December 1st.
A new month.
Only 13 more days to get through.
The countdown to the final lap of 106 days down Memory Lane has begun.
13 days from today will mark the 2nd year my husband looked at me for the last time … breathed out his last breath: the last time I held his hand/kissed his mouth.
I had thought – on that frosty December morning, as I turned my head to look at the clock on the hospital wall – that time, for me, would forever stand still. There was no longer any reason for time to move forward: Bob was no longer on planet Earth.
Bob was my purpose for being: we were born to complete each other.
I expected time to be suspended … for 51 years, all of my life’s time had revolved around the love of my life.
For 44 years I had shared my life’s time with the love of my life.
Now, there is no more “love of my life” in my life.
That ended the day Yeshua came to OHSU to walk the love of my life into his eternal Life beyond the clouds; where Elohim entered Bob’s Name into the Heavenly Register with a hearty ‘Welcome Home, thou good and faithful son’ … and angels blended their singing with Yeshua’s voice as he sung over Bob, with a rejoicing welcome.
23 months/13 days & 23 minutes ago.
I am happy for Bob – I really am.
Heaven, for Christians, is the goal: that celestial place is our Home; it is where our spirit longs to be, no matter how happy and blessed our lives here on Earth is.
I was happy I was blessed with Bob in my life, for as long as Elohim granted that favor.
I am happy now, that Bob’s spirit is finally Home: I am thankful that though the freeing of his spirit from his earthly vessel was hard for me to watch – Bob had relatively little pain, despite the taxing discomfort as his flesh began to break down and eventually shut down.
Elohim showed us great favor, and gave us sustaining grace during those countdown days at OHSU. He surrounded us with good, and loving medical Teams that treated us respectfully: listening to us, talked to us in language we could grasp and comprehend, watched us loving on each other … and sorrowed with us in love and compassion during those final hours; mystified by our Faith that daily sustained us, encouraged by Bob’s testimony of his salvation following his second death in 1981, warmed by Bob’s smiling and heartfelt declarations of undying love to me – and my unflagging faithfulness to be there for Bob “until death, do us part”.
I made that vow the night of August 27th, 1974, in the farmhouse livingroom of the County Judge who married us … and I meant it all of our married life.
The thread to that vow was cut the frosty morning of December 14th, in a lonely hospital room … across the river, in a city in another state. Far from home; with only Bob’s youngest brother there to witness, and comfort me.
I loved Bob for 44 years.
I love Bob still; even with 23 months of widowing under my belt.
Since I was bumped from Wife to Widow, every time Fall and Winter make their appearances, I am in sorrowing awe at all that has transpired in my solo lobo life in that short span of time.
It is astonishing to me that though 23 months is a short time, it is a long time to be solo loboing when I have been used to sharing my life, my body, my thoughts, my words, my actions, my balancing of decision-making, my spending, my cooking/eating, grocery shopping/misc. shopping, daytrips, hikes, kids, grandkids, family reunions, mini-overnight-vaca’s, extended-length-vaca’s, explorations, hopes, dreams, aspirations, $$$-making ventures, fellowshipping, friends’ house-hopping, big-ticket purchases, ect.
Between now, and then – so much life has been lived.
Without Bob in my life.
Before 2018 had ended, I went through a bleak Christmas season; and a sad 62nd birthday acknowledgment. I did my best to welcome the New Year without falling apart: I reviewed all the good times we enjoyed throughout 2018 … and focused on that. It was tremendously helpful, and stabilizing.
During my forward-crawling solo lobo venture, I found I could make and keep friends of my own – on my own without Bob being the people-magnet. That was an eye-opening experience. Bob, I am sure is applauding my efforts and successes. Some friends I had in my life while Bob was still an active part of it, have fallen away: some were expected to fall away; some surprised me at how quickly they disappeared. I am okay with both situations.
All our community property in now legally and solely in my Name. Every transfer was, and still is, a sad reminder that I no longer have a physical partner to enjoy these things with. I cried with every transfer … and sometimes I got angry at the businesses and their employees that insisted on the changes – and had no fricking idea how to bring those changes about without undue snafus that slashed a little deeper into an already bleeding-heart situation (transfer of House Title & 11 months-worth of angering and ridiculous AT/T bullshit).
