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.
Last week was ridiculous – this week is just craziness. The demoncrats are out of control.
In both instances, the demoncrats tried something new – an unprecedented, and underhanded political coup attempt to oust President Trump since Day 1 … and the introduction of a caucus counting appt that no one understood HOW TO USE. Total failure in BOTH instances.
C-SPAN didn’t even think it important enough yesterday to broadcast the demoncrat Senator’s arguments – I checked ALL DAY LONG. This article is ALL the coverage there was; both on the internet, and on my phone: (https://www.nytimes.com/2020/02/03/us/politics/trump-impeachment-trial-final-arguments.html). I finally went to bed around 10 PM last night: and woke up to the Iowa caucus mess this morning.
C-SPAN is broadcasting the final arguments concerning impeachment today (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b7fg4JKMBqc), but that is NOT Chief Justice, Roberts giving his ear to the proceedings. Even the Chief Justice deems the demoncrat ridiculousness as utter bullshit. I don’t “stage” my personal vids: what you see, is what you get ;-) Right now, I am going through a shingles outbreak, and loose clothing works for me. So, I wear a lot of Bob’s tees because they are loose and light, and stay away from close skin contact; plus, it keeps him close to me, in this small way: in that way, I suppose this shingles outbreak could be considered ‘a blessing’ ;-) And ... I was reading about the caucus debacle on my phone's newsfeed - thus the early-morning, in-bed vids, commenting on unfolding events. 4 AM was just too early to get up and start turning lights on in the livingroom. MPO My vids are short; and many, because Blogger does not allow for anything larger, and I don't want a YouTube account. Right now, this works for me ;-)
Bob really didn’t care about politics; he’d suffer through them when Election time rolled around, but he generally ignored the entire process – and me as long as the Election season was in full swing: he didn't want to hear it.
I really miss him.
We may not have agreed when it came to politics, but we agreed on important issues: what we wanted in life, where we wanted our life together to go, how we wanted our marriage to proceed forward; how we wanted to raise our children, faith … faith was a big thing with us: we agreed on the important issues of life. Everything else people argue, fight, and divorce over are fluff and stuff – just ‘fillers’ in life, and it doesn’t mean a whole hellovalot at the end of the day. What matters at the end of the day is where your life is going – and that you have someone next to you that loves you unconditionally.
In my lifetime, I’ve seen 9 Presidents … and 1
interloper … sworn in: Johnson and Ford were both Vice-Presidents who were
bumped up into President position – Johnson, following President Kennedy’s
assassination; and Ford, following Nixon’s impeachment.
Nixon and Clinton were impeached because they perjured
themselves under oath. They were both caught red-handed, but it was the web
they built with their lies that did them in. Perjury IS A CRIME – and that a President
would deliberately lie UNDER OATH to tell the truth is unpardonable; they’ve at
that point, lost ALL credibility.
carter and obama came out of left-field: neither
one of them were [known] politically. And both, put themselves forward falsely
as ‘Christian’ to win the Election: both proved themselves false in short
order. Both bow to and placate terrorists, and both are blatantly anti-American;
favoring anti-American sympathies with terrorist fueled countries – carter has, since
leaving the Oval Office and White House, stumped proliferously for, and STILL touts palestinian
propaganda; obama’s close friend is an avowed domestic terrorist, obama openly
hosted known terrorists at the White House, bowed to terrorist leadership, and
openly SENT AMERICAN DOLLARS TO a known terrorist county to fund terrorism. carter,
in the later 1970’s, single handedly gave rise to the ayatollah; and obama
carried that relationship forward – matching that islamic fervor of his, with unrestrained
godless perversions of every shape, flavor, and color. Both men are demonic
driven traitors, and should be treated as such, receiving the FULL penalty for
traitors. If they escape their earthly penalties, I am sure they will roast in
Hell for their wickedness. MPO
Reagan, Bush Sr., and Dubbya (self-retarded Bush
Jr.) were all, in MHO, incompetent nincompoops – Reagan and Sr., were clueless
dimwits run by their wives … and Dubbya was run by his mother; and a puppet for
obama. Reagan was behind the Contra Scandal, Bush Sr., gave a nazi themed
speech for his State of the Union Address, and Dubbya instigated 9/1/1. The
three stooges are not high on my list of American accomplishments.
