When Rob and I first began dancing with the idea of meeting in person, we were still just friends. He and Cheryl were trying to organize a Bago in Manitoba for July and I made up my mind to attend, so we could meet. Well, that quickly went from meeting at the Bago to his picking me up at the airport to my flying to Edmonton first and driving out to Manitoba with him. I guess we should have known at that point we were already more than friends.
Once the cat, who was already out of the bag and sitting there watching us expectantly, was formally acknowledged we began planning our March trip that eventually became Devils Den. But even knowing we would be seeing each other then did not stop us from plotting an earlier meeting. And then came Idaho Falls. Rob and Shelley had met a couple at the cancer clinic in Mexico who lived just outside of Idaho Falls. Tee has breast cancer and Rob wanted to visit her as she wasn’t doing well. He was also taking her some things of Shelley’s, and could I manage to fly out to spend the weekend with him there?
My best friend, Vicki, wouldn’t even let me use Katy as an excuse not to go. She barely took a breath before agreeing to assume responsibility for my child for the weekend and with that - I was on my way.
I remember posting about my upcoming trip on the board, as so many people did and still do. I remember all the cautionary advice and pooh-poohing of the notion that Rob and I could have gotten to know each other via email, IM and the phone. I remember specifically that I didn’t ask for any advice and I didn’t take any that was given. I was beyond polling the board. But, I was still nervous. How could I not be? There is much one can learn about another person via their words - in any form, but there is a tangibleness about physical presence that goes beyond knowing on an intellectual level. I actually felt as though I was missing him in that concrete way even before that night in the airport when I saw him and rushed into his arms.
We’d speculated quite a bit about those first moments and each scenario became a bit more intimate. Our first kiss in those first moments was interrupted by my mother. She called Rob on his cell phone and wanted to know if I had arrived yet. It was a bit like having your one of your folks walk in on you as a teenager making out or something. It didn’t break the mood though and we smooched away the waiting for luggage to the point where a TSA officer broke us up to inquire if the last bags standing were in fact ours.
Rob likes to joke now that the woman he sometimes can’t get to stop talking barely strung more than a couple of sentences together that first weekend. But I was just drinking him in with all my senses to a point where I was overwhelmed.
A year later and we are sitting in our robes at the dining room table, me blogging and him scouring the net for a used car for Jordan and Katy in the living room chattering away with her imaginary friends while watching cartoons. All that is sandwiched in between then and now is our history together. History. Wow. You dream about being swept away. And love. Intimacy. Never does it occur to you that there comes a point where the newness is the comfy familiar and you are sharing an existence with touchstones, high and low points, and a future to chart together.
Happy Anniversary my Sasquatch lover. I love you, always.
Showing posts with label relationships. Show all posts
Showing posts with label relationships. Show all posts
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Monday, February 18, 2008
A Picnic in Elk Island Park
We have been promising Katy a hike and a picnic lunch in the nearby Elk Island Park for some time, but until this week, it has been far too cold. Friday the weather turned and though not as warm as some of you in the southern 48 might think it should be to hearld the coming of spring, it has felt mighty good up here. Today we decided to skip our usually Sunday afternoon skating at the Moyer Ice Arena here in Josephburg and head over to Elk Island for a short hike and lunch. We fortified well with tuna wraps, grapes and baby carrots not to mention a thermos of Earl Grey and another with water for hot chocolate. Bundled and with Katy’s little green toboggan packed in the back of the Equinox, we felt ready to tackle the snow-covered trails.
We made one stop on the way and that was in the tiny town of Lamont which is just north of the Fort. We needed to pick up the Edmonton Journal because even if it is light on news beyond its own borders - we are newspaper addicts and have to have at least one paper coming into the house daily and well, the Globe doesn’t run a Sunday edition. In fact neither paper runs its big edition on Sunday. The biggest paper of the week is the Saturday edition for both. Lamont though is not much of a town. Rob remembers the ice rink there as being a vandalism target for the bored teens trapped by a lack of transportation, probably, and somewhere to go, likely. There is a grain elevator and railway tracks. A main street with a donut shop, a bank and a grocery. Very small. Not picturesque. It bills itself as the “Gateway to Elk Island Park”. And with that, enough has been said.
The park is a forested preserve for elk and bison herds. It’s mainly Aspen as this area is the transition land between Aspen parkland and boreal forest. There are plains and woodland bison here and they are kept in separate areas. They have flourished here to the point that this park has repatriated some of both herds to other areas that are trying to reestablish them. It’s part of the national park system and so there is a toll station at the entrance/exit areas. Trails are maintained and some of them are groomed specifically for cross country skiing. It’s snow up here a fair amount in the last few weeks so the snow we encountered was too deep for Katy to walk and we’d suspected she wouldn’t do much hiking anyway - thus her green toboggan.
Rob is always teaching Katy about something whether it is about drywalling or painting or the fact that there was a squirrel living in the area we were hiking through. He pointed out the food leavings and the collapsed tunnel the squirrel had been using to travel.
We picnicked at a spot that would overlook the lake in warmer weather but right now unless you knew it was out there, you’d have a hard time picturing it at all. It was a quick lunch. Just the wraps and hot drinks and grapes, and then back to the vehicle to tour the rest of the park from the warmth of the car. Katy and I are not quite so Canadian as we need to be for winter hikes yet.
