MOVING INTO THE FUTURE …

… can be tricky.

And just plain scary.

New beginnings are hard for people, and moving forward is hard for all people. But, MPO, is that moving into the future is especially difficult for widows.

And bittersweet; because always a step forward involves a step back into the time we shared our lives together. That past is what catapults me forward.

Into a future without my husband – my life partner. My soulmate. My true love. My Forever Man.

My future is still connected to my past.

I do not live in my past … but my past still lives in me. And though I am not desperate (as in hysterical crying jags) to return to the life I used to live with Bob, there are times – like when I am packing things up to move into my future, and I come across tangible things that bring Bob’s presence in my life immediately and poignantly into my present that I do have a cryfest. 2 days ago, it was coming across the wooden ball & chains he carved while he waited for the punk whistles that would tell him there were logs hooked and waiting to be hauled out of the gullies onto the landings. I cried when I held them, and my mind’s eye clearly saw him. I wanted to reach out to him: but Bob was not really present. I cried harder. Then I packed them. Those pieces of my past will be going with me into my new solo future. Today, while packing up my knitting pattern books, one of them fell open and there were the hand trace forms I had made several years ago to assure I would knit a pair of hand gloves that would accurately fit his hands once they were completed: Bob worked the night shift trucking schedule, and I knitted in the evening hours; Bob was not around for me to “size” his hands for a perfect fit. Those sturdy hand forms had me crying like a baby this afternoon. I miss Bob – I miss Bob’s hands. His hands were gentle, and knowing in whatever he used them for. I miss him using his gentle and knowing hands on me. I will never knit hand gloves for my husband again. Those pieces of my past will not be going with me into my new future.

I have noticed all this week while packing up the house, that while I am constantly sorting through the life we built – examining, sorting, wisely discerning what goes, what stays to be sold, and what will be given away or hauled away – the life Bob & I shared together is still part of my life: and always will be part of my life. No matter where I live.

The past does not need me to stay here and be its permanent caretaker; I do not have to constantly tend to it in order for it to survive Bob’s absence. Our past isn’t going anywhere. Our past will always remain untouched and unaltered – it can withstand the ravages of time. Our past is always present … always “in the moment” whenever I need its soothing effects, regardless of the tears that will inevitably flow when I tap the past memories. I never want to forget Bob’s essence – those things that made Bob the man I loved. I never want to forget how he walked or talked.

THANK YOU YESHUA, for the camera, video and recording technologies too! Through these things I can STILL SEE my husband’s handsome face, his beautiful physique, and HEAR his precious voice. Whenever I NEED Bob, all I have to do is pull up a picture or a vocal video, or slip in a disc with silent film footage of his child/teen/young adulthood years … and SUDDENLY THERE HE IS RIGHT BEFORE MY STARVING EYES. Yes, I cry. But they are tears of happiness and joy because at one time this wonderful, kind, gentle, handsome, loving & pampering man was mine to love on, hold, cuddle, snuggle, and enjoy to the max. Those past pictures, voice videos, and silent film footage discs will be going with me into my new future.

The life we shared together is automatically suspended in time; untouched & unchanged. Our lives together ended last December, yet our past together still lives and fuels me. What we were to one another, we STILL ARE. Time and space … even physical death … will never change our past together. The love we shared didn’t disappear just because I can no longer see or feel my husband: his love still surrounds me because his spirit still surrounds me.

But, I am wise enough to understand that I cannot live in the past. I cannot heal and rebuild my new life there. That life is over. It will never come around again: I have accepted that fact.

And I have come to accept the fact that I am no longer alpha in our family pack. I no longer have a mate; and as with all hierarchy mating’s, I have now – since widowhood – been demoted. A new order has been established in our familial pack. I am not used to needing help; I was part of an established alpha couple for 45 years: WE were the ‘helpers’ … those everyone else in our familial pack looked to for guidance, help in whatever was needed that we had it within our power to give aide, support in times of life’s storms; the recent turn of events that took place last Winter has changed the order our pack operates in today. The kids are reaching out and want to help. I realize that, but the fact of the matter is that Bob is gone – he won’t be coming back: no one can “fix” that. While I am still fairly independent, I do recognize that I am seriously handicapped without my husband in my life. I am the one who is on the receiving end now. It can be scary. Trust is a major issue with me. I must trust people to be trustworthy now; and be careful in my reliance on them. I appreciate the familial help, but I do not want my life to be taken over. I am grieving … I am not yet ready to be tethered and picketed.

