THOUGHT PROVOKING DAY

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.

Riverside Park from Heron Pointe; via Nevada Drive & Westside Highway - 24 mins.

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 saturated the stain smear with wet-ones ... and looked like I had a leaky nursing pad in my bra.

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.

I scratched the hike, and decided to drive a forgotten road, on the way home.

Sandy Bend Road, from Lexington - via WA-411 & Sandy Bend Rd; 10 mins.

I'm thinking a little clearer this year.

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.

Sandy Bend turn off Westside Highway; I hung a right: uphill and over the crossover Sandy Bend Road.

Sandy Bend to Wren Loop; 3 mins.

Wren Loop Road; off Sandy Bend Road, past Hicks Road - ties into lower end of Delameter Road.

Wren Loop-Delameter junction; lower end of Delameter, just off Westside Highway, near Castle Rock.

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.

Loose gravel all over Delameter Road – for miles.

So, I turned off Delameter at the Garlock Road spur.

Garlock Road ties into Hazel Dell Road – which ties into Westside Highway, near Lexington.

Garlock Road; off Delameter Road.

Garlock Road; off Delameter Road - ties into Hazel Dell Road, which drops into Westside Highway, near Lexington.

I turned back to spare my windshield and paint job.

Hazel Dell Road from Garlock Road; 4 mins.

Garlock & Hazel Dell junction.

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.

Riverside Park from Hazel Dell Rd - 12 mins.

My shirt dried ... and I followed through with the hike.

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.

Unexpected surprise.

I turned around here - a very short hike today. I'm still favoring that Piriformis muscle.

Piriformis Syndrome.

I had company on the return walk back to the car: a couple with 3 very big dogs.

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.

I took the gentlest decline to the where the car was parked.

Sometimes Bob would sit on this cistern for a brief break, on hot days.

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 😊

At home, I saw a lion shape in the clouds; it was encouraging.

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.