The verdict is still out on Trump: History will
be the deciding voice on his terms in Office as President. But, as of right now
… HE IS DOING A GOOD JOB of fulfilling every promise made to Americans
concerning America, and what is best for her and for us as a Nation, unparalleled
anywhere in the world. And Americans are better off for it – even if they
claim otherwise.
So, you see, I do not favor any particular
political party.
Yesterday, February 2nd, 2020 – which was
my mother’s birthday – that fat Pennsylvanian rodent, known as Punxsutawney
Phil predicted “an early Spring”:
First sign of snow we’ve had this year, here in THE PNW. Admittedly, this pitiful bit of remains of a light snowfall, early this morning isn’t much … but it ain’t Spring sunshine either.
And I missed the drift of the first snowflake. I was sleeping when the first snowflake fell. This is the first time since I've lived in WA State (55 years), that I have not seen the first snowflake fall :-(
The neighboring shed was a little heavier dusted – but, of course it’s a cold shed: no home warmth here, so the snow lingered.
Snowfall was so light, and so brief, all that remains is quickly disappearing evidence of snowfall on the rooftops surrounding me; the flakes that fell on the road, melted into the remaining puddles of the recent perpetual rainfall.
Maybe PP was off his mark yesterday?
I know - I know: technically it is still Winter for another 45 days, but I still say that overgrown rat lied ... or at the very least, was so groggy when ceremoniously dragged from his tunnel that he failed to see his shadow dogging him. That’s okay – until real Spring actually makes its appearance, I can contend myself with thumbing
through the rapidly growing stack of mail-order-seed catalogs while I ponder what the
future holds for me in my new life …
… and finish the Dean Koontz novel I started 3
days ago ;-)
Though breads have lately become public enemy
number #1 in America … I LIKE BREAD :-D
Traditional pumpernickel is made with a sourdough
starter base – but I am not a fan of sourdough :-P, so my bread may not be as
healthily beneficial as traditional pumpernickel.
That said, brown breads are more beneficial to
the body than white breads, in regards to vitamins and fiber. Pumpernickel is a
rye bread – it loads your body up with lignans (fiber-associated compounds
found in many plant families), that may help reduce the risk of prostate or
breast cancers. Pumpernickel contains B-complex vitamins – important in the
production of red blood cells; pumpernickel also includes thiamin (B-1), which
is needed to produce energy in the body. It also includes niacin (B-3),
essential in nervous and digestive system health. Folate is also present, as is
manganese – which helps form a potent antioxidant called superoxide dismutase
that scavenges harmful free radicals in the body. Selenium, a trace mineral
essential for proper immune system function is also found in pumpernickel; as
well as calcium and magnesium, essential for building and maintaining strong
bones. Iron, vital for making hemoglobin (a red protein responsible for
transporting oxygen in the blood) is also present in pumpernickel.
Hearty texture, the sweet flavor of molasses, and
the pungent aroma of caraway seeds and chocolate combine to give this country
style round loaf of bread a character all its own. Whether just enjoying a
slice spread liberally with cream cheese – or butter for breakfast, or topped
with a slice of smoked salmon at lunchtime; or as an accompaniment for a robust
winter soup, pumpernickel is perfect for any meal ;-)
Cocoa powder is thought to have been first utilized
by the Mayans of Central America. Cocoa powder is rich in antioxidants that
help reduce inflammation, help blood to flow easier, lower risk of heart attack
and/or stroke, lower blood pressure, improve blood sugar levels, and improve
cholesterol levels, and has a blood-thinning aspect similar to aspirin. Cocoa one
of the richest sources of these antioxidants. Cocoa improves brain function;
and is a natural mood stabilizer. Cocoa may have cancer-protective proprieties.
It is also thought that cocoa may be beneficial to people suffering asthma, as
it contains anti asthmatic compounds such as theobromine and theophylline.
Several studies have explored the protective effects of cocoa against dental cavities
and gum disease: cocoa contains many compounds that that have antibacterial and anti-enzymatic, immune-stimulating proprieties that may contribute to oral health effects.
