When
I met Bob, I was a footloose person; plans were not set in stone … I was
reluctant to let moss grow under my feet. I was raised bohemian style, and
I liked being a free spirit.
Bob’s
fist wife, Gloria, played at being a hippie. She played at being a bad ass. Sleeping
with everything that moves and doing drugs doesn’t make one a hippie – or a
badass; it just makes them a stupid ass.
Bob
was used to a watered-down-twisted-citified version of Gloria’s hippiehood.
He was unprepared for me. I was the real
deal.
I
was 17 – but I had already been baptized by the fire of chaos: I didn’t like
chaos.
Game
playing wasn’t in my nature: citified, or otherwise.
I
was used to movement. Being rooted in one place made my feet itchy, and my
whole body nervous to be on the move.
I
could turn into a Tasmanian Devil if I felt cornered and hemmed in.
He had a tiger by the tail ;-)
I
was raised a hippie by a beatnik mother. I grew up fast – I was a smart-ass/bad
ass; I am still, at 63, a smart-ass/bad ass.
Bob
was a peacenik with a patient nature and a soft touch; and he won me over with
his love.
For
Bob, I settled down to domesticity, and let moss grow under my feet for 44
years: I loved him. The accumulated moss was worth it :-D
But
Bob didn’t chain me to domesticity. We got out of the house, and out of town to
kick the moss off my feet now and then with mini vacas … more so when he
retired 8 years ago. We didn’t live large, but we did enjoy monthly
daytrips while our children were growing up; and annual yearly get-away’s after
the kids left home and the budget curve flattened out more stably (camping
with the grandkids & glamping when it was just the 2 of us); and many,
many daytrips throughout the year. Every year. Bob was a good man. We even, one
year, drove cross America: a dream trip I’d talked about nonstop for 44 years.
Now, there is no husband.
No more shared adventures.
No more patient taming …
I’m
a reluctant free agent – I did not choose to be cut loose from my husband; but
I am slowly getting used to being a solo lobo again, answering to no one but
Elohim and myself. Free to do whatever I choose to do, whenever I choose to do it;
to shake the moss off: and whatever finances will allow.
I have time now to be footloose.
But
everything I do is bittersweet because Bob is not here to share it with me.
I’d rather be enjoying life with Bob, and have the moss under my
feet …
Strangely,
even though marriage clipped my wings in many ways, with Bob I did not feel
tethered. Perhaps because he never really restrained me – he allowed me to be
me. He knew I had a gypsy bone, and he allowed me a lot of freedoms and wiggle
room: he never hemmed me in with ham-stringing restraints. He knew I have
common sense and a strong sense of loyalty; he trusted me and he gave me good
reason … and went out of his way every day/every night … to be satisfied
with the green grass on our side of the marital fence.
Bob was a good man.
Bob was a loving man.
He was the best husband for me.
Me telling Bob this was his last chance to escape … he told me he would stick always and I’d never regret being tied to him. August 27th, 1974. 9 p.m. at Judge Tom Hall's in Skamokawa.
I
didn’t tether Bob, either – I didn’t hold him with marriage. We were
married, for sure, but … I told him before we signed on the
dotted line that if he ever wanted to be a free agent, all he had to do was
give me the word – and I’d cut him loose. Bob also knew I wouldn’t tolerate fooling
around; the first sniff of foolery and I’d be gone so fast his head would spin.
I didn’t want a man who didn’t want me. Bob never wanted to be a free agent.
Bob said he’d learned with Gloria that fooling around wasn’t worth it (they
both cheated on each other, Gloria being the main culprit in that marriage):
he never gave me ‘the word’. He never envied the neighbors’ green grass, the
other side of the marital fence. He always told everyone … even on his death
bed … that he hit the jackpot when he met me, and he hoped I knew how much
he loved me: I did. Bob gave me many things in the 44 years we lived
with/loved each other; but in all the worldly comforts my husband gave me, Bob
made my life truly rich in the only way that mattered to me – he loved
me. Unconditionally and wholeheartedly: it was mutual.
Elohim did good when he put us
together.
