Year 3 - Alone

As Valentine's Day starts to make its approach for the year I'm seeing a lot of emails and texts with a heart made this way... <3 

It's really sweet but to me it looks like a broken heart with the number 3.  And for 3 years now my heart has been broken.

When I purchased my new 2017 calendar I flipped open the cover to reveal January and all I saw was the big bold black 27.  There it was, that date that says remember me? I'm the date that Dale died. Three times now I will have seen that date come and go.  Three times I will have ached.  Three times I will have tried to celebrate his life on that day rather than concentrate on being left alone and to some degree I have been successful at doing that.

Yesterday I listened to a song written and performed by a young man who had lost his wife to an illness. I immediately knew that he lives what I live. Solitary, prayerful and not ever wanting to say goodbye, moments of gratefulness and joy for having had such a loved one but at the same time wanting to shake your fist at the sky and feel anger. A "contrariety of emotions" I think Jane Austen would call it.

But the song, instead of making me feel better, began pulling me into the dreaded abyss of sadness that grabs onto your heart making it ache for the things that could have been and then it just breaks again. "STOP" I said right out loud!  "JUST STOP!" Going there serves no purpose. Things just don't always go as planned!

And with that thought I start to recall how many times in my life things haven't gone according to my plans. Many things have but many simply have not! The biggest of course being Dale getting so sick and leaving me alone long before we were able to do all of the things we had planned for this life.

And then the reminiscing of this new subject begins, uninvited but interestingly not unwelcomed, so I let it roll. Back through time, back through the memories of things in my life that didn't go as planned.  Through the decades I hop scotch and go back to one of the earliest...

There were a couple of clothing stores on Main Street of the small town where I spent my first 10 years of life.. “The Classic Shoppe” where I never entered although a cousin-in-law (she was married to my much older cousin) prepared the fancy window displays - we thought her to be very cosmopolitan. There was also the “Deb N Heir” a upscale children’s clothing store that I only went to on one very memorable day when I was just 7 years old.

There was a girl in my school class named Shelley. 

I never liked Shelley.  

She came to school donned in frilly clothes, with layers of ruffled petticoats. She would sit at her desk and preen her skirt over the petticoats till every fold was just so and then she would lace her pretty fingers, ceremoniously place her hands on the desk, cross her dangling ankles and wait for everyone to look at and admire her. She always wore pretty white socks that folded down just right with lace around her ankles and shiny black Patten leather shoes. Her black hair was always in perfect little ringlets and was adorned with satin ribbons that were always color coordinated to her ensemble. Her nose and chin were always pointed up, for to allow anyone to be given a smidgen of her royal attention was too much beneath her. 

I really didn’t like Shelley. 

I received an elegant invitation to her 7^th birthday party.  I didn’t want to go but Mother was quite excited and nervous about it. Shelley’s father had been a high school boyfriend of Mother’s, now a successful, well to do citizen of the town.  

The ill-fated day of the party came. Mother dressed me up in my best outfit and we went down for our first visit to “Deb N Heir”. The saleslady was very helpful. She and Mother determined that a new hat would be the perfect gift for Shelley. I knew that it was expensive and much nicer than anything that I ever dreamed of having. The lady was delighted with Mother’s selection and wrapped it up in flowery paper and tied it with an angelic little bow. She went to the card display and said, “Such a pretty gift should have just the right card” and her choice really was gorgeous.  Flowers, flowers everywhere, inside and out! The decision was obvious and a pen was placed in my hand to sign my name. 

Mother was also dressed in her Sunday best and we drove to the perfect large house and walked up the perfect sidewalk through the perfect petunia bordered yard to the perfect front door and rang the bell which chimed perfectly - like the bells of Westminster.  Mrs. Perfect came to the door. She looked down on us and flashed an arrogant smile. “The party was yesterday.” She announced “But do come in…Shelley, dear,” she called over her shoulder, “You have a little friend with a gift for you.”  