This Bread is GOOD STUFF! And I choose
bread over pharmaceuticals :-D
I’ve had this this pumpernickel bread recipe for
a long time; it makes a rich, dark, dense old-world bread that smells wonderful
cooking – and tastes heavenly :-D
There are many ways to enjoy pumpernickel – cream
cheese, sliced onion, and tomato; aged cheese sandwich fillings; mustards go
well with pumpernickel, so spread liberally on your next ham/swiss cheese
sandwich; serve a slice of pumpernickel with your next bowl or mug or chili or
winter soup instead of saltines ;-)
I plan on cooking up a batch of Split Pea Soup
this week, so I made rolls, today, instead of loaves. Also, instead of using
cornmeal on the baking sheet, I baked the rolls on a parchment-paper-lined baking
sheet. I like cornmeal: my internal organs do not. Cornmeal will make
the breads more authentic in taste and appearance; and the bright yellow
cornmeal will contrast nicely with the rich brown hued loaves.
Pumpernickel Rolls
COUNTRY PUMPERNICKEL~ 1 lrg. Loaf or 2 med. Loaves, or 12 rolls
2 packages active dry Yeast * 1-1/2 cups
warm Water * 1/2 cup dark Molasses * 3 cups Rye Flour *
1/3 cup Cocoa powder * 2 Tablespoons Caraway Seeds * 1/4 cup
Shortening * 1 teaspoon Salt * 2 to 2-1/2 cups all purpose Flour *
1/2 cup Raisins (optional)* 2 to 3 Tablespoons Cornmeal (optional)* Additional Caraway Seeds (optional)
In a large bowl, dissolve yeast in warm water.
Stir in molasses and let mixture sit until foamy – about 10 minutes.
Yeast mixture
Yeast mixture "foaming".
Add rye flour, cocoa powder, caraway seeds,
shortening, and salt to the yeast mixture: beat until smooth. Stir in enough
all-purpose flour to make dough easy to handle. Turn dough out onto a lightly
floured surface, and knead until smooth and elastic – about 5 to 10 minutes.
Knead in raisins, if desired.
Place dough in a greased bowl; turn once to
grease the top. Cover and place in a warm location until doubled in bulk –
about 1 hour/1-1-2 hours.
Dough prepared to rise.
Punch dough down and let dough rise again until
doubled – about 20 minutes.
Grease a baking sheet; sprinkle with cornmeal.
Punch dough down and shape into desired bread shapes. Score tops of loaves with
a sharp knife; of the tines of a fork; sprinkle with additional caraway seeds,
if desired. Let rise again in a warm location – 40 minutes.
Rolls prepared to rise
Heat oven to 375-degrees. Bake until breads sound
hollow when gently tapped – about 30 to 35 minutes for loaves; 15 to 20 minutes
for rolls. Remove from baking sheet and cool on wire rack.
**********
Sweet Potato Muffins
Sweet potatoes are available year around in most
States. The sweet potato is a native of
South America – and can be grown successfully in the southern States (historical
notes mention sweet potatoes being grown in the area now known as Louisiana, in
1540). The Incas and the Mayans of Central America – south of Mexico, grew
several varieties of this vegetable. Spanish and Portuguese sailors introduced
this potato to India, China, Malaya, Philippines, and the West Indies. American
History records the sweet potato being grown in the Virginian colonies in 1648.
And sweet potatoes helped southerners survive the Revolution and Civil Wars.
During the years between 1836 and 1936, Georgia was the leading producer of
sweet potatoes.
One medium-sized sweet potato provides more than
twice the recommended daily allowance of Vitamin A – 36 percent of the allowance
of Vitamin C – and 10 percent of the daily Iron needed.
One medium-sized sweet potato provides more than
twice the recommended daily allowance of Vitamin A – 36 percent of the allowance
of Vitamin C – and 10 percent of the daily Iron needed.
