Just When You Thought You Were Having Fun ....

.... life comes and smacks you right between the eyes.
And it hurts.

Camp Widow was great. And fun.
And hard. And sad.
And emotional. And physical.
And .... wonderful.

It is an amazing experience to be amongst almost 300 people who understand.
And as amazing as that feels,, it sucks for them.
I love so many of these men and women. It breaks my heart that they have a reason to be in the same room with me, let alone the same hotel .... and conference.

The group of us that have been to all three CWs are a tight-knit bunch. And yet it was wonderful to meet other friends for the first time IRL*.
And wonderful to make brand new friends.

But it was horrible to find out that many of these new friends have been widowed for less than a year.
Much less.
One amazing person was only one month "out".**
There was no way I would've been capable of attending anything, let alone flying across the country to join 300 widows/ers for a weekend.

I had the blessing of meeting a lot of the new "campers" when I co-led the "First Time Campers" workshop. We had a lot of fun, which I think many of them found surprising. We laughed.
We laughed a lot.
I think some of them had not laughed that much in a very long time.
They blessed me.

I slept very little over the weekend, so I felt exhausted a lot of the time, and I only worked a fraction of what the other board members worked.
But by the middle of the afternoon on Saturday, I needed a break.
Desperately.
Or I knew the dam would burst.

And so I left the hotel and walked along the pier for an hour or so. By myself.
I've always been part introvert, so I have always needed to find some time to just "be". And that seems to occur more since Jim died. Probably because I'm alone much more than I'm with other people. Especially 275 or so people.

But the walk did a world of good and when I came back I found a group of friends out by the poolside bar. And we sat and talked.
And talked.
And talked.
Until it was time to go in and get all gussied up for the banquet.
I brought a beautiful red dress that Daughter #1 wore when she was in high school. I wonder if she'll ever find out?!

When I tried it on at home several weeks ago it took a bit of effort to get the back zipper up.
(Another sucky thing about being alone .... there's no one to help with zippers. Or, even worse, bracelets. I kid you not, one morning, not so long ago,  I was going through the McDonald's drive through and I asked the startled woman at the window if she'd clasp my bracelet for me and then stuck my arm out of my window .... and into hers.
She was very gracious.
And I am not proud.

Anyway, it took a whole lot longer to get that dang zipper zipped Saturday night.
But I triumphed over it .... finally, and put on a pair of the fiercest heels I've ever owned (I'll post pics later, but if you're on Facebook you'll be able to see the dress and the shoes.)
They were a hit. :)

And then it was all over. And we were hugging and saying our goodbyes on Sunday morning.

And then I came home.
To life.
The Sons were all fine and the house was in good shape.
Son #1 and I talked while I started the dreaded act of unpacking.
Then Son #2 came home and sat with us.
He was shortly followed by Son #3.
I was happy to see each of them.
I had missed them. A lot.

Then it was time to go to bed.
Since it was after midnight.
And so I did.
But as exhausted as I was, sleep did not come.
I finally gave up at 4:30 and took a sleep med to help.

And it did.
I slept until noon.
Which would have been really great, had I not forgotten that I was supposed to play tennis at 9:00 a.m. Meaning that I left 7 people in the lurch. I felt beyond horrible when I figured it out. I sent all 7 an apology email, asking for forgiveness. Three have answered to assure me that it was ok and to not worry about it. Which hopefully doesn't mean that the other four are too mad to email back.

After I sent that email I went to my Facebook page.
And saw I had a private message.
And that's when life slapped me.
Hard.
I found out that a dear friend, whom I love very much, is here in Houston.
At MD Anderson..
This friend is one of the reasons that Son #1 is named what he's named. She was responsible for setting Jim and me up for our first date.

She fought breast cancer very, very hard over 10 years ago.
And she beat it.
And remained cancer-free for enough years to be called "well".
Almost.
She was just months shy of that magical 10 year mark when she found out that it was back.
With a vengeance.
And that it would take her life, but hopefully that wouldn't be for some time.
This was a year or so after Jim died.

And now, she's here.
Fighting again.
And I cried when life slapped me with that.
Fortunately the friend who told me was also able to give me her cell number (thank you, H!). I emailed, texted and called, not knowing if she'd get the message at all, or if her husband would, or if it was too late to send a message.

A few hours later my cell phone beeped with a text message.
From her.
And I cried again ... with relief.
I had begged to come see her and she said yes. But I have to wait. She is going to have her lungs drained tonight, and is not able to talk.
She said she'd love to see me and will let me know when she's stable and can talk again.

I told her that I am praying.
And she said thank you .... and that she needs prayers, very badly.

And so I return to you, my Peeps, and beg you to join me in praying for her, her husband and their children.
I don't know if I'll be able to see her before I head to St. Louis for the transplant (I leave Wed and the surgeries will be on Thursday morning). But I hope to be able to see her after I get back on Saturday.

So I'm asking you for a lot of prayers this week.
For V, her son G and her husband R, as R's kidney is placed into his son's body.