As we trudged back to the main trail and then to the parking lot, a story came to me. It amazes me how this happens. How I can be doing something completely normal, like pulling Katy in a toboggan, and suddenly a story comes. Like a gift. A gift with a lot of work attached to it, but still a present from the universe just the same. I think it will be a creepy story. I just finished Stephen King's The Mist. A very quick read - day and a half at most as it is only a bit over 200 pages. Sadly it is something I could have started and finished in an afternoon or evening back in the day but I don't have the stamina - or the time - for such a quick turnaround these days. Anyway, I think some of the inspiration came from my reading too. I have always loved apocalyptic survival stories. Mine is not an end of days thing, but it is about survival and I hope it will be a little suspenseful anyway.
On the way back to the car, Rob stopped us to show Katy a picture of a bison and then a moose. There are stations on the trail in that give the history of Alberta and pioneers and some of the wildlife in the area. Katy really loves moments like these although Rob doesn't think she is always paying attention to him, she is. She is becoming quite a daddy's girl. Recently she has been telling Rob that she loves him. Spontaneously and not merely as a response. They say it takes several years to blend families. I wonder what they mean by that because I know so few "real" families that are "blended". Perhaps what they mean is that it takes time for people to get to know how everyone reacts in situations - what they are likely to do or say. Still, even though I can predict my siblings and parents, I wouldn't say that I knew any one of them very well, except maybe my mother, and I know they don't know or understand me at all.
As we were driving out of the park, we stopped to watch a moose grazing. Katy was quite fascinated and equally horrified when she was told that she'd had moose for supper the other night. The drive home was quick. We don't live far from the park. It was another splendid day.
We made one stop on the way and that was in the tiny town of Lamont which is just north of the Fort. We needed to pick up the Edmonton Journal because even if it is light on news beyond its own borders - we are newspaper addicts and have to have at least one paper coming into the house daily and well, the Globe doesn’t run a Sunday edition. In fact neither paper runs its big edition on Sunday. The biggest paper of the week is the Saturday edition for both. Lamont though is not much of a town. Rob remembers the ice rink there as being a vandalism target for the bored teens trapped by a lack of transportation, probably, and somewhere to go, likely. There is a grain elevator and railway tracks. A main street with a donut shop, a bank and a grocery. Very small. Not picturesque. It bills itself as the “Gateway to Elk Island Park”. And with that, enough has been said.
The park is a forested preserve for elk and bison herds. It’s mainly Aspen as this area is the transition land between Aspen parkland and boreal forest. There are plains and woodland bison here and they are kept in separate areas. They have flourished here to the point that this park has repatriated some of both herds to other areas that are trying to reestablish them. It’s part of the national park system and so there is a toll station at the entrance/exit areas. Trails are maintained and some of them are groomed specifically for cross country skiing. It’s snow up here a fair amount in the last few weeks so the snow we encountered was too deep for Katy to walk and we’d suspected she wouldn’t do much hiking anyway - thus her green toboggan.
Rob is always teaching Katy about something whether it is about drywalling or painting or the fact that there was a squirrel living in the area we were hiking through. He pointed out the food leavings and the collapsed tunnel the squirrel had been using to travel.
We picnicked at a spot that would overlook the lake in warmer weather but right now unless you knew it was out there, you’d have a hard time picturing it at all. It was a quick lunch. Just the wraps and hot drinks and grapes, and then back to the vehicle to tour the rest of the park from the warmth of the car. Katy and I are not quite so Canadian as we need to be for winter hikes yet.
As we trudged back to the main trail and then to the parking lot, a story came to me. It amazes me how this happens. How I can be doing something completely normal, like pulling Katy in a toboggan, and suddenly a story comes. Like a gift. A gift with a lot of work attached to it, but still a present from the universe just the same. I think it will be a creepy story. I just finished Stephen King's The Mist. A very quick read - day and a half at most as it is only a bit over 200 pages. Sadly it is something I could have started and finished in an afternoon or evening back in the day but I don't have the stamina - or the time - for such a quick turnaround these days. Anyway, I think some of the inspiration came from my reading too. I have always loved apocalyptic survival stories. Mine is not an end of days thing, but it is about survival and I hope it will be a little suspenseful anyway.
On the way back to the car, Rob stopped us to show Katy a picture of a bison and then a moose. There are stations on the trail in that give the history of Alberta and pioneers and some of the wildlife in the area. Katy really loves moments like these although Rob doesn't think she is always paying attention to him, she is. She is becoming quite a daddy's girl. Recently she has been telling Rob that she loves him. Spontaneously and not merely as a response. They say it takes several years to blend families. I wonder what they mean by that because I know so few "real" families that are "blended". Perhaps what they mean is that it takes time for people to get to know how everyone reacts in situations - what they are likely to do or say. Still, even though I can predict my siblings and parents, I wouldn't say that I knew any one of them very well, except maybe my mother, and I know they don't know or understand me at all.
As we were driving out of the park, we stopped to watch a moose grazing. Katy was quite fascinated and equally horrified when she was told that she'd had moose for supper the other night. The drive home was quick. We don't live far from the park. It was another splendid day.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Simply Saturday
A beautiful day in Josephburg follows hard on the heals of a warm, melty spring day yesterday. There is no mistaking the smell or feel of spring when it begins to arm wrestle with winter. It’s a bit like watching my daughter arm wrestle with my husband however. She hanging with both hands onto his wrist and dangling a few inches off the ground in a futile attempt to subdue him. Spring will not suffer the same loss that Katy did to Rob. Spring always wins out in the end simply because she is patient and persistent. Certainly more-so than we who want wearily for her victory at this point in the winter season. It’s a thrill to see the shingles on the roof and the asphalt of the road reappear for the first time since early December. The constant dripping from the eaves stops and the sun pulls away enough moisten from the roads that one can ease up on the wiper fluid. The wind carries a hint of warmer days and the branches of the trees and bushes seem to know it as they dance, sway or bounce, depending.