Cinnamon is an aromatic spice obtained from the
inner bark of trees scientifically knowns as Cinnamomum – stems are cut from
these trees, the inner bark ectracted; woody parts removed. When the bark
dries, it forms strips that curl, called cinnamon sticks. These sticks can be
ground into powder. A medicinal study has shown cinnamon’s antioxidant activity
to outrank garlic and oregano as “superfoods”. Cinnamon helps your body fight
infections and repair tissue damage; has been linked to reduce the risk of
heart disease; balances cholesterol levels; has been shown to reduce blood
pressure. Cinnamon can aide in reducing insulin resistance, helping to regulate metabolism and energy levels. Cinnamon is being studies for its potential use in cancer prevention/treatment, and Parkinson’s disease – cinnamon helps protect neutrons, which improves motor function. Animal studies, using cinnamon
research, has also been showing positive feedback in regards to how two
compounds in cinnamon appear to be able to inhibit the buildup of a protein
called tau in the brain – which is one of the hallmarks of Alzheimer’s disease.
In fact, cinnamon is so powerful that it can even be used as a food preservative. Cinnamon has been used as in ingredient, dating as far back as ancient Egypt. It used to be quite rare and very valuable. Cinnamon, in the ancient
world was tagged as a gift fit for kings.
Spicy and mist, these fragrant muffins are a
welcome treat for breakfast; or with a Country-Ham or Fried Chicken Supper.
Make the mashed sweet potato before you start
this recipe: boil water; drop potato into water and boil 20 minutes: peel
and mash. Cool.
SWEET POTATO MUFFINS~ 12 ct., 2-1/2” muffins
1-1/2 cups unsifted all-purpose Flour * 1/4
cup light-Brown Sugar * 1 Tablespoon Baking Powder * 1/2 teaspoon
Salt * 1/2 teaspoon ground Cinnamon * 1/4 teaspoon ground Nutmeg *
1 large Egg * 1/2 cup Milk * 1 cup cooked, mashed, large Sweet Potato *
1/4 cup Butter or margarine, melted * 1/2 cup dark seedless Raisins
Heat oven to 400-degrees. Grease 12 muffins cups.
In a medium bowl, combine flour, brown sugar, baking
powder, salt, cinnamon, and nutmeg.
In a small bowl, beat together egg, milk, sweet
potato, and butter. Add Dry ingredients; stir just until dry ingredients are
moistened. Stir in raisins.
Spoon mixture into muffin cups; bake 15 to 20
minutes – or until light browned. Serve warm.
Rain woke me up this morning – a storm had blown in.
The storm has kept me indoors; basically, held me prisoner.
It stormed all day long; hitting the windows with a slashing fierceness, and rocking the bird house/feeder stand:
Being stuck indoors with nothing to do but think, gets the thoughts going down rabbit trails …
No kids burning up the airwaves with chatty check-ins.
No grandkids running through the house and underfoot.
No husband to glance across the room and smile at, or share a telepathic private joke with over the grandkids’ heads.
Instead, there is just emptiness in my house; and echoes of conversation snippets from well-meaning people who do not fully understand what has happened. They know I am a widow, they are my comforters – they have gone through the past year with me, keeping me strong and sane. But, they do not fully understand, and they can’t understand: their lives are still intact; idyllically robust.
“Wow: I can’t believe it’s been a year. Get out of the house; it will help you move on.”
“Have you considered moving; a change in surroundings may be helpful.”
They mean well. They are trying to speed up the healing process. That would be nice – but it isn’t reality.
2019 was the hardest year of my entire life.
Getting out of the house only works for a few hours: then I have to come home. And it wouldn’t matter where that home was.
I have been ‘getting out of the house’ for 10 months now … and it hasn’t changed anything, really. Bob’s body is still in Eden Valley – and his spirit is still riding the clouds.
And I am still a Widow: aka., handicapped prisoner.
Handicapped as in “having a condition that markedly restricts one’s ability to function physically, mentally, or socially.”
I am pretty certain, given what I have faced and dealt with for the past 414 days/2 hours & 1 minutes, I have been seriously “handicapped”. The 2nd week of December 2018 dealt my life a blow I’m sure I’ll never be able to “move on” from – my husband, my soulmate and life partner, shed his earthen vessel and flew Home beyond the clouds. Unknown to either of us, Bob’s body had been seriously compromised by an illness he wasn’t aware he was suffering from. Bob was the great love of my life. He was my anchor; and life with Bob was fun, stable, and trustworthy.