And for my dear friend S, who's fighting for her life.

This all puts my achey joints at the bottom of any list. And makes me feel ashamed for even complaining about them and the lack of reief I'm getting from the new meds (which thankfully aren't making me sick at all).

I am blessed.
I love my children.
I love my family.
I love my friends, both old and new .... married and widowed.
And for each of you, who are not just Peeps, but are friends .... and loved ones.

Thank you, again.
And again and again.
You mean more to me than you will ever know.
You ... bless me.
Very, very much.

Thanks, Peeps, and happy Tuesday.
:)



*in real life
**the word "out" is used by widowed people to indicate how long ago their partner died. No one is ever told this,or taught it, it just seems to become part of your vocabulary when your widowed. Kind of strange, but interesting.

It Would Be Really Great ....

.... if you'd pray for me, Peeps.

Today was one of "those Sundays".  Those of you who are widowed know exactly what I mean.
It was a Sunday morning that I knew, from somewhere deep within me, that it was going to be a difficult morning.
And so it was.

I cried in church.
I cried in Sunday School.  Not just a ladylike weeping .... more of the ugly cry.
I hate that.

I cried on the way to the pharmacy.
I cried walking into the grocery store.
Yes, I looked nice since I had just come from church ..... but my face did not match my outfit.
I also hate that.
:)

I'm guessing that this graduation has been harder because of the day it fell on.
But I think that's only part of it.
For those of you who know me well, or who have read this blog from the beginning, you know what a huge, HUGE accomplishment this graduation was.
So it's partly that.
Maybe mostly that.
I so wanted Jim to be sitting beside me ..... or, most likely, standing on that stage as he did when Daughters #2 and 3 graduated (he was on the school board), ready to greet Son #2 with a huge hug and the diploma that we all fought so hard for.
But ..... he was not.
And yes, I like to think that he was watching anyway ..... but on this day, there's small comfort in that.

May is always a "challenging" month.

But the prayers I covet, aren't for my sadness.
I know that will go away .... most likely in an hour or two when Jim's brother and his family come over and we spend the day together.

No, the prayers are for my surgery on Friday.
More specifically, for my recuperation.

I am having a tear repaired on my rotator cuff and a bone spur removed in my right shoulder.  And anything else that needs to be "cleaned up" will be taken care of.
I am learning that this is not the piece of cake that I thought it would be.

First ..... no tennis for 12 weeks.
Need I say more?
I didn't think so.

Then, there's the amount of pain that I'm learning will most likely be more than I had anticipated.
I'm not afraid of pain.
But I'm no fan of it either.

I am also right handed.
Very, very right handed.
Meaning, that if I have to survive with only my left arm ..... I'm in a boat load of trouble.
And .... that seems to be the case.
I thought my arm would be in a sling for one day.
The day of the surgery.
The day that I would hopefully be stoned out of my mind and sleep through.

I was wrong.
My right arm will be in a sling for longer than one day.
Quite a bit longer though I'm not certain as to the exact length of time.

Each day I think of one more thing that I will not be able to do without my right arm.
Today ..... it was this:  as I was taking a shower this morning it occurred to me that I will not be able to shave under my arms for quite some time.
I should probably just go ahead and move to Madrid now.

Add that fact to the other thoughts ..... I won't be able to get dressed easily, or even quickly.  Or even slowly.  More like the pace of a sloth.
I won't be able to put on makeup.
I won't be able to put on jewelry.  I can barely clasp a bracelet onto my arm now, or a necklace around me neck .... with the use of two hands.
I won't be able to type well.
I won't be able to drive well.  No comments ..... please.
I won't be able to contain my frustration.

Silly?
Yes.
Scary?
No.
Bothersome?
Very.

But, more than any of that .... there is this one thing that keeps smacking me in the head, over and over:
I.
Am.
Alone.

Yes, I do have wonderful friends who can help me out.
Yes, my mother is near so she can come and help (though since she's spent the last few days yakking into a toilet I'm thinking I really don't want her anywhere near me.  Sorry, Mom.  You know I love you.)

I have amazing friends.  I know they will help.

But here's the thing......
At the end of the day ...... they go back to their husbands.
As they should.
And ..... I am alone.

Yes, I have 2 teenagers in the house, but they are also getting ready to celebrate the freedom of summer and they are ..... teenagers.

I.
Am.
Alone.

I do not have a man who will take care of me.
I do not have a man who will worry about me during the surgery.
I do not have a man who will miss my smiling face while I groan and complain about being in pain.
I do not have a man who will love me, even as he gently tries to tell me to stop complaining, or to stop blaming him for the pain.  Or anything else that may come out of my mouth.

I do not have a man ..... who loves me.

I do not have a man who will just .... hold me.
And oh dear God in heaven ..... I do miss that.

