CHRISTMAS MUSIC IN NOVEMBER ~ BLUE CHRISTMAS

SOME SEMBLANCE OF HOLIDAY CHEER

This time, last year, was filled with so much emotion.

The local hospital here was bustling with activity as Bob was prepared by his medical team for his journey across the Columbia River to OHSU, in Oregon. Bob had refused the recommended blood transfusions – and I stood by that decision: it was his decision to make, and he was making decisions concerning himself, as long as he was able.  I respected his wishes; and his assigned medical team respected his wishes also, even when they strongly disagreed.

Around 11:26 AM, we got the word that Bob would be ferried via ambulance to OHSU within the hour. We were both apprehensive – there were no guarantees, and Bob was in a critically fragile condition. When the ambulance crew showed up in Bob’s room, and started setting the gurney up, and getting Bob ready to be transferred from the hospital bed to the ambulance gurney, they asked Bob how he wanted them to precede: they had been apprised that Bob had an active DNR Order in effect and they needed to be clear on how he wished the trip to OHSU to go forward. They asked him if he suffered a heart attack enroute, would he want CPR and other life-saving actions to go into force … Bob said, “No.” I heard his decision, and supported it. It scared me, but I wasn’t bound by fear – I knew Bob was bound for Heaven whenever that would be; but I didn’t know if I would be meeting my husband or a notification he had passed enroute, once I reached OHSU, myself: Bob’s son, Alex, would be driving me to OHSU and spend a few minutes with his father before heading back home to Salem, OR.; I can drive … but I thought it wiser if I didn’t, given the emotional upheaval I was dealing with.

When we arrived at OHSU, Bob had made it safely, and had been installed in his room there:

I was thankful I had not been greeted by unwelcome news.

Before the night was out, Bob was in an ICU ER downstairs with escalated heart palpitations; and out of sorts temper-wise – Bob had not been comfortable with change since he died the second time in 1981. He was in another State; and though he was as familiar with Portland as he was with Longview, he was in another hospital that he was not familiar with, in a situation he could not control. He felt powerless. He was not a happy camper and was snapping at everyone; including me.

I did what I thought best to snap him to of his funk, and said, “Bob, if you do not want to be here, we can go back home – right now. It is your choice. You do not have to be here if you don’t want to be.” That calmed him down. He basically just needed to know that he was still in control of his life and what happened with it.

For that afternoon, this time last year, things were going according to plan, despite the holiday pall that hung over our heads.

And this year, right now, I am taking control of my life and what happens with it …

And I’m desperately trying to revive some semblance of holiday cheer to buoy my sorrowing spirit – the first Christmas tree of the season has made its appearance at the end of my street here …

  

I saw this lit up tree walking through my livingroom ... so I put on my shoes and went outside to see it up close and personal ;-)

 

I walked around the Park this evening; there aren’t many homes lit up right now, but it was fun to spot the ones that were. 

… and I will be putting my own Christmas décor in place next week. I don’t feel comfortable around people yet during this holiday season (it doesn't take much right now for me to dissolve into tears), but I DO LIKE Christmas décor all around me for my birthday ;-)

FREEFALLIN’

After the 11 months I’ve had – actually, 11 months/10 days/16 hours & 40 minutes – I just really don’t have time for nonsense and I’m not making room for anybody’s ridiculous bullshit in my life.

Earlier, a woman in one of the FB Widow Groups I had joined, was complaining because there is a shortage of available men. She posted, “How are we supposed to get married when the ratio of men to women is so small?”

Well, I am not looking for a man to replace my man, but I replied anyway (tongue-in-cheek), “And getting shorter since some men no longer want to BE men.” A joke; rational people could understand the joke – even if there is an ironic twist of factual truth in what I posted tongue in cheek.

But … the dumbass moderator removed my reply and informed me I could no longer post on group because of my {hate speech} reply.

Needless, to say, I UNsubbed from that {tolerant} hateful group; I have no love for Word Police – last time I checked, this is America, where freedoms exist: freedom of speech is one of those freedoms. But, before I unsubbed, I let the moderator know I did not appreciate the hysterical and uncalled for deletion of my reply, “I don’t see how anything I posted can be considered ‘hate speech’; but I can see how removing what I posted can be seen as a hateful action. No need to Unsub me … I am leaving your group and blocking YOU. Karma – boom.”

