My life has changed so much since December 2018. I remarried January 7th, 2023 ... we sold the house, sold our vehicles - and bought a new 4x, a puppy, & a 5th Wheel to travel the mainland States and experience life in the slow lane. As always I record e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g. happening in my life: I will share lots of pics & vids of our USA travels: I hope you enjoy our Blog.
For whatever reason: several
of my videos would not post to the Blog last night – so, I’ll try again, today 😉
Yesterday’s
Post: ‘IF’ ~McCormick Park (11-3-22):
https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2022/11/yesterdays-post-if-mccormick-park-11-3.html
Before I left the Park in
St. Helens yesterday afternoon, several texts came over the airwaves. This is
my answer to the queries; I’ve held this mindset since 1966, and I see no
reason to change it in the immediate future:
Just that kind of day ... my thoughts are a
million miles away.
Rory Gallagher – ‘A Million Miles Away’ song: (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sXOwDDBhT80)
All of my life revolves around music - and Bob was a good sport about it.
We drove backroads with music blaring; we made love to the backbeat of music; we went to sleep with music playing in the background; we woke up to music tripping the alarm clock beeping; we danced to music on the weekends - preferably live, and always without fail ... stationed next to the supersized amplifiers that made the floor under our feet heave and sway: baby had to have her eardrums bleeding, even if hubby had been up since the crack of dawn and was seriously beat by midnight - I married a good man. Bob was a priceless gem.
My thoughts are a million miles away.
Beyond the clouds.
Rory Gallagher – ‘I Take What I Want’ song: (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FUrCryXItcU)
Rory Gallagher – ‘I Don’t Know Where I’m Going’ song: (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=90v15ES_RRQ)
Rory Gallagher – ‘Do You Read Me? song: (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ClvqM6dj7M)
Rory Gallagher – ‘Shin Kicker’ song: (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GazzTFxXGeE)
Bob used to laugh and tell
people he “had a tiger by the tail” when my dander was up 😉
Rory’s ‘hellcat’ description fit best 😊
Rory Gallagher – ‘Hellcat & Wayward Child’ song: (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bb9MeF2LY6A)
Rory was just about the BEST guitarist in my lifetime … then came Eric Clapton, Peter Frampton, and Stevie Ray Vaughn. In that order 😉
Rory – Interview 1976: (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yuv_mYB29-0)
Tonight,
I drove to Kelso to visit with friends … and met a new friend 😊
But
before actually getting to Kelso, I stopped at the Indy Diner for Supper. I’ve
been very tired lately, so I decided to enrich my blood with a Liver &
Onions supper – I like liver, and it’s a good source of iron.
I
smiled when I saw my waitress: she had always waited on us, and her makeup was
always so thick, it looked like she was wearing a halloween mask (and Bob
said she looked like a girl in Bob’s high school class dubbed ‘scare’em’);
that sounds cruel, I know, but seriously her makeup was so thick it seemed put
on with a plastering spatula. But tonight, the makeup was not so thick … and
I sent a mental message to Bob, of that fact, with a silent chuckle 😉
Tonight,
while visiting friends in Kelso, and talking with Sue (a widow, like me),
I broke off midsentence and said, “here, I’ll show you his picture – and you
will understand why my heart could never belong to anyone else.” And she
did: she took a look, and said, “Oh my. He was one good-looking man!”
And I smiled. He was. And for our brief 44 years together, he was
all mine. Being able to freely talk about him, gives me joy.
I
spent a very good and friendly two hours in Kelso before heading home. As I
turned down the backroad, intending to take the looping route back home, I saw
that the road I wanted had been closed for a portion of it and a detour was in
place.
