Rain is falling; and rainfall is melodiously
making its way down the gutters to the drainpipes.
Geese are flying overhead, loudly honking as
they announce the seasonal shift of change in their life.
These things, in their simplicity, don’t mean
very much.
Life cycles.
Rain steadily falls in the Fall.
Geese fly south in the Fall.
2020 will wrap up in 73 days.
It’s all simple logistics.
But to my observations, things are a bit deeper
– the simplicity is a bit more complex.
Last year I barely noticed the rainfall;
melodious, or not.
I did not want to notice the rainfall: I had
laid Bob’s cremains in our cemetery plot in Eden Valley and didn’t want to
think about rainfall saturating the ground there.
Last Fall & Winter, I deliberately numbed
my thought process: I had slipped my senses into neutral and was in survival
mode.
This year, I bumped things up into 1st
gear and cruised life’s loose gravel roads at a comfortable speed … a little
bumpy, sometimes a ‘pinging’ reminder I needed to slow things down a little, but
otherwise enjoyable. My senses are not so numb: I’m noticing more – my senses
are more in tune with daily observances.
The rain, this year, mimics notable areas of
my new life: perky revitalizing refreshment, cooling attitude adjustment, a washing
away of accumulated debris.
Very necessary.
Very welcome.
The migrating geese are actively changing their
environment and going where they will thrive.
I, too, am in the process of changing my
environment to find a place where I will be welcome to thrive – this is no easy
feat.
But it is very necessary.
And it will be very welcome.
Some changes took place immediately as
survival mode kicked in the first 4 hours of my new life.
Some changes are still occurring as necessity
arises.
However, I am not changing everything; and
some things will never change.
I have kept a few ‘special’ things that
belonged to Bob, and special to me – not because they are anything extraordinary
… but simply because they were things that belonged to Bob: the car and
house, as he requested, I do, while we together faced his imminent physical death.
A baseball hat he wore, a snub piece of lead pencil – the last thing his
fingers touched – the last thing he used when he designed and crafted things
for my pleasure (the remodeling of an entire house 7 years ago: the garden
boxes I use at this house – the last 3 finished just before ron’s
ridiculousness that sent him to ER/ICU in August of 2018 and the rain barrel
stands he built for me in June of 2018, with our grandson watching and copying
his grandpa’s moves, with his own plastic battery operated drill); how long
I hang onto these things is optional. For the moment, they remain in-house.
I have kept some tools that I may need in my
solo lobo life. I have kept things Bob carved the first 2 years of our married
life – a skill taught him by his Grandfather Smalley. These things will always remain
in my possession – when I use the tools, or look at the things he worked with
his hands … my mind’s eye sees again Bob’s hands in motion: Bob is alive to
me again.
My heart will always keep and safeguard the wonderful
memories Bob faithfully and lovingly made for me while sharing his life with me
for 44 years.
These things are special to me because they meant
something to Bob, and my life was also touched by them.
I was somebody special to Bob.
These memories don’t mean anything to our
children.
Their memories of their father are very different
than my memories of their father – and they have been very precise in making
sure I understand that their memories are not as wonderful as mine.
They have been very calculating in
transmitting to me that I am a nobody in their eyes.
That’s too bad; Bob was a wonderful man.
I am a pretty wonderful person, myself: Bob
always told me so.
His children are not wonderful people – they used
their {‘my truth’ memories} as lethal weapons in the 19 months following their father’s
release from this world.
They intended to devastate me.
I was not devasted.
I was hurt – I won’t deny that.
I was very hurt that they would stoop to the
level they did, to highlight their hatred towards me; too stupid being
stoopids, uncomprehending that everything done for them was done 99% at my
request their father help them in situations and circumstances they created for
themselves – Bob was willing to let them stew in their own juices … but he
knew I loved them, and my mother’s heart wouldn’t rest until I knew they
were given help in ways we could help.
Bob knew they would never accept the help if
they knew the help was my idea: so, he never let on. He gave the help to them,
accepted their thanks … and held me at home while I cried with a broken heart
for ungrateful children who hated me with no explainable reason.
He loved me; he loved them.
He was a man caught in the middle, trying to
make the best of a bad situation.
I was a woman caught in the middle, trying to
make the best of a bad situation.
We were devoted lovers determined not to
allow anyone or anything to undermine and erode our life together.
For 44 years I loved a man who treasured me,
loved me unconditionally, and surrounded me always with his love: we placed our
love and US above everything else on Earth.
Bob was a trustworthy person in my life –
the only trustworthy person in my life, actually. Bob understood that I
gave him as much trust status as I could: Bob knew I loved him 99% (only Elohei
ever got 100%), and that I could only trust him 99% because my trust issues
are deep rooted.
There were no secrets between us; I trusted Bob
with my heart, and with my secrets – I told Bob why trusting people is hard for
me to do.
Bob understood me.
Bob loved me; and went out of his way to
prove I could trust him.
For 44 years I tried to help a boy who was
not my own flesh and blood. I was always verbally and physically rebuffed. Hated
because I dared to love his father. Hated because his father loved me. He couldn’t
ruin our lives (his father’s, mine, his sister’s), but he did make our
lives very hard. His poisoned texts following his father’s physical death, put
an end to a bitter 44 year struggle.
Again, and again, Alex proved his untrustworthiness.
I can’t have that in my life anymore.
Bob is no longer here to comfort me.