The sky looks warmer. And the sun? The sun! It was quarter to six and just dust the other night when we were leaving dance. Another month and daylight savings returns with its plethora of light to cheer Spring on in her quest for reclamation.
The day began with Katy and breakfast as most weekend mornings do. Sometimes I get up and sometimes it’s Rob. Pour the Fruity Cheerios, get the half-full juice box and rice milk from the fridge, and make sure the TV is on and set to Treehouse. Back to bed then for a bit more shut eye or snuggling or whatever. Around nine there is the long leisurely breakfast - today’s menu was Cream of Wheat and half a Starbucks scone each. Did you know that they are a whopping 470 calories and 23 grams of fat - with or without frosting? Pure evil carb. After there is showering, dressing and readying for errands. Today I went right to the Safeway and groceries and Rob took Katy along with him to Canadian Tire on the left for paint and supplies.
The afternoon was laundry. Painting. And Katy spent time in her winter wonderland that is our front yard, scaling the melting drifts, sliding down on her seal-skin like bum and digging. Oh, the digging.
At the moment, Rob is hard at work on the NYTimes crossword and I am writing while simultaneously making a poor attempt to bake a banana bread. It will be edible, just, but not photo-worthy.
A simple Saturday. Something to savour.
The sky looks warmer. And the sun? The sun! It was quarter to six and just dust the other night when we were leaving dance. Another month and daylight savings returns with its plethora of light to cheer Spring on in her quest for reclamation.
The day began with Katy and breakfast as most weekend mornings do. Sometimes I get up and sometimes it’s Rob. Pour the Fruity Cheerios, get the half-full juice box and rice milk from the fridge, and make sure the TV is on and set to Treehouse. Back to bed then for a bit more shut eye or snuggling or whatever. Around nine there is the long leisurely breakfast - today’s menu was Cream of Wheat and half a Starbucks scone each. Did you know that they are a whopping 470 calories and 23 grams of fat - with or without frosting? Pure evil carb. After there is showering, dressing and readying for errands. Today I went right to the Safeway and groceries and Rob took Katy along with him to Canadian Tire on the left for paint and supplies.
The afternoon was laundry. Painting. And Katy spent time in her winter wonderland that is our front yard, scaling the melting drifts, sliding down on her seal-skin like bum and digging. Oh, the digging.
At the moment, Rob is hard at work on the NYTimes crossword and I am writing while simultaneously making a poor attempt to bake a banana bread. It will be edible, just, but not photo-worthy.
A simple Saturday. Something to savour.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Valentine's Day
When I would arrive at school last year, one of the first things that I did was to check my email for a missive from Rob. This was before our first face to face meeting in Idaho Falls. After that I rarely waited until I got to work and checking my mail was the first thing I did upon rising. I even kept the computer by my bed for mornings when I was bleary eyed from having been up well past midnight on the phone with Rob the previous night. Our calls usually didn’t start until Katy was bathed and in bed though that ritual evolved over time to the point where we would talk before dinner and then during bath and again after until we were both so tired we had to hang up. Those were the LDR days, and I am glad they are behind us.
Today’s photo is the one that greeted me on Valentine’s last year. It is the view from the dining room window that I see now every morning. Today’s view is overcast with light snow. Jordan’s car is sitting in front of the condo where she lives in Lancombe now rather than out front. I still don’t know the renters across the street. I remember watching them put up one of those giant inflatable pools in their front yard shortly after we moved in. It was up about a day and then their landlord, who lives next door, told them to take it down. The tiny bit of white in the left had corner is the old van. It hadn’t run in a while but Rob got it going and he drove that while I drove his Avalanche last summer. That was before we got the Equinox.
I was reading our valentine emails last night. And no, I won’t be sharing them. They are love letters. The kind you write when you are still fresh in the lust and amazement stage. We still lust awful lot and I find myself amazed now and again, but it is different. It changes even over the short run, becoming more solid and precious and wonderful.
A lot has changed and there will be changes to come because that is life, but change is good when you are with the person you love most and who loves you equally in return.
A Valentine for My Husband, Rob
Every woman needs a Sasquatch of her own
Life being incomplete without one
Earth signs are best
but at least born in an Oxen year
Able to shoulder all manner of burden
Physical and Emotional
Soft
but with firm and unyielding flesh
and principles
Impish, teasing,
able to giggle and explain (nearly) everything
Confident of being able to do (nearly) anything
Beacon bright blue eyes,
furry all over
and with very warm feet
Every woman needs a Sasquatch of her own
Life being incomplete without one
Today’s photo is the one that greeted me on Valentine’s last year. It is the view from the dining room window that I see now every morning. Today’s view is overcast with light snow. Jordan’s car is sitting in front of the condo where she lives in Lancombe now rather than out front. I still don’t know the renters across the street. I remember watching them put up one of those giant inflatable pools in their front yard shortly after we moved in. It was up about a day and then their landlord, who lives next door, told them to take it down. The tiny bit of white in the left had corner is the old van. It hadn’t run in a while but Rob got it going and he drove that while I drove his Avalanche last summer. That was before we got the Equinox.
I was reading our valentine emails last night. And no, I won’t be sharing them. They are love letters. The kind you write when you are still fresh in the lust and amazement stage. We still lust awful lot and I find myself amazed now and again, but it is different. It changes even over the short run, becoming more solid and precious and wonderful.
A lot has changed and there will be changes to come because that is life, but change is good when you are with the person you love most and who loves you equally in return.
