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.
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 ;-)
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.
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 intensitythat 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 1st’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 14th, 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 1st 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.
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.
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’.
Going to Keenagers is not a do-or-die thing … but, it IS “a destination”; it fleshes out my Wednesdays – it gives me something to do/people to see 1 day a week. And people there are happy to see me: THAT makes me happy. And, I’m happy to see them too – we’re sharing our lives. It’s a destination. It may seem like a small thing to some people, but, you know … everyone has ‘a destination'. Men go to work, they come home – destinations; women go to work too, and they come home: sometimes, they go to their children’s’ games & come home. Sometimes they go to PTO meetings & come home. Sometimes they go to the mall & come home. These are all “destinations”.
Destination location connection came to a halt in my life last December – my “destinations” ended: I had no where to go/no where to be. I was at home … but, I didn’t feel “at home”; there was no “destination” feeling. I was at loose ends. Our home was incomplete. Bob was missing. Bob IN our home, made it our home – Bob was my “destination connection”.
And Bob is no longer here in the flesh, helping me flesh out my days.
So, I am slowly filling my new life with new places, new people, and new things to do – new “destination” points. And, sometimes I revisit old places because they are familiar; and they are “home” to my heart: there are “destination” ties in those old places. And sometimes I revisit familiar people and do familiar things for the same “familiar destination” connection.
So, today, I drove to Eden Valley.
Again.
I was missing Bob real bad this morning when I woke up. The {missing feeling} was intense – it actually started to scare me with the intensity: I can’t describe it, but it was a strange thing. So, I decided to go to Eden Valley on the spur-of-the-moment: I needed that “home destination” connection.
Bob is my first real heartache – I can’t put into words the feeling: he didn’t deliberately break my heart because he didn’t deliberately leave me. His longevity number was called last Fall … and the Grim Reaper collected before Winter kicked in; Bob’s leaving wasn’t a choice, so his breaking my heart was not intentional. Bob is really the first loss I have ever felt in my life. I mean, I have lost other people in my life, BUT it’s different. I can’t explain how it’s different other than to say, the absence of Bob in my life tears at my heart different than the absence of anyone else in my life. Maybe because his absence is a permanent one – he’s gone for good. I don’t know if that is why it’s different; I just know that it’s different. It hurts different. I miss him different. He affected my life different. Bob was my first real true love. And he’s my first real true loss.
It tears my heart up differently.
It was a beautiful day to make the drive – the sky was robin-egg-blue: not a cloud in the sky. The air was crisp, but not cold. It was a perfect Fall day. Aside from Bob’s cremains being in the family cemetery there, that area had always been a comfort to me: for as long as I can remember, and I have lived in this region for 54 years … and walked along the highway to visit Graysriver, Rosburg, Pillar Rock, Eden Valley, & Altoona for just about as long – sometimes, I even walked to Naselle.But, I am not a teenager anymore; now I drive that highway. I hoped the roads would be open and clear, and I would be able to get through with little to no hassle. Sometimes there are land slides along the road, which closes the road – sometimes, there is flooding in the Valley … which makes driving dicey if you aren’t familiar with driving through flooded areas (Bob was – I am not; I would have to turn back). I prayed real hard before I left the house; and asked my FB friends to pray for me too. I wanted out of town and into country destination connection; I wanted to visit our Plot Block and make sure everything was how it should be, and that there wasn’t anymore knock-overs, tip-overs, or otherwise damage in our Plot Block (a few months ago, the solar lamp I had placed was gone when I went to visit … and it was several feet from where it had been placed; the stake end had been snapped off). It can get windy there, and I believe Elk and Deer meander through the cemetery too, so I just wanted to go make sure that everything was how it should be.
There was road work along the way, between Bunker Hill & Abernathy. It looked to me that a tree had either fallen across the road and has to be removed … or it had been taken down for powerline safety concerns. Whatever, the reason, there was evidence that a tree had been down and cleared.
I KNOW Bob is not actually in Eden Valley, but it’s an {honor} thing with me to go there and tend to our Plot Block. And, it is a nice leisurely drive in the country; where my thoughts can unwind, my heart can be soothed, and my body can relax.
So, every couple of weeks, I drive to Eden Valley for that “destination connection”. Keenager’s or other Senior thingees are just things to do.Eden Valley is “home” – my destination location.
Eventually, I, too, will end up there – together again.
I brought a box of mixed perennial Crocuses to plant in our plot area. They’ll brighten the area in the Spring, and should die back before the caretakers arrive to mow the grass.
The cemetery soil bent my planting spade!
Marker Ivy switched out for a new Solar Lamp/Klitchy Christmas Tree/& a Kissing Ball for placement markers
Appeal to Bob & Yeshua.
Beautiful Fall Day
Evergreens for Christmas
Stand of Alder Trees
This side of Heaven, it’s the BEST place to be.
