IT’S TIME TO WRITE A NEW STORY

 

I don’t know how I will do it.

But, I KNOW I will DO it.

I will do it because that was “the deal” – the promise Bob asked of me … and the vow I made in agreement to that promise.

I received three phone calls in the past 24 hours (Bob’s Aunt, my niece/daughter, and our granddaughter), asking me how I am doing.

I’m doing.

I’ll be doing much better when my leg is stronger and I can get out of the house.

I read encouragements on FB, from friends: I am thankful I have such loving, empathetic, and compassionate friends.

G: I remember Bob, I grew up with him. I was closer to Ralph in age. I believe Bob had no say in the matter about the timing of his end of days but I know he would want you to heal, that would be the Bob I remember.

I am healing.

I am doing better this year than I was 12 months ago …24 months ago.

Elohei is walking with me through this journey.

So are my friends.

I am blessed; I could not have come this far without any of them – they are all important, and necessary in their own way.

I read declarations of love on our granddaughter’s FB Pages.

KRISA: My mind swirls like the storm

Thoughts of him drifting around

Winds blow softly carrying his voice

Different shades of blue mixing

Reminding me of his eyes

Yet no shade of blue reminds me more

Than the eyes reflected back in the mirror

Those memories of him linger

As a fresh wound only to scab over

Yet to be seen as a reminder

That yes it has happened

Hurting you so deep

Though healing slowly that it scars

To always remind you

That he was there

That he is still there

Deep within the scars

That lie beneath the surface

Siting on your heart and soul

Never forgotten

Always there

Forever more

Today as the snow falls softly on the ground, I am reminded that today marks the 2 year anniversary of the passing of my grandfather. A man I’ve always looked up to. A man that meant so much to me that it’s hard to see the world without him. So much so that I see him in every part of my life. To the shades of blue in the sky, the blue of the ocean, even in my own eyes do I see his. The whispering of the wind as soft has his voice, wrapping me in a warmth of comfort. His laughter lingers even now in the back of my mind and even so when I talk to my dad, who sounds so much like him. Though grandpa may be gone, he will forever live in the hearts and minds of his loved ones.

I miss him always.

Both kids, and all the grandkids have Bob’s facial features: they all have his Asian eyes, and all the granddaughter’s have his chin. Both our daughter, and our only grandson, have his cleft chin.

I am glad Bob continues to live on.

Bob as a teenager: I did not know Bob at this time – his middle sister sent me this picture; I am thankful to glimpse a part of Bob’s life before I was in it.

September 1967; Bob’s Senior Picture – Bell’s Photography Studio used Bob’s picture as the poster picture for the ‘ideal class picture’ on their PNW Photo Shoots.

1973 Christmas. Bob & Alex; this picture was taken at his parent’s house 3 months before I met Bob.

December 1981; after Bob died his 2nd death in September, and was healing at home. Stacey (6 yo), Alex (11 yo) & Bob (32).

2003 Family gathering at Merry's; Alex, Bob, and granddaughters Brianna (Alex’s daughter) & Alyna (Stacey’s daughter).

Stacey & Azariah. July 2014. Aza a few days old.

July 2014; Azariah – Bob’s mini-me: a carbon copy of Bob, in every way.

November 2020; Alex’s daughter, Krisalee – our first grandchild. She has Bob’s facial features, and her eyes are the same color as Bob’s – the only difference being, Bob’s eyes had mesmerizing gold flecks in the iris’ that pulsed and danced around his pupils.

ALYNA: At 8:05 this morning the world lost the kindest, the most loving soul. Rest in peace Papa. I love you so much and you are missed.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B9g35fMP8u0 , https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T5VnNTtaRHQ , https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iv_5iJr_Gq8)

I have had two dreams that I feel have been messages to me, impressing upon me that I have got to get busy moving forward without looking back. The first dream was January 23^rd, this year …

(https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2020/01/disturbing-dream.html)

The second dream was a few days ago, and it jolted me awake – it was that real.

For whatever reason, I had been at some beach, sitting in a beach chair on a sandy stretch – thinking Bob would have enjoyed the day, and view.