A Valentine for My Husband, Rob
Every woman needs a Sasquatch of her own
Life being incomplete without one
Earth signs are best
but at least born in an Oxen year
Able to shoulder all manner of burden
Physical and Emotional
Soft
but with firm and unyielding flesh
and principles
Impish, teasing,
able to giggle and explain (nearly) everything
Confident of being able to do (nearly) anything
Beacon bright blue eyes,
furry all over
and with very warm feet
Every woman needs a Sasquatch of her own
Life being incomplete without one
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Subjoint
Rob and I frequently meet for lunch at a little place on 100Ave called Subjoint. A woman named Tara who is one of those impossibly thin beautiful women that I always wanted to be when I was young runs it. When I asked her today if she would mind if I took a photo of her at work for this blog article, she assented readily, but I could see in her eyes she was far to practical a person to think being featured on a blog was any kind of big deal. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if I hadn’t confirmed my middle-aged geekiness to her for sure today.
Tara is usually the only person behind the counter at lunch though I have seen another employee there on occasion. Rob and I frequent often enough now that she nearly knows our order by rote. Today as she confirmed that I do not take tomatoes or onions, I admitted that I am allergic to them. Another customer, a friend of Tara’s it seemed, was nearby still collecting her order and chatting a bit overheard and was horrified. How could one live one’s life without tomatoes? Well, it’s not as easy as it sounds. More foodstuffs than most people realize contain tomato in one from or another. So I explained that while I loved tomatoes, I suffered from Oral Allergy Syndrome (totally self-diagnosed by the way because I couldn’t get even my usually open-minded doctor to take my symptoms seriously – but when you mouth feels as though it is burned all the time and your lips are tingling – anyone will be motivated to sleuth.) I explained that while it wasn’t life-threatening (that I have been able to find out). It could/did make eating very painful. So, I avoid tomatoes and all citrus and peanuts – don’t know what to do about freshly mowed lawns – and amazingly my chronic heartburn, gastic upsets and sore mouth are gone. The friend continued to be horror-struck as she as she exited.
Subjoint is just a block over from the library where I meet with the Fort writing group on the first Wednesday of every month and just two doors down from Soulitude Spa where I get my hair done while discussing American politics and world events with the Canadian/Lebanese stylist, Fredrique, who despite what Rob thinks isn’t the tiniest bit gay. The café is really just a sandwich only place though they offer a limited chip selection at times, and there is an assortment of drinks. Rob and I usually have the veggie wraps anymore, but you can have any manner of sub and of course the ever popular donairs, which as nearly as I can figure out consists of shaved lamb on bread with the diner’s choice of accoutrements.
There are only four tiny tables, the kind you might find in a Starbucks, upfront for dining in. Now that it is winter, we dine in, but back in the fall we would take our sandwiches and drinks down to the picnic area by the river. From there you can see the trail that runs the length of the Fort and a tiny white church across the river that I found quite picturesque when the colors were turning from the summer greens to the mulit-coloreds of autumn.
I was the one who was early that doesn’t happen often. I dropped Katy off at school just before and her teacher was letting the kids into the classroom about five minutes earlier than usual. Probably on account of the weather. You just don’t appreciate the gift of five minutes until it’s just handed to you out of the blue when you least expect it. I had been thinking for a while that I wanted to shift the focus of my blog just a bit and start writing about the things, places and people I am finding here in Alberta and in Canada. After all, I have been given this great gift of another country to explore and take note of and what I have done with it really? So from now on I am going to include entries on the many things and people around me, starting with Subjoint.
If you are ever in the neighborhood of Fort Saskatchewan and in need of a quick and tasty lunch, I heartily recommend that you look up Tara and her café. It’s cozy and smells wonderful and is the perfect place for a mid-day break from the hustle. Not that life moves swiftly in the Fort. Around it perhaps would be more accurate. This is Canada remember, where my own dad noted that “the dogs even move slowly”, but I think you might find this place and the food a nice alternative to the fast and the processed of say a McDonald’s or a Tim Horton’s.
Tara is usually the only person behind the counter at lunch though I have seen another employee there on occasion. Rob and I frequent often enough now that she nearly knows our order by rote. Today as she confirmed that I do not take tomatoes or onions, I admitted that I am allergic to them. Another customer, a friend of Tara’s it seemed, was nearby still collecting her order and chatting a bit overheard and was horrified. How could one live one’s life without tomatoes? Well, it’s not as easy as it sounds. More foodstuffs than most people realize contain tomato in one from or another. So I explained that while I loved tomatoes, I suffered from Oral Allergy Syndrome (totally self-diagnosed by the way because I couldn’t get even my usually open-minded doctor to take my symptoms seriously – but when you mouth feels as though it is burned all the time and your lips are tingling – anyone will be motivated to sleuth.) I explained that while it wasn’t life-threatening (that I have been able to find out). It could/did make eating very painful. So, I avoid tomatoes and all citrus and peanuts – don’t know what to do about freshly mowed lawns – and amazingly my chronic heartburn, gastic upsets and sore mouth are gone. The friend continued to be horror-struck as she as she exited.
Subjoint is just a block over from the library where I meet with the Fort writing group on the first Wednesday of every month and just two doors down from Soulitude Spa where I get my hair done while discussing American politics and world events with the Canadian/Lebanese stylist, Fredrique, who despite what Rob thinks isn’t the tiniest bit gay. The café is really just a sandwich only place though they offer a limited chip selection at times, and there is an assortment of drinks. Rob and I usually have the veggie wraps anymore, but you can have any manner of sub and of course the ever popular donairs, which as nearly as I can figure out consists of shaved lamb on bread with the diner’s choice of accoutrements.