I lived a good life with a wonderful man.
A baby dragonfly showed up on the front porch and flew all around the exterior of the house to show itself on the window screens. All day long. Bob and I always saw dragonflies in pairs … now I see only 1; ever since Bob’s graduation. I’ve always liked seeing/watching dragonflies :-D
I jazzed this solar lamp up all day Sunday, to make sure it would shine through the night Memorial Day – when I switched out the old one on our plot.
It
was raining while I was on the road to Eden Valley and Pam called to tell me
that if it was still raining by 3 PM, the BBQ would be scheduled for another
day; I said I was okay with that. And I am – it’s the gathering that matters, not
a cast-in-stone date on a calendar.
Recalling the naming of our daughter ...
As
I spent time in Eden Valley Cemetery placing flowers (silk because they will
hold up longer) at various family plots, and spending reflective moments at
our personal plot thinking of the millions of happy memories of US that have
been etched in my brain, I am thankful and so grateful that I was given the
blessed opportunity to share Bob’s life with him while he walked this Earth. What
a gift he was to me! I told him that every morning and every night for 44
years – and he told me the same. He told everyone within hearing distance,
that he had a good wife and he loved me – and he said it while flashing that
sexy smile in my direction and holding my hand. I will always cherish that
love. It was a good love: it was a true love.
Bouquet I made for Bob's placement.
Bouquet I made for Bob's Dad.
Bouquet I made for Bob’s Grandparent’s.
Grandpa & Grandma’s bouquet placed in the center of their plot between their headstones.
Familial Plots Triangle.
Smalley section of Eden Valley Cemetery: Dates following the Civil War, when the Smalley’s settled in Eden Valley; to most recent with my Bob.
Smalley Family History Marker
‘Til death do us part’.
My heart is still struggling …
My mind knows death severed that tie … my heart is not ready to
go there yet.
I
still love Bob today as much as I did the day I saw him in 1967:
Bob’s Senior Yearbook Picture. 1967
As
much as I did the day we met face-to-face in 1974 and started dating…
April 19th, 1974: our first date 46 years ago ...
As much as the night we got married:
Wedding day -August 27h, 1974
Bob had to work the next day. Bob planned and gave me a belated week-long Honeymoon Trip to Mount Baker and back home again through Leavenworth, in 2014. He wouldn’t even let me spot-drive him. When I asked, he would say, “Just sit back and enjoy the ride, Honey – this trip is the Honeymoon you never got when we married. I love you.”
As much as when he gave me a gift I didn’t know
I wanted – or needed; he gave me a baby.
September 1975. Bob gave me a family of my own, an extension of his love; and for a while, it was good - we had it all.
I will love him until my time on
Earth ends (https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/12/permanently-in-loveforever.html).
I
know Bob loved me – and was still loving me – until his spirit stepped out of his
body: he told me so; before Comfort Care, care, silenced his voice.
I’m glad Bob got to see my hair start showing gray – he waited a
long time for my gray to catch up with his gray. It’s a lot grayer now, but I’m
thankful he got to see it coming in … in the Summer of 2018 before he checked
outta here in the Winter of 2018; with his sparse hair as white as his Dad’s was 😉
And
I know that for all intents and purposes, that type of loving between us stopped
when his heart did. But my heart is still struggling – it has not yet caught
up with my mind. I know the man I knew and loved is no more: he’s
gone. My trips to Eden Valley Cemetery reinforce the fact that he’s gone. But
my heart does not want to let go; it has not yet caught up with my mind. I know
I need to find a balance; but my heart – and covid-19 restrictions are tripping
me up, and seriously hampering my forward momentum.
Watching someone’s body shut down and die is
hard ...
Surviving that loss is harder. Much
harder.
People
have asked me if less trips to Eden Valley would perhaps be prudent and helpful
in my healing process. I don’t believe so … no. I don’t cry that
often, and I’m not depressed after visits. I was married to Bob for 44 years:
it’s gonna take at least half that long (so noteworthy traumatic experiences
‘professionals’ say) to start seeing light at the end of the grieving
tunnel: I figure by the time I’m 84 years of age, my emotions should be on
steady ground and my heart may be at peace with its amputation despite Grief
hanging around -
(https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/11/justin-hayward-forever-autumn-1978-with.html).
