or my temper. I do recall saying, out loud, “Where AM I?” and “Help me, Yeshua” several times – but I knew (with a small sense of N-S-E-W knowledge) that the road I was traveling would at least get me to Astoria if the faulty GPS led me past the Falls (not noted on a paper Map). I knew how to get back home from Astoria :-D

Man! Was I HAPPY to see this sign at the Jewell Meadows Wildlife Refuge😉 It was a loooong drive over rough and uneven roadway getting to this point; rough backroads and pressing seat belts make pit stops essential.

The elk herd was hiding deep in the shade because it was so hot, but the government was making sure it was seen ...

At 1 point along the road, I pulled over and used the google feature on the phone to help me punch in a specific point of reference to help with the GPS navigational feature of the Horizon – and laughed out loud when I realized the ironic implication of attempting to use one unreliable google feature to help with the use of another unreliable google feature.

But … it worked.

Thankfully, the GPS ‘adventures’ did not place me in complicated or dangerous places/situations.

I eventually made my destination ;-)

I am learning new things to fit my new life.

I am growing in confidence.

My confidence is expanding.

I did enjoy my day – even the unexpected ‘long way around the bend in the road’ ;-)

A general idea of where you need to be helps when GPS has a 'senior moment'. LOL

(https://www.waterfallsnorthwest.com/waterfall/Fishhawk-Falls-4101)

I love little wild daisies; hybrid Shasta Daisies just aren't the same.  MPO

This place was a busy place today - I think e.v.e.r.y.o.n.e. decided to break loose and visit the Falls today. Everyone was following safe distancing guidelines; and everyone had fun.

I love the sound of running water in the woods. And I was thankful the Jewell Meadows Restroom had been opened …

A wild bleeding-heart flower: half my heart is among the celestial stars above – these flowers played an ironic part in soothing my heart today😉

So soothing. It was weird being here without Bob - but I didn't cry; not even once. I was glad I came. My heart is healing.

The Falls coming into view ...

Bob at Fishhawk Falls in March of 2015; Bob always took me there that time of year, so I could see the Trillium blooming. This trip, I could feel Bob's presence all around me. When my feet reached this same spot on the trail - my mind's eye could almost see him there. Memories: I'm glad I have them. Memories of Bob are good memories to revisit.

A little waterfall can have a big, calming voice. It refreshed my world-weary soul. I saw Sasquatch too: can you find him in the Falls?

Brave souls ;-) No way I would ever do that - even when I was younger.

A False Lily-of-the-Valley wildflower. The prolific heart shaped leaves were reminders that love walked with me, every step of the trail ...

False Lily-of-the-Valley wildflower.

Eventually all the trails here lead to the Fall runoff river. But, you never know if you never explore ;-) 

Saxifrage flower - fringe pinks up with age.

Fringe cup saxifrage wildflower - fringe pinks up with age.

Young's Bay, OR

Bob & Cliff; 2017 Family Reunion at Cliff's in Warrenton, OR. There will be no more Family Reunion’s in Warrenton, OR. I will miss Bob’s Uncle Cliff. Bob and Cliff were tight – they grew up together. Cliff was like Bob’s older brother. Cliff was the second person to love me, and welcome me as Bob’s Wife … Bob’s Grandma Smalley was the first. I loved them as much as Bob did.

Leaving Astoria, headed home: the John Day County Park was open – but the restroom was closed. Kinda defeats the purpose of opening. MPO. The Bradley County Park was also closed - the entrance was barricaded.

I was glad to see that 'OPEN" sign in Bundy's window :-D I got Supper here. Bob and I ate here quite a bit over the years.

I nipped into Bundy’s parking lot and ordered a Supper Burger Basket with a rootbeer. Bob and I stopped in here pretty regularly over our 44 years together: starting with our dating months. I normally do not drink sodas, but Bob liked a rootbeer with his ‘burger … and he is directly responsible for making me a mother; so, I saluted him with the soda ;-)

If we are lucky, we do not marry a person – we join with the other half of our soul. My life with Bob was that blessed.