We were ushered into the French provincial living room and sat on the white sofa. The woman was obviously delighted with our little mishap. I said nothing…the conversation between the two women was painfully polite. We waited and waited for Shelley to make her entrance. At last she wafted into the room, grabbed the present, ripped off the card and read it aloud, “Get Well Soon!” She read. The woman tittered, mother gasped. The girl tore the pretty paper and unceremoniously pulled out the costly hat. Silence. And then she said, “Mother can I go now?” and she was gone. The hat lay in the tattered box on the floor. 

I never liked Shelley.

Defeated, Mother and I drove silently home. That certainly didn't go according to plan.

But I survived. And so did Mother.

And you know what? I survived ALL of the other things through the years that didn't go according to my plans as well.  So even with the biggest of these, I'm putting on my brave...making more plans - fully aware that some might not work out exactly how I think they will but I realize that working at them is what keeps life moving forward. And I somehow know that Dale is there supporting my planning and patiently waiting to see what I find.


So, tomorrow is the 27th marking 3 years.  And I am suddenly feeling like I shouldn't keep saying that he left me alone.  Because he has been with me.

My dear sweet sister proclaimed via a text (in her compassionate and loving way) that we are getting together tomorrow for a day of shopping and lunch and "whatever else I want to do".  It will be a good day, just the kind of day Dale would want me to have.

The Little Match Girl

Photo Saved from

surlalunefairytales.blogspot.com

I awoke last night in the earliest hours of the morning as I often do. It is so very silent at that time. So still. A time that sets the conditions for a memory to start as a tiny little light and then floods my mind and enters my heart.

I sat up on the edge of the bed and reached for my robe and put on my slippers to ward off the chill in the air. It was unnecessary to turn on the light as the neighborhood street lamps gave a soft glow calling me to the window. I looked out at the winter scene. The lights illuminated the snow covered roofs and yards and trees and the parked cars and empty roads.  The temperature was still plummeting and I thought how dangerous it would be to be out there instead of warm and cozy inside. The very thought made me pull the robe more tightly around me.

And then in a twinkling I was drawn into the memory of the story of Hans Christian Andersen’s “Little Match Girl”.  It was my very favorite childhood story. I had it read and reread to me by Mother or Dad or any grown up that would take the time until I could finally read it myself.

It was on a night like tonight that the wee little girl dressed in rags and barefoot (because she lost her mother’s shoes that were too large for her tiny feet, while running across a busy snowy street) huddled in a corner between buildings trying to stay warm.  As she looked up toward the heavens a shooting star sparkled across the dark night sky and she whispered as she always had since her dear grandmother had explained, “Oh, a shooting star, that means another happy soul has gone to heaven.”

She had been trying and trying to sell her little bundles of matches so that she could take money back to her family who were freezing and hungry inside their tiny home without food or a fire in the hearth to keep them warm. The people on the street had been uncaring and even rude to her, not giving her the time let alone the small amount she requested for matches as they scurried along to their warm homes that were waiting with a roaring fire in their fireplaces and tables set with luscious smelling food.

She was so very cold and although she didn’t want to waste the matches she finally decided to light just one to see if it would warm her fingers. As she struck the match she saw through the flame a beautiful fireplace that seemed to warm her inside and out, it was so very pleasant and comforting but it disappeared when the match burned out.  She quickly struck another match and this time as the flame illuminated the wall it was as if she could see inside and there was a table set with white linen and silver plates and crystal goblets and such wonderful food!  But again it disappeared when the flame fizzled down and puffed out. Again she lit a match from a bundle and a beautiful Christmas tree appeared within the match’s glow covered in candles to warm her heart and delight her soul but that too faded as the match burned out. Another match sparked into a flame and her cherished departed Grandmother appeared. Oh how warm her hug was to the little girl. But in an instant she too was gone. Wanting nothing more than to see her grandmother again the little girl struck all of the remaining matches and there she was, the beloved old lady. With all of the love and warmth that the little girl could imagine, the grandmother took her by the hand and led her to heaven.  The next morning the people on the street found the little girl with a smile on her face and the burnt matches in her hand. They felt terrible that they hadn’t shown her any compassion.