When
I got home, I received a phone call asking if I wanted to be part of a Fall Bazaar
at Rosburg Hall the end of October – I said “Yes!”, and noted the details on
the wall calendar. Then I immediately started taking mental inventory of what I
had on hand … and what I’d have to quickly make up for new inventory 😉
And,
I headed for the kitchen to sort through the various thermoses: coffee
thermoses, and soup thermoses. Vendors sit through many hours between
foot traffic, at Bazaars; coffee and soup are good satisfiers 😊
Opening
the cupboard and sorting through the contents to find what I will be needing, I
see that I haven’t completely culled all of my husband’s things; in the
bedroom – atop his drawered valet, I’ve left his favorite pencil stubs where he
left them the last time that he used them when designing things for me (like
the birdhouse and bird feeder that hangs outside the livingroom window; and the
garden boxes I replant every Spring); on the top shelf in the bedroom
closet – and in the Highlander armrest-cubby, I’ve kept a couple of his favorite
hats that weren’t frayed with continual use and laundering; in “his top drawer”
of the bedroom dresser, I’ve hoarded scraps of paper with his scratchy handwriting
on them (though these are fading to near indiscernible, as he preferred
pencil over ballpoint ink); I’ve kept his thermal tops, and I will wear them every Winter until they literally all apart; photos bring me to him:
looking at his snapshot face and form, memories vibrate with the sound of his
voice, his laughter, the feel of him next to me, his zest for life – the recorded
CD testimonial, and phone videos echo with his ability to find wonder and joy in
every situation, and to easily laugh even in the midst of pain and hardship: these
things relay to me, his enduring strength … on which my strength in the moment,
at any given moment, pulls strongly on … and now these forlorn
hospital mugs are staring me in the face as I take inventory of forgotten thermoses
that will be put to use this Fall/Winter. Why did I hang into those
plastic mugs – do I actually intend to use them, at some point? I stare at
those things, and wonder at the strange eccentricity of my sentimentality.
I watered my garden area
before leaving for Eden Valley this morning; lilies and parsley are doing very
well 😊
The Eden Valley issue, on the other
hand … is not "doing well"; Eden Valley is not feeling very much like Eden, lately.
It seems like every time I
visit the cemetery there, this year: there’s a new hellish development to deal
with.
After watering the garden
area, I decided to drive to Eden Valley and set things straight on our Plot: I
had posted a few weeks ago, that our Plot had been dinked with … I needed to go
back, today.
WHY? Post: https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2022/07/ptsd-widowhood-experience.html
As I was leaving the
cemetery, I passed Grandpa & Grandma Smalley’s Plot – and Dad Hargand’s Plot
too … and saw that the shepherd hooks I’d placed there were missing!
Nowhere at all to be seen.
WTH
Is a new
cemetery protocol in place?
Is nothing allowed on our plots
anymore, except headstones, and plastic flowers? I placed a for
curiosity’s sake call to Heather to find out what the new cemetery rules
are: Heather is very rule-oriented, and very pigheaded about her rules
being adhered to. I need to know what those rules are so I don’t step on
her touchy toes.
The “Hi Heather, this is Val. I noticed on my cemetery visits, that Bob’s placement stake had been moved; that is very distressing … and just now, I noticed that the shepherd hooks I’d placed on his grandparent’s & father’s plots have disappeared, as well. I’m curious as to why – call me back when you can. My number is ---” call went straight to voicemail (I spoke in a very calm, very conciliatory tone; I want answers, not fireworks).
I played
phone-tag with Heather all the way back from Eden Valley: she’d leave
voicemails because I was in dead zones along the road … and when I had cell
service again, she wasn’t picking up …
We finally made prickly one-on-one-contact
a little after 4 PM.
It’s hard to
stay calm when speaking with her; her tone is very off-setting. She is a miserable person.
Heather is very clear that
she does not want the responsibility of the Cemetery (every convo starts
with that mention: she’s putting me on notice that anything I say will go in
one ear, and out the other – she’s not wanting a solution) … yet, she will
not pass cemetery duties off to someone more approachable: she bitches and
whines about it, but she also wants the leadership position of being in charge
since this cemetery is a Family Cemetery – and a Historical one, registered
with the County. That’s what keeps her hanging on with a tight grip.