Freefallin’.

Freedom.of.speech.

I didn’t say a.n.y.t.h.i.n.g.w.r.o.n.g.

While I was unsubbing, I just unsubbed ALL the Widow groups I had joined; 99% of time I checked the Pages, or their members blew up my newsfeed with their posts, I was shaking my head and wondering, “WTF?” Most of the groups were full of younger widows anyway who were whining about feeling gypped because they signed on to FB’s Dating and were upset because they were pulling ‘deadbeat losers’ who just wanted a booty call and treat them like ho’s. (((HELLO!))) – it’s an online dating site: WHO do they think they will meet?

America has become a country of bona fide dumb asses.

I just really don’t have time for nonsense and I’m not making room for anybody’s ridiculous bullshit in my life.

I have my own shit to work through … I don’t want to wade through anyone else’s.

Last year – today, Bob & I were freefallin’. And, while dealing with his own deep & heavy stuff, Bob was always thinking of me (https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2018/11/psalm-43-send-out-your-light-and-your.html).

Bob’s body wasn’t cooperating with anything his medical team was doing to try to rein things in; he couldn’t keep nourishment down – even the liquified concoction they were feeding him through the feeding tube: the feeding tube was removed. I cried; my husband was literally starving to death. Because his body was under such immense stress, his heart was acting up, and giving everyone palpitations. The situation was looking pretty dismal. Chaplains were visiting him almost daily … and Bob always asked prayer for me too. He knew he was leaving me, and he was concerned for me. He knew he was my whole life; Bob was all I had in this world by way of family: there was no one else. Just him. I had loved him since I was 10 years old.

And now, he was leaving me.

20 days …

That was all we would have together – 464 hours.

But we didn’t know that then.

This time last year, today, just like now … I couldn’t sleep. I lay in bed trying to sleep and finally just gave up and called the Nurse’s Station in the ICU Ward and said, “Hi. This is Valeria Hargand – my husband is Robert Hargand in room #401; how’s he doing this morning?” I was told he’d been having “episodes with his heart” since 1 AM. So, I said, “I’m really missing him – I know it’s too early for visiting hours, but I was wondering if I could come see him anyway? Just for a little bit?” The nurse said, “Sure.” I didn’t know that Bob was in critical crisis mode and that being the case, wives are allowed 24 hour-round-the-clock access and regular visitation hours are waived. I stayed all day with Bob, finally leaving at 6 PM to come home and pack a duffel bag, planning to go back to the hospital and stay in his room with him.

I remember pulling into the carport, and immediately the cell phone started ringing. And Bob said, “you left too soon; Dr. Chen just left – she said OHSU called and I have a room there Sunday. They’re gonna put a stint in my pancreas.” The thing was that we’d been told this same thing for months – and it was always pulled back. And, Bob wasn’t so sure anymore that he wanted to go to OHSU. He was tired of struggling: he was not a well man; seriously not well. And there wasn’t a single physician that could tell us that the trip would actually be worth it – there was no guarantee that anything would change. We didn’t know what – or even, how – to feel.

But everyone else wanted him to go: the doctors, the kids, his mother and siblings. Bob wasn’t so sure anymore. And I would honor Bob’s wishes. Bob was extremely fragile health-wise at that point. And the financial worry was eating at him. We didn’t have the $$$$$$$. Bob only had minimal insurance coverage through Social Security, we did have 100% coverage through the Hospital Financial Aide – but would fall through the cracks if the physicians and labs were not specifically Peace Health … which most were not: the Peace Health physicians always contracted with outside labs & follow-up doctors: always. And the State Medicaid vulture came around trying to get Bob to sign coverage papers WHILE HE WAS MEDICATED. I put a quick stop to that and forbade them to come to his room again unless I was present – the papers they were trying to bully  him into signing stated clearly that if he agreed to their coverage, and he dies, the State can move in and grab everything we own to repay that “free” Program Coverage. When I read that, I was seriously pissed. Bob told me to close out his IRA Account and pay off the car & Visa … which I did.

During that horrible time of suffering, anger, confusion, questions, frustration, loneliness, and conflicting diagnosis’, people have said many things to us – meaning well – but always ending up failing us.

Yeshua has never failed us; not once; though it may seem that way to anyone who watched us go through that time, and anyone listening to my human reactions (then or now).

