A Christmas tribute to my parents

This is my first Christmas without a living parent. My dad has been gone for six years and my mom since last March. It isn't new news. But it seems as if it is.

I've only realized lately how much of my emotions and memories of the season are tied up with them. What a gift I had in them as parents. Yes, they made mistakes, they were not always who I wanted them to be, but they always made Christmas a happy holiday,  right until the end.

Tonight Jon and I wrapped presents together. What a wonderful first that was. While we wrapped we played one of my mom's Christmas CD's. I suddenly found myself back in time, standing next to my dad in church while my mom played the organ, singing "Angels We Have Heard On High", with my dad in a suit of course, singing his heart out. "Making a squeaky noise to The Lord" is how he put it.  Some of my best memories of my dad are connected with the time I spent with him on Christmas Eve. I loved all of his perfect imperfections.

What a contrast to last year when I shared tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich with my mom  for dinner at her assisted living facility. A far cry from the standing rib roast I grew up with. And yet, she had a tree, presents for anyone who came in her room, and as always a joyful and grateful attitude. What an amazing woman.

She was, as my brother-in-law so eloquently put it, a Christmas person. Full of joy, generosity, and hope for the new year.

She gave me so many material things over the years, but the best gift she ever gave me had no monetary value. It was the gift of herself; the woman who could find joy and light in the darkest of times, and in a sincere manner. Because of her, I value and treasure my siblings more, as they are the only people on the earth who share my history. She taught me the lesson about letting go of the hurts and focusing on the good. I learned to keep track of people, even when they aren't part of your daily life. I learned that relationships are more important than being right. 

And oh how I wish she were here to rejoice in my new life with my Jon. She would relish in it. He was "a nice boy" and he still is.

I've said often that life is a paradox. It is a combination of the happiest of times, combined with the truly bittersweet.

Merry Christmas Momo and Boppie. I miss you both every day, but especially these days. Remember how Grandpa Gatwood used to say he didn't want his children and grandchildren to forget him? We didn't. And it continues. We all still think of you both every day  and miss you so much. I know that I speak for all of us when I say that there is comfort in knowing you are together in eternity.

That's a legacy. 

Until we meet again, I send you all my love and gratitude for a life well lived.

Alie Baby

On the journey

Starting again

A few months after Glenn died so suddenly, I had a tattoo of his very distinctive signature put on the top of my foot. (Knowing my mother would be horrified at me having a tattoo, I always made sure to wear socks when I visited her!)  Episcopal priests, and Anglican priests,  use their first initial or name, with a plus sign after it it. It is not a cross, but a plus sign. It is a throwback from the Reformation as a secret sort of symbol that the person was a member of the Church of England. My tattoo says, G+ and is followed by a semi- colon., done in red that symbolizes my belief in the Resurection. The semi-colon is my metaphor for, " My life has paused, but it will continue."

My life did pause...for quite awhile. During that time I worked on building a life and a home for myself, and becoming accustomed to the new normal that was thrust on me. Everything was different; there were no more his and her house duties- they were all mine. I did things around here I never knew I could do. I readjusted my thinking to saying "my" instead of"ours".  I bought a car, a hot tub, redecorated my home and did things I never dreamed I could do, such as scuba diving in Mexico, and attending social events and family events by myself.

Crazy as this sounds, I've learned so much. Watching Glenn die 30 minutes after he complained of a stomachache was horrifying and traumatic, and I worked hard to heal the PTSD I had from that event. It was not often easy, but I was blessed with the best friends and family anyone could ask for. Relationships between acquaintances and friends alike became deep and life- bonding. I got to know my children and their spouses as adults and cherished friends.I found out I'm a lot stronger than I thought. I know myself now, my strengths and weaknesses, better than I ever have before. I learned that tomorrow is another day and that life is short,unpredictable,  and meant to be lived fully.

As most of you know, as I came out the other side of this time, I was blessed and graced to find love again, in a most unlikely place, with my first love, my high school/early college boyfriend. What we have discovered is new, wonderful and magic, made even more special by knowing each other as friends for all these years. We aren't the same "kids" we were...life has scarred us, but it makes the love all that much more sweet.

Today at school, several friends joked that tonight was my "last night" of independence, because Jon is due to arrive tomorrow afternoon, for good. No more tearful airport goodbyes, or counting the "sleeps" until we are together again.

So tomorrow I will stock my refrigerator with real food again and await his arrival that signifies the start of our life together, full of both the mundane and the sublime.

Yes. My life paused. And now it starts again.