For 45 years I tried to love a girl who would
never accept me as her mother: in any way. I don’t know exactly when hate
gripped our daughter’s heart and set a pattern that would rule her life for
most of it to date … and I don’t really care anymore. I’m tired of trying to
figure it out – and expected to make amends. I’m tired of being her
switching bait. I’m tired of being the focus of all her anger. I’m tired of
being expected to apologize because I exist. I’m tired of being made to feel
worthless. Her poisoned verbal barbs; and her continual expulsion from her life …
most recent in July, finally put an end to a bitter (on her part) 36
year struggle.
Again, and again, Stacey has proven her untrustworthiness.
I can’t have that in my life anymore.
Bob is no longer here to comfort me.
And my heart can’t take anymore battering.
I miss my husband; what was … and what will
never be.
I miss my grandkids, and what could have been.
But I don’t miss their parents – and what was.
That’s sad.
But even so, the kid’s gifted me with the sadness.
Yes – it’s true: the kid’s bitter attacks and eventual abandonments have been unforeseen
gifts.
The sadness has taught me valuable lessons.
The sadness has pushed me to do as Bob knew I
could do.
Strength came disguised as harm.
2020 will wrap up in 73 days.
I will reach the 2 year mark in my widowing Solo
Lobo Journey, December 14th.
I have learned, in 22 months, how
to let go of the life I once knew.
Bob will always be a part of me: always.
Our lives were irrevocably intertwined. He left his fingerprints all over me –
inside and out. Though I may be the only one who ever knows they are there; those
fingerprints are to me what tattoos are to others. Nothing can erase them. They
may fade over time, and some may get lost in the wrinkles of time … but they
will always be there.
I will continue to make daytrip drives to
Eden Valley to visit the cemetery: but I won’t be going every month, as I
have been. I need to cut back on those visits if I want to heal 100%.
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vOGhAV-84iI)
I need to engage more in life happening
around me – that is what Bob told me to do. I have slowly been making progress
in that area of my life.
Now I need to actively engage more fully.
This time around, I will be engaging with experience.
I am not the shy teenager Bob fell in love with and married; loving Bob matured
me and gave me confidence. I am not interested in remarriage – and Bob, in
1974, had to convince me to marry him – I don’t mind carving out a
solo lobo life for myself. I do, however, miss companionship: talking
with someone who enjoys my company; sharing my life with another someone. And I
am trusting Elohim in that regard, to put someone in my life that is
comfortable with boundaries. I know I am not the only person who feels like
I do, and wants what I want. Elohim brought Bob with unconditional love, into
my life 44 years ago … Elohim will bring someone into my life, to share unconditional
companionship with, now – c.o.m.p.a.n.i.o.n.s.h.i.p., not romance; casual sex
doesn’t work for me – it never worked for me. And I’ve already stated I have no
plans for remarriage.
An immediate like will spring to life.
I’ll know when a new companion is dropped into my new
life: just like I knew when Bob crossed my path.
A different kind of relationship, to be sure …
but the same comfort level.
I have been spreading my wings with travel all
of 2020 – nothing extravagant or exotic; mostly local 1 to 3 hours Daytrip
drives. But I have learned to get comfortable with the GPS feature of the car.
I have learned to be comfortable thousands of miles from home base. I have
learned to be comfortable around strangers – to be in their presence, to speak
with them, to be ‘myself’ around them. I have learned to eat in public while
acutely conscious of the empty seat across/alongside from me: I have learned to
swallow without tearing up or crying. I have not yet spent the night away from
home (locally or in another State), as Bob and I would occasionally do …
but I’m working on psyching myself into that: eventually I will do
it. Bob knew I would do it – Bob encouraged me to do it, “You and I both
know, Honey, that anything you set your mind to do – gets done” & “Live,
Val”.
Bob, while his life was ebbing, encouraged me
to strengthen my resolve to ride the wave he could see approaching in the distance.
Bob could always read the water; and he knew that water always scared me
because I couldn’t read its movements. Watching Bob play around in deep water fascinated
me, and made me proud to be the girlfriend/wife of such an agile daredevil, and
handsome man. Personally, dipping my own toes in the shallows, and ‘riding the
wave’ terrifies me. Bob knew that because he knew me: Bob loved me. Bob,
while struggling to breathe in his final days on earth, went out of his way to
encourage me to engage in life.
He knew certain people would desert me.
He knew the kids would abandon me.
He knew I was capable of standing on my own 2
feet.
He knew his leaving would paralyze me for a
while.
He knew that eventually I would find my own
pace – set my own rhythm.
Bob knew I would be capable of rebuilding my
life without replacing his influence in my life.
Bob knew Yeshua was my Cornerstone; but he
(Bob) and the love he lavished me with for 44 years, would be my building block
… not my stumbling block. Our life had collapsed, but I would build my new life
on the foundation of the life he gave me.
With the remaining 17 days of 2018, I
secluded myself away from anyone and every other distraction: I took stock of
what was left of my shattered life.
I measured careful baby-stage milestones for the
12 months of 2019.
I took bolder toddler steps for the past 10
months of 2020.
The waning of 2020 will find me facing the
onset of adolescence.
It’s time to up the game and learn to get
comfortable with my growth.
I don’t know what 2021 has in store for me.
But I know that galvanizing heartache won’t
be part of it.
I am becoming somebody.
I will be somebody again.
Elohim specializes in making somebodies out
of nobodies 😉