(https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/11/justin-hayward-forever-autumn-1978-with.html).
Visiting
Eden Valley, is right now – at this point of time in my life – the only thing
that’s really keeping me grounded; aside from Elohei’s provisions, Elohim’s
faithfulness, and Yeshua’s steady love. If I couldn’t get to Eden Valley on a
regular basis during this time of healing and renewal, I think I really would
crumble.
As
I left Eden Valley, headed for home, I also reflected on the concept of plans
and the part plans play in our lives. I can’t speak for Bob, because I don’t
know if he had any actual plans in place for the rest of his retirement years –
we didn’t spend a whole lot of time looking into the future; we lived every day
as it came, as if it may be our last day: for him, his last days arrived on
his birthday in August of 2018 and wrapped on December 14th, 2018 in
another hospital, in another state. I’ve never really been a planner type of
person … I was for a while when the kids were growing up because there were
kid-things that required a bit of planning, but I never was a planner for long
term planning. I never got into the 5/10/20/30-year planning cycle like
everyone else was caught up in doing. For me, life is just too short to get
stuck on a hamster wheel.
I
suppose my current situation of no husband-no long term plans is why I’m not
stressed out about where covid-19 has taken things economically. I read on
my phone newsfeed last week that the government is assuming social security
benefits will be bankrupt for everyone by 2030 due to the unemployment forced
on American citizens due to covid-19 hysteria and political game playing by the
demoncrat House politicians, demoncrat governors, demoncrat mayors, and demoncrat
2020 Electoral candidates – and their toadies:
When
I got back home, the rain had stopped and I figured the BBQ plans were back on;
so, I drove on into town to Fred Meyers, to grab a desert to take out to Pam’s.
As I was checking out, my cell rang and it was the kids saying they were on the
road, headed to Eden Valley Cemetery and would I like to join them … of
course! Stacey had never been to our plot (she skipped the Celebration
of Life, 9 months ago) – in fact, she’d never, ever, been to Eden Valley
Cemetery: and I didn’t mind making a second trip. As soon as I ended the
convo with the kids, I received a call from Pam saying the BBQ was indeed, “back
on”. But, I begged off, saying the kids were on their way, and I need to spend
time with them – no matter how the day went (it can go south in a heartbeat).
Pam agreed – we can always get together for Supper, but time spent with my kids
isn’t that frequent; or that easy.
I was excited.
And nervous.
I
barely had time to get home and park my car in the carport before the kid’s
pulled in … and we were off.
Life is unpredictable.
But unpredictability is where real life
happens.
You
meet someone and before you know it, you are unpredictably in love. In short
order you find yourself unpredictably married: and soon, a baby on the hip. Twenty
unpredictable years later, you are cooing over a grandbaby doctors said was a
predictable negative. Eighteen years after the first unpredictable miracle, you
are driving across 3 States lines to coo and cuddle another unpredictable
miracle; two other doctors’ predicted would be another predictable negative, following
a surgery that guaranteed infertility. Doctors were predictably wrong – and Elohim
granted Bob life long enough to enjoy his grandchildren, which included a
toddler grandson after a 40-year run of all girls. Bob loved his girls, but it
was nice of Elohim to replenish the gene pool with another shot of testosterone
after such a male drought ;-) Of course, Azariah will not carry the Hargand
Name forward … but Bob’s DNA will go forward; and that is more important
than a surname.
All of our life together, we lived in the moment; going with the
flow.
And now, the kids were here.
Unexpected until a few minutes ago.
Unpredictable life was happening in the
moment.
I
don’t know what the future holds in regards to my heart healing, and the
rebuilding of my new life.
I
don’t know what the future holds in regard to the piddly amount I am receiving in
Widow’s Benefits – while the demoncrats play political crap games with our
monies – rightfully ours, and NOT theirs to play with in
attempting to further their chancy socialist agendas.