And I am so ready.

It Really Is The Small Stuff

Recently I posted a saying on Facebook that said something like, " Remember the small things because someday they will be huge." I am reminded today of how true that is.

I'm missing my mom a lot these days. Not the kind of debilitating grief one experiences with an untimely and unexpected death, but more of living with the day to day experiences of life.

Today I bought a new sewing machine. I've always loved to create things, and especially in the last ten years or so I have enjoyed the art of quilting. My mother taught me to sew when I was in junior high, and I also attended sewing classes- at Sears of course- so I know the basics and have self- taught the rest. My mom always loved the fact that I sewed and relished my quilting designs, imperfect as they were. Every machine I have had until today was a hand- me- down from her. The latest one was the one she bought to use in the winter in their Florida home. Even though it was modern for the time, I realized recently while fighting with it, that it is 33 years old, the same age as my daughter Emily.  So after a year or more of looking, I finally bit the bullet today. I didn't buy the uber expensive foreign models like she had, but it is a top of the line Singer. So far I'm thrilled and have spent much time fooling with it instead of doing Sunday work. While I was driving home, I so wanted to stop and tell her all about it. She would have been happy for me. I had to swallow a few times while driving.

Last Tuesday was the first day of school. She always made a big deal out of it, usually buying me a new top or something in celebration. Driving home that day it seemed so odd not to pick up the phone and call her to report in about my day. Thankfully my sister called me that night, anticipating that I would be missing her that day. I was so grateful.

The little things in life are what you remember as the big ones.

The wine she always had on hand for me for my after school visit was on sale last week. I bought a bottle to take to my friend Sally's house as I knew she would remember all our fun visits.
Another little thing.

On reflecting about the little things, I've realized that one never really misses the big  events, such as Christmas, or weddings or other major events. But rather, the silly little day to day things. When I remember Glenn, I think of his silly voices and the late night notes and mementos he would leave me as he meandered the house when he was sleepless.

In my wonderful new relationship I think of the imitations that Jon does to make me laugh so hard I snort, and the wonderful little notes I get sometimes written on the toilet paper roll, or the silly jokes and things that only we are privy to.

The little things are what add up to be really big things. A life built on love and relationships and laughter and memories.

 What could be more precious?

Loving the little things as I

Continue the journey.

It's a mystery

When my daughter Emily was young she was fascinated with the things in stories or tales that couldn't easily be explained. She used to say, " It's a MYSTERY Mom", with a very serious expression.

When she was five, her younger brother was born. The night before he was delivered, I kissed her goodnight and promptly went into the other room and cried inconsolably. Why? Because I was certain...certain..that I could never love another child as much as I loved her, and I was dismayed at what was to become of this poor helpless baby that was to be born the next day.  Guess what? He was born the next afternoon and my heart practically burst with joy and love for him instantly. And I didn't feel one iota less love for Emily either. In fact, my heart just grew bigger with love for them both.

 " It's a mystery Mom" indeed.

Love. Such a powerful emotion and yet it has only one word to describe the various feelings attached to it.  We tell our best friends we love them, and we do, but certainly with a different meaning than we tell our beloved, or our children . We even  use the word "love" to express fondness of certain activities or foods. "I love Twizzlers!"

But the many uses and meanings of the word love is not the real reflection here.  The reflection is about the mystery of the emotion, and how I've realized that it is an infinite and powerful gift.

When Glenn died so suddenly, I remember telling Misty and Melissa that I was never going to fall in love again, because I didn't want to risk another loss. It was too painful. Instead I spent the time learning to love myself, and learning to live by myself and for myself..

And yet, here I am, in love again.

"It's a mystery Mom." For sure.

But just as my love for Emily didn't diminish when baby Chris was born, neither does the love that I had for Glenn take away from the new love that is blossoming into a beautiful and and very joyful relationship which pleases my soul everyday.

Today I reached for something in my medicine cabinet and noticed Glenn's toiletry items, still on the top shelf, as was everything else in his life. I took them down to dispose of them, but before I did I took a quick whiff of his Polo aftershave. The tears welled up in happy, yet sad memories of a life cut short.

And that paradox, of remembering the past with love and yet living in the present with new love, is what I've been thinking about all day. One doesn't diminish the other, in fact it just causes the feelings of the  heart to grow larger.

Wow. Powerful stuff.

The human capacity for infinite feelings of  love, and resilience from loss is truly a gift. A grace filled gift.

Yes Emily...It's a mystery...

A beautiful mystery as I
Continue the journey.

Healing in the water.