I will be moving in with the kids for a few months until I find a new home; this makes sense because I don’t want to make a hasty decision and have buyer’s remorse: the money gained from the sale of this house has GOT to COUNT. I can’t afford mistakes. Sacrifices will have to be made; secessions given. I am not used to that: it’s an adjustment. I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. I want to have an equal say in any decision making for my life, while abdicating the alpha role and trusting the kids to pick up the slack in the new familial role. I always knew this day was coming; it came sooner than anticipated. I am not truly ready. I am walking a thin line.

I am in a new place in my new life as I move forward into my new future.

It can be liberating.

It is always scary.

I want Bob – I WANT my husband; with Bob by my side I knew there was nothing I could not accomplish. Bob always had confidence in me. Man! I need Bob now! I want Bob to reach for my hand and give it a squeeze as I step out of this house and into a new one. I want that quick, quiet affirmation that I am doing the right thing. But I am astute enough to know that Bob & his assurances can only be found in my memories now. So, I draw on those memories to give me the boldness and confidence I need to move forward into the future of my new life.

Sometimes moving into my new life feels like I should have a passport and interpreter because 98% of the time I feel like I have embarked on a journey in a foreign country where the language is not clearly understood.

Widowhood.

It’s a trip.

10 months, 12 days & 12 hours later, I have found my sea legs and I don’t feel like I am drowning anymore. The thought of being a widow doesn’t nauseate me anymore. I am still getting used to it, but having weathered the worst of the journey, I feel more like a seasoned traveler than a bewildered grief grad. When I was first thrust into the journey, I packed a lot of baggage with me: it was heavy, it was bulky, it dragged me down wherever I went …

As the months passed and I learned, through rough experiences, how to carry my grief more effectively and gracefully, I pack lighter grief and it’s barely noticeable wherever I go. People who do not know me personally may not even see it at all; but I know that it’s there. It will always be there – it is a part of me now.

Bob completed me. His absence handicaps me in ways I still struggle to put into words. I know what I want to say … but the words seem inadequate. All I know, is that I have been left to create a purposeful life with what is left of our life.

My life now.

A solo life.

So, with baggage in hand, I stumble down an unrecognizable road. There is no reliable map for this journey.

This time, last year, Bob had gone back into the local hospital and would not be coming back home. Ever again. I had no sense of direction other than being with Bob – our life together was being disassembled, and my life had been put on hold. There were LOTS of misdiagnosis’ and frustrations. I cried where Bob could not see me. I needed to be strong for him.

After 8:05 a.m., December 14^th, 2018, I spend countless hours re-assembling my life in my head. For months I was stopped in my tracks as far as physical activity went – outside of necessary and demanded trips to the Social Security Office downtown. Bob, before he left, told me to live. I didn’t know HOW to live without him! I could barely think straight. It drained my energy reserves to sit and pay attention to the talking heads in the Social Security Office. SO MUCH change was happening at turbo speed, and my brain activity was sluggish. Everything was overwhelming. I felt stupid because even the most simple and basic decisions were suddenly monumental. Changes were taking place without my actual involvement.

I look back on some of the pictures taken during those months and I look haunted – I am looking at the camera and making a small smile … but my eyes were so sad they looked empty. I was frozen in time, on a journey I was not familiar with, trying to survive the changes coming at me with turbo speed. I did weather the storm with Elohim’s favor, Yeshua’s grace, and the memories of Bob’s love.

This year, I am sitting amidst boxes in every room of this house as I pack it up, trying to rise about the overwhelming emotions new changes are requiring of me. My eyes don’t look haunted anymore; they look apprehensive. My life is about to change again with this move. I am going into unfamiliar territory on every level in my life. I am in a new place in my new life as I move forward into my new future.