I try to be conciliatory when dealing with her; but it’s hard because her tone is so combative; her mouth is in fight mode right out of the chute. Example: Heather - “Why was Bob placed so far away from the headstone?” Me – “Because that’s where the hole had been dug before I arrived at the Cemetery, 4 years ago (https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/08/between-now-and-then-until-i-see-you.html); I assumed that the arrangement had been made between you and Dave (the digger) because the whole cemetery arrangement was a nightmare scenario with you being so picky about everything. That’s where Dave dug the hole. And that’s why the stake placement is so important …” Heather immediately found offence where none was intended, and broke in with a snippy: “Well, Valerie, I’m sorry you feel everything was a nightmare …” Me taking control of the convo, again, and not letting her turn it into battle of the words: “Heather; you asked, I answered (thinking mentally: I’m not going down that tempestuous path with you, again!). I’m trying to understand the cemetery protocol dynamics at work here. I don’t want to be troublesome, but it is very distressful to see that things are continually rearranged – and in the case of Bob’s Grandparent’s Plot, and his Parent’s Plot; the shepherd’s hooks with hanging floral arrangements I had placed on their plots have been removed, and completely disappeared. I’m just asking why.” Heather: “To make things easier for the mowers. If you aren’t satisfied with that, you could leave the stake where it is, bring a lawn mower to the cemetery and mow the grass on your plot section, by yourself” (there’s that bitch mode making itself felt). I went stone-cold-silent with shaking anger. Her attitude was uncalled for: and totally unacceptable. I had stated several times that I did not want to be troublesome; and I had asked my questions in a conciliatory tone. But, I was also getting tired of her unwarranted bitchiness – best not to say anything for a heartbeat’s space of time. Heather: “Val? Are you still there?” Me (looking into the distance out my front window for a 10 ct. period of silence so I didn’t bite her head off): “Yes, I’m still here (appalled at the insensitivity and lack of compassion); I’m trying to digest what you just said to me. I have no issue with who mows our grass, but you need to understand that our Plot is a cremation plot, Heather … that means that we have to know where every placement actually is, before other placements can be in play – that is the reason for the stake being placed, and left in place. So that we will know before future diggings are made (is she really this dense? No: she’s just really that obtuse with queen-bee-attitude). Like I mentioned before Heather – I don’t want to be troublesome … and I’m sorry you view me that way; but we need to come to some kind of agreeable solution, here, for future family member placements. Grieving is hard enough without the added stressors. I’m willing to work with an agreeable solution to this ongoing cemetery problem.” Heather: “Grieving is hard – remember, I lost my father 4 years ago, too …” Me: “Yes, I remember. I was thinking of that very thing before you called tonight.” Heather: “You could have Bob’s cremains moved closer to the headstone, then you would know where he is without being stressed. We don’t have actual caretakers for this cemetery – everyone that is involved, is a volunteer worker. I could see if there is someone to do that for you; Dave may be willing to do that for you. He did it last time because you were alone, and needed help … and he did it at his own expense” (now she’s slapping the guilt card down). Me (taking the higher road and refusing the guilt tripping): “I wouldn’t have a problem with that suggestion – but I’d need to be there when the transfer is made. I’m still alone (https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/08/still-standing.html); and I still need help getting this done if it’s to be done. I’d be willing to recompense Dave … for last time, a well as pay him this time – if he’s agreeable to help” (I doubt it will cost me that much; but, she had to get her spurs dug in. She’s got a serious anger issue). I also remember that in June of 2019 – I'll never forget her insensitivity during the most sensitive moment of my entire life – she told me that "by State Law, the hole dug has got to be four-feet deep; no exeptions" (What??? For cremains, for Pete's sake!): I stand at barely 5'2", with a 26" arm reach from shoulder to fingertip. There no way I can get Bob's cremains into a four-foot hole without lying flat on my stomach and dropping the cremains the remaining 2 feet depth. It's the stupidest thing I've ever heard, and especially nonsensical, since people throw cremains into the frigging air, or sprinkle them into rivers, lakes, and oceans!! But she is an adamant stickler. Personally, I think she's crazy and more than a bit full of herself. Heather: “I’ll pass your number along to him; I don’t know when he’ll get back to you. It could be a week or so. (Huge drama-queen sigh for impact); we’re country people here (implying I’m a spoiled city girl who wouldn’t understand the pressures she’s under); we all work day jobs as well as working our farm duties. Except for Dave, he’s retired.” Me (ignoring the continual spurring; I want this call wrapped up. Pronto): “I understand country people – I was raised on a homestead in my childhood, so I get the “dawn to 10 PM thing”; and Bob worked away from home for years – and I also worked a 6-day/fulltime job; so I get the “busy weekend thing” (rolling my eyes, and thinking mentally: your situation isn’t that ‘special’ Heather!) … but back to Dave: tell him there’s no rush. At his ‘earliest convenience’ works for me. And could I ask a favor of you?” Heather: If I can do it (big sigh)” Me: “Please, leave the stake where it’s at, until we make the transfer. I do appreciate you taking the time to listen to me.”