There are only four tiny tables, the kind you might find in a Starbucks, upfront for dining in. Now that it is winter, we dine in, but back in the fall we would take our sandwiches and drinks down to the picnic area by the river. From there you can see the trail that runs the length of the Fort and a tiny white church across the river that I found quite picturesque when the colors were turning from the summer greens to the mulit-coloreds of autumn.
I was the one who was early that doesn’t happen often. I dropped Katy off at school just before and her teacher was letting the kids into the classroom about five minutes earlier than usual. Probably on account of the weather. You just don’t appreciate the gift of five minutes until it’s just handed to you out of the blue when you least expect it. I had been thinking for a while that I wanted to shift the focus of my blog just a bit and start writing about the things, places and people I am finding here in Alberta and in Canada. After all, I have been given this great gift of another country to explore and take note of and what I have done with it really? So from now on I am going to include entries on the many things and people around me, starting with Subjoint.
If you are ever in the neighborhood of Fort Saskatchewan and in need of a quick and tasty lunch, I heartily recommend that you look up Tara and her café. It’s cozy and smells wonderful and is the perfect place for a mid-day break from the hustle. Not that life moves swiftly in the Fort. Around it perhaps would be more accurate. This is Canada remember, where my own dad noted that “the dogs even move slowly”, but I think you might find this place and the food a nice alternative to the fast and the processed of say a McDonald’s or a Tim Horton’s.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Seven Months Ago
Rob and I were married seven months ago today. I find it interesting that we count the months. I was never much for month counting. Not when I was first married to Will or when I was pregnant with Katy (though the count is generally by weeks for that life event). I had to stop and count when people would inquire how old Katy was even. Consequently, I have never numbered my days as a widow. It was actually quite a relief to be beyond the first anniversary and able to just count in years. So, it’s interesting that I, Rob too, counts the months of our marriage. Perhaps it’s just that this time we are so fortunate to have seems to precious not to keep track of very minute of it. Maybe that is even part of what drives my blogging. I want this on the record, so to speak.
We are “celebrating” by taking our old sofa to the dump. Neither Rob nor I can bear to sit on it since the nephew and his lice lounged all over it. And, it isn’t coming with us to Texas anyway. Rob hasn’t been able to pawn it off on either of the older girls. So to the dump. Then it’s on to the mall for walking shoes. I finally talked Rob into starting a walking program with me on the two nights of the week that the gym offers child-minding. In between we need to make yet another library run, returning dvd’s, cd’s and finished books. I love that we are establishing library time as a family with Katy. When I was little, I loved our trips to the library. I want Katy to see the library (and bookstores) as fun and wonderful places full of adventure and a place to exercise one’s imagination. After that it will likely be dark and time to come home.
It’s staying light longer now. It was after five before dusk hit in earnest yesterday, but it’s still a short day in terms of daylight and sunlight isn’t plentiful yet. I will so miss the long sun days. I loved being able to watch the sunset at 10:30 or 11PM. The day we were married my mother was amazed to see the sun only just setting when back in Iowa it would have been dark for hours already.
We are planning a sauna for later and perhaps a movie. A comedy. We tried comedy last night, the Aniston flick about the family who were the real Robinson’s from The Graduate. We kept our widowed character steak alive as the dad in the story was widowed in his mid-thirties.. Rob assures me that widowhood is not a theme in tonight’s pick.
But it’s a beautiful day. Not quite 2C (mid-thirties for you American folk) and we are set to enjoy it as they are predicting our first brush with -30C on Monday and Tuesday. It’s a good day to hang out and be a family and remember it’s our anniversary.
We are “celebrating” by taking our old sofa to the dump. Neither Rob nor I can bear to sit on it since the nephew and his lice lounged all over it. And, it isn’t coming with us to Texas anyway. Rob hasn’t been able to pawn it off on either of the older girls. So to the dump. Then it’s on to the mall for walking shoes. I finally talked Rob into starting a walking program with me on the two nights of the week that the gym offers child-minding. In between we need to make yet another library run, returning dvd’s, cd’s and finished books. I love that we are establishing library time as a family with Katy. When I was little, I loved our trips to the library. I want Katy to see the library (and bookstores) as fun and wonderful places full of adventure and a place to exercise one’s imagination. After that it will likely be dark and time to come home.
It’s staying light longer now. It was after five before dusk hit in earnest yesterday, but it’s still a short day in terms of daylight and sunlight isn’t plentiful yet. I will so miss the long sun days. I loved being able to watch the sunset at 10:30 or 11PM. The day we were married my mother was amazed to see the sun only just setting when back in Iowa it would have been dark for hours already.
We are planning a sauna for later and perhaps a movie. A comedy. We tried comedy last night, the Aniston flick about the family who were the real Robinson’s from The Graduate. We kept our widowed character steak alive as the dad in the story was widowed in his mid-thirties.. Rob assures me that widowhood is not a theme in tonight’s pick.
But it’s a beautiful day. Not quite 2C (mid-thirties for you American folk) and we are set to enjoy it as they are predicting our first brush with -30C on Monday and Tuesday. It’s a good day to hang out and be a family and remember it’s our anniversary.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
Happy 2008!