It occurred to me as I remembered each detail of the story I had loved so many many years ago that these little memories of Dale that awaken me at night or pop into my mind at lonely times are like little matches springing into a warm light that bring me comfort and happiness if only for a minute.  For a moment in time I am walking hand in hand with Dale visiting a castle in Ireland, or walking barefoot in the sand on a Hawaiian beach or watching our sons play baseball, or the magic moment of our first meeting.  Precious little snippets of happiness that keep me warm until the time arrives that he comes for me in answer to my own shooting star.

And in the meantime, I have a dear family that shows me compassion and love and keeps me safe and warm.

I am blessed.

Dreams See Us Through to Forever & Writing Assignment #39

Two years into our marriage we moved into the sweetest little apartment, brand new and I loved it! We couldn't believe our good fortune in securing it as we had just placed on names on what we were told was a long waiting list. The move was a requirement as we were faced with vacating our adults only apartment when we happily discovered we would be a family. We settled into domestic bliss with me setting up a cute nursery and Dale tip toeing around pregnancy hormone moments.  As summer came on in full Southern California fashion, the new landlord assured us that the extreme heat would be taken care of with the powerful air- conditioners in each unit.  He failed to mention that the motors of said powerful air-conditioners were all located on the roof of OUR apartment.  As each apartment turned on their AC we were suddenly living inside an ever beating drum! We quickly understood how we got the apartment so speedily.

To protect our sanity we had to try to find another place. Coming home from work one day Dale found and quickly signed his name on the bottom line of a lease for an apartment without my input…pretty much the last time he ever did anything like that!  It was an old place on Roscoe Blvd. with a large sign in front that proclaimed The Roscoe Arms - Lowest Prices Around emblazoned on a coat of arms. Alas, my vanity surfaced I’m afraid but the price was good (as was so blatantly advertised for the world to see) and we did have a child and the accompanying expenses on the way so I decided to grin and bear it without too much of a fuss. The old brown carpeting was so deplorable that we had it ripped up and replaced with some beige carpeting that was being torn out of a home in Dale’s folk’s neighborhood but in much better shape than what we had. We scrubbed and wallpapered and did our best to make it livable.

It was hot, and getting hotter. The outdated AC window unit was woefully lacking in it's intended purpose, hardly able to produce even the slightest breeze of cool air. I was so very pregnant (over due in fact) but we turned on the radio one sweltering evening and listened to the incredible performance of Neil Diamond’s "Hot August Night" concert playing live at the Hollywood Bowl. We spread a quilt on the floor, as if we were there picnicking with the crowd and sipped on tall glasses of cold lemonade and munched on corn dogs, the only thing I craved at that stage! Well, actually, Dale wouldn’t eat them, he was content with the potato salad, but corn dogs with mustard and catsup swirled together was ambrosia to my taste buds! OK, it’s hard to even type that without a wince now but hey like I said…I was so very pregnant!

With Neil Diamond wailing Pack up the babies and Grab the old ladies -Everyone goes -Everyone knows -Brother Love's show - Halle Halle Halle  I unconsciously dabbed at yet another drop of perspiration on my forehead with my napkin thinking that I was somehow very happy and as I glanced over I saw Dale with a look that registered love and a touch of compassionate sadness. He quickly looked away when he caught my eye.

The very next day he came home with a large, ornate gold frame. His eye had zeroed in on it while passing by a garage sale. And what a frame it was - the likes of which would fit nicely into a hall at Versailles.  He had a mirror cut to fit and it took up the better part of the living room wall in that tiny apartment. It was a gift representing a dream for the future. He promised that one day he would give me a home to match the frame.

A promise that he fulfilled, actually several times over as the elaborate mirror followed us for the next 40 years, being carefully packed and unpacked and strategically placed on bigger and better walls with each move.

Sadly, he and our dream frame are gone now but I find that I'm not willing to say goodbye to many of our remaining dreams.