So I ask for your prayers.
I pray that the surgery is a success and that I can live without constant pain in my shoulder.
I pray that the pain from the surgery is manageable.
I pray that I will be able to use my right arm as soon as is medically, and sensibly possible.
I pray that I will do everything the doctor tells me to do so that my healing will be complete and sooner, rather than later.
I pray that I will be patient with myself.
I pray that I will be pain-free enough to have fun on the trip with the Daughters the next week to Kentucky (for a Christian women's conference that has long been planned and paid for), so that I won't have to be drugged up and have no memory of the weekend.

And I pray that I will rely on God enough ..... that I don't notice how alone I thought I was.

I also pray that the next time I post ..... I will sound much cheerier.

Thank you, Peeps.
I wish I could tell you how much you mean to me.
But .....
T.A.N.W.

So Many Memories ....

The above picture is the window in my office at work. My office, like my home, is full of pictures. Pictures of the kids, pictures from vacations and, since December 18, 2007, many, many pictures of Jim. Pictures of him with the kids, pictures of us as a couple, pictures from school board and business events ..... pictures that school children drew of him (remind me to post those some time .... that could be an "Ask Me Wednesday" question if someone thinks of it). So many pictures .... so many memories.
Sometimes it's difficult to look at those pictures. It used to be difficult on a daily basis. It no longer is.
Yes, there are still days when I have to avert my eyes from a certain picture, but most of the time I can stop and linger at one or two, remembering back to that moment in time .... back to my "before", when I had no clue that my world would soon have an "after".
I still miss that woman.
I miss her joy and her humor.
I miss her mothering.
And of course I miss her husband.
But I'm starting to be OK with the "after" woman that I am becoming. God has grown me in so many ways these past 22 months.
I still have a sense of humor, it just doesn't always pop out at a moment's notice.
My faith is deeper.
My mothering is looser, for good or for bad.
My sense of family and true friendship is stronger, more deeply rooted.
I also fear nothing and am ready to leave this earth as soon as God calls. The thought of that brings me such peace that it's hard to describe and unless you've walked the path of grieving there's no way to "get it". I know it sounds crazy but it's not. Not with any widow I know anyway.
I'll leave that topic for my post tomorrow on "Widow's Voice".
And until that day comes, when I finally get to see my God face to face .... I will choose to live, with my memories, while making more of them.

Tomorrow is "Ask Me Wednesday", Peeps.
It's also the day that my bathroom starts being demolished.
Yep, Phase 42 of re-doing my house begins bright and early tomorrow morning.
I will definitely need the distraction of your questions.
:)

Waves and Spaghetti....

.... that pretty much sums up my day.

I'm tired.

I cooked.

I know!

Well, some people might not call it cooking, but I TOTALLY opened up that jar of sauce AND that bag of salad by myself. I also did a fairly nice job of baking the frozen bread and boiling the water. That's cooking in my book .... at least here in my "after".

I went to a luncheon today at a place in town where I'd been several times before .... always with Jim.

That was a bit of a wave.

Then one of the speakers mentioned Jim's company and another wave slammed into me. I had to bite my lip for quite a while to not cry. I came very close .... teared up, but didn't let them spill over. My lip is a bit sore but at least I didn't look like an emotional wreck in front of a lot of strangers.

So there you go .... waves and spaghetti.

Could be worse.

Could have been waves OF spaghetti.

See you tomorrow, Peeps ..... I recently read a very good book on grief and I'm going to write about it some time this weekend. It's called "Solace". Let me know if you've heard of it.

I Was Having a Perfectly Good Day ....

.... until I wasn't.

I went to work today, came home to have lunch and spend some time with Son #1 before he headed back to school, went back to work and just got home.

It was a good day .... until about 1/2 way through the drive home.

Suddenly I had a flashback. I was back in the ER with Jim, watching them run around as fast as they could, to stick him with needles, to try to get a blood pressure, giving him a very quick MRI and then telling me I'd better call my family. All within 10 minutes. I was watching myself trying to comprehend that this was not just a case of acid reflux and that he wasn't going home. In fact, he was going downtown on a helicopter and in all likelihood I'd never see him alive again. It was too difficult to understand .... I didn't know what to do .... it all happened so fast.

All in less than 10 minutes.

(As an aside, God granted us 7 more hours with him, thankfully.)

I was having a good day.

And now .... I am not.

I've been having so many good days that it's been a tiny bit scary. I didn't see the flashback coming ..... you never do. I wonder if this is what it's like for soldiers who've been to war? One minute you're happy as a clam, driving your car, looking forward to heading home to see your sons and then WHAM!! You're standing back in time, in a horrible, horrible place. And you can't leave it. You just have to get through it.

And so I write.

And cry.

And write some more.

I want this damn pain to go away. I want my heart to stop hurting from missing him every moment of every day.

I want ..... too much.

I want .... what I can never have.

So I write.

And I scream on the inside, "Damn it, God!!!!! Why did You allow THIS to happen to US? Why HIM? Why not ME?!"

And all I hear is the deafening roar of ..... silence.