I've always been drawn to water.
As a young child I learned to swim easily. I remember feeling completely at home in the water until I was asked to compete on a swim team, and  then the desire to be in the water was over. I had more "periods" than any girl in the early 1970's to avoid wrecking my hair in high school gym class, as a period was the only excuse not to get into the water.

Later, I was a dutiful mom, making sure both my kids knew how to swim, or at least felt comfortable in the water. And they still do.

In Sussex, we had an oversized Jacuzzi bathtub, and a pool, but raising two children in a newly blended family left little time to enjoy either one.

I noticed, as life went on ,the amount of spiritual comfort I felt from a hot bath after a long day. During my first year of teaching eighth grade I contracted whooping cough, and the hot steam of the bath was the only place I could find any relief.

After awhile  the bath tub became a place of refuge. I designed my own shelf to hold a candle, a glass of something and whatever magazine I wanted to read. Glenn switched the drain around in the house I live in now so that the auto-overfill was at the top, allowing me more water in the cheap shallow tub.

I dreamed of an outside hot tub/ spa. So did Glenn. We shopped for tubs that he could access easily. He lived, I realize now, in constant chronic pain .He was never far away from the pain, and being in the water would have helped.  But the tub wasn't in the budget at the time. It was a "someday" purchase. Again. Beware of waiting for "someday".

And then he died and I was alone with that trauma. I couldn't breathe. Truly I couldn't breathe.  I found some relief  in my little shallow bathtub but I knew that I needed to buy the hot tub for my own healing. I was afraid people would judge me for a frivolous purchase but I  just needed to breathe.

It never was  a purchase of frivolity. In the early days after Glenn's death, whenever I felt an anxiety attack approaching, I literally dove into the warm water until the panic feeling passed. It worked. This winter, as long as the air temperature was above 10 degrees F,  I was in the tub,almost daily, remembering, thinking, dreaming, planning.

Tonight I figured out how to attach my IPhone to the built in sound system. Oh my, that  was fun. As I soaked, and floated and enjoyed the freedom that only water allows,  I listened to songs of the past and of the present and all the attached memories and present meanings.

The mood tonight in my tub was not one of personal survival as it was before, but rather one of celebration; of life and the promise of the future. I sang along to the music, and played with the lights, but mostly I did this.....

I breathed.

Big life affirming breaths.

With no reminder. It finally comes  naturally again.

Continuing ....
On the journey.

Questions with No answers

I'm searching, unsuccessfully, for my glasses tonight. I'm sure at some point they will show up. In my quest for vision, I started opening unlikely drawers in desperation.

The search led me to a small three- ringed- binder in which I kept my most personal and honest thoughts during the early '90's. It was way before blogging, and long after the cool diary with the little key I had as a child.

I completely forgot about my glasses; I poured myself a glass of wine and began to read. And now I have so many thoughts. Not so much about the content. Even though I know I wrote it, it feels as if I'm reading about someone else's life.

At the time I wrote this journal my life was in crisis. And now, almost twenty years later, I don't remember the anguish I was feeling. That amazes me.

 And yet my reflections from then are still relevant:
"Time doesn't heal all wounds. It only allows the gaps in between to grow longer."
Wow. How true. And how odd I don't remember writing about that. And why didn't I remember that when true loss hit last year?

Bit what I'm really thinking about is the resiliency of the human condition for most people.

 How do we essentially forget or put away the pain and hurt we've endured?  It is the question of suffering throughout time.
Obviously at the time I was in great pain and was using my journal as a way to work through that pain.And yet,  I read it tonight with just a vague recollection of being the author.

Perhaps it is a natural self- protection. One cannot live in the present or build a future without putting the past to rest.

Maybe being able to "forget" and move forward is the result of grace.

I don't have the answer.

But I'm still amazed at this life as I ...

Continue the journey.

Facebook status changes, technology and life.

147 people have now hit the " like" button signaling their approval of the start of a meaningful and joyful relationship to which I recently committed myself.  In high school, one did that by giving away one's class ring. Does anyone even get class rings anymore? As young adults it went from dating to engagement with no middle step. Now, thanks to technology and social media there is a button on Facebook announcing one's relationship, or change in relationship.
As do those of you who followed my old blog about my journey navigating widowhood, I remember changing my status from "married" to "widowed". It was the first of many painful mental adjustments I made last year. And then, from "widowed" to a blank relationship status. I was committed after a time to not defining my identity by sadness. This weekend, after some discussion, I sat next to the man with whom I'm building a new tomorrow. On the count of three we hit the button that would announce our new relationship to the FB world. It felt huge. And that experience brings me to reflect tonight on the impact of technology on my life, and all of our lives.