We walked through life together. We laughed together. We made love together. We made decisions together. We made a child together; we raised children & grandchildren together. We faced the consequences of the life we started, and built – together. Now, there is no more ‘together’.
Now, I walk through life alone. I laugh with friends … but the laughter ends when they go home; and my home is mine alone, again. The child we made together has removed herself from my life along with her children: she doesn’t like my Christian life, and doesn’t want her children around it either. I have been a Christian since 1964 (I was 8 yo when I decided to live for, follow Yeshua) – I refuse to give it up: I didn’t give it up for Bob; why on earth would I give it up for the child we brought forth? There is no ‘togetherness’ at any point, on any level, in my widowhood journey.
There are no words to describe the loneliness that accompanies any major decision that has to be made solo lobo – there is no one to bounce ideas off of; no one to turn to. They are ALL gone. And I – me, who has always been able to carry through on any decision – is suddenly finding myself second-guessing … sometimes, third- and forth-guessing EVERY decision I have to make alone.
It’s unnerving. It’s frustrating.
Bob and I never looked into the future: but, in this, my new life, e.v.e.r.y.o.n.e. holding a contract on something I own in my new life, wants me to have an inspired projection. It’s ludicrous; am barely making it through the day! Bob and I were simply living, happily and lovingly day by day. We may not have looked into the future, but before becoming a widow, I knew one thing for certain: whatever the morrow held, I wouldn’t be facing it alone. Our life was running smoothly and retirement plans were falling into place … until they weren’t.
Bob never felt pain the way everyone else does, and that DNA flaw led to his physical death. We had been enjoying his retirement … bought a new home and was putting the finishing touches on the property, when a complaint by a petty, nosy, paranoid neighbor escalated the unknown illness’s effects on Bob’s body: and he ended up in ER on his birthday being told he as dying. That happened the end of August – by December 14th, Bob was tired of the endless mess of doctor’s diagnosis’ that promised glimmers of hope that always shortly faded to disappointment and physical limitations seriously eroding his quality of life: from the time he ended up in the local ER, to the time he ended up in OHSU, across the river and in another State, he had a standing DNR order in place; he didn’t want to live at the mercy of machines keeping his heart beating, or his lungs breathing: I supported his decision – our relationship, married 44 years and still behaving like newlyweds, was the envy of everyone who saw us together (friends and strangers), was couched in mutual respect. Bob’s decision to forgo the mechanical ventilator suggested to him the morning of December 13th, led to him being placed on ‘comfort care’ status that same afternoon. He breathed out his last breath at 8:05 AM, December 14th.
Bob’s life on Earth ended.
Our life together ended.
Life, as I knew it, ended.
Looking at him, that last time, I thought back to 1967 when my eyes first saw his handsome face; I thought back to 1974 when my eyes again saw his handsome face … and his beautiful Asian hazel eyes that had gold flecks dancing around the iris’s: we talked the night away – we couldn’t stop looking at each other; we were both captivated. We started dating each other exclusively 2 weeks later, and we married 4 months after that 1974 face-to face. Bob was 24, I was 17. I thought back to that fateful 2018 rushed trip to the local ER, where the Grim Reaper who had touched our lives with his icy finger a.g.a.i.n., finally collected his 37 year claim; four months later.
Our envious 44 year life together ended.
In a heartbeat.
A Widow.
A bumped wife still hopelessly in love with her
dead husband: aka., ‘handicapped prisoner’. Handicapped as in “having a
condition that markedly restricts one’s ability to function physically, mentally,
or socially.”
It is safe to say that with Bob physically absent from this earth, I am ‘markedly restricted’ from physically and socially interacting with him.
I loved Bob for 51 years, I was married to Bob for 44 years. If the rational is that it takes a person half the time of an experience to get over the traumatic ending of said experience … I will be loving Bob until The Rapture takes place – or my cremains are 4 feet under the soil of Eden Valley Cemetery, as his are. I turned 62 fifteen days into widowhood – if statistics runs true to form, I’ll be 84 yo or 87 yo – depending on when “statistics” kicks in: it will literally take me the rest of my life to “get over” my husband, and “move on.”