I have experienced so many little miracles since he died that tell me he is close by and it just feels like our dreams didn't die with him - but are very much alive.  Dreams that I'd like to carry through, not alone but with his help.  As I volley that notion back and forth as to the possibility of it all - a song is suddenly filling my mind and heart. He so often speaks to me through the poetry of songs given unexpectedly at just the precise time that I need them! I start humming the music that effortlessly materializes in my head but I have to go to my computer to do a search for the words, I actually only knew a few.  I listen with my heart as I hear him telling me:

Don't lose your way
With each passing day
You've come so far
Don't throw it away
Live believing
Dreams are for weaving
Wonders are waiting to start

Live your story
Faith, hope and glory
Hold to the truth in your heart

If we hold on together
I know our dreams will never die
Dreams see us through to forever
Where clouds roll by
For you and I

Souls in the wind
Must learn how to bend
Seek out a star
Hold on to the end

Valley, mountain
There is a fountain
Washes our tears all away

Words are swaying
Someone is praying
Please let us come home to stay

If we hold on together
I know our dreams will never die
Dreams see us through to forever
Where clouds roll by
For you and I

I realize more and more that it is a blessing to be alive and with his help I can still accomplish many of our dreams if we hold on together. And interestingly for his benefit as well as mine. When I started this new journey of life without Dale I wasn’t sure how it would play out but as I’m looking at the anniversary of his death getting closer and closer indicating that it’s been three years, it’s clear now that we don’t ever have to say goodbye or stop dreaming. I’m glad to know that now. And I feel him saying that whatever I do or wherever I go he will be here for me, we'll hold on together.

Hear Diana Ross sing the song here if you'd like: 

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ASSIGNMENT #39 – A Decade of Living

 Writers…Are you ready to pick back up with the work on your autobiography? I just came upon this precious little poem in the history of my great-great Grandmother as a tribute to her.  It didn’t indicate the author so I can’t give credit but the history was written half a century ago…

No Matter What Else

No matter what else you are doing, from the cradle days to the end

You’re writing your life’s secret story; each night sees another page penned.

Each month ends a thirty day chapter, each year the end of a part

And never an act is misstated, nor even a wish of the heart.

Each morning when you wake the book opens, revealing a page clean and white

What thoughts and what words and what doings, will cover its surface by night?

God leaves that to you, you’re the writer, and never one word will grow dim,

Until someday you’ll write the word “finished”, and give your life’s book back to Him.

Let’s go back a decade from today.  Go back to January 2007 and work your way giving the highlights -with those ever important details, including all of the people, places, things, triumphs, failures, and the general roller coaster ride of life from then until now! 

By now you will have developed your own style of writing, your own voice telling about your own life.  So enjoy sharing what you did and even more importantly, what you learned over the last 10 years of your life. (If children or grandchildren were born or marriages performed – give the names!!! Don’t leave anyone in your family out!)

A Simple Understanding that Opens a Door on a Widow's Journey

“I am a child of God”

I remember the thrill I felt hearing those words in a brand new song when I was 5 years old.

 

We were practicing for the children’s program at church and the chorister, a lovely lady with a soft voice and a comforting smile, introduced us to each line, one at a time. She would sing and then we would sing it back to her.  I loved it instantly.

I am a child of God, she sang and we, the children, sang it back.

And He has sent me here.

     And he has sent me here.  We imitated

Has given me an earthly home

With parents kind and dear.

 

Oh it was a good, happy song I thought.

Lead me, Guide me, Walk beside me.  She said this was the first line of the chorus and we repeated it.

Teach me all that I must know

To live with Him someday.

“Oh…will there be a lot I’ll have to know?”  I wondered. 

We practiced and practiced each one of the 4 verses that went with the chorus until we had every word and every note perfect and she smiled. And we smiled. It was a good song. One that just seemed right.

Weeks of practicing and then it was program day and we were all dressed in our Sunday finest and had taken our seats in the choir loft. People were milling in. The chorister stood before us, tapped her baton lightly on the music stand to get our attention. And in a quiet voice said there was a change in the song.

We were worried.

But she said it was just one word in the chorus.  She said that Spencer W. Kimball had heard the song and loved it but wanted it to say, “Teach me all that I must DO” instead of “Teach me all that I must KNOW.”