At some point I must have fallen asleep, because I woke up with a start when the tide had come in … up to my chest. I rose up out of the chair, but because I am petite, the water was still quite high as I stood. I was trying not to panic. Water unnerves me under normal circumstances – I do not like water; not even getting my toes wet in the surf.

Water and spending time at the beach, was Bob’s thing; not mine.

In this dream, I was having difficulty turning around to slog to safer ground.

The ocean seemed endless and fearsome, stretching out to the horizon before me … and the beach was quickly disappearing behind me, as the surf rose and covered the sandy stretch.

I can swim – but not well. And certainly not in an ocean surge.

Water looks deceptively soft and easy to cut through; but in reality, is it heavy and solid … and very hard to walk through when it is rising and settling.

I remember, in my dream, thinking that I knew I had to get out of the rising waves, or I would never survive.

And that was when I woke up, and sat up in bed – thankful I was in our bed, in familiar surroundings … with no water in sight.

I also knew the dream was a message.

January’s dream was impressing on me that I couldn’t sit around waiting for Bob (the memory of Bob’s love) to rescue me.

I have to rescue me.

I have to climb out of the wreckage of my life.

I have to rely on the survival skills I’ve honed, to rescue me.

This recent dream was impressing on me that I need to find newer pastimes that reflect my personality, not so much Bob’s

I spent lot of 2020 revisiting places that meant something to Bob – or that were tied to the past where Bob and I spent time together.

Those aren’t necessarily bad things … but they are hampering me from moving forward; and that is emotionally crippling.

Revisiting places and memories are okay – but setting up camp there is not okay. Sitting and enjoying the view and the warmth those memories invoke are comforting; but getting too comfortable can catch you off guard when the waves creep in.

I need to stay focused.

I need to be alert in the moment.

I need to be balanced in time and presence.

Both dreams, though different in locale and purpose … carried the same message.

In the first dream, Bob was present – then he left: I didn’t see him again.

In the second dream, I was alone – with memories of Bob.

Bob isn’t here; Bob isn’t coming back.

Bob has been gone in every way possible for 24 months.

Today, December 14^th, is the 2 year mark.

Memories is not a healthy place to live.

It’s time to turn the page and start writing a new life story.

WIDOWHOOD IS …

This spoke to me. It’s very accurate.

“Widowhood is more than missing your spouse’s presence. It is adjusting to an alternate life. It is growing around a permanent amputation.

Widowhood is going to bed for the thousandth time, and still, the loneliness doesn’t feel normal. The empty bed a constant reminder. The night no longer brings intimacy and comfort, but the loudness of silence and the void of connection.

Widowhood is walking around the same house you have lived in for years and it no longer feeling like home. Because “home” incorporated a person. And they’re not there. Homesickness fills your heart and the knowledge that it will never return haunts you.

Widowhood is seeing all your dreams and plans you shared as a couple crumble around you. The painful process of searching for new dreams that include only you amount to climbing Mount Everest. And every small victory of creating new dreams for yourself includes a new shade of grief that their death propelled you to this path.

Widowhood is second guessing everything you thought you knew about yourself. Your life had molded together with another’s and without them you have to relearn all your likes, hobbies, fears, goals. The renaissance of a new person makes you proud and heartbroken simultaneously.

Widowhood is being a stranger in your own life. The unnerving feeling of watching yourself from outside your body, going through the motions of what was your life, but being detached from all of it. You don’t recognize yourself. Your previous life feels but a vapor long gone, like a mist of a dream you begin to wonder if it happened at all.

Widowhood is the irony of knowing if that one person was here to be your support, you would have the strength to grieve that one person. The thought twists and confuses you. If only they were here to hold you and talk to you, you’d have the tenacity to tackle this unwanted life. To tackle the arduous task of moving on without them.

Widowhood is missing the one person who could truly understand what is in your heart to share. The funny joke, the embarrassing incident, the fear compelling you or the frustration tempting you. To anyone else, you would have to explain, and that is too much effort, so you keep it to yourself. And the loneliness grows inside you.