Twenty-two to 25 years more, in which I read from several widow websites, “your grief is going to overtake your body”; thoughts and emotions won’t be controlled, no matter how hard I, as a widow try. Two decades more to ride out this storm of brain fog, racing thoughts, mood swings, and yo-yoing emotions that come out of left field any hour of any day of the week, any day of the year(s). Sounds like a cruel joke of the female persuasion, right? Women are thrown into menopausal hell halfway through their 50’s, and just as THAT is getting semi-regulated … they are catapulted into widowhood, which, according to “statistics” extends ALL the menopausal upheavals without the hot flashes, but a hell of a lot more punch. “Once you become comfortable with what you are dealing with, you’ll be in a better place. Just be with it. It’s going to take time for your brain to work correctly again after such a traumatic event.”
Two decades?
Elohim help me!
I do agree that the second year of widowhood is more complex and more emotional than the first year of widowhood. I have had other widows tell me that, but to be honest, it didn’t sound right to me. Then. NOW, it makes sense. Maybe it makes sense now, because the pressing issues of the first year of widowhood has been ‘taken care of’, and the busyness has settled down. Now the lurking sense of loneliness is making itself known – I am expected to be well on my way, now, to recovery from Bob’s absence in my life.
My finances are in order, and my life has kinda-sorta stabilized since the chaos that surrounded my new status in life has been sorted & dealt with … but it is actually difficult to come to the realization of the full impact those changes have meant to me, and how they have significantly changed the fabric of my life. My old life is totally shredded.
Starting afresh is not as simple or as wonderfully exciting as people think it is. It’s downright scary, and more than a little intimidating. I’m glad to be financially secure, given financial losses I was hit with following my husband’s graduation. And I finally have peace in my day-to-day life, for the first time in my life – but it has come at a great cost.
I want to move forward.
I want to ease this sense of aimless loneliness – love with nowhere to go.
No children.
No grandchildren.
Even though Bob is no longer here, I don’t want to forget my husband.
And I kinda have the sinking feeling that THAT WILL BE required of me. I know me; I know I can’t have both and fully live a new life.
I am not sure I can honestly let go of the life I shared with my husband; I am not yet ready to shred that part of who I am. Still. Logically, I understand that life is gone – it no longer exists.
But it still lives in deep recesses of my heart that beats only for him.
It still exists in my memories, filled with him.
My body still remembers the feel of his touch all over it.
I have changed routines. I have overcome driving challenges, and ventured into social situations solo lobo that I never could have done if Bob were still here; but ((((HOW)))) does one “purge possessions that evoke emotions” when those ‘possessions’ are the heart, the mind, the body?
I think it’s important here, to make the distinction between loneliness and sadness: people tend to get the 2 confused, but they are really not the same at all. Yes, I am beginning to feel the nudge of loneliness … but I am not sad. I’ve never been sad – not even in that first millisecond of being bumped from Wife to Widow. I mean it when I say I feel joy knowing Bob is Home beyond the clouds: I love my husband - when he is happy, I am happy for him. I am GLAD knowing that he is enjoying life … REAL LIFE, right now, in real time. With Yeshua. With our furry companions who waited patiently for one of us to finally show up. I feel joy, true joy, knowing Bob will never again be in pain; knowing Bob will never die again. That makes me HAPPY. Even when missing my husband, I have never – not even for a heartbeat – been miserable, gloomy, despondent, or destressed to the point of causing my friends concern for me. Neither have I ever felt desolate, wretched, cheerless, or forsaken. Some widows do … I never have.
