I woke up this morning with the thought that I’d walk the dike trail at Riverside Park in Lexington; I hadn’t been there for a while, and it’s a nice walk.
I’ve been missing it.
I’ve been missing it, because
I’ve been avoiding it.
Bob and I walked that trail for decades … and
every day when we lived in that area.
So, today was a good day to get back there
again.
I felt I could face Bob’s lingering essence
everywhere, there.
I had eaten a bowl of cream of wheat, with
blueberries earlier in the morning, but I was hungry for a light lunch when I
reached Lexington – so, I bought a corn dog at the Lexington Chevron, where I
topped the gas tank (I was too tired to do that last night when I got home).
As I bit into the corn dog … globs
of ketchup and mustard dripped onto my shirt.
I cleaned the mess up as best I could, but
decided to scrap the Park idea: I couldn’t go out in public looking like my
boob was leaking.
It was a thought-provoking moment.
Finished eating the corn dog: I decided to
drive back home, change my shirt – dab it with stain remover; pay the bills …
and surf the internet for houses for sale in the areas I am interested in.
The sun was shining, and
mentally I had been prepared to enjoy the morning, out-of-house.
I’d take a leisurely route back home.
My life on repeat, is not about
dealing with dementia … it’s about dealing with all the complex nuances of
grief; over, and over, and over again: the halting steps of forward progression
when all the hugs/applause received {in the now} are echoes in your head of the
loving encouragements given to you from the one who was leaving your life –
the one, who told you, in a thought-provoking tone, to “Live!”: and
forgot to tell you how before they took their last breath.
Getting through those mental landmines can
sometimes be crippling.
Thinking gets foggy: and speech can become a
stuttering, stammering, halting endeavor.
You can feel stupid when this happens.
People, who do not understand the
complexities of widowhood, will consider you stupid.
The drive along the Sandy Bend crossover road
was an enjoyable country drive. I’m glad the memory kicked in and prodded me
along 😉
I didn’t get very far up Delameter Road,
before I turned off it – loose gravel was all over the road for miles: even on
the freshly blacktopped areas. The pebbles were really kicking up a fuss on the
underside of the Highlander … and a car was bearing down on me from behind; it
was making me nervous. I did not want to risk another cracked windshield – I
didn’t want to be responsible for the rude driver behind me getting a cracked
windshield. I didn’t want to have pit marks in the Highlander’s paint job.
So, I turned off Delameter at the Garlock
Road spur.
Garlock Road ties into Hazel Dell
Road – which ties into Westside Highway, near Lexington.
I noticed that my shirt had dried with hardly
a faint stain; so, I decided to go for the Park walk as planned, when I reached
Lexington, again.
I kept the walk short … and on pretty even
ground once I reached the top of the dike. As I was walking along, enjoying the
sunshine and the dragonflies; I heard a distinctive sound: pool balls clacking
together!
It was a thought-provoking sound
that lured me by the ears 😉
Following the sound, I laughed out loud as I
watched a couple playing pool in their back yard 😊
When the shot had been played out, I called
out from my lofty view: “Who’s winning?”
The girl shouted to me, that she was – so, I
shouted back, “Good for you!”
We all laughed, and I walked on: not too far
though … I turned around at the bridge, instead of pushing forward like I
normally would.
I’m still favoring that piriformis muscle.
Having my body force me to slow down and take
things easy, is a thought-provoking action that is still taking me time to
get used to.
I don’t like to be restricted in my movements
… but I don’t like the pain generated by an inflamed muscle either.
I took the gentlest descent from the dike
trail … which passes by the cement cistern Bob used to sit on once in awhile
during our hikes.
The Park is filled with memories: trails we
walked around the Park grounds on for decades, a bench he used to sit on, a
picnic table he used to sit at with our little grandson – and feed squirrels
Aza used to chase, after they grabbed their peanut and raced away, the dike
trail we walked every day after moving to the area years ago: the Park air is
saturated with his essence.
The memories still surround me –
but my heart doesn’t go into overdrive anymore, and hot tears don’t fall in torrents anymore when I think of
those precious years with the love of my life.
My heart is healing: it’s a thought-provoking acknowledgment.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, and heading
the car towards Heron Pointe, I thought of how blessed my life is because Bob
was part of my life for most of my life. I am thankful that Bob’s loving
confidence in me blossomed into my own confidences in myself; and the decisions
I am making to live the life Bob wanted me to embrace and move forward into. I
am grateful that Yeshua is my faithful Husband now, Who, daily
encourages me with thought-provoking life choices that help me grow
stronger in body, soul, and spirit.
I paid the bills at home … and started
searching online for houses for sale that fit the budget I can work with.
And, I found one: I’ll get more information
about it tomorrow. The house is in a location I hadn’t really given much
thought to – but it fits my needs/requirements; and it fits my budget 😉
As I considered how my new life was currently
taking shape, I happened to glance out the window – and saw a cloud, shaped like
a lion, drift by high in the sky.
It was like Yeshua was activating
encouragements in a thought-provoking manner 😊
Buying a new home will be a huge step forward
for me. It’s a monumental step forward. I filled out the paperwork Shay left
for me – and I’ll give it to her Wednesday. I was nervous filling the paperwork
out: Bob had always helped me do that with our last two homes we’d bought (plus
this one, I currently inhabit) … it’s hard not to second guess ding something
solo lobo that you had always done as a couple.
But, I remembered the lion cloud 😉
And I know I, in my new solo lobo life, am
enough 😊
‘Already Enough’ song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mr_yU40mvVo
I am actually quite excited about this new
phase of my new life.
But, my life misses Bob.
Greatly.
Prior to experiencing intimate death in my
personal life, I used to say to people in a comforting way, “It won’t always
hurt so much.” Now, after struggling with my own loss, and going through my own
journey of grief, I say, “It won’t always hurt so much, so often.” There is a
huge difference between the two statements – the pain of losing a loved one
never goes away: but as life moves forward, the waves of sorrow decrease in intensity.
That doesn’t mean that a big wave won’t suddenly
rear up out of nowhere, and knock you off your feet; but you no longer flounder
… you haul yourself up, and continue moving forward with thought-provoking
momentum.
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