I
didn’t know what the remainder of Memorial Day would look like … by the time
the day wrapped up. After visiting the family plot, we were off to Longbeach –
the beach was open to walk on; but stores, restaurants, ect., was closed: there was no driving
on the beach – only walking. It was windy. It was cold. It was wet with ocean
mist rolling in on the waves.
Our grandchildren visiting our family plot: it went well.
Missing Poppa and asking, “When did he get sick?” They never got to see each other again, after Bob went into the local hospital on his birthday, August 30th, 2018.
The kid’s showed up in a new car! Very nice :-D And I am glad to see things are working out so well for them.
I’m not a water lover ... but everyone - including our kids - love it & hate the mountains (can these kids really be mine?) The ocean actually freaks me out; but I wanted to spend time with the kids.
Interesting wind break picnic area, with a BBQ pit near one corner.
Watching the waves and looking for shells.
I
was going with the flow; and not caring if I got caught in an emotional riptide later on. Elohim keeps putting us back together - there must be a grand purpose. I'm going with the flow, and staying footloose.
Victim of the pounding waves
I found 3 broken sand dollars inside a broken crab shell.
I found an interesting beach item: Gooseneck Barnacles – and they were still alive! Never heard of them before I did an internet search at home.
In some countries, people eat gooseneck barnacles –they are considered a 'delicacy'.
Sautéed Gooseneck Barnacles – eeew; they don’t look that appetizing to me!
A chunk of Bull Kelp: upper piece.
Bull kelp stem.
Seaweed clump.
Memorial
Day ended up being a good and pleasant day.
We
all stayed ‘in the moment’; and it was good.
Living
in the moment, is really all any of us have – looking into the future and
planning a life that has not even begun to formulate itself yet had never made
sense to me: it’s a waste of time. It’s a wasteful exercise in misguided projections
that steals the fruits of the present day. And, as all widows and widowers know
– we have learned the hard way that even short-sighted plans do not turn out
the way they were envisioned. Those who have lost spouses to covid-19 are
learning that hard lesson too.
I
can’t help it if that sounds heartless – reality, often is, heartless. To me, reality
is a practical way of looking at life. I don’t know what is going to happen in
the future – and I’m not going to spend time worrying and stressing about “what
if’s”. I’m going to do what I have always done … my level best to truly
enjoy the present. I’m going to apply the same {journeying experiences}
to my every day living as I did when Bob and I struck out on daytrips and
cross-country mini vaca’s. While we looked forward to reaching our
destinations, it was always the scenic byplay that got my attention. It was
the “in the moment” excitement of the journey itself, more than reaching
the goal that fired my jets.
Yes,
there was some planning in the process; but the plans were flexible as the
journey got underway. And, I admit, planning to a degree was very important in
getting me through that first year of widowhood – there were appointments for
legal issues that couldn’t be missed or sidelined: that type of planning was
crucial … but it was also in the moment plans (next hour or so, tomorrow,
ect.), so those types of plans don’t qualify as the types of 5/10/20/30-year
planning cycle everyone else was caught up in doing. In all honesty, my life
really hasn’t been that derailed by personal grief, or by the global
upset of covid-19. Other than Bob’s absence being permanent now, readjusting my
financial sails, and riding out the kids’ temper tantrums when they flare up; nothing
in my life has really changed: I was living in the moment then, I’m living in
the moment now.
I’m going with the daily flow.
Plans
change every hour, on the hour – gotta go with the flow and ride the waves if
you don’t want to keel over.
I
am aware that my already spartan life will be seriously derailed if my Social
Security Benefits are tampered with by over-zealous politicians.
But
I’m not going to worry or stress about tomorrow.
I may not even be on Earth anymore by the time 2030 rolls around
…
I
may be beyond the clouds with Bob, walking those celestial streets of gold with
him & Yeshua; enjoying a truly footloose life full of unimaginable beauty,
love, and peace ;-)
In
the footloose present here and now, it would be foolhardy to allow 2021 & 2030 political biased predictions to dominate,
hogtie, and steal the joy out of my life in 2020.