I made major decisions, and purchases on my own – some due to in-the-moment emergency situations … some looking into the future, and planning long-term.
FIRST MAJOR SPENDATURES: (https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/03/yesterday-was-very-busy-day-here-house.html)
TAKING CARE OF BUSINESS – SOLO LOBO:
(https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/04/under-pressure.html & https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/05/todays-accomplishments.html)
FIRST OUT-OF-STATE TRIP: (https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/07/scappoose-soloing.html)
I faced our 45th Anniversary – and got through it alone; without falling apart.
Two-thirds of the way into 2019, I planned, and carried through with a Celebration of Life Event (Bob didn’t want a funeral, but his mother was insisting on some type of funeral); and I bravely dealt with his family on my own: I knew Bob was with me in spirit, and Elohim had my back – it was blessedly brief … and I never have to deal with the bulk of them ever again. Praise the Lord!
I cleaned the house and the shed of the last of Bob’s clothing, and man stuff I will never use. Our home, always a neutral blend of the two of us, began morphing into a Chick Pad … and it startled me because I am not a girly-girl woman. But, now, the house sends a clear message that there is 1 single female in residence. And I, personally, send the message that though there may only be a single female in residence – there is no room for male shoes under our bed: Bob’s shoes are permanently parked there.
I had my 1st Thanksgiving without Bob underfoot, sneaking pinches of this and that … or his help in the kitchen, or by my side, enjoying the endeavors. I missed playfully slapping his fingers as they reached for a tasty piece of turkey thigh – I missed laughing at his jokes about how he loved thigh meat, while he wiggled his eyebrows at me and growled sexily, “especially your thighs”. I ached with missingness … but I was able to eat without choking the food down, and I was able to be truly thankful for all that Elohim has blessed me with. This Thanksgiving season was interrupted with a bum leg, but I enjoyed it anyway and am thankful for all the blessing I have received and enjoyed. I have a GOOD GOD 😊
Where, before, I was a loner (except for Bob’s companionship); I have begun to actively search out activities that involve other people outside my small comfort zone circle. MAJOR STEP for me … then the political covid insanity set in, and the demonrat hell halted all that activity. Now I am back to solo solo loboing, again.
My 2nd Christmas without Bob (2019) went well. I didn’t expect it to, but Elohim favored me with love and kindness, and I did enjoy it. I can only hope that the upcoming Christmas 2020 – downplayed with décor and enthusiasm due to my bum leg – will gift me with a healing so I can get on with my life. Please Yeshua!
I saw our granddaughter get married last December 16th. I know Bob was with me (I carried a tiny Urn with ash in it, with me), and he was smiling with me. He liked Liam, and Alyna loves him. Liam is doing the best he can to be a father figure for our grandson … Alyna’s little 6-year-old brother; and he is being a good SIL to Alyna’s mother. It was a bittersweet day for me, as we together, had always hoped to see our children and grandchildren married: but Bob was there – even if we could not see him. I was comforted.
I learned how to do in-home-‘man stuff’. I had friends (male & female) I could call on … who would come and show me what needed to be done: they came quickly, and they didn’t talk down to me – I asked questions (and they never laughed at my ignorance), and they educated me on the how to’s. I am grateful, and richly blessed.
I learned to stand on solid ground, as both kids cut familial ties for good; it had been decades in happening – now it is done. My entire life with the love of my life, was erased like it had never happened; in 19-months-time. What love and hope had birthed on August 27th, 1974 … was angrily torched to ashy residue July 1st, 2020.
For the 1st time in my entire life, I am seriously alone. But Elohim has remained steadfast.
Bob loved me good, and well: his love carries me. His love still fuels me; and his love still inspires me. Every step I take forward in my solo lobo journey. I am greatly loved and highly favored. I am still my King Bee’s Queen, even though our kingdom had been sorely shaken and turned upside down.
I learned to get comfortable with the high-end Highlander car we bought the Fall of 2017. All of 2019 and three-fourths of 2020, I made a LOT of daytrip drives to places we used to go; I went alone to places Bob had talked about, but we never visited together … I think did this because I was curious; and I also wanted to “feel” Bob’s essence there: it was fun, and enlightening.