It can be liberating.

It is always scary.

Widowhood.

It’s a trip.

COURAGE

I may have to get a small loan to get this thing pushed through on schedule – Oregon does not allow for monies from a house sale to go directly towards buying a house in Oregon: it isn’t immediately transferable. WTF? Here, in Washington, I can take the money I get from the sale of this house and put it immediately towards the purchase of another home – which we have done 3 times in the past 20 years with no hassle.

There has GOT TO BE A WAY to get around that nonsense … and I am going to find it. Shay will be coming over tomorrow – I’ll ask her to explain it clearly. I don’t mind getting a small loan if the payoff stays within my monthly budget plan – it builds my credit status. But I do not understand WHY the money I gain from the sale of my house here cannot be transferred to the purchase of a house there – that is ridiculous!

I want to own rather than rent: for several reasons. But the biggest reason is that Bob worked hard for the monies we sunk into all our homes; this is the only home where we ever lost $$$$$$ on – but we knew that going in. We bought it outright and had enough to remodel it to fit our needs … and we knew that because this is a mobile home instead of a “stick-built home”, we would never recoup the monies or the upscaled value we put into it. We were okay with that: we weren’t planning on moving again.

We just never figured on Bob dying only months after moving in here. I, honest-to-God expected to go Home before Bob. Even when the ER doctors (first admittance to ER in August 2018) were telling us he was dying, I remember saying, “How? WHY? I am the one with serious health issues (heart arrythmia, angina, and asthma: deadly physical faults) How can Bob be dying when he’s healthier than I am?” But we didn’t know that his body had been dealing with a serious and deadly issue – Bob never felt the pain associated with the medical issue that Ron Cook & Candy Scott’s insanity stresses provoked into a raging firestorm that could not/would not be controlled – Bob had an exceptionally high tolerance for pain, and he truly did not feel the pain he should have been feeling when his body passed that gall stone that ended up infecting his body, and was eventually catapulted out of control by the stressors of the 2 evil twins here at Heron Pointe.

Add to those stresses, the judgmental stresses added by my sister, Ramona & her husband, David who last September & October refused to LISTEN AND HEAR US. They were focused on taking us to task over medical help … even though Bob even made it very clear that things had gone past that; seriously past that: Bob WAS getting medical help, but he needed a miracle: he needed the support of Christians and the peace their prayers give in troublesome times; Bob was at peace concerning his physical death if that was Elohim’s decision during that entire ordeal. Death seriously scares Ramona, and she has placed medical doctors above God; that is why she was so snarky with us. They claim to be Christians – David even claims he is a pastor: yet, they refused to HEAR what was being said, and instead got very judgmental and at one point, Ramona even accused me of wanting to kill my husband by standing BY HIS DECISIONS and trusting IN ELOHIM … and she went behind my back to ask him, “is this your decision, or Val’s?”. That angered Bob, and he set her straight pronto; just like he did his mother and sisters. And that anger further aggravated the situation. In which case, it is safe to state that the bullshit Ramona pulled, helped kill my husband by the stress it induced: which kinda puts her in the same ball park as Ron & Candy. MPO. And yu’all KNOW how I feel about Ron and Candy. If Ramona & David were truly Christians, they would have stood with us instead of undermining us at every turn. Plus, they both flat-out-bold-faced-lied to us last October before Bob went into the hospital never to come out alive again (don’t ask – I won’t tell. Elohim heard, and HE WILL SETTLE the account. It was serious, very serious) and tried to backtrack their words when they got caught; I finally just sent them packing and told them never to come back. I have, over the years, put up with a lot from Ramona because she is my sister … but she topped herself in October of last year (and that’s saying a LOT); I am d.o.n.e. Their actions and attitude was anything BUT Christian in nature and follow-through. It was, however, typical of them.

Anyway.