Click – I ended the
convo. I couldn’t take anymore open hostility and deliberate inflcition of pain ... and remain peaceful with that devilish harpy.
This whole thing is so unbelievable,
that if I were not personally experiencing it ☹, I wouldn’t believe
it were possible. Bob’s death was hard enough. Placing Bob’s cremains in the Eden
Valley Cemetery was brutal on my emotions – and I’ve been dealing with
the ongoing cemetery drama for four years: every year Heather throws a new wrinkle
into the mix: this year, it’s digging his cremains up … and
relocating them, to make the mowers happy. Those cremains were heavy to lower the first time around ... they'll be heavier now that they have solidified in the elements since 2019; and how am I supposed to lift them from a four-foot depth with a two-foot arm legth????? The whole thing is ridiculously cruel, and really unnecessary. And people wonder why I avoid
{family} interaction!
Every time I have to deal
with Bob’s whacky family members, I wonder if he had been adopted – because they
are just plain strange: he never fit the {family mold} of stiff-necked/easily
offended, uncomprehending/mulish Smalley weirdos.
((((PLEASE GOD. HELP
THIS SITUATION GET SORTED!!!!))))
Bottom line: (1) it would be easier all the way around, to lift Bob’s cremains and place them closer to the headstone (I’m sure the burial box is history, but I hope I can collect all of Bob’s cremains, and make a successful transfer without mega heartache!) (2) NEW RULE strictly enforced by Heather: nothing but headstones and plastic flowers are allowed on Plots, now (3) I really dislike dealing with Heather; she’s so bitchy! I always hang up feeling things are a no-workable-solution-situation with her ☹ (4) I am going to pray that when Heather gives Dave my phone number, he will be agreeable; and this cemetery nightmare with Bob’s shirt-tail- relative (she’s married to Bob’s 2nd cousin; Wally’s son – Wally was Bob’s 1st cousin) will end. This whole thing has been ridiculous from the get-go because Queen-bee-Heather has made everything harder than it needs to be.
I really do not like dealing
with arrogant, antagonistic people, who think they’re a cut above the rest; and
treat me like a dimwitted drone.
Philip Stanley Klein
– ‘Just Give It to God’ song: (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hBldegpMVDs)
I will not allow
anger to eat at me; we both spoke –
and I have handed it over to Elohim, to work out an agreeable solution.
Philip Stanley Klein
– ‘Lord of the World’ song: (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zF6WRkyzAzw)
“Give me a Shabbat miracle, Lord. I’m doing all I can do to honor my
husband! Please put this heartache to bed, Father, and let this thing be done
speedily and effectively. Amen.”
After that contentious phone
convo (her end – not mine), I sorted through the mail I collected on the
way to my driveway …
I think a bit of Shabbat wine is in order – it has been an extremely stressful, and frustrating day; I want to savor the goodness of Elohim’s unfailing love, and I want to reflect on the faithfulness and gracious love of the husband I enjoyed while I had him (https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/08/it-took-while-but-we-finally-got-there.html) – as well as bask in the knowledge that I am greatly loved and highly favored with my spiritual Husband, Yeshua 😉
I
read a recent post – posted today; posted to a widow’s group by a contemplative
widow.