I have destination connection there ;-)
There were a few highlights to see along the way, on my way home.
A fisherman in the river near the Covered Bridge - he was moving at a pretty good clip in his motorized raft-boat.
Back home, after I took the evergreen limbs out of the back of the car, I decided to bring into the house the Christmas Stars Bob had made for me 6 years ago at our last home – I’ll put them up next week, after Thanksgiving.
And I also brought in from the shed, the small tarp too: that will be spread on the foyer floor to dry the Christmas Swag on, after I remove it from the front porch railing with the dawning of the New Year.
Lifting the stars, I noticed that the blue bin lid looked to be stained. Hmmm. Not sure how or what … but I rubbed Gojo goop on it and it cleaned up pretty good ;-)
Gooped bin lid – it was stained; looks like a leak sat on it for a while.
Stain gone :-D
But seeing the stain got me to wondering – so I went out into the shed to see if there had been a leak: didn’t see any evidence of it, so maybe that stain happened at the last house: it is Bob’s bin, who knows what the heck was spilled on it.
I didn't see any wet spots; hopefully there is not a hidden leak ... I should save $$$$$ and get the shed finished up inside.
But it is clean now, and the Eggplant plant I brought out of the shed and into the house a few weeks ago, sits on top of it in the Livingroom now. I am experimenting to see what outside plants I can keep alive inside over-winter. So far, my experimental over-wintering indoors includes 7 potted herb plants, 2 potted coleus’, and 1 potted Eggplant plant. Everything seems to be thriving, though their actual destination locations will be outside come Spring ;-)
Eggplant plant on Bob’s blue bin.
And I am happy to see that my Video Feature on the phone is “talking” with the laptop again – and the videos are making their ‘destination location’ connection too. ((((HAPPY!))))It has been a bummer couple of months without the use of that feature; glad to see it working again :-D
We started our life together on the cusp of the dawning Autumn.
The Autumn of 1974 was full of love and promise.
Bob liked the Moody Blues; his favorite song by this band was, ‘Nights in White Satin’ - but, I think this song sums up our life from start to finish.
Bob started leaving me; and our life together, the Autumn of 2018.
I am trying real hard to enjoy this season again – Fall used to be my favorite time of year.
I always liked Fall.
I could breathe in the Fall; my asthmatic lungs do not have to work so hard to overcompensate for the searing summer heat – in the crisp, chill air of Fall, I could breathe deeply and easily.
This day, last year; around noon, Bob’s struggling body couldn’t even tolerate the liquefied food stuffs the hospital was pumping into him through the feeding tube – it was removed:
He had vomited all night long and had had 6 liters of bile fluids drained from his stomach in the morning, in hopes the discomfort and nausea would abate ...
I went into the hospital hallway and cried. His body NEEDED to be able to keep nutritional foods down, and not vomit it back up.
Edema was severely swelling him from his toes to his chest, despite the massaging leg cuffs:
His hands and arms were beginning to swell too. It seemed to me to be a cruel irony because he had lost 60 pounds since September. He had no muscle tone at all because he had been laying abed for so long. Because he was also severely malnourished and so hepped up on potent narcotics to alleviate the pancreatic pain, he could barely stand to do the physical therapy the physicians insisted he attempt.
It was breaking my heart to watch that insidious illness try to break my gentle giant.
And yet, through it all, Bob continued to affirm his deep and abiding trust in Elohei; and clung to Yeshua’s healing atonement at Calvary. While I stuffed my mouth with my fist and cried in the hallway, where my husband could not hear me – I remember thinking that though we knew that Faith is the substance of things hoped for and not yet seen, it would be nice to SEE faith happening in the here and now. That affliction was horrible to experience – and to watch Bob experience: truthfully, ‘horrible’ is so inadequate a word to try to describe this thing that held us in its grip. If it were not for our absolute faith in Elohim, and knowing that HE had it all in hand …
It was hard not to get discouraged.
We needed a miracle.
The physicians parading in and out of Bob’s hospital room all said that pancreatitis is an illness that cannot be cured; and rebounding from it is a long, drawn-out process to bring it under control. Not a single physician had a clue as to WHY Bob had been struck with it. They kept mentioning gall-stones, but there was no evidence of gall-stone activity. There was evidence of poly cysts on his pancreas; those would need to be drained, but first they had to “rind over”.
The doctors here all knew they were in over their heads with Bob’s situation – they said as much. Several times. But there was not yet a bed free at OHSU; there were, however, many phone consultations between our local hospital here and OHSU, in Oregon, as to how to proceed forward until Bob could get to OHSU.