41 years ago in March or April, I  started dating the " new kid" in our suburban high school. On our first date I asked him if he intended to ask me out again. Remember, young women were not usually that brazen back then. I was intrigued by his maturity and wonderful manners. Fortunately we hit it off.  We planned, we schemed about our future, when he went to UW I snuck out to visit him many nights. (Sorry Momo.) He broke up with me, I broke up with him; it followed the path of young love. I went to college, and even though he had moved to Minnesota by then, which is where I was, we just couldn't get the timing right. I graduated and married someone else and had two children. Shortly after that he moved to Chicago and got married as well. I divorced and then married Glenn. Through the years however , we always kept in touch. An occasional phone call, letter, class reunions, and then finally, Facebook. We became FB friends five years ago; Glenn had the opportunity to meet Jon at a high school reunion, so most Friday nights would find the three of kibitzing on FB until G would drop off to chat with his online poker buds. During these years we shared the challenges of daily life; most especially Jon's  separation and  estrangement from his wife, followed by her tragic illness and death. We were two old friends sharing life's challenges safely on line, all made possible by technology. My mother died in March and shortly after that event, I received a beautiful and thoughtful card with wonderful memories of my her from my old friend. A thank you for thinking of me at such a hard time turned into hours on the telephone ...and the rest is as they say, history.

Yes, technology is pervasive and invasive in our lives. But so is every truly life changing development. It has it's advantages and it's drawbacks. So did fire when first discovered. And machinery. And cars. And plastic.

The point is that change is hard. I miss getting written cards and mail and when I do, they are warmly received. But I've learned that an email from a friend who probably wouldn't or couldn't send something by post is precious as well.

 I'm sure for some of you, even though you are  truly happy about this new development in my journey, that as you pressed the " like"button on the page, there may have been just a second where you realized that life is changing. Again. And it's not always easy.

But often  it's wonderful.

Life is for living and for loving those sharing the journey with you.

Continuing....

On the journey.

New beginnings

I have discovered that after a year of observing life around me, and in me, and reflecting and writing on it after the sudden and tragic death of my husband last June, that it is a hard habit to break. And as always, I write these for my own record, but am honored to share them with whomever wishes to read them. So while this new blog promises not to be as emotionally wrenching as some of my earlier posts, I hope to amuse you and share with you my next path as it evolves.

I am currently halfway through the trip to Ireland I planned last September as a way to avoid having to relive the events of Glenn' s traumatic and somewhat violent death last June.
What a great decision! My mind has become like a sieve this year for new learning opportunities, and it has been a thrill to hear and experience new knowledge of history and the world.

But mostly what I have been reflecting on this day is the joy of aging. Yes. I said it. The joy of aging.

I was fortunate enough as a college student to travel in Europe two times. Both times were for the month of January. The first time I was a young freshman. I took nothing but a back pack for three weeks. My parents warned me that no one would be there to help me with luggage because the professor was leery about taking a freshman as he thought I might get homesick. Lol. We traveled all through Italy studying art and it was a fantastic trip with kids from St.Olaf, Macalester and Augsburg. We stayed in pretty decent hotels as I remember, and had snowball fights in the Alps. I'm sure I  smelled wretched, but I carried my own weight throughout.

The next trip was two years later. Again, it was an art history trip ( my second major), but this time through the major cities of Europe. And the accommodations, especially in Paris, were abysmal. Even at 20, I figured out how I was going to get out if it started on fire. But youth is tolerant and forgiving and it was a great trip, shared with my lifelong friend Sue Sudduth Moynahan.

We spent time with my children in London  in the '90's, but still maintained a very modest living with no frills.

The other day I noticed a few things that age now allows. I packed a full suitcase. We bought liquor in the duty free store. When we move hotels, I don't touch my luggage except to put it  outside the door. It is delivered back to my new room. I have a private bathroom and air conditioning and the fire hazard is minimal. I have wifi everywhere, including the bus. And I'm more interested in what I'm seeing and the history, than in the business of others. And somebody else is driving.
I realize these are first world privileges and concerns, but so be it.

Although I feel like my life is moving way too fast, I do appreciate the saying, " with age comes privilege." Not that I desire to travel like this all the time. I do miss a bit of independence. But this year? I'm traveling with a dear friend and it is exactly what I need, post- surgery and post- whatta-year.

Here's to life.
On the the next part of the journey.