I’ve
taken the liberty of replying to her queries: and posting those replies here,
on my Blog spot, because I feel both the questions – and my replies – will help
me forge ahead in this unfolding new year.
Q: Do you ever wonder if, instead of him … it had been you?
A: No. Until I had been ‘left behind’, it never occurred to me that
we’d not “go together”.
Bob
and I are both strong Christians. We believe and adhered to what Scripture taught.
Bob had died a second time in the Fall of 1981 … and we discussed the
possibility of death since then: doctors never did find out why he died and was
divinely resurrected in 1981, so subsequent death was always a distinct possibility.
But given what is happening in the world, we also assumed that at any given
time, we may be called Home together – either by rapturous ascension as Yeshua
exampled; or by having our heads lopped off by rabid muslims determined to rid
the world of Jews/Jew-loving Christians: Bob and I fit that scenario. I am a
Jew, both in DNA and in the Christianity Yeshua birthed 2022 years ago. Bob was
my gentile husband, and he loved me. We fit the head-lopping scenario, and
fully expected it to be played out in out lifetimes. Especially since the
obamanite coup of 2009 … and forward.
So,
when the out-of-nowhere terminal diagnosis was given us that fateful August
afternoon of 2018, we were both momentarily stunned.
And, we both knew what the progression of our family’s
collective reactions would have been; had the fatal diagnosis been for me,
instead of for him.
Bob
would not have been left alone. At any time.
Bob
would never have been left alone to contend with the aftermath of my absence.
His siblings, who live locally, would have surrounded him with smothering
comfort: and his children – who live out-of-state, would have worn grooves in
the road surfaces to keep an eye on their dad. To make sure he was cocooned in
deliberate actions of loving concern.
Bob
would have been kept informed of everyone’s lives. Family, on all sides, would
have stayed close – respectful of his advice and wisdom gleaned over the decades.
It’s
hard to imagine the “what if’s” of my husband when he suddenly found himself
single again. At the time of his passing from this life to the next, he was 69
years old. I was 62 years old – there is a 7-year age gap. A seven-year age gap,
and how aging men and aging women are perceived by the general public
makes a difference in moving forward.
Q: Would he have downsized and moved away, gave my clothing and household
items away, or exchanged the SUV for a pickup truck?
A: I don’t know. Bob always preferred living in Longview (with
his first wife; and later, with me), plus he has siblings that live here,
too. He may have trashed my clothing (I’m the only ‘short-crotch’ in the
entire family, both sides), but he would probably keep the household items –
Bob knew how to cook, sew, clean house: he didn’t marry me to do what he could
do for himself. He may have switched the Highlander for a pickup; he would get
more head room in a truck (the SUV was for my stature benefit). Bob was
always a pickup man.
Q: Would he have met someone else, gotten married, and taken on
another life altogether?
A: Probably. Bob had no trouble getting female attention (99% of
the time, he was unaware of the unsolicited attention); and Bob was a
marrying man – a free-wheeling bachelor life was not something Bob ever
entertained. I would have been encouraging Bob, and applauding his choice
from beyond the clouds. Bob’s happiness and well-being was always my choice for
him.
Q: Would he have honored my memory with luminaries, missed me,
cried for me, written letters to me, tried to figure out where I went after I
took my last breath, gone to counseling, or joined a widower’s support group,
looked up at the sky for signs that I was still apparent in some new way,
wondered if I still loved him?
A: No – to 7 of the above queries; and yes to 2 of them. Bob would
have missed me, and I believe he would have cried for me – for a short while.
Bob was a pragmatic man … he didn't spend too much spinning wheels, and would have gotten on with his life in short
order; with only the help of a few close friends.
And
that’s what he wanted for me, too. My heart is just taking a bit longer. I
loved Bob 7 years longer than he loved me. And, in all honesty, perhaps a
bit deeper, too. That reasoning does not hurt me: it’s just a fact. While I
never had reason, in our 44 years together to doubt Bob loved me, Bob had been
married once before he married me; I had never pledged love to anyone but to Bob.