All we knew was that Yeshua is on call 24/7/365; and He never fails us. He listens without comment. He comforts without unrelated comparison to his own life struggles. When he says, ‘I am with you in this, you are not alone’, He means it – He doesn’t just say that as a social courtesy: we can rest assured knowing that we are His primary concern all day for as long as necessary – He IS “there” whenever, wherever, for however long is necessary. We can cry out to him in our darkest hour, and He is immediately at our side. And when we ask, “What am I going to do now?” He calmly embraces us and whispers, “It’s okay. I have it all under control. Just relax and let Me handle things. It’s good to know that when I have reached the end of my rope and the knot I sit on is slipping … HE never lets me fall because He never fails me. When my world tilts and I do find myself in a whirling freefall, He is 'on the job' and always sends my guardian angel to catch me before I hit the ground, then He whispers, “It’s okay, Val. I have it all under control. Just relax and let Me handle things. All you have to do is trust Me.”

And I do. I have ALWAYS trusted Yeshua with every nano second of my life, every day. And Bob trusted Yeshua too. We – together – trusted Elohim’s Will concering Bob’s life. And I trust Yeshua with my life now.

We hated that insidious illness that was holding us hostage.

I remember this day, last year, which was a Saturday. Bob had had a rough night and was pretty well medicated before I left the hospital to come home, and start packing a week’s worth of clothing – jeans, shirts, sweaters, underwear, socks; a novel (which never did get read); juices; snacks (so I didn’t have to leave the room); the ipad (to bring up comforting music videos to play for Bob); & our laptops (Bob could use his sometimes & I used mine to keep everyone on our FB Page appraised of Bob’s situation). And I remember our daughter called and asked how I was doing, and I broke down. I didn’t know what I would do if Bob died – and there was a very real possibility he could die enroute to OHSU. He could die at OHSU before or during the surgical procedure. I was scared of how quickly things were progressing and how quickly our life, as we knew it, was changing. Would my husband ever be coming home again? HOW would he be coming home – as husband, or as a corpse? I had to be realistic: there was a lot to think about.

I was freefalling.

20 days …

That was all we would have together – 464 hours.

But we didn’t know that then.

And I don’t want to be dealing with FB’s ridiculous bullshit on the FB Widow Groups right now. I think I will avoid FB for the next 20 days.

My heart still hurts.

I still miss my husband.

 

 

 

 

I am freefalling.

the next 20 days are going to be very difficult to get through - the 1-year-anniversary- flashback's are brutal.

I am barely getting any sleep; I am exhausted.

I can’t be dealing with hysterical word police drama queens right now …

MOD CROCHET WINTER CHILLIN’ PILLOW

MOD Chillin' Throw Pillow; I deliberately made the lettering messily disjointed. My Widow Life is messily disjointed at the moment.

With the temperatures being in the 30’s & 40’s, the blue rose throw pillows needed switching out, and I wanted to make my own throw pillows as replacements … so I designed this one Friday evening, and finished it earlier this evening. It’s very simple to make.

I like it, and I enjoyed designing/crafting it; but it sure is weird turning this place into a chick pad. For 44 years home decor was neutral - I really shocked myself earlier this year when I brought those blue rose pillows home

(https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/05/period-of-adjustment.html).

But this throw pillow is my own design - and it fits the season :-)

MOD CROCHET WINTER CHILLIN’ PILLOW

Materials: #G crochet hook, Bernat Baby Sport Yarn; throw Pillow Form (square)

Directions: Row 1: Ch 64; work I row of sc down both sides of the foundation chain.

Row 2: 1 sc each sc.

Working sc in the round ...

I continually {sized} it to be sure of the fit; I was working 'on the fly' - my own design ... pattern 'to scale' made as I worked.

Repeat Row 2 for a total of 76 rows according to the way I work my stitches - do as I did and continually size as you work; some of you may work tighter stitches/some looser.

Choose any saying you desire – I chose ‘The Weather is Chillin’; because it is ;-)

I used a contrast color crochet cotton thread to outline the phrase I chose:

Marking the letter placements.

Start “embroidering” – I used a sc chain stitch …

Light blue on white to give off mimicking chilly vibes.

Slip over pillow form and whip-stitch closed. Enjoy :-D

Comfy throw pillow.

