I was up bright and early this morning.
2 things had me feeling nervous: (1) KM
Mountain (2) the last time I hosted a Bazaar table at the Rosburg Hall … Bob
was with me.
Bob’s family is related to 2/3rd’s
of the population that way – so much so, that when our children started
maturing we told them, “You cannot date anyone from Graysriver, Rosburg,
Naselle, or Astoria – every other person is relative in one way, or another, to
your father.”
Our kids literally had to leave the immediate
area … and State … to safely date.
No joke.
This Bazaar, Bob is not here.
Bob would not be with me.
I am ‘family’ – and yet, not.
Bob by my side made me ‘family’: Bob is no
longer here.
9/10th’s of Bob’s family is no
longer in my life; and I am no longer included in family shindigs. Bob’s place
in the family is vacant, and there is no longer any place for me. There is a
BIL and a SIL that are still hanging … but the bulk of Bob’s family doesn’t know
what to do with me: they never had that much to do with me before – and the
{fit} is uncomfortable after.
So, I was understandably nervous.
And, on another topic: the PNW is in our rainy
season now, and will be for months – morning fog is going to be hanging in the
air pretty steadily for some time.
Fog didn’t bother Bob like it bothers me.
Bob grew up I a foggy area; and as a logger,
and truck driver … Bob drove/worked in heavily fogged mornings.
On scary mountain roads that would steal your
breath with fear if you saw them in clear daylight.
That didn’t bother Bob either.
Bob loved challenges.
Bob excelled at conquering challenges.
I am a pretty headstrong and determined
woman.
But I am not totally fearless.
Yawning 1,000-foot gorges, and foggy roadways
unnerve me.
So, I girded myself with boldness; requested
to be held up with prayer … and set forth 😉
I hadn’t even reached Stella, when it was
obvious that I needed to pull over and switch back to wearing my old glasses –
it was just too dangerous to continue wearing the new ones: the distance was
very blurry, and I knew that if I did come to a fog bank, the new glasses would
be a serious snafu.
They had to be removed, and replaced.
And I was peeved – the whole purpose of
buying new glasses was so that I could see clearly into the distance.
But, I have not been able to do that with
these new lenses.
It was just too risky to continue with them –
thank God (!) I kept this old pair, or I would have been up the proverbial ‘creek
without a paddle’ …
My first tangle with fog happened at County
Line; soupy fog, so it wasn’t too hindering.
By the time I reached Bunker Hill, I’d lost sight
of the roadway twice. It was scary, but I reached back into the recesses of my
memory and pulled on e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g. Bob (as passenger) had ever told
me about driving in heavy fog; and I turned my mind’s eye inward to {see} Bob
driving through the fog … and I mimicked that.
If Bob had been here, I probably would have
pulled over and said, “Okay, Babe, this scares me: you need to drive now.”
But Bob is no longer a passenger.
Bob is no longer available.
I no longer have a backup driver: there’s
just me.
So, I drew on everything I could remember
about fog driving.
Bob had learned to drive early, in Eden Valley
– he was driving tractor at 9 years old; his Dad taught him. It gets foggy, very
foggy in Eden Valley. Then he graduated from tractor to truck. Bob was a
good driver – a very good driver.
And Bob was a skillful driving instructor:
anybody would have been privileged to have had Bob as an instructor.
I was privileged from the moment he slipped
that little gold band on the 3rd finger of my left hand; but I
was a rebellious teenager – I wasn’t interested in learning, so I blew his
enthusiasm off, and I bucked his instructions; pacifying him with a driver’s
permit and slacking off on seriously pursuing an actual License. I did not
understand the necessity until I was in my 30’s. I didn’t need to drive until I
was in my 30’s: everything I needed to run the house smoothly, prepare meals,
clothe the kids, and entertain myself craft-wise … was mere minutes from our
front door.
By foot.
2 shakes of a lamb’s tail to Main Street; and
7 minutes flat to make the High School at the top of the town hill.
I didn’t buckle down and get serious about
getting my Driver’s License until Bob was working away from home one Winter,
and got deathly sick with pneumonia.
And even then … I was happy to pass him the
baton in tricky situations and let him drive us to safety.
But, now, I have to carry the baton: getting
from A to B safely now, is 100% on me.
There were periodic fog patches from Cathlamet
to the KM Mountain; but ((((surprisingly)))), the KM was practically fog-free.
Leaving the KM behind me, and nearing Graysriver, there was a light fog bank at Fossil Creek … but the rest of the way through Graysriver and on to Rosburg Hall was clear driving.
