Today was my Naselle Coffee Hour.
And though I am pinching pennies, I refuse to give up these friendship gatherings: they are necessities to me. They are relationships I am determined to cultivate. So, I got dressed, grabbed a coke at baker’s Corner … and headed off to Naselle. Surprisingly, I actually arrived on time 😊
On the way out of town; I saw there was construction going on between Baker’s Corner, and where I live – there is conflicting information about the {why}. I hope this will be a good thing. Time will tell.
Coffee hour went well, and when it was time to head back home, I was asked if I’d like to meet with them for their weekly Super hour at the Duck Inn in Skamokawa: I said, “not this time because I need to figure the bills tally … and hope to sock some $$$ away for new glasses.” They asked if I’d be joining them for chit-chat tomorrow, and I declined for the same reason. E.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g. frivolous is being put on hold until I have the funds for new eyewear 😉 I’ll make the weekly Naselle Coffee Hour, and the weekly Thursday Jam Sessions – but other than those two {outings}, I need to be frugal about gas usage for the time being.
On my way back home, I decided to make a right at Rosburg Store … and visit Eden Valley. It’s been a while since I’ve done that. While driving along, I made a snap decision to hang a right at the Eden Valley Road, and visit the place where Bob was conceived and spent his early childhood.
I was not prepared for any of the changes that had taken place!
I had stopped by Eden Valley Cemetery: and saw that someone had moved the wrought iron placement marker that I had placed next to Bob's cremains placement (https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/09/mind-at-ease.html).
They had moved it to the top of the headstones ... and stuck plastic flowers there, too. The flowers, I don't mind; but to take it upon themselves to move both markers was disrespectful – and hurtful to me today when I saw the wrought iron marker where it did not belong … and the steel pipe marker was totally gone. I had a real moment of panic. I cried (kinda wailed, actually). I yanked that marker out of where it had been moved to and prayed to God that I would remember where it had been before; when the freshly dug sod made it simple. Now, the grass had grown strong there, and it is not so easy to remember; so I mentally measured 6' between headstone and where I stood as I stuck the prongs in the earth and stomped it into place ... but I am not sure it is where I placed my husband's cremains ☹
(((((WHY))))) would someone DO THAT????? It is inexcusable.
I've made arrangements with Steele's Funeral Home to ferry my remains to Eden Valley Cemetery when I pass. The arrangements were that they were to take note of that wrought iron marker, and place my remains by Bob's. Now I am not sure that will ever happen.
My heart felt shattered into a million pieces all over again.
Leaving the cemetery, I decided to drive to the Smalley house at the end of Eden Valley Road and find out why. I wasn’t angry anymore. I was just confused as to why someone felt perfectly free to rearrange our Burial Plot to suit their satisfaction. At the end of the County Road, I learned that Heather was no longer dealing with Cemetery issues (this was wrong info); and the caretakers lived a bit further up the hill (follow the gravel road …).
The caretakers were not home, so I wrote my request (hastily; as I could hear a BIG dog barking wildly and didn’t know where it was, or how close it was); and left it where I hoped they’d see it. And understand what my chicken scratch was conveying.
People need to respect widowhood and understand that PTSD is a very real thing with widows ... it is hard to come to grips with. It is hard to live with. It is triggered by even the smallest thing someone else would think, " Why are you upset about that?"
Widowhood affects every aspect of our life – especially our emotions. We don’t feel the same way we used to. We don’t think the same way we used to. We don’t speak the same way. We don’t react the same way. We respond differently. We’re not the same as we were before: we are different people. Half of us is missing! We are doing the best we can to walk through this life with an amputated heart and an altered state of being. We don’t need people messing with our stuff, or messing with our head. We learn to accept the life that we have – now, in the moment – but it’s seriously altered.
We move in it, in a different way.
We are now different people.
We need everyone else to respect our boundaries, and not set us back a pace … or two … by actions, such as what I experienced this afternoon.
NOTE: Later in the day, I was given a number to call to request the mowers leave the stake where it is, in the future. An explanation was given as to {why}: to make room for the mower. Apologies were given – and accepted. And next time I am in that area, I will take a tape measure with me, and set the marker accurately. The person who moved it didn’t understand the significance of it being where it was: now they do.
A dicey situation was resolved (all the people involved are Bob’s cousins; 2nd cousins & Family Cemetery). And, my mind eased; I was able to enjoy my weekly Jam Session 😊