Widowhood is struggling with identity. Who are you if not their spouse? What do you want to do if not the things you planned together? What brand do you want to buy if not the one you two shared for all those years? What is your purpose if the job of investing into your marriage is taken away? Who is my closest companion when my other half isn’t here?

Widowhood is feeling restless because you lost your home, identity, partner, lover, friend, playmate, travel companion, co-parent, security, and life. And you are drifting with an unknown destination.

Widowhood is living in a constant state of missing the most intimate relationship. No hand to hold. No body next to you. No partner to share your burden.

Widowhood is being alone in a crowd of people. Feeling sad even while you’re happy. Feeling guilty while you live. It is looking back while moving forward. It is being hungry but nothing sounding good. It is every special event turning bittersweet.

Yes. It is much more than simply missing their presence. It is becoming a new person, whether you want to or not. It is fighting every emotion mankind can feel at the very same moment and trying to function in life at the same time.

Widowhood is frailty. Widowhood is strength. Widowhood is darkness. Widowhood is rebirth.

Widowhood …

Is life changing."

I PROMISED …

Tonight, sorrow hit me big time – half an hour ago I started crying, and I can’t stop.

Memories hit fast and furious as my mind replayed the events of tonight, in 2018.

Memories … even hard ones, are priceless treasures.

2 years ago, at this time, after everyone had left Bob’s room and gone back to their homes … I held Bob’s hand and played music through the night on the Notebook. Bob liked Southern Gospel, so that is what I stuck to; with some easy listening country music that spoke of the glories that awaited him on his fast-approaching-journey.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qSi7WYp1KPY)

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2oFRB7qnSsA)

Bob and I never grieved his passing.

I don’t grieve his passing today.

BUT I DO MISS BOB.

I am glad he is no longer suffering … but I miss seeing his face, touching him, looking into his beautiful eyes, kissing his mouth, cuddling into his embrace; making love.

I know he’s better off.

I just miss everything that summed up his life, here; with me while he was mine.

And tomorrow, I will be much better: I promised that to Bob.

I never lied to Bob. Ever.

Tonight, I am sorrowing – tomorrow morning, after 8:05 AM – I’ll start soldering up and marching forward again.

I promised.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xcpjSMmWUDw) 

And I never lied to Bob.

SEEING THE GOOD IN EVERY SITUATION

Sometimes you spot the good in a situation right off the bat.

Sometimes you gotta look real hard to find it.

Sometimes you begin to foster doubts there is any good at all.

And more times than not … you have to psych yourself into believing in the good.

I’ve been doing a lot of psyching the last few weeks.

The psyching has started to pay off 😉

I keep my thoughts positive. No matter what I am dealing with.

Wednesday, I didn’t need a morning Ibuprofen (I am going to credit the ginger-water I’ve been drinking for this happy occurrence). There was some discomfort, but it was not searing pain. I was able to sweep the bedroom floor without any lip-biting-pain in my hip or lower leg shin bone. I have basically been living in the bedroom (lying flat on my back in bed most of the day; getting up periodically to walk around the house to stay flexible) since this thing with my leg began a month ago; the floor needed sweeping.

After the sweeping, I decided that since I was not feeling gripping pain, I should walk to the kitchen and try to make up a batch of homemade Cocoa Mix. Hersey’s cocoa powder is very beneficial heath-wise: it’s very good for asthmatics, and it reduces inflammation. Cocoa also aids with better blood flow to the brain to keep it functioning healthily – while lowering blood pressure; and it levels out cholesterol and blood sugar levels. Cocoa can also keep the heart healthy, and reduce risk of strokes.

Chocolate has been proven to beat back the gloomies brought on by dark and dreary days – very important here in the PNW when gray clouds hang over our heads during the monsoon season.

(https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/07/homemade-cocoa-mix.html)

I thought maybe I’d have to mix the homemade cocoa mix up in staggered moments – but I was able to get it done all in one fell swoop 😉

Because whatever pain I did experience was tolerable, I also skipped the afternoon Ibuprofen dosage. I did, however, take 3 Ibuprofen tablets at bedtime with my cup of cocoa.