While I worked on the throw pillow, I watched a Hallmark Holiday movie on Youtube, and enjoyed a Strawberry Butter buttered bread for lunch.

Strawberry Butter bread  - this is YUM! And easy to make: just whip strawberries into butter & freeze in lidded freezer containers. Strawberries are very nutritional and chockful of health benefits ;-)

(https://www.healthline.com/nutrition/foods/strawberries#nutrition)

I noticed a geranium slip had taken root and blossomed :-D

Red geranium blooming inside; time to separate it into its own pot.

And I’m going to have to pinch the coleus pots back again:

Pink Christmas Cactus ready to blossom; Coleus in forefront, taking off like wildfire – I have to keep pinching these back every couple of weeks.

The White Christmas Cactus is putting out new buds again: it’s the second time. Both cactuses’ will be in bloom together this year :-D

TAKING CARE OF BUSINESS

My BIL, Kerry, called this morning as the fog was lifting, and said he’d be by in a bit to bring the rain barrels and stands back. I feel a little guilty asking for them back, but since I am staying – and these are love gifts Bob gave me – little brother understood why I want them back: I need them for my garden area, and they are tangible love tokens from Bob; Bob bought me the barrels and built me the stands with his own two hands. Those barrels a part of what gave ron and candy heartburn that caused front porch drama that directly led to my husband’s death.

I need to be surrounded by familiar things: my things. These things did not kill my husband - egomania and paranoid behaviors did.

So.

Kerry brought them back :-D

While he was here, we had a little visit, and I asked him if he’d consider being my Emergency Contact: he agreed. He stood by Bob & I throughout all of last Fall & Winter. Bob & Kerry (the oldest & the youngest) of the Hargand boys are also the tightest of the 3 boys – they both have the same personality traits and character fortitude. Both willing to step up and lend a helping hand. Like his oldest brother, Bob, if Kerry says he’ll do it; he’ll do it.

Having asthma & arrhythmia – 2 very serious life-threatening conditions – Kerry understands I need a {plan} in action.

That is a weight off my shoulders. I am thankful Kerry is sticking.

I need a familiar familial friend, and I can’t imagine a better one ;-)

THE GRAYING

I used to excitedly anticipate Fall & Winter – those were the months I really came alive. Now … not so much. Now, the Fall & Winter months hold nothing but hard memories to wade through and days on end where I am sleep-deprived.

Where there was once color in my life and ease of breathing – now there is only a foggy gray shroud & a hurting chest that makes breathing feel worse than environmental asthma complication; though environmental asthma and grief are pretty much the same: neither are not curable, you just learn to live with it and monitor the severity.

I have lost weight though over the past year though and that’s a good thing; but I wish I could have shed the excess baggage without the unravelling of 44 years. I am thankful Bob got to see me getting thinner and grayer – I shed 20 pounds in the 2 hospitals because I didn’t want to leave him for very long; so I ate small meals quickly & lived on juices which I kept in my duffel bag in his room: just enough food to fuel me and keep my body functioning without ending up in a bed beside him. Those stressful days in the hospital grayed my hair too, and that graying gave Bob & me something to laugh about – being a grandmother, I was anxious for my hair to start graying significantly … and Bob was waiting for my hair to gray too; he’d been gray for a while. So, when I bent my head over his hand one day to kiss it and he saw the top of my head was grayer than it had been, he smiled and said, “There’s getting to be more and more gray in your hair, honey.” And I smiled and said, “Yeah – and you’re the one putting it there this time.” We laughed; but it was laughter that was tinged with sadness. Yes, we both had been waiting for my hair to gray up, but it was sad that his impending death would be the catalyst to bring that into effect.

Bob started seriously slipping away from me in the Fall of 2018. And my hair started seriously graying up in the Fall of 2018. I lost the last remnant of my family the Fall of 2019. In a year’s time, my entire life has been seriously altered and reduced to a gray barren & tempest swept landscape.

I used to excitedly anticipate Fall & Winter.

Now; not so much.