Back to the present …

Bob worked hard all his life, for the monies we sunk into our homes – this one being the last we purchased together; and the only one I am selling solo. I want to buy another home rather than rent: I want that money from the sale of this house to go towards being Bob’s legacy and passed, eventually, to his grandchildren: owning property is a great value, provided it is maintained properly. I can do that. As long as the loan payments stay relatively close (maybe a small jump up) to what I am paying in rent here now, I can swing it. And, if I join Bob beyond the clouds before it is fully paid off, the kids will be able to sell my new home and carry forward with their lives, breathing a little easier. That will be Bob’s legacy to them – help from beyond ;-) Renting would just throw his monies away, enriching strangers instead of propelling his immediate family forward with ease. I want to use Bob’s monies effectively and wisely.

The kids there are scouting out places they know will fit my living circumstances and personality. And Shay is doing all she can from up here, to make this transition as easy as possible for me with as little snafus as realistically possible. And, of course, Elohim, Yeshua, and Bob are doing their part too :-D With such great teams on my side, who KNOW me and understand what works for me, how can I lose? I trust Elohim’s direction: He has never failed me. Ever.

MBI Kerry came by earlier this afternoon and helped me sort through Bob’s man stuff in the shed – I told him to help himself to whatever was in there he could use (or wanted for sentimental reasons); I was thankful he left with a full load. I am positive Bob was smiling and approving – Bob and Kerry were very close despite the 11-year age difference. And his dog, Bobby! Everytime I see him I laugh because he fits in with the Hargand’s – he, like them, is a BIG BOY ;-)

I kept the toolbox and will move that with me to give to Alyna & Liam: they can use it in their new life.

Kerry & Bobby. Bob's namesake is 10 months old and will get bigger!

The remnants of our life driving away with Kerry. I felt a bittersweet thankfulness. I can’t take it with me … and Kerry can use all of it.

The shed is cleared except for the stuff I will be taking with me. I still have to get the toolbox under control so I can close the top of it. And I need to organize/box the shelf things. But on the whole, that shouldn’t take much time at all. Kerry really cleared it out.

In-house-packing today is moving slowly because I had loads of paperwork to sort through – some will be left here for the new owners, some will go with me, and a lot got shredded because it was for old stuff and irrelevant – we don’t even have the items anymore that the paperwork was for.

When all the paperwork was sorted and taken care of, I started packing:

Yesterday, I did the bathrooms. This is the Master bathroom stuff.

Both bathrooms boxed up … and stashed in the Master bathroom.

Bath stuff, and miscellaneous things boxed, bagged, and stacked for pickup.

Today, I packed the spare bedroom up. There wasn’t much.

I also got busy boxing up our bedroom ... this was very hard. Memories kept flooding my brain and heart. It was, at times, overwhelming.

The more I grabbed to sort through, the more there was. HOW DO I STILL HAVE SO MUCH SHIT to sort through? We seriously downsized 2 years ago before we moved here. WTH

While going through Bob’s closet organizer, I came across these implements of torture, stained and marked by the passage of time – Bob’s back brace & his knee brace. Apparently, Bob was a hoarder too, like me. LOL! When I was dating Bob; and even for a while after we married, he was using the back brace: he was born with spina bifida and was told in his 20’s that he’d be in a wheel chair by his 30’s. I married Bob KNOWING that there was a possibility he’d be wheel-chair bound. I didn’t care. I loved Bob. And I said to him that we’d cross that bridge together if & when it happened … that never happened, thank You, Yeshua: but he did die twice, and Elohim returned him to me twice before finally taking him Home last Winter. Bob always suffered painful back issues, but it never stopped him from enjoying life to the fullest. The knee brace was because he had a weak right knee: he had torn the ligaments in high school, and though it healed, it was always weak; every once in awhile it would slip out of place …

IMPLEMENTS OF TORTURE. Bob's back brace. And knee brace. Into the garbage they went ... Bob is no longer here.

Seeing these things made me cry, so I stopped working in our bedroom and started tearing down what used to be the TV room before I changed that situation this February.