Meanwhile, Bob continued to show a rallying example of faithful fortitude – he never, not even for a second, doubted Elohim or broke faith with Yeshua. Bob was always upbeat – even when physically drained from the violent vomiting. He continued to tell everyone who came into his room about his salvation experience in 1981 – when Elohim brought him back from his second death which was 25 minutes long before he resurrected on the gurney headed to the morgue. He told them also that he was ready to go Home, if that was what Elohim had in mind this time around.
Watching my husband, and listening to him, I was feeling a mixture of powerful emotions: I was thankful that Yeshua was helping us to be upbeat despite sorrow being our constant companion; I was proud that Bob was refusing to allow death to beat him down – I was even a little proud of myself that I could stand with my husband; strong for him, with him. Yes, I cried. But I never fell apart. Elohim was faithful – He held us up and steeled us to face what we were facing with absolute Faith.
The Grim Reaper forced himself into our lives and dug in. Grief, death’s constant companion also planted itself in our life; we had to learn how to live with it. It wasn’t going anywhere: it had unpacked and was hunkered in for the duration.
I think back on that time and marvel that Bob was able to face his own death with such a strong resolve. That I was able to let go without hysteria – that I am able to function coherently now. THAT IS THE MIRACLE that eluded us September thru December 2018. The miracle in Bob's life, during that horrific time, was that he could face his death without being gripped by fear. The miracle in my life is that I could face death with my husband without losing it to trauma drama ... and I am able to get on with life when I wasn't sure I could without Bob.
11 months/5 days/6 hours & 30 minutes.
And I am able to stand without being supported by Jack Daniels and the Marlboro Man: didn’t even need to call on them. I had thought that I might fall back on old habits ... and I even shared that fear with others ... but, thanks to the faithful love of Elohim and the saving grace of Yeshua, that never happened. I never even felt the urge to reacquaint myself with those numbing agents of Grief.
THAT’S FAITH in action.
We always trusted Elohim 100% with our life – individual or joined – and while The Grim Reaper crashed our party, and Grief wrote the concerto we were forced to dance to … Yeshua was always the Master. And HE covered us with His wings and sang over us. For every unknown & uncertain faltering dance steps we were stumbling with – HE came alongside us and taught us how to make the discomforting tune our own, and how to bend the orchestrated steps into our own unique masterpiece. We may have been dealing with an unruly party-crasher and a troublesome sidekick, but Elohim was always in control of the situation, and Yeshua turned disastrous circumstances into something uniquely beautiful: rather than highlighting the unimaginable suffering and jaw clenching pain (the reason for the potent narcotics being pumped into him) Bob’s impending death became beauty in action as death was pushed to the back and the glory of Elohei was brought to the forefront. I remember the afternoon Bob looked at me, with a cool damp washcloth draped over his fevered bald head to help stave off nausea, and said, “There are so many people coming in and out of this room Val; maybe I’m going through this because someone needs to hear my testimony and know that Yeshua loves them.” In that moment, I KNEW that Bob had made peace with his approaching death.
And I determined to do the same.
What is death?
What is life?
They are both only a breath in time; gone in the blink of an eye.
Either can be as hard … or as easy ... as we choose to make them.
Bob had come to terms with his impending death, and made peace with it:he was allowing Elohim to use him as a tool to reach someone’s heart with the message of Yeshua’s great love, and salvation.
From then on, I determined only to make this passage from one life to the next, as easy for my husband as I possibly could.
I started spending all day and all night in his room: I was there ‘round the clock, leaving him only when there were examinations to be done – I didn’t want the attendants to be tripping over me, and they always appreciated that thoughtfulness – and came to get me from the lounge when they were finished. Despite the physician’s pep talks, the attending nurses knew we were dealing with dwindling time together: they went out of their way to ease that concept for us. It was thoughtful. It was compassionate. I was thankful.
The Specter of Death was merciless in its dramatic appearance in our lives. Grief was a hard task master, driving us with its unwelcome dance lessons. Balancing time with Grief while trying to outpace Death’s demands became emotionally, physically, and spiritually draining. We were caught up in a morose waltz that suddenly had us twirling in a dizzying cadence – the dance steps were tricky and we found ourselves lightheaded with the frenzied activity. We had always enjoyed dancing … but, that November: not so much.
This time, last year was very challenging.
As long as I live, I will never forget the harsh Fall & ensuing separating Winter of 2018.