I also came to the realization that these daytrips seem to be losing more and more of the magic they held. My Magic Man is longer here – and HE was the MAIN component to the magic that gilded our life. The vibes now, are different: they echo emptily. As I am driving along, the happy anticipation of the trip kinda evaporates to a wisp of remembered happiness. I remember the comforting, and sometimes deafening buzz of children and two adults all speaking at the same time – yet everyone knew what everyone was saying. Now, the voices are silent and the silence is unnerving and profoundly deafening.

I am a childless mother/grandmother. The man responsible for making me a mother no longer walks this Earth; he was my comfort during the holiday seasons where the absence of our children/grandchildren is felt the most. I am learning how to be a widow and a childless mother. I don’t think I will ever get ‘the hang of it’ – for 45 years of my 63 years (and the 44 years as Bob's Wife), I have been a wife, mother, grandmother: now, I am suddenly none of those personas … and yet, I am.

There are family holidays liberally sprinkled throughout the calendar months.

Holidays are – and have been, for people like me, very complex and vexing situations.

And now covid-19 had been thrown into the complications.

I will never know if there is a {right} way to celebrate holidays, but I am confident in the knowledge that I don’t know; and that that is okay. That is, in all honesty, how our life has always been. Bob & I never did ‘fit in’ in either side of the blended family tree; after trying for the first few years of our married life to fit with inlaws’ expectations, we just finally threw our hands up and forged our own holiday traditions – which was basically to spend time together letting the Day play itself out, hitting the road in explorations of interesting places. Places are not like people. Places will not stigmatize a divorced person, or the spouse/family of a divorced person. We could enjoy the holiday in a stress free environment, and our Day could be a happy one, no matter what: we were together, our children were healthy and enjoying the adventure of the moment, we were out of the house … our world was ‘right’ by our immediate family standards.

I {get} that our children never {got} that.

That is on them.

I am doing the best I can to move forward and find some happiness.

I will continue revisiting places Bob and I enjoyed together.

I will also start implementing, and actively engaging in new adventures and explorations on my own, as a solo lobo.

I am learning how to coexist with that annoying imp, Grief.

Grief will always be an underlying aspect of this new life I am expected to live. But Grief does not upend every day anymore; the emotions stirred up by T-boning grief when it does hit me now, is no longer a raw and piercing pain in my heart, or a debilitating searing pain across my brain’s memory lobe. Grief can take my emotions up and down – but it’s not so stressful anymore.

It’s expected: it will happen.

Its planned for: when it arrives, I’ve learned how to douse the triggers.

I am learning how to successfully dodge the jolting potholes and ride out the sudden storms. If not totally successful in my navigations, then with a confident knowledge that the clouds will pass and the sun will make the Day sunny again.

Elohim is faithful.

I may not know how Elohei will get me through circumstances and situations, but I know that His lovingkindness and compassion is eternal and never-ending; Elohei has helped me in the past … and I can rest assured that He will do it again.

And again, and again.

My Name is engraved on the palms of His hands – my Name, my needs, my destiny are always before His eyes.

When I can’t see Elohei’s hand – I can trust His heart :-D

Mt. Rainier & Longview seen from Rainier Hill.

Mt. St. Helen’s & Longview seen from Rainier Hill.

Pink tinged clouds for a Mother’s Day sunset.

**SUNDAY~FUNDAY POSTS (2020): #9 – https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2020_04_27_archive.html (plus 1st thru 8th SUNDAY~FUNDAY links)**

MOTHER’S DAY 2020 ~ Still Queen Bee ;-)

Bob made me a mother: Yeshua/Creator made me a Grandmother.

There are many reasons I am celebrating this special day alone; and coronavirus has little to do with it. Though I am alone now on this special day, I will still celebrate it because I still celebrate the life Bob gave me while he was here with me, on Earth; motherhood was part of that life.

That said, I am celebrating this Mother’s Day with a trip down Memory Lane. None of these snapshots in time are new, but they are representative of Mother’s Day … though they were not taken during a Mother’s Day celebration.