I haven’t cleared the Secretary yet because I am not sure yet if it is going or staying; I will know what to do with it when I find my new home and see what the square footage is:

Boxes of yarn. Half of the moving truck’s box will be filled with my yarn stash ...

Don't know what to do with this yet ...

That room boxed up, I ambled back into our bedroom after Supper and finished up in there with what can be packed up right now; I still have to do my clothing and bedding, but I am using those things at the moment …

Feeling accomplished …

All in all, it was a very busy and eventful day that went rather smoothly. Things are getting done and there really isn’t that much to pack up, even though I was shocked at HOW MUCH crap I has squirreled away in our bedroom ;-)

The livingroom and kitchen still have to be tore down and packed up. The livingroom will be pretty easy … the kitchen, on the other hand, will take the longest.

Tomorrow.

There is always tomorrow.

A Period of Adjustment

It is going to be a looooong day.

It is 4:33 a.m., and I have been up since 1:30 a.m.

Thinking.

Missing Bob.

Talking with other widows & widowers on FB.

I packed & sorted our house stuff yesterday until the garbage can was filled. I’ll get back at it today. Everything in the house that is going with me needs to be packed up and tagged for the movers. Tagging is going to be tricky because I won’t really KNOW what I can take with me until I get down south, scope the new digs out, and assess square footage: THAT will be the deciding factor. Some things, like the bed, a few recliners, ect. CAN be tagged now though. I will be downsizing to a 1-bedroom home, so I won’t be taking much. And truthfully, there isn’t much here: we seriously downsized our belongings 28 months ago when we bought this place; and didn’t have time to add more before the morons here at Heron Pointe killed my husband with their craziness. The only thing that will be difficult and will take the most time, is the shed filled with Bob’s man stuff. My BIL Kerry, is coming by later today to help me sort through that, and thankfully will be hauling away what he wants and can use. It will be a big help to me, and we will both be comforted in knowing that what was important to Bob will go to someone who understands what is in all those crates, boxes, and coffee cans. I have no freaking idea – and even if I do, none of it will be relevant in where my new life is headed.

I hope I can stay awake to accomplish everything that needs accomplished today …

One person on FB said they worry about liking new places. They are anxious about moving on.

I can identify.

BUT

I refuse to let those concerns hamstring me.

Bob is no longer here.

Bob would not want me to shroud myself in the past and wither away pining for a life that is no more.

Bob wants me to live. Fully. In the moment.

I worry about liking new places too. But, moving involves a new location & new places – so, I adjust.

I am a country girl: I could spend all my time in the mountains, and never get itchy to get back into town. Bob … not so much. Though Bob was born & raised in the country until he was a teen, & he worked as a logger and truck driver all his adult life, he preferred bright lights and big city. We compromised – we settled in Longview. Bob was a good husband to me: he knew I couldn’t stand being cooped up behind 4 walls: I needed wide open spaces; the wilder and more primitive they were, the better I liked it. Bob gave me county fixes A LOT during our 44 year marriage. We were on the go at least once a month. More so when he retired.

We spent most of our time hiking the trails of Mount Rainier. We have been to all the mountains of WA, Mt. Hood & Saddleback Mountain of OR, over the Rockies to Vermont and back (Bob got to see the country I was born & raised in as we passed through Minnesota, Illinois where I was born at the Naval Hospital in 1956, and Pennsylvania). Vermont was a treat – I like the scents and color of Fall, and Vermont has plenty of that; we drove through the desert of Nevada on our roadtrip to Vegas when our grandson was born 5 years ago, and came home over the Sierras. And in between these lengthy roadtrips, we covered all the countryside backroads of our corner of the PNW. Bob gave me a good life. He loved me. He wanted always to please me. And I adored Bob – just because he was.

But, Bob is no longer here.

It is an adjustment.

Our grandkids live in Oregon. Oregon is their chosen State. Oregon is about to become my new home too – the grandkids have been trying to get me to move there ever since Bob’s spirit left. Bob wanted me to keep our house: I tried. Financially, I can afford to stay here. But mentally & spiritually, I have got to go. I am not happy here without Bob; Bob liked Longview. Bob like Heron Pointe. I tried - mightily, for Bob's sake. The kids recently moved to a rural area of Oregon with farm country all around and have been pestering me to sell and move south where they can more easily & readily check up on me, and we can enjoy closer/deeper family time.