August 28th, 2018, Bob & I were busy living our life, planning future activities of enjoyment. If death had been stalking us, we weren’t aware of the Reaper’s unwanted attentions. Grief never even gave a whispered hint. August 29th, around noon, Bob had finished crafting the last garden box he would ever make me this side of Heaven; and we had, together, placed it in line along the borderline with the other 12 boxes that would give me a full-sized-garden gardening area. Mid-afternoon, ron cook placed a call to candy scott … and candy showed up on our front porch where Bob was taking a break, sitting on the carved Coho Bench. She started screaming that the boxes had not been approved by her, and she was waving highlighted papers at him, shouting that the rain barrels were illegal because they did not have lids on them, and had not been ‘professionally installed’ ... and ron was freaked out thinking apples and tomatoes would fall on his landscaping rock. Bob called for me to come out on the porch. I assessed the situation – saw that Bob was physically shaken due to the overload of stress candy had just dumped on him after a physically taxing day – and I asked her what was going on. She then started screaming at me, and I held up my hand, saying, “You need to stop screaming; you are upsetting my husband, and he can’t be stressed like this. First off … the garden boxes were already approved by the previous Manager – we made sure of that before we bought this house: we don’t need your approval: they are already ‘approved’; secondly, the rain barrels have lids – if you will shut up long enough to look down the side of the house, you can clearly SEE the lids on them.” She refused to acknowledge the previous approval, and she would not turn her head to look down the side of the house to see that rain barrels did indeed have lids on them – she continued to wave those stupid papers and screech like a demented chimp with shit in its hand. I finally told her she would have to leave, and that if she came back, I would sic a lawyer on her. She left – we came into the house. Bob went to lay down and calm down. August 30th, Bob woke up and said he didn’t feel good – and he staggered down the hallway, where he promptly threw up in the toilet. I insisted he go to ER; he argued: we went. The 14th garden box never got built ...
By 1:30 PM, August 30th, 2018, we were reeling with the news that he was dying.
I remember staring dumbly at the ER talking head and thinking, “Is this real?” I opened my mouth, and asked, “Why? How? He hasn’t been sick! We just got back from a mini vaca around the Olympic Peninsula – he was fine!What the hell?”
Stress-induced pancreatitis.
That affliction careened out of control with the recent front-porch drama.
My thoughts then towards ron and candy were not good ones – they definitely were not even Christian ones …
Later that afternoon, August 30th, 2018, when Bob was shifted from an ER cubicle to an ICU room upstairs, Bob was indeed dying. Right in front of me. And he did not want to be drugged out of his mind (literally – he was having hallucinations due to the drugs they filled his body with), he did not want to be hooked up to all that machinery. He did not want to be there at all – he wanted to die at home. Looking at my husband, I regretted forcing him to go to ER. I remembered our death discussions spanning 3 decades, and I made an executive decision: I would honor my husband’s wishes to die the way he chose. I told the physician standing at my elbow, “He does not want any of this. Take it all off him and do not give him any more drugs.” The physician argued – I was insistent; everything was removed and drugs were halted. I said, “If he makes it to tomorrow and decides he does want the machines and the drugs after all, then start it all up again. But for now, right now tonight … no more.” And that is what happened. Bob came through the night and decided that he still wanted the DNR in effect, but he would agree to treatment as long as it did not involve actual resuscitation steps.
And that decision, Bob made, is what led to last year’s November 19th, ordeal. That I am remembering on today’s 1-year Memory Anniversary.
But neither of those two hellish minions expected us to cleave to Faith’s assurances like we did/do.
While Grief has been my constant companion these past 11 months/5 days/6 hours & 30 minutes, it is losing its death-grip on me – I am learning, with the faithfulness of Elohim’s compassion and Yeshua’s ‘peace that passes all understanding’ how to shake the debilitating effects of grief off. I am in the process of healing – and every day I get a little stronger Grief gets a little weaker: pretty soon, due to lack of attention, Grief won’t be so forceful or demanding. Grief will always be lurking in the shadows, but it won’t be able to paralyze me like it did those first empty heartbreaking months.
This time, last year, I boldly fought against Grief. I had to – Bob depended on me to be strong; to help him face Death boldly, confidently: as a united front, as we had always faced challenging situations and circumstances since joining our lives together 44 years ago. I was wise enough to understand that Grief would always be in my life from here on out … and Bob wouldn’t. I could deal with Grief later: I needed to be in the moment with my husband; this time, last year.
So, I packed a duffel bag with a novel, a knitting project, some juices, and the ipad; and started camping in Bob’s hospital room where we could look at each other all day and all night long; we could talk without watching the clock; we could hold hands; we could kiss; I stroked his bald head; I could feast my eyes on him while he slept – and his eyes would see me as soon as he woke up.
We were together.
Yet, we were separating.
It was challenging.
My thoughts were filled with Autumn memories this time, last year: Bob was born on the cusp of Autumn 1949; I first laid eyes on Bob’s face in the Autumn of 1966; we married on the cusp of Autumn of 1974; our ‘honeymoon-baby’ pregnancy was confirmed the Autumn of 1974; our granddaughter was born the Autumn of 1995; we moved back to our local area the Autumn of 1995; Bob retired the cusp of Autumn 2011. Bob started slipping away from me the Autumn of 2018.
And life would never be the same for us again.
My life seems to have revolved around Autumn.
All of my life will now always be ‘Forever Autumn’.