Bob made me a mother before our 1974 Honeymoon Week was over. 9 months later his panting declaration, ‘I think we made a baby that time’ was a prophesy in real time ;-)

Early in my pregnancy I puffed up h.u.g.e.: I looked 9 months pregnant by the time I was 3 months along. Dr. Avalon said he heard 2 heartbeats when he examined me – and he monitored me for twins for quite a few weeks; and he, and Bob & I prepared for a twin birth. And then, one day I went in for my monthly checkup and his brow furrowed when he listened with his stethoscope, and his whole demeanor became concerned. And he said, “That’s strange; I’m only hearing one heartbeat.” Then, he straightened up and said, very somberly, “I think one of the twins has been absorbed.”

I was 17 years old, this was my first baby, and I didn’t know what he meant. But I did know that whatever he meant – meant that I was no longer pregnant with twins. But I stayed puffed up like a huge beach ball. I was huge the whole way through my pregnancy. Bob and I used to laugh about it – I was just about as round as I was tall: at that time, I was an even 5 feet. I was pretty pregnant … and then some. I had to kinda squeeze through doorways in a sideways shuffle, and try not to breathe too deeply. I couldn’t even tie my own shoes; I couldn’t see my feet, and even if I could – I couldn’t bend over to tie my shoes. Bob tied them for me when he was home, but I felt funny having him bend down towards me like he was worshipping me, so I started wearing my summer wedgies (low wedge heeled sandals). In the dead of winter. They were comfortable on my feet, and didn’t need to be tied.

For years we laughed every time we thought about those pregnancy days.

Bob was a good man.

I always wondered what it would have been like to be the mother of twins. Of course, I kinda found out: Stacey is a Gemini baby (May 24^th); the Gemini sign is the sign of twins, and she was born with the boundless energy of 2 or 3.

I think twin births skip every other generation … so, I’m thinking if Alyna ever decides to have babies, she may have a twin pregnancy. It would be nice if Bob’s DNA continued into the future, but that’s a decision she and Liam have to make for themselves.

45 years ago, I went into the hospital on May 10^th with false labor … they sent me home 5 hours later when  it was obvious no baby would be appearing any time soon. Bob’s brother ralph, and his wife, Cheryl, had had their baby girl born on May 10^th and I knew that my time was coming. Soon; we had gotten pregnant practically at the same time. So, on May 24^th, when I woke up with my side of the bed soaking wet; and totally humiliated and embarrassed for soaking the bed – Bob knew what was what, and he reached for his watch on the dresser and started monitoring what was happening: this started around 5:50 AM; by 7:30 AM we were on the road to Cowlitz General Hospital. Five hours later, we welcomed our daughter into our lives. It was, at that time, the biggest moment of our lives.

Bob’s family had big babies: BIG babies – like 10 pounds or more at delivery: they looked 3 months old as soon as they cleared the birth canel. And Bob told me this to prepare me for the possibility that our baby may be the size of a small Butter Ball Turkey too. When Brenda was born, Bob and I went to visit Cheryl and Brenda in the hospital. Brenda was a big baby. I remember looking at Bob, and saying, “Oh, my God: I can’t do this, Bob. I can’t have a Butter Ball sized baby – I’m too little!” And Bob laughed. And I said, “This is nothing to laugh about Bob. A 10-pound baby … I don’t know about this.” And he jokingly said, “Well, it’s too late to back out now.” We both burst out laughing to release some of the pressure I was feeling; but I was serious. There was NO WAY I could safely deliver a 10-pound baby with my small frame.

Bob's parents' Anniversary Celebration in 1975. Stacey & Brenda are 10 days apart in age.  I am in the blue pantsuit.

That was one of my concerns when I did finally end up in the hospital with real labor pains. I was frightened. I didn’t know what a 10-pound baby would do to me, and I was more than a little trepidatious being wheeled into the delivery room. But, when Stacey did make her appearance, she weighed in at 7 pounds/12 ounces: the perfect weight for both of us.