It is time.

There is nothing to keep me here anymore. I do have friends – good friends; but friends are not family. And I can drive back up this way for periodic get togethers.

There is nothing to keep me in Longview; nothing. Bob was it: he liked it here, and I love Bob. But Bob is not here anymore. It is an adjustment.

I want to see my grandkids. I want to watch them grow, thrive, “become”. When great-grands start arriving, I want to be able to enjoy them in the moment.

I got a good estimation for what I can reasonably expect selling the house we bought here 28 months ago, so I “went for it”. Doing this alone is an adjustment. Bob always had faith in me and knew I could so what needed to be done: I rely a LOT on remembering Bob’s love & encouragement – his love and encouragement, coupled with Elohim’s love and faithfulness, is what gets me through each day so I can face tomorrow.

I will learn to be content in another State, in another locale. Solo. It will be an adjustment. My life – as I knew it, with my husband, the only man I ever said, “I love you” to, is over. I will never again have what we had together. It’s finished.

That is an adjustment.

BUT … I CAN take Bob’s love with me. I CAN always be encouraged and strengthened by his love. I CAN rise to the occasions and get through difficult times because Bob’s love supports my broken wing while Elohim’s love is the wind beneath my wings, gently carrying me out of my comfort zone and into a new reality. It is an adjustment.

I am currently experiencing A Period of Adjustment. And no matter where I live, or what new places I have to get used to … I KNOW Bob will be there with me. Because his spirit lives on, and I am taking his love with me.

I will never be alone.

I love you, Babe.

Always.

OX

YOU FIND OUT WHO YOUR FRIENDS ARE

I didn’t know I had so many friends until I started on my solo lobo journey.

It is good to KNOW WHO IS IN this journey with you … and who is working with you & FOR you while holding down a full-time job too ;-)

((((Thank YOU, Yeshua)))) for bringing it all together.

And I am doing my part too.

I have been awake since 3 a.m.; gave up the struggle by 4 ... made a sandwich, a cup of tea: and will start packing this house up as soon as the tea is finished.

This is happening.

It's scary and liberating - at the same time.

I know Bob is okay with this.

I love you, Babe.

Always.

And I am taking your love with me - you are my Forever Man.

OX

I AM MOVING ~ THIS TIME SOLO

I took a major step into the future this afternoon.

As I mentioned the other day, the kids want me to move closer to them ...

(https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/10/id-like-to-see-life-in-color-again.html)

… and though I have been procrastinating because I wanted to honor Bob in his request to “keep the house”, I really have been thinking about moving since last November; and talked openly with Bob about a possible move at some point. I truthfully have tried to live here, on my own, picking up our life where Ron and Candy killed it – but it just has not worked out.

Bob, on his deathbed told me to keep the house. His killers still live in the Park here - it is HARD to keep the house when I see them everywhere I turn: I can't even pop in at Baker's Corner for a coke without standing in line behind Ron; his stupid girlfriend works there as cashier: Ron killed his wife with his selfishness 3 weeks before he killed my husband with his continual bitching. Ron killed Bob with his ridiculous and baseless paranoias; and his life goes on while he effectively murdered mine. It is HARD not to hate. I struggle every day to work past it; so far, I am winning the battle. But it drains me. And I can't deal with Candy at all. I HAVE forgiven them both (have to - I want to see Bob in Heaven!), but knowing they are still in residence here really works my nerves. I couldn’t even enjoy gardening this year … and I love gardening. But being here, trying to survive in a place where insanity rules and ego kills has ruined my enjoyment this year. And I honestly do not think the atmosphere around here with Candy Scott as Park manager is going to get any better. The woman is insufferable.