We put that thought into our minds and tried very hard to keep it there and then the time came for us to stand and sing our song. We gave a satisfactory performance I felt, although we may have over-emphasized the word DO each time we sang the chorus. But perhaps that was a good thing!

Today, sixty years later, I’m thinking of New Year’s Resolutions (perhaps for the 60^th time) and I realize how easy it is to make the resolutions and it’s actually pretty easy to set a plan for making the resolutions happen!  I know just how I can go about it, I have schedules all prepared, neat little charts and files with info…ready to make things a habit! I have the desire, I have the game plan. And yet….alas it’s January 5^th and I haven’t started yet. And it’s not for lack of trying. It’s as if the engine won’t turn.

Shoot…but I KNOW it needs to happen. So I go with the pep talk...

Just get up and GO…just light a fire under yourself and burn brightly….just throw caution to the wind and try…just DO IT…You go girl…fight, fight, fight.

Wait for it, wait for it!......Oh who am I kidding?  It’s a huge step from Know to Do.

So as is often the case…I decide to research it. I’ll see if someone knows how to get from knowing to doing.

I found this by Leo Barbauta:

You know that you should exercise, and eat lots of veggies and less fried, salty and sweet foods. But knowing something and actually doing it are two very different things.

You know you should stop procrastinating. You know you should watch less TV or go to social sites (or news sites, or your email program) less time. You know you should be writing, or learning that language you’ve always wanted to learn, or practicing guitar, or decluttering your house.

Knowing isn’t the problem. It’s the doing that gets us every time.

In business, there’s a concept called The Knowing-Doing Gap, where companies study all kinds of ways to improve, hire consultants and hold endless seminars, start a new Big Program ever year..but don’t actually change anything. They know what to improve, but don’t actually implement it.

Why is implementing so hard? How do we put knowledge into action? What’s stopping us, and how do we overcome it?

He goes on to say that rather than doing it we usually read more about it, talk more about it, put off doing it, feel guilty about it and then push it to the back of our minds. And when we finally decide to do something about it  - we read and talk about it some more.

Ok…so I’m not the only one.

He believes that the answer lies in fear. 

“Ok” I say…”What am I afraid of?”  And after some good soul searching….I’m not afraid. That’s probably it for many people but that doesn’t seem to be the case for any one of the resolutions on my list.

Gosh, when I look back over the past 3 years of moving on without Dale…I’m not afraid of too much! To quote Helen Reddy:

Oh yes I am wise
But it's wisdom born of pain
Yes, I've paid the price
But look how much I gained
If I have to, I can do anything
I am strong
I am invincible
I am woman

What then?

What’s keeping me in the knowing zone and out of the doing zone?

The answer came this morning in an unlikely source. An online art instructor who had confided that she not only had and then survived cancer but then discovered her husband was cheating on her and she ended her marriage. But then she had experienced and had found from others who had experienced tremendous heartaches and loss that part of the grieving process was to block negative emotions.  This I knew for a real live fact but then she said something important...that people going through this had discovered that this subconscious blocking of negative emotions, which is very much a part of grieving, can also be a block to creativity. 

Amazingly after responding to her in an open communique of my loss and this subsequent blockage that was causing resistance to dive into my creative plans. I heard from many other art students from around the world who had experienced this same phenomenon following grieving.

I recognized it as a truth right away.  I know that in the name of self-preservation I have had to shy away from many negative emotions as well as from some highly positive emotions because it opens me up to the vulnerability which may lead to the emotional pain that I fight so often. 

But to recognize that this plays a role in blocking the path from Knowing to Doing on my resolutions and/or goal lists is empowering.  There’s nothing wrong with me…its part of the process.  And as long as I see it now, I can understand and understanding bridges the gap between knowing what to do and finally…finally…being able to do it and with a lightness of heart.

I feel a Renewal of spirit. Another milestone. A gift of understanding.

Knowing what to do is important and necessary….being able to start the engine and Do it is a beautiful thing.

 And I smile. It’s good. I've taken yet another step.

P.S. You can hear the famous Mormon Tabernacle Choir sing "I am a child of God" by going to the following link, (Still a good song 60 years later- although they sing it a bit better than we did. LOL)