Thursday, I woke up pretty good pain-wise. So, I walked 1,000 paces around the house; watered my houseplants, laid around on the bed lost in a Novel, between periodic walkabouts throughout the house … and considered walking to the mailbox Friday afternoon.

Thursday was a tolerable day – I didn’t use any Ibuprofen at all.  I drank ginger-water and massaged my hip-thigh-calf-shin when they ached … and I had a pretty easy day 😊

I am thankful for the prayers I know people are praying for me.

Friday, I took a pretty pain-free shower; drank a cup of lemon-green tea, and started the laundry – no Ibuprofen. Around noon, I walked to the mailbox fairly loose and easy … and received the hospital bill. I called the Financial Office in Vancouver as soon as I got back home.

Hospital Bill ... doctor fees not included. NO WAY I can pay this. And it irks me that all I got out of this $2,319.85 bill was to be told I am getting old! My mirror tells me that every day, for free.

I had to drive into town to the Post Office (I rarely mail anything, so I do not keep stamps on hand), and that concerned me. I hadn’t been using Ibuprofen since Wednesday evening, and I knew my left leg would be held in a stationary position during the drive … I would not be able to pull over and lie down to back the pain down if it started deviling me on the drive into town.

I was between a rock and a hard place.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7k4ujBGRGf8)

I knew Bob had driven with a bad back, and a hurtful left leg, our entire married life: I married him with the possibility of him ending up in a wheelchair, hanging over our heads. I let my thoughts dredge up how he handled driving to and from work every day … how he drove into Longview on shopping forays … how he drove for those daytrips, mini-vaca’s, extended vaca’s; and across the USA, from one coast to the other.

If he could do it – so could I.

So, I swallowed 3 Ibuprofen tablets, grabbed my backpack purse, the key fob, my ginger-water ... and said, “Yeshua, I trust You: I love You. Be my pilot – get me there and back again without a wreck. Thank You.”

I don't live my life in fear; I don't allow fear to take root.

My leg did cramp up halfway there because I have not been doing a lot of sitting; and my leg and hip were not used to being in the position they were forced into on the drive; with a punishing seat-belt further doing damage to my touchy hip nerve. But I rubbed my lower leg, and prayed that when I reached the Post Office, I would find a parking spot without cruising the parking lot for half an hour waiting for a spot to open up. It’s the Christmas Season – it was gonna be busier than Hell.

Elohim was merciful, and Yeshua favored me: I got a free spot as close to the Post office as I could – practically at the door 😊

The line moved quickly (I sent ‘Thank You!’ heavenward, again), and I was in and out in record time.

Back in the Park, I decided to drop off the coke cans I have had in the backend of the Highlander waiting to be dropped at the Hospice Can Drop. Bob wasn’t ever in hospice … but his Dad was; so, I do this to honor him – and to help other families who will be facing what I have been dealing with for 28 months.

Friday was a very busy day – busier than it has been in a month’s time. But aside from leaning on Yeshua; I only relied on 3 Ibuprofen, and ginger-water to get me through. I enjoyed a mug of cocoa with ½ teaspoon of cinnamon powder sprinkled in it at bedtime.

I slept like a baby.

Today, I was able to sit at the table (a little discomfort, but not enough to make me stand up again) for a light Supper of Pea Soup and half a Cheese Sandwich. No Ibuprofen at all.

I spent a couple minutes reflecting on where I was emotionally, today, last year – I didn’t spend all day dwelling on it, but I did think on it.

(https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/12/in-17-hours15-minutes-everything-ended.html)

I started a new read this morning:

New read

Things seem to be on the upswing.

And I’ve dropped 5 more pounds 😊

If I continue to take it easy, do my sciatica exercises, and nourish my body with anti-inflammatory foods/beverages … this thing should stop deviling me.

I have a life to live: laying on my back staring at the ceiling – or walking grooves in my flooring is not penciled in long-term.