So, this morning, before I could talk myself out of it: I grabbed the phone and texted Shay, our Realtor. She got back to me and said she could come by later on; pros/cons will be formulated, and decisions will be made after careful and fervent prayer. I needed to be wise. I needed to think like Bob would - I NEEDED a man's brain (!) so I would make a knowledgeable decision: my entire life moving forward will rest on this decision.

The last time I picked up and moved to another State was 53 years ago when I came here to Washington with my mother and siblings from Minnesota. I built a life here in this State with Bob, the love of my life since I laid eyes on him in 1967, and married him in 1974. Moving to Oregon will be a major step out of my comfort zone.

I will be leaving a LOT behind: my entire life. The life Bob gave me - the things he designed and built specifically for me; the home here he totally rebuilt specifically for me.

It is a scary step forward: Bob is not here to bounce thoughts back and forth with.

I admit, during the long wait, I was getting anxious.

Finally, she arrived. And all the anxiety fell off – Shay’s visits always do that for me. She is a good girl and pleasant to be around. Bob and I loved her like a daughter, and she has treated me as a daughter would since I became a widow. She loves me. And I love her. I am going to miss her a lot.

We visited while she showed me the assessment she had done up for me, ran some numbers, and I was pleased with the outcome; she predicts a very GOOD selling price IF I place it on the market now. She would like to have the place listed and sold before Thanksgiving. So, I made the decision to put the house on the market as soon as I get back from down south: that is how it works for me – once my mind is decided to do something, I move full steam ahead. Shay thinks the house will go for the asking price without a haggle, and maybe – HOPEFULLY – there will be more than 1 person interested in buying, and a bidding war will ensue, which will result in a boost in the end sale price: I HOPE SO! I can use every extra penny I can get. But, the original sale price is pretty nice too.

I trust Elohim to provide for me exactly what I need to establish a new life in a new State: HE KNOWS exactly what I need.

I trust Elohim to keep Candy out of the way while this sale goes through.

I trust Shay to bring the money in and get this thing done to everyone’s satisfaction.

Neither Elohim, nor Shay, has failed me yet :-D

She asked me what made me finally decide to sell, and I told her that I miss the kids and they have been pressing me to move closer to them. Bob wanted his death to bring family healing into being - they are reaching out. This house is no longer “our home”. All I do is cry. It is time.

She knows I have tried valiantly to keep the house; we have spoken many times since I became a widow last December. She knows how I have struggled to honor Bob’s deathbed wish for me to keep the house with Bob’s killers still living in the Park here.

I cried when I told her that I have lived in this house longer than Bob did: 1/3 of Bob's time the first year was spent in a hotel room (with me) waiting for remodeling to wind up. 1/3 of Bob's time last year was spent in hospital rooms (with me) in 2 states. Out of the 28 months of home-ownership, I have spent most of that time in this house alone: without Bob.

It's so unfair ...

This was our last hurrah. It looked so innocent. We never saw the future bearing down on us, where Ron Cook and Candy Scott would T-bone us like bats out of hell; derailing our life, and murdering our happiness. Just because they could. Without a conscience between the both of them.

Shay cried with me. She loved Bob. She knows I have been through hell.

I will be going to spend October 30th thru November 3rd with the kids, and they will be taking me around to see possible new homes. I need to be armed with information, so I make a wise decision.

The kids want me to consider a Retirement Home Community – I AM NOT READY FOR THAT! I am not ready to be “old” yet. I am not ready to be told “lights out at 10 p.m.” if I want to watch a movie or listen to Molly Hatchet until 4 a.m. I am not ready to give up on an active life yet …

So, when I spoke to the kids after Shay left, they suggested the possibility of a 1-bedroom Studio, or a Condo. I said I would be open to those options if I could get a ground floor living arrangement with no carpet. They said the no carpet requirement would be dicey, but they will scout it out on their end to see what’s out there in my price range with a comfortable wiggle room, and maybe Shay could network on this end too. I texted Shay, and she said that yes … she definitely can network with Realtors there, and will do what she can to make this happen and stay within my monthly budget :-D

I will be securing a new home before I return back home from my visit with the kids.

I will be doing this thing solo … it is a MAJOR DEAL.