Last New Year’s Eve found me on the computer at midnight after an earlier dinner out with my friends, Vicki and C.J. At one point in the evening two gentlemen were sending us drinks but while Vicki egged them on, I just felt as though they were pushing in where they were not wanted - at least by me. As I cruised the net into the wee hours I would periodically check my mail for a message from Rob. He had said he would write when he got back from B.C. where he spent Christmas with the girls and in-laws. I found the following message from him:
Ann,
Just checking in to see how your holidays and New Year went. I have to confess that I already know a bit from reading your latest blog entries - I hope you don't mind? Anyways, I hope it was as good as it could be for you and Katy. I trust that Santa was good to her.
I have to confess also that I continue to be a bit surprised and amazed at how you articulate (in your posts and in your blogs) much of what I find myself thinking these days. That whole new widow/hollow eye thing at Katy's grief group - that's kind of how I feel about new members on ywbb. I find myself avoiding those forums, those posts. I just can't spare any more of me to share that much pain, I guess.
The holidays passed well enough for me and my girls. We spent just the right amount of time (maybe a bit too much) with Shelley's sister on the coast (of BC); after a few days, well let's just say that a few days is enough. Got to do some of the usual things while there - one day a couple of hours kayaking along the coast with BIL, a couple of days hiking in the nearby parks. I've been placing some of Shelley's ashes at select places - places that held special meaning to her or us or were just her favourite places. I found two more such places while visiting on the coast. Travel was uneventful both ways for the most part - weather cooperated and highways were good enough. At least, we stayed on the road and that's what counts.
Interesting event last night. After we got home, the girls both departed for their respective NYE plans and I called and begged off from where I had been invited - too tired after 12 hours of driving. I was doing a little e-mail and internetting (that damned addiction) and a little after midnight (my time) the phone rings. Who could that be? Turns out it was my new ywbb friend - calling to wish me a happy new year. It was a bit awkward given that we haven't spoken before - just e-mail and IM. I am amazed at her courage, but I will say it was nice to have someone call out of the blue to say they were thinking of me. Since I don't really have that anymore.
Well, I'm starting to run to the maudlin here, so will close for now. I'm hoping for better things in the new year. Starting back to work tomorrow morning (if I can get up at 6 am......). And organizing a 'bago dinner for the weekend after next will take up a bit of time. Not to mention the butterflies that go along with meeting a group of new people, widows no less.
Again, hope the holidays went well and wishing you and Katy all the best for 2007!
Take care.
Rob
I replied.
Rob,
Glad your holiday went well. No I don't mind that you
read the blog. I am trying not to neglect it the way I
did last month. I need to write and get back to
working through the knots in my novel. Need to make
more of an effort to stay away from YWBB as it is
sucking up time I could use for more productive
pursuits. A goal for the new year. I have pretty much
given up the other widows' site in the UK that I also
visited, so I can probably give this one up too. It
either swamps me with other people's grief or makes me
feel guilty for not grieving enough. Chat is boring
me. IM is starting to annoy me with it's impersonal
feel as well.
Lucky you to get a phone call. I am going to guess
that this was not your train wreck friend. It's nice
to have someone real to talk to and who cares enough
to check up. I got a call too, but I am not as pysched
about it.
It sounds like you had fun last week with some
favorite activities. That's good. You probably need
that before starting back to work. I am impressed with
the time and care and thought you have put into your
memorializing. I had thought about scattering some of
Will's ashes but couldn't bring myself to open the
container or keep any in the house. I sleep with the
lights on too often as it is. I hope you don't mind
that I read your posts about your trip in the fall. It
was interesting. I looked up the pictures too. Made me
smile. Will always wore a cap. Pittsburgh Steelers. He
would have loved the truck too.
The bago CJ is planning is at the end of the month.
She doesn't think we will have many people but that's
okay. You have to start somewhere. Meanwhile, we have
the Governor's ball on the 12th. Music and dancing. I
am hoping that I won't be as reticent as I was last
night with the two guys bought us drink. I need
practice I suppose.
School starts Wednesday. I am hoping to be there but I
have been in bed nearly all day with something. I feel
awful and can't decide if it is flu or bronchitis. I
will probably try to see my doctor in the morning. I
didn't want to risk the walk-in clinic today. You can
sit for hours on a holiday and that just increases the
odds of catching something nastier on top of what you
have already. Next week is finals which is an easy
week.
Have a good day tomorrow.
Ann
Not exactly the stuff of romance novels, but that wasn’t to be us for a while yet.
Last night we shared a midnight kiss in the bathroom doorway because we lost track of the time getting ready for bed and there were teenagers prowling about yet. We finished one of the most depressing dvd’s to date (a difficult feat, believe me) called Winter Passing with Ed Harris, Will Ferrell and Zooey Deschanel. Suicide. Widowhood. Complicated grieving. More - almost - suicide. You know, typical happy new year stuff. I have to shrug and laugh a bit as we keep the streak of downer movies alive.
This morning it was just the three of us - Rob, Katy and I - at breakfast. Our guest were still slumbering. Tea, smoothies, fresh cherries and pancakes. Topped off by a team effort (minus Katy) to complete the NY Times crossword (I think they threw us a bone for the end of the year).
My sister-in-law emerged from the guest row in full woe-is-me ultra-apologetic form. We countered her with the bright side and she retreated again. You just can’t throw to much of the light of practicality on people who are determined to feel neglected and cursed by the universe.
As the afternoon begins we are making are escape for the city. Rob has been hauling junk out of the basement and garage for a week or so now and stuff needs to go before our yard takes on to much of a white trash aura. I am writing and finishing up my scanning of the Canadian Writer’s Market book that I got from Rob for Christmas. I am paying particular attention to those publications which inform one that “we can’t pay for submissions right now” but pleas submit anyway. Those suit me best as I can’t be paid until I have my PR status approved in another, hopefully, three-ish months.
