AT EASE

I started my day, this morning, with a series of body strengthening exercises – if I lose pounds in the process, I’ll be happy … but that is not the goal. The goal is to tone and strengthen my body for upcoming hikes.

Hikes I will be able to do with ease.

Thinking of the upcoming hikes got me to thinking of how my life has lately become a life of ease.

That hasn’t been the case for quite some time.

At first, I was startled by that revelation … then my mouth curved into a smile :-)

I can get used to a life of ease.

Most of my life has been a struggle to fit in and be accepted – the struggle first started in my mother’s house … I eventually gave up when it became blatantly obvious to me that I would never be accepted, thus would never fit in; I was a misfit in school - again, I just gave up and enjoyed being the school rebel; Bob’s mother made it very clear to me that I was unacceptable … for Bob’s sake, I did try to ‘fit’: but there was no place for me – there was no place made for me to fit into: ditto for our daughter.

With our immediate family, I tried super hard to be the parent I never had – and our children let me know I was a failure on every level: I was not a glamour puss like the other mother’s (I am more the tom-boy type); I didn’t go to – or plan gossip sessions to tear other mother’s down and pacify the mucky-mucks; I didn’t go to – or plan ‘girl’s night out’ at the local bars; I didn’t further my husband’s financial opportunities by sleeping with his bosses or town chamber members; I didn’t smoke weed with my children, or throw beer parties for their friends … I did not okay sleepovers with their girlfriends or boyfriends; I did not work a 9 to 5 job so they could compete with the Jones’s kids.

Instead, I was a mother who stayed home (Bob and I agreed this would be best for our family; we both had working mother’s growing up); I enjoyed making a home for my family – I liked cooking wholesome meals instead of feeding my children mcdonald’s fast food. I liked sewing (the little bit I did). I liked knitting and crocheting (and got good at it, selling patterns to magazines & making good money at Bazaars); I liked gardening (my harvest hauls, with Bob’s hunting hauls fed us very well and we were able to save $$$); I liked planning family vacations that were educational as well as great outdoor experiences (the kids wanted disneyland and resort vacas – like Bob’s mother was treating their cousins to … and our kids weren’t invited to); I wanted my children raised with Godly values and principles (they rebelled at every turn along this path Bob & I walked); I believe in Home Education over public school, and that was always my plan from the get-go for my children’s education … and Stacey fought me all the way, after I finally removed her from public school and insisted she get her GPA up (which she did).

In short – I was not beautiful or acceptable in their eyes (they could not see me the way Bob did), I was not wealthy (and I had no desire to be: we were financially secure – that was okay with Bob & me), I was not a swinger (I took my marriage vows seriously – I loved Bob, and shared my body only with him), I was not atheist (this drove the kids wild! They were ashamed I was a Christian): I was not the parent our children wanted. And they let me know that all their lives; and because Bob had died for 25 minutes in 1981 before literally resurrecting miraculously from the dead (he was tagged for the morgue), and his brain could not handle a lot of stress, I scaled stress inducing situations from our life and insisted the kids behave – they refused, and that created a lot of tension in our home and in our life.

I was constantly caught between keeping Bob’s stress level on an even keel and trying to keep the kids/grandkids in Bob’s life … I had pretty much given up on them ever being a real and present part of my life – they didn’t want to be: and when they were, their chaotic dramas left chaotic wakes when they flew back out the door, which left me crying and shaking; and sent Bob’s stress levels high.

I was still trying to keep things together while Bob was dying: making sure his siblings and our children were kept up to date on his situations. I was still trying to keep the immediate family nucleus together after Bob’s spirit left his body – that trying blew up spectacularly in my face with each kid throughout 2019 (Blog & FB posts the end of 2018 and thru 2019).

I quit trying after those incidents.

I faced 2020 as a solo lobo with a clean slate.

I miss my husband; but missing him won’t bring him back. Missing Bob won’t make everyone else behave. I will love Bob for the rest of my life, and I will miss his presence in my life … but missing him won’t magically make everything okay.

My life, going forward will gain momentum based solely on me, my dreams, my desires, my decisions, my choices – I no longer have to consider anyone else. I no longer have to answer to anyone else.

I want to build and enjoy an easy life after a lifetime of painful judgments and snobbish snubby shutouts.