Bob
would have known (as I did when his spirit left his earthen vessel),
that my spirit would have passed immediately into Heaven with Yeshua. He would have
been joyful for me. And Bob never had to question my love for him … while here
on Earth, or high above. Bob would have known my love for him to be unchangeable.
Q: Would he have kept family traditions alive, tried to connect
with his children/grandchildren, try to see them and be with them in their
busy lives? Would he worry about them, or would he have looked at them and
thought ‘they look fine to me … having fun with their friends … they will be
okay without a mom’ …?
A: Yes – to all the above queries.
Q: Would Bob had made small goals to keep the shrinking patchwork
of remaining family together and cried at night when he could not see it was
not working … that my death changed e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g?
A: No – to all the above queries: there would have been no shrinking
patchwork. My death would not have made any difference in anyone’s life, except
my husband’s. The family nucleus of Bob’s life sans me would more than likely,
been more cohesive.
This
reality quickly became a reality in my life sans Bob. When I say that I am Solo
Lobo – I mean that in all its glaring obviousness (links of family unity
were sharply severed by said ‘family nucleus’). I’ve adjusted, and am moving
forward in my new life accordingly.
Q: And covid … how would he have handled covid? Would Bob have
gotten a vaccine, worn a mask, or stayed home for days on end? Would he have
railed on social media about everything wrong in the world and then disengage
from his more liberal friends and children when they expressed their own minds
and perspectives?
A: I think that on one hand, Bob would shake his head like I do at
the obamanite covid insanity that appears to dominate everything we say and do
in America. On the other hand, I also think Bob would have worn a mask, gotten
the vaccine … and stayed home for days on end: he would have stayed home for
days on end because he actually preferred to be a sedentary type of person – he
only activated himself when he could see I needed to escape the squeeze of 4-walls,
and ‘get out of Dodge’.
Bob
also wasn’t one for social media interaction (that is more my thing; and
that thing may be falling by the wayside, in the present).
Bob
was a ‘people magnet’, and he got along with everyone – no matter their personal
beliefs. And like me, he refused to see skin color; and didn’t engage in hate-filled
racial rhetoric. If someone got combative, he’d just get up and leave. And he didn’t
argue religion, or politics, with anyone; not even with me.
Like
the author of the original post, I used to ask these questions, too.
For
24 months I asked myself these questions. Trying to make sense of a shattered
life that no longer exists; trying to hold a family together after our jointly
held life folded in on itself after his spirit left us.
Watching
from the sidelines as people we knew together … separated themselves, and deliberately
physically and emotionally moved away – as if he was the only person who
mattered within the family nucleus. Placing me on the sidelines: out of the game.
Permanently.
Nothing
in my life today resembles that life with the love of my life, anymore.
And
even though I knew Bob better than anyone else, having lived/closely shared
every aspect of life with him for 44 years: perhaps Bob – if I had gone first –
would contradict every answer I replied to the author’s questions. Bob
was, after all, his own person.
There
is no one way to travel widowhood for man or woman. There is no accurate
roadmap. Every conceivable twist and turn on that lonesome journey is uniquely
individualized. Assumptions are ditched. Other people’s directions do not
include unforeseen potholes or sudden grief surges that have you swerving to
avoid a head-on collision with grief’s haloing effects.
So, the conclusion to the author’s queries is this: ‘What if it
had been me? What if it had been you?’ is an aimless looping rabbit trail to
venture into.
There
is no way to know how things may have turned out, given a turn of fate.
What is IS.
What could have been
is unknown.
What
has happened, has catapulted us into a life we did not see being shifted for us.
What
becomes of our New Life is determined by the choices we make in the here and
now.
We
can get lost in the what if’s and stagnate … or, we can walk out of the chaos
and rebuild a new life, remembering the good to buoy us in the turbulent waves
that still rock our world … as we confidently set sail towards a relatively
safe harbor on the horizon.
Confidently
and boldly sailing forward into an everchanging and unpredictable New Life is the heading of my 2022 Log Book 😉