I will be taking Bob's love with me.

I informed Bob's sister, Merry, that I will be moving.

I informed my sister, Carla, that I will be moving.

I will inform Kerry tomorrow - and ask him to come sort through some of Bob's man stuff to see what he wants: I will only take a few tools with me; and the tool box for Liam.

And I will need to inform Cheryl & Pam about my immanent move. I will MISS these 2. I will need to figure out the backroads from there back to here to meet with them occasionally. I also will want to make periodic visits to Eden Valley too.

HELP ME YESHUA.

GRIEF BREAKS

Reading this chapter in the Grief~Share ‘Loss of A Spouse’ Booklet  …

… made me realize that I have been taking grief breaks for a few months now – I wasn’t aware that was what I was doing; but it is nice to know that I am “on target” with this journey ;-)

Grief never goes away: it changes, but it never goes away. Sometimes we just need to distance ourselves from it, and refuel or recharge: this grief journey I find myself on can really get me down and bum me out if I’m not careful in how I manage it.

And grief is very tiring too!

Grief-focused journaling is a way to explore & express the thoughts and feelings you find yourself dealing with; things that need to get worked out …. things you are grappling with and can’t/won’t/don’t talk about with anyone. Things that are hard to express until you start untangling them and putting them into words on paper. Journaling involves more than writing words out though. Journaling is a mental, emotional, and spiritual thing; it builds mental and emotional “muscle” while honing the spiritual aspect of this widowing journey. Journaling enables us widows to deal with life’s difficulties and uncertainties as we find ourselves delving into untapped strengths as we peek into our psyche and bring that consciousness out of ourselves and into the light of day. To be examined and put into healing action. Journaling helps us make peace with our deepest sorrow, and discover a new sense of purpose & meaning of life.

Journaling can also involve reminiscing over old photographs and recent smart phone videos. Journaling helps us in our emotional explorations as we trip through the journey of our minds, forming a writing style that gives way to fluid free self-expression as we lay bare our lives; in writing down our thoughts & feelings ‘in the moment”, seeing our thoughts and feeling come to life before our eyes forces us to slow down and pay careful attention to everything that has; or is, affecting our lives.

Journaling helps us open our mind beyond the scope of basic writing to make the act of writing a creative form of artistic expression that is very liberating and very healing. Journaling is, in a sense, opening a window to the soul.

And when that window opens … healing begins.

Journaling helps widows de-stress by bringing all those emotions to the surface to be looked at, felt, and dealt with – as through the written expression we begin to work through our issues rather than avoid them.

And every once in a while, you need to break free from emotional journeys of the mind, and the spiritual aspect of opening the window of the soul.

Sometimes, you need a brief grief break.

These breaks can include – but are not cast in stone:

* Plan something you enjoy each day. Set aside a time to read a good book; watch a favorite sitcom’ treat yourself to a sweet you don’t normally indulge in; immerse yourself for an hour or two in a hobby that gives you peace of mind and pleasure to be doing.

Since these activities are times for personal nurturing, don’t plan group activities for this span of time you set aside to take a break.

* Plan “mini-vacas” that do not take a lot of time or money to enjoy; but that help you reconnect with life. You may choose activities that you can enjoy alone – or with a friend/friends. For example, you could get a haircut/try a new hair style; get a manicure/pedicure; go for a drive to explore an unfamiliar area; spend a night at a B & B; go to a museum or sporting event; go hiking or biking; walk a County Park … or whatever pleases you and relaxes you.

Whatever you decide to do on your grief break, be aware that there may arise emotional triggers that may lead to crying: THAT IS OKAY.

Cry it out. Dry the tears. Face the fears. Find laughter in the moment, And be thankful that you had a past that made you cry, and be thankful that you have a future to look forward to that all those tears are preparing you for ;-)

You got this!

Widowhood is not a journey we can get around, climb over, slide under, or wish away.

Widowhood is a journey that we cannot escape.

Widowhood can break us … or make us.

The choice is up to us.

MAKE THAT GRIEF BREAK WORK FOR YOU.