I do, however, miss my husband. A lot. Sometimes I cry. Because I miss his presence in my life. For two-thirds of my life, Bob gave me unconditional and unapologetic love – he was my passion, my focus; he gave my life purpose. Now, Bob is no longer here. I miss him. My heart is lonely for the missing love. My body is lonely for the missing passion. My mind is lonely for the missing conversations. My life is lonely for the focus; and is trying to find purpose to reroute to. It’s a confusing paradox, that is being undone like the many layers of an onion – and my eyes smart and tears run down my face from the sting of the unpeeling. Our granddaughter got married 48 days ago, and along with the overwhelming happiness in the moment … I also felt overwhelming loneliness of wishing Bob could have been there too. I did carry my little Remembrance Urn with me, and I know he was there in spirit – and I was comforted; but, I also wanted him there in the flesh. Loneliness for something that can never be; the loneliness that comes with that bittersweet realization.
Thankfully, I have great friends – they understand the difference. They know me. They have given me the gift of talking – and listening. That is so important! Of course, we do not spend all of our time together talking about Bob and how I am coming along in my new life … but, when Bob does come up, I am glad they feel comfortable enough to speak freely, boldly, and honestly about the man they knew him to be – before and after he joined his life with mine. I love them for that! I like that Bob will not be forgotten by those whom liked, admired, and loved him. Because they are 2 – 4 years older than me, they are sometimes curious about what it’s like to face the death of a spouse head-on, and the aftermath of that: they have lost parents, but spousal loss is significantly different. It doesn’t bother me to answer their questions – the questions are good ones; and have a real and solid purpose. There is no real way to describe personal grief though, so we kinda skip quickly past that issue. They’ll eventually find out, and if I am still kicking around, I will do what I can to comfort them, as they have done for me. They have both been, at various times over the decades, rejected by old friends, and familial ties severed, either through divorce, through sibling rivalry, or through their children’s churlish angst's – we talk the same language; we can identify. Again, we don’t dwell on these issues, but we are comfortable enough with each other to share these issues and get comfort from each other concerning these issues. I am thankful for these friends; I am thankful that if and when I sometimes cry because I still miss my husband, they love on me and are not suddenly uncomfortable - as some people get when the tears spring up. They do not consider me a poor companion because I am sometimes lonely with the need for the love of my special man. My amazing friends are my tribe – my new family. I count myself blessed.
They are incredibly loving humans I am grateful to know and share my life with. But it is not a cure all – their presence in my life keeps me from being isolated from life and human contact, yet at the same time … their presence in my life has little to no bearing on my loneliness as a widow. There is an inherent physical loneliness that comes with the loss of your spouse: going to bed alone, waking up alone, living your daily life alone, occupying your home alone, eating alone … knowing that will never change: Bob will never walk through the front door and do these things with me again.
I have no problem being alone – I was alone much of my life before Bob was a part of my life; and I have been alone many times throughout our 44 marriage when Bob worked logging jobs away from home for months on end, several years running, and he came home Friday nights, leaving again Sunday afternoon. I actually enjoy intervals of solitude. I like the freedom of being able to do what I want to do, when I want to do it; without working that want around someone else’s want. But, I also like bumming around the house all day in pajamas with my husband – just because we can; I miss shared Chinese meals, having someone to share the beauty of sunsets with, the excitement of spontaneous adventures, the companionship of quiet evenings at home … and the companionship of planning places to visit that become amazing experiences to live on in memories. This missingness, reminds me that no matter how positive I am about moving forward in my new life, there will always be a lingering loneliness because I will always miss having Bob to share these things with.
It is true that I HAVE made progress in my new life. It is true that the shock has worn off, and the recognition of my new life status is not so raw anymore. It is true that I have learned new skills, and honed up on old skills; and I can see life in color again. But it is also true, that for all intents, and purposes, I am still a Widow: aka., handicapped prisoner. It is safe to say that with Bob physically absent from this earth, I am ‘markedly restricted’ from physically and socially interacting with him.
On days like today, when the weather keeps me indoors and I have too much free time on my hands, my thoughts run down rabbit trails ...
If I close my eyes and really concentrate, I can hear Bob’s voice.
I can see his sexy smile.
I can see his eyes.
Bob had the most beautiful eyes ...
I love you, Babe.
Always ~ OX
I’ve never been wrong; but you’re the only one I trust to show me
the way: I always hear your voice.
And in my dreams, I hear your calling my name …
And I can’t turn away – I’m like a prisoner, captured by your eyes.