A quiet afternoon in the truck tooling the city and then home to the dry sauna, shower and partake of the yummy homemade soy-chicken soup I have going in the slow-cooker. Sis-in-law and children made it to the grocery story yesterday as they have tired of being polite and eating our organic, healthy fare. I was telling Rob right before they arrived that I am growing impatient with the idea that I must bend to the eating habits of the world in general even in my own home. My many food intolerance's are not of any concern to the world. Whenever we eat out or eat at someone’s home, I am forced to pick and forage as I may. Let them “eat cake” when they come to visit me is my new motto.
So, a Happy New Year to all who are reading this. A special thanks to Marsha and Sally my most faithful readers and commenters who keep me grounded with their wisdom. Also a welcome to The Girl Left Behind and a thank you for reading. Finally, an “I love you” to my Rob - my editor and biggest fan.
My horoscope for 2007 informed me that the year would be one on the order of great. This year’s prediction is much the same. I wonder if we make these predictions a reality through belief, hard work or both?
Ann,
Just checking in to see how your holidays and New Year went. I have to confess that I already know a bit from reading your latest blog entries - I hope you don't mind? Anyways, I hope it was as good as it could be for you and Katy. I trust that Santa was good to her.
I have to confess also that I continue to be a bit surprised and amazed at how you articulate (in your posts and in your blogs) much of what I find myself thinking these days. That whole new widow/hollow eye thing at Katy's grief group - that's kind of how I feel about new members on ywbb. I find myself avoiding those forums, those posts. I just can't spare any more of me to share that much pain, I guess.
The holidays passed well enough for me and my girls. We spent just the right amount of time (maybe a bit too much) with Shelley's sister on the coast (of BC); after a few days, well let's just say that a few days is enough. Got to do some of the usual things while there - one day a couple of hours kayaking along the coast with BIL, a couple of days hiking in the nearby parks. I've been placing some of Shelley's ashes at select places - places that held special meaning to her or us or were just her favourite places. I found two more such places while visiting on the coast. Travel was uneventful both ways for the most part - weather cooperated and highways were good enough. At least, we stayed on the road and that's what counts.
Interesting event last night. After we got home, the girls both departed for their respective NYE plans and I called and begged off from where I had been invited - too tired after 12 hours of driving. I was doing a little e-mail and internetting (that damned addiction) and a little after midnight (my time) the phone rings. Who could that be? Turns out it was my new ywbb friend - calling to wish me a happy new year. It was a bit awkward given that we haven't spoken before - just e-mail and IM. I am amazed at her courage, but I will say it was nice to have someone call out of the blue to say they were thinking of me. Since I don't really have that anymore.
Well, I'm starting to run to the maudlin here, so will close for now. I'm hoping for better things in the new year. Starting back to work tomorrow morning (if I can get up at 6 am......). And organizing a 'bago dinner for the weekend after next will take up a bit of time. Not to mention the butterflies that go along with meeting a group of new people, widows no less.
Again, hope the holidays went well and wishing you and Katy all the best for 2007!
Take care.
Rob
I replied.
Rob,
Glad your holiday went well. No I don't mind that you
read the blog. I am trying not to neglect it the way I
did last month. I need to write and get back to
working through the knots in my novel. Need to make
more of an effort to stay away from YWBB as it is
sucking up time I could use for more productive
pursuits. A goal for the new year. I have pretty much
given up the other widows' site in the UK that I also
visited, so I can probably give this one up too. It
either swamps me with other people's grief or makes me
feel guilty for not grieving enough. Chat is boring
me. IM is starting to annoy me with it's impersonal
feel as well.
Lucky you to get a phone call. I am going to guess
that this was not your train wreck friend. It's nice
to have someone real to talk to and who cares enough
to check up. I got a call too, but I am not as pysched
about it.
It sounds like you had fun last week with some
favorite activities. That's good. You probably need
that before starting back to work. I am impressed with
the time and care and thought you have put into your
memorializing. I had thought about scattering some of
Will's ashes but couldn't bring myself to open the
container or keep any in the house. I sleep with the
lights on too often as it is. I hope you don't mind
that I read your posts about your trip in the fall. It
was interesting. I looked up the pictures too. Made me
smile. Will always wore a cap. Pittsburgh Steelers. He
would have loved the truck too.
The bago CJ is planning is at the end of the month.
She doesn't think we will have many people but that's
okay. You have to start somewhere. Meanwhile, we have
the Governor's ball on the 12th. Music and dancing. I
am hoping that I won't be as reticent as I was last
night with the two guys bought us drink. I need
practice I suppose.
School starts Wednesday. I am hoping to be there but I
have been in bed nearly all day with something. I feel
awful and can't decide if it is flu or bronchitis. I
will probably try to see my doctor in the morning. I
didn't want to risk the walk-in clinic today. You can
sit for hours on a holiday and that just increases the
odds of catching something nastier on top of what you
have already. Next week is finals which is an easy
week.
Have a good day tomorrow.
Ann
Not exactly the stuff of romance novels, but that wasn’t to be us for a while yet.
Last night we shared a midnight kiss in the bathroom doorway because we lost track of the time getting ready for bed and there were teenagers prowling about yet. We finished one of the most depressing dvd’s to date (a difficult feat, believe me) called Winter Passing with Ed Harris, Will Ferrell and Zooey Deschanel. Suicide. Widowhood. Complicated grieving. More - almost - suicide. You know, typical happy new year stuff. I have to shrug and laugh a bit as we keep the streak of downer movies alive.