Last year, today, I had made a gingerbread Bundt cake to slice and take back with me in pieces to the hospital – I had begun packing a lunch and eating it in Bob’s room while he slept. I had gone home while his medical team was running scams and doing exams: we were still being told they may send him home … I didn’t see that becoming a real reality, but ever hopeful, I had come home for a brief period of time and tried to revive a semblance of the Holiday Spirit ‘just in case’. I hung the wreaths on each door, changed out the welcome mats; and baked the gingerbread Bundt cake while I took a quick shower. I noticed, too, before I left for the hospital again, that my Christmas Cactuses were beginning to set buds.

Things were about to careen even further out of control … this day, last year, would be the last day there would be a reprieve in a life that was spiraling out of control.

And I am trying real hard, this year, to regroup and find the color in my life again.

QUANTUM WIDOWHOOD

Math & I do not get along: at all; the logic of math seems illogical to me – Bob understood mathematical logistics, and our daughter thrives on the complications of mathematical logistics: I just utilize math in cooking and household budgeting.

The same goes for science.

But, I believe I can wrap my mind around ‘Quantum Widowhood’.

Admittedly, it is very early in the morning; and I have been awake sine 4:00 AM. I have reached that point where nausea is being felt and it would be nice to go back to bed: but I can’t. My mind has been tripped and it is running full throttle.

So …

The current traipsing down a rabbit trail started yesterday morning when I woke up feeling off kilter – couldn’t put my finger on just {why}; I just {was}.

Out of the blue.

Nothing (I know of) triggered the strangeness I was feeling.

And I can’t explain it now.

All I can say is that I went to bed Tuesday night, and woke up Wednesday morning missing Bob with an intensity that woke me shaking & feeling strange.

I hadn’t felt like that since last December. It kinda scared me, if truth be told. I hadn’t been thinking of Bob at all – though he is always on my mind. I had been sleeping. Thoughtlessly … I assumed.

Yet, I woke feeling like I was on an active fault-line, reviving. And my over-all balance was shakily off-kilter.

Unsettled.

It was disturbing. I didn’t like it.

I usually have a pretty solid grip on my emotions, and I always know where my life is going … and how to get there. But, this Widow thing is a whole new trip.

I went to bed feeling okay, & doing okay – and I woke up wondering what the hell was happening. How did things morph from calm and peaceful to bewildered and strange?

And, why, now?

I get the “first years 1^st’s”. I have been experiencing them since the end of August, and I KNOW what triggers that discomfort. But this, this was different. And I don’t know what – exactly – triggered it.

Perhaps it is the seasonal change, with the shorter days and lengthening shadows. Perhaps it is the constant gray clouds that hide the warming and cheery sun. Perhaps it is the constant rain that casts a dreary pall this time of year. Perhaps it is that I have, literally, lost my entire family (all branches on all sides) in the span of 10 months. Perhaps ALL of THAT adds to the acute ‘missingness’ of my husband in my life. I feel his absence: it is a tangible feeling in my life, in the house, in the car … wherever I am, whatever I am doing … he is not there. That absence is felt.

I’m not depressed; just tired. I need a short snooze …

Maybe that is what the morning strangeness of yesterday was about. I did manage to shake it off though; with a trip to Eden Valley (https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/11/destination-locations_20.html), and the day ended on an upbeat note – albeit exhausting. It is tiring to be caught in the grip of grief.

THANK GOD I woke up in a better frame of mind this morning.

However, Bob is still physically absent from my life. I believe his spirit is still present – and his essence of love surrounds me. That is a Biblical reality based on fact. I just cannot see him, touch him, or have an actual conversation with him – all that is taboo. But I KNOW that he can see me, that he can hear me, and that he loves me … on a different wave length.

Hence, the notion of ‘quantum widowhood’.

Bob and Stacey understood the mathematical & scientific connotations of quantum logistics: it’s greek to me. No pun intended. They tried explaining it to me, but I could never grasp the theory.

I think I am beginning to now … Bob & I are living our lives & experiencing love in parallel worlds; where we are near to each other – but not able to interact as before: before Bob’s spirit left this world with his last expulsion of breath (https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2018/12/widowhood.html). Bob is no longer flesh and bone; his new body functions with a different spectrum of energy.