THANK YOU Bob, for telling me/showing me by
example over the years, what I needed to know this morning.
THANK YOU YESHUA, for bringing that information
to mind … and helping me through the dicey situations this morning.
The entire drive really was pretty uneventful
– even with the patches of fog.
It was an enjoyable drive.
I was swathed in prayer.
Music filled the car.
I felt love, and peace.
But I did miss the magic of the day – the way Bob could turn an ordinary day into something extraordinary simply by being IN
it.
Bob had no ego: none, whatsoever.
Bob had no idea what a rare person he was.
Bob was the magic of my days.
And Bob is now missing from my days.
Any future chapters of the charmed fairytale
that was US for 44 years, ended 22 months ago.
The day was dawning, but daybreak was still a
little murky when I turned down Altoona-Pillar Rock Road, and nipping into the Rosburg
Community Hall Road; and I was still feeling pretty bummed about my life
missing pizazz.
I was still feeling a little nervous about
being in the midst of people Bob had known all his life, when I am really no
longer part of the family nucleus.
And I didn’t want to have to deal with people
pitying me: they would mean well, but I would feel awkward.
I’m not a self-pitying person.
I did not want to be accepted by being pitied.
In the midst of those thoughts, my peripheral
vision was snagged when YESHUA DAZZLED ME WITH HIS ‘Good Morning, Val!’
gift:
I smiled at the thoughtfulness of my heavenly Husband.
I put a lid on the bummer mood 😉
I began to view the day in a whole new light.
After I had parked, hauled my bins into the Hall and started unpacking my cache to set my table up, Bob’s Aunt Frieda
sought me out for a hug and a chit-chat.
I was showered with love!
She introduced me to her friends.
“I want you to meet my niece, Val.”
She introduced me as her “niece”!
Frieda loved Bob like a little brother –
there was no superiority issues between them. They had been linked by a love bond.
I saw it.
For 44 years.
I knew it for what it was: pure love.
And now, she was including me in
that connection.
She brought me up to date on family doings:
marriages, births, deaths, who was moving/buying homes, ect.: family stuff.
Her husband, John, also sought me out.
I knew I was loved.
I know I am loved.
I was thankful: I am thankful.
I hadn’t seen Frieda and John since Bob’s Celebration
of Life event, August 30th, 2019.
I was nervous about where I {fit}; how my old
life would smoothly dovetail with my new life.
Frieda and John removed that nervousness.
I am now a square peg … and they widened the
round hole of family unity, so they can include me with ease.
I am grateful to know that there are some
family members who have not abandoned me (out of 52 people, 8 have remained;
2 in-laws I can depend on when I need ‘now’ help).
People reading this may wonder ‘what’s the
big deal? You’re 64 years old …’.
The big deal is that my entire world has been
shattered; there is very little of my old life left that is recognizable – or workable
– anymore. There are holes in the tapestry of the life that used to be US …
that will never be repaired; and cannot be reworked.
No husband to share love with.
No children to visit with.
No grandchildren to hold.
No great-grandchildren to hope for.
ALL are irreplaceable shapes in the tapestry of the Life I once had.
Everyone needs love.
Everyone needs to know they are loved.
The spirit will shrivel up and
die without daily doses of some form of love.
Humans were created in the image of God.
Humans were created TO BE loved: and to GIVE
love.
Love is an important ingredient to life.
Without love, people aren’t truly living their
lives to the fullest potential.
My bins were eventually emptied, and my table
was eventually ready to be browsed by customers.
It was a good day.
It was a profitable day.
I was able to ‘make Bank’; and I am able to
replace 2/3rd’s of the Tire $$$$ I had filched a few weeks ago to
make up the difference in cost for my new pair of glasses.
When the Bazaar wrapped up, I drove up the
road a bit further, to stop at the Eden Valley Cemetery to upgrade the family
plots.
I have been walking solo lobo for 22
months/17 days/9 hrs.47 secs.
How I adapt to that stark reality is up to
me.
I … and only I … am responsible for successfully
moving forward, finding purpose for my life again, responsible for my
attitude/environment/healing: I am working on all these things.
I am doing better today than I was yesterday;
and I’m A WHOLE LOT BETTER than I was 22 months ago – even 10 months ago.
There is a song with a lyrical message I am going
to be adapting for my 2021 progression forward. I am choosing its lyrical substance
because it’s doable: it’s desirable – it’s necessary.
I’ve had a full cup of passionate happiness.
I could enjoy a half full cup of fun.
I’m tired of crying.