I started designing and crafting again. I was beginning to think I would never feel inspired to design and craft Bazaar items again; I am heartened to see that that is not so 😉 I did several successful Bazaars in the Fall/Winter of 2019 (and didn’t cry once when people asked where Bob was); and I did 1 Bazaar this October (only 1 because of insleeze’s insane political covid mandates, that never seem to end). I missed Bob’s smiling and thumb’s up approval on finished items, I missed Bob’s presence alongside me at the seasonal events, and I missed his beaming happiness for me when I “made it big!” during a very good day.
And yet, with all the awe-inspiring successes gained and enjoyed these past 23 months … no matter how much life has been lived after Bob’s life here ended … the tear in the tapestry of my life is still very much evident; and felt. It can’t be repaired – the threads are no longer available, and new threads wouldn’t fit: a second-place patch would not suffice. This is the painful reality of my new life, which piggybacks on the groundwork of my old life.
The unrelenting 106 days of memory shards will always be a painful part of my going forward life: this time of year – any year – will always be especially hard for me. I don’t sit around all year waiting for it to appear … but appear, it always does.
I am “getting on” with my life. The best I can. And 99% of the time, I do okay – no more teary melt-downs; no more ‘deer-in-the-headlights’ drama unfolding; no more paralyzing self-doubt when facing ‘need-to-do’ situations arise; BUT every second of every day …
I miss my husband.
But I am strangely comforted, also.
I feel his love always around me.
And I am awed at everything I have managed to accomplish solo lobo.
I’m 93 days into the 106 … and only had one tearful, gully-washer day; there have been plentiful stinging-eyes-teary days, where strolls along Memory Lane’s pathways momentarily tripped me up in my progress forward – but, on the whole, this year’s Memory Lane ventures haven’t left me gasping for breath.
This December 1st, I am not in a city I loathe (never could stand being in Portland), in a state I am unfamiliar with (44 years of coming to Oregon, and I could never get comfortable with it), watching my husband’s life slip away as hope was dangled and yanked back at the 11th hour.
I always loved looking at Bob. Seeing him made my body sing … inside, and out. It hurt me to know his body was failing him, and yet – his spirit was still so lively, and full of love.
I watched the bleeping colors on the heart monitoring screen, and couldn’t help thinking of all the Christmas Light drives he took me on over our 44 years together – it was his early Christmas & Birthday gift to me: he would have rather stayed at home, but he knew how much I loved looking at all the lighted homes, and streets … so he lovingly planned each route and I packed a thermos of hot coffee and some snacks to enjoy during our colorful driveby’s. Over the years, as America never really recovered from the jimmy carter years where inflation bit hard and fast, and jobs became scarcer – the lights began to thin out, and the driveby’s weren’t as colorful anymore: but he took me anyway … the last driveby being in 2017, with our 3-year-old grandson, around Longview.
Thinking of those drives, while listening to the quiet hospital hussle happening outside Bob’s ICU ER room; and watching the beeping colors zip across the overhead bed screen, the only color that filled the Christmas Season of 2018 was ‘blue’.
I listened to these songs as Bob slept:
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1nrkvfKKCmY)
( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lj5HaStGMFM)
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EfTUiox8YlY)
The blue tone fit.
This December 1st, I am laid up myself. The difference being, that my body is not in critical shape; and I can get up and move around.
Today is the day the garbage/recycling cans are shifted from the carport to the curbside for pickup tomorrow morning. I swallowed 1 prescribed Ibuprofen tablet, and felt I could also sweep the leaf litter out of the carport – and add that to the garbage can before shifting it about.
Slowly, but steadily the sciatica pain from hip to sole is backing off enough to stand on my left leg longer each day; and my leg is getting stronger. I am glad.
Hopefully, it will be so much better that I can go walking with my SIL when the New Year arrives 😉
That was the Plan before the pain set in …
That is the Plan I am aiming for.
And the countdown is in progress.
13 more days to end the 106 days of memory pricks.
32 days of hopeful anticipation.
I’m healing: spiritually, emotionally, and physically.
Maybe 2020 will go out easier than it arrived
😊