I remember being wheeled out of the delivery room, and braked right next to Bob and our parents standing at the Nursery window. I couldn’t see a thing (I had not been allowed to take my glasses into the delivery room with me, so I was blind as a bat). All I could make out was fuzzy shapes – the tallest being my husband ;-) The nurse pointed Stacey out to me … and I couldn’t see her at all – she was so little and so far away from the window. I remember looking at Bob and gushing, “Oh, Bob! She so beautiful!” I didn’t know if she was beautiful, or not! I couldn’t see her. But I knew that we had made her; and Bob was a beautiful man … and Bob always told me I was beautiful. So, I knew that our love child had to be beautiful too – there was no question about that ;-)

That was how my 1^st Mother’s Day went :-D

A little terrified. A little excited. Blindly adoring. And just as proud as could be that I had given my husband the daughter he’d wanted.

His bouquet of flowers, when he came to visit me later, was beautiful too. I still have the vase: I still use it to slip a long-stemmed-rose, or 2, into. The roses were 1 of each: red, salmon, yellow, and pink … and they were staggered in height in the vase like the family we had – Bob, me, alex and our newborn baby. They were so representative of that moment. The language of a red rose is “I love you”, and unconditional love for a special person: Bob loved me ‘til the day he stopped breathing; and he gave me unconditional love for 44 years. The language of a salmon colored rose is desire and excitement all at once: Bob’s desire for me never waned, even as we aged: his love and passion was always enthusiastic. The language of a yellow rose is delight, gladness, and affection: Bob felt all of that. The language of a pink rose is admiration, joy, and gratitude: and that is what he wrote on the card he tucked into the bouquet. He wrote: “Your love shines so bright. Thank you. I love you.” I’ll never forget that love message. Never.

Bob had wanted 6 children – I was young and insecure; I was excited and terrified at the same time. We were both overwhelmed starting out our life together with 2 kids in tow; bickering in-laws that were at each other … as well as at us every chance they got; and an ex-wife regretting a hasty second marriage, and generally making life difficult for everyone. We made a joint-decision (Bob got a vasectomy; doc said I was too young to have my tubes tied) & we hunkered down with the 2 children we already had – Bob’s son by a previous marriage, and our newborn daughter:

I love you, Babe ~ OX. I wish now I would have had those other 5 you wanted … there would be more of your DNA walking around.

Stacey is small boned. She has my mouth (in more ways than 1); Bob's nose, my eyes, and Bob's brain. I have kept these Baby Shower "baby guesses" - it was fun the other day to get them out and read what friends and family were guessing about Baby Hargand before she was born ;-)

My high school friend who helped me choose a baby Name - this is Stacey's legal birth Name. I wanted to name her Angelique, but Bob nixed that. I was watching the Gothic Soap Opera, 'Dark Shadows' at the time, and Bob said he did not want his daughter named after a witch. I still like the Name ...

My sisters ...

The Grandmothers ... who, in real life, balked at being Grandmothers.

Bob's sister & my favorite Aunt

My step-grandmother & her daughter-in-law

My cousin & her mother

Friends of my mother

I grew up. I missed a baby in the house. Bob refused to go back under the knife (the kind of vasectomy Bob had could have been surgically repaired). I set my sights and heart in grandchildren.

Doctors TWICE told our daughter that grandchildren would be an impossibility … THEY WERE WRONG BOTH TIMES.

Elohim had other plans (1995 & 2014, respectfully): both miracles occurred naturally ;-)

Bob made me a mother; Yeshua/Creator made me a Grandmother – my gratitude is endless.

When I shot this video, we had no idea this would be the last time we’d ever enjoy a day together, as an intact family.

Elohim was faithful – both Bob & I were greatly loved & highly favored: Bob got his baby girl, and I got my grandchildren.

Life around our buzzy hive was very good for 44 years.

And my King Bee always treated me like his Queen.

My King Bee always treated me like his Queen.

So, on this particular Day …even though I now celebrate this Day as a solo lobo, I AM STILL Queen for the day ;-)