I wrapped memories of Bob’s unconditional love around me like a cocoon. I isolated negativity, and pruned toxic people out of my life. Being a widow has changed my outlook on life – I no longer tolerate things I used to tolerate for Bob’s sake. I only have time now for love and peace. I only surround myself now with people who are beneficial to my inner serenity. I demand balance in my new life … there will no more bitter upheavals allowed.

I gained confidence and solid footing as I found there are people in my neighborhood and county who like me just as I am, and want to be part of my life as it is – I realize I am capable of attracting and keeping friends all by myself; without Bob’s magnetic personality: these people, in my life now, didn’t know Bob; they will never know Bob … and they like me. For who/what I am. It is a strange feeling. It is an exhilarating experience. I am blessed, and thankful :-D

Aside from needing Bob … I don’t need anything.

The house and car are paid for. I am financially stable – and so, I have decided to let the Hospital Beneficiary Financial Assistance lapse; the program has changed, and they want too much personal information: I’m not comfortable with the prying, and I resent being told how much I can have in savings. If they’re that strict, apparently they feel I am rich enough on my piddly Social Security income to ‘insure’ (through savings) myself in regard to medical emergencies (I do not receive Social Security medical benefits of any type) – I only see Dr. Landry once a year to keep my asthma prescriptions current; and I am working on even stopping the inhalers – I don’t like what steroids do to the body.

Even missing Bob, I am happy I do not (and did not) need alcohol, cigarettes, or drugs as a distraction to work through the grieve cycle.

And though there are times it would definitely be nice to have a man around – like when I need a light bulb replaced, or a toilet tank issue repaired – I don’t feel like I need a man.

In fact, I feel nothing. Not in a negative way though – I don’t feel dead inside, I’m just at a peaceful place in my life: I am content.

Maybe I feel nothing because my life is finally hitting the ‘normal’ phase: my emotions have plateaued.

Maybe feeling nothing is my new norm.

I am at ease.

And I’m taking life easy.

Before Bob’s illness and subsequent physical death, most of my time was spent scared, worried, and trying to prove myself. Now, having stared death in the face and not been destroyed; having fought financial battles that would have sunk weaker people; and having weathered the storms the kids threw my way as I staggered lost and lonely through a bleak and grief-colored wilderness landscape … I find my life suddenly calm.

The ease is unfamiliar.

It’s uncomfortable in its newness – like a sudden weight loss.

I am surprised and excited: surprised because I expect to recognize the old me, and excited because the old me is no longer me.

I am emerging from my cocoon and unfurling my wings.

There are days I am feverishly busy trying to distance myself from the acute missingness of my husband in my life – and the poignant missingness of Bob, the man separate from husband.

And there are days when I do nothing.

Nothing at all.

I get into the car and go for solo lobo long drives – because I want to, and I can; I spend all day crafting without interruption; I exercise whenever and wherever; I watch movies back to back – 24/7 if I choose to do so; I listen to the music I like all day long; I read without putting the book down until it’s finished; I go for long solo lobo walks whenever and wherever; I nap and think about … nothing.

100% impossibilities before Widowhood.

The complexities of nothing is refreshingly weird and wonderful.

I feel balanced.

My life feels settled.

Not complete – not whole – not ‘done’: just comfortably settled.

I am a Daughter of the Most High God. I am Bob’s Wife. I am a Widow. I am a Mom. I am a Grandmother. I am a Friend. I am a 63-year-old person who is dying … everyone is dying: we begin to die the moment we take our first breath.

That knowledge brings me peace.

And whatever I feel at any given moment doesn’t stress me out anymore, because I know that it will pass.

It will pass.

There is contentment in that knowledge that imparts easy balance in my life.

I would never have known this ease if Bob’s life had not been part of my life. Bob was an easy-going person with a calming personality: with his love, he infused that calmness into my life. But I was not aware that transference took place until his physical body was dying.

Even in death, Bob was loving me and teaching me important life lessons I would need to draw on when he was gone from me. As I am growing into myself in the autumn of my own life, I recognize the powerful gift he gave me – the ability to confidently discover with comfort who I am and who I am not: because of his physical death.

As I am typing this post, I can clearly hear my husband lovingly asking me, “Have you learned anything?”

Yes.

Yes, I have, Babe.

And I thank you for teaching me how to live at ease.

I love you.

Always ~ OX