Even so, Bob’s brand is all over me. From head to toe (https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/09/i-remember.html) – and the effect Bob left in my life is woven throughout it: it is impossible to separate the past from the present; or even the future. Without him, the rhythm of my life remains askew; always slightly off. I struggle every day (even the ‘good days’; the days I don’t cry all day long) to find an even keel, to find balance. My heart has started beating without misfiring. I can breathe now without gasping for air. I can engage in physical activities again without my legs going out from under me. But everything is always off kilter in some way. Because Bob is missing. And the missingness affects my psyche. Deeply and profoundly. (https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/09/people-dont-see.html)

I miss my husband most when I am going about my normal daily routines – I almost added ‘ordinary’ … but nothing is ordinary anymore since December 14^th, 2018. Nothing. Everything is now complicated, unfamiliar, and lonesome. Attempting to ‘live forward’ seems more troublesome than it is worth. So, I just do the best I can to live “in the moment”, hoping & praying for the best in every day to manifest itself. And sometimes, it does.

It is hard to cook for 1 when one is used to cooking for a family … or even for 2 after the kids leave home. But, I am doing it; and finding that while it is hard to face the fact that {I} am no longer {we}, I now have the freedom to cook and enjoy foods/meals that Bob bulked at trying: it is a freedom I wish came to me under different circumstances. I have also lost 30 pounds because I am cooking & eating differently. I can say and do things now without worrying how it is going to impact anyone but me-myself-and I; Bob never really cracked down on me like some husbands do, but there were words, phrases, and actions I knew made him uncomfortable – so I went out of my way to avoid using or doing them. But Bob is not here now (in the flesh, anyway) and I can please myself. Within reason. I can wear clothing that I like again – again, Bob never really put the bite on me about anything … but I knew by little silent, otherwise unnoticeable things (I KNEW Bob so intimately, that he spoke to me without speaking – his eyes, the way he stood, the way he didn’t say or do anything in particular that still spoke volumes): Bob’s 1^st wife & I had pretty much the same taste in clothing, though I do believe I wore them better ;-) That said, because of the way she behaved and betrayed him, he kinda associated the behavior with the clothes. It wasn’t logical, but that’s the way it was; so, I learned to wear subdued and acceptable clothing. Now, Bob is not here, and I have begun to add more flashy and ‘me trademark’ type of clothing. Within reason. I can get in the car and drive wherever I want to – for as long as I want to … without taking someone else’s schedule or opinions into account. But, what I wouldn’t give to have Bob still beside me in the car; in my current life – wrinkling his nose at a new recipe with foods he wasn’t sure he wanted to try, or watching his left eyebrow go up when I said the F-Word in a moment of frustration. I’d wear a flour sack if Bob were still in my life: in the present, as flesh & blood.

But, Bob is no longer here. And my life – as I knew it – is changing.

11 months/8 days/1 hour & 15 minutes ago, I was competent in my life: I knew who I was, where I was headed – and I had a pretty good chance of getting there; I had confidence that even if I fell short in one area … something (usually Bob’s unwavering and unconditional love) would balance the scales. Now, in this new life, that can make me proud one moment with victorious small steps forward; & leave me shaky with unknown night terrors the next, is complicated. Bob’s absence in my life has altered my life in ways that are irreversible: and nothing can ever “fix” it, or piece it back together again, without the fracture being obvious. It is hard to find a balance when your world is continually tipped askew.

Yeshua never promised to remove our troubles – He promised only to come alongside us and help us shoulder the burdens (https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/01/his-grace-is-sufficient-for-me.html).

Elohim never promised us a rose garden, but He did promise that if we slow down, smell the roses, and leave the outcome of life’s turmoils to Him; we would enjoy life a whole lot better (https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/11/lolam-vaed.html).

So.

That is what I am attempting to do in this unexpected life of ‘Quantum Widowhood’, where my new ‘becoming’ life hovers between here and there. My physical life is firmly in the earthly realm of life, while my spiritual life vacillates between here – and where time & space do not exist – as my consciousness breeches the veil between the physical dimension of earth, and the ethereal mists of the other realm: mental acrobatics between parallel worlds. I am a survivor.

I am healing (https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/10/grief-breaks.html).

I am becoming. (https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/11/catharsis.html)

The woman I am right now, at this particular moment, is flummoxed most days coming to terms with my new reality. The old me doesn’t understand how the old me got lost in the shuffle. The new me totally understands.

My reality has shifted: there is a new depth to my new reality. Allowances and adjustments are being worked out to a satisfactory outcome. Damage is being balanced.

I believe I can wrap my mind around ‘Quantum Widowhood’.