This morning it was just the three of us - Rob, Katy and I - at breakfast. Our guest were still slumbering. Tea, smoothies, fresh cherries and pancakes. Topped off by a team effort (minus Katy) to complete the NY Times crossword (I think they threw us a bone for the end of the year).
My sister-in-law emerged from the guest row in full woe-is-me ultra-apologetic form. We countered her with the bright side and she retreated again. You just can’t throw to much of the light of practicality on people who are determined to feel neglected and cursed by the universe.
As the afternoon begins we are making are escape for the city. Rob has been hauling junk out of the basement and garage for a week or so now and stuff needs to go before our yard takes on to much of a white trash aura. I am writing and finishing up my scanning of the Canadian Writer’s Market book that I got from Rob for Christmas. I am paying particular attention to those publications which inform one that “we can’t pay for submissions right now” but pleas submit anyway. Those suit me best as I can’t be paid until I have my PR status approved in another, hopefully, three-ish months.
A quiet afternoon in the truck tooling the city and then home to the dry sauna, shower and partake of the yummy homemade soy-chicken soup I have going in the slow-cooker. Sis-in-law and children made it to the grocery story yesterday as they have tired of being polite and eating our organic, healthy fare. I was telling Rob right before they arrived that I am growing impatient with the idea that I must bend to the eating habits of the world in general even in my own home. My many food intolerance's are not of any concern to the world. Whenever we eat out or eat at someone’s home, I am forced to pick and forage as I may. Let them “eat cake” when they come to visit me is my new motto.
So, a Happy New Year to all who are reading this. A special thanks to Marsha and Sally my most faithful readers and commenters who keep me grounded with their wisdom. Also a welcome to The Girl Left Behind and a thank you for reading. Finally, an “I love you” to my Rob - my editor and biggest fan.
My horoscope for 2007 informed me that the year would be one on the order of great. This year’s prediction is much the same. I wonder if we make these predictions a reality through belief, hard work or both?
Monday, December 31, 2007
Speak Too Soon. Invite the Jinx.
I spoke of giving up blogging in my last post because I wonder what good it is doing me any more and what I could possibly have left to say that might interest anyone. It’s not as though I, or my life, is all that interesting. But just when I thought I didn’t need the cathartic outlet that is my blog at its essence, my sister-in-law shows up at our home - four days later than she originally planned and with intentions of staying for a week. Did I mention she dragged - literally - her seventeen and thirteen year old children with her? No? Well, she did.
I like Shannon. I do. She can carry on quite the conversation and is very polite (aka Canadian), but she is in her seventh year of widowhood and stuck beyond even the most generous standards of grieving. Many of our conversations have centered around grief even when they started out about something else. Being problem solvers, both Rob and I have countered her at every turn with solutions to her fixed position - which she claims to not be happy with by the way - but for every solution, she remains attached to the problem like velcro. It’s exhausting in a way that reminds me of my time on the widow board.
Today, I escaped to the gym and then after lunch (did I mention they sleep til lunch?) I absconded with Katy to the library and to shop for groceries. In my absence, she decided to drag the teens to the mega-mall that is about a 45 minute drive from here. Upon my return with my raccoon-eyed child (teens make noise that intrigues and keeps five year olds up way past bedtime), Rob assures me that we will never have company over the holidays ever again and while I am being mollified, his sister calls to let him know her car has died. The night she arrived, she told us that the vehicle had been leaking anti-freeze for some time but she just took care of this by constantly refilling it. So, the anti-freeze was gone and the car wouldn’t start. Rob bundled up and went to fetch them and tow the car back. It was 8:30 by the time we had supper. Katy was beyond tired and nephew and niece were still wearing the stunned looks that I imagine overtook them when they realized that coercing their mom to take them home before the weekend wasn’t in the cards anymore.
My sister-in-law has taken to her bed. Our guest bed. I haven’t seen her at all. Rob says she does this.
It was easy to deal with widows who refused to help themselves when they were on the other side of the ethernet. I hit the ignore button. Now I have one in my basement. God help me.
I like Shannon. I do. She can carry on quite the conversation and is very polite (aka Canadian), but she is in her seventh year of widowhood and stuck beyond even the most generous standards of grieving. Many of our conversations have centered around grief even when they started out about something else. Being problem solvers, both Rob and I have countered her at every turn with solutions to her fixed position - which she claims to not be happy with by the way - but for every solution, she remains attached to the problem like velcro. It’s exhausting in a way that reminds me of my time on the widow board.
Today, I escaped to the gym and then after lunch (did I mention they sleep til lunch?) I absconded with Katy to the library and to shop for groceries. In my absence, she decided to drag the teens to the mega-mall that is about a 45 minute drive from here. Upon my return with my raccoon-eyed child (teens make noise that intrigues and keeps five year olds up way past bedtime), Rob assures me that we will never have company over the holidays ever again and while I am being mollified, his sister calls to let him know her car has died. The night she arrived, she told us that the vehicle had been leaking anti-freeze for some time but she just took care of this by constantly refilling it. So, the anti-freeze was gone and the car wouldn’t start. Rob bundled up and went to fetch them and tow the car back. It was 8:30 by the time we had supper. Katy was beyond tired and nephew and niece were still wearing the stunned looks that I imagine overtook them when they realized that coercing their mom to take them home before the weekend wasn’t in the cards anymore.
My sister-in-law has taken to her bed. Our guest bed. I haven’t seen her at all. Rob says she does this.
It was easy to deal with widows who refused to help themselves when they were on the other side of the ethernet. I hit the ignore button. Now I have one in my basement. God help me.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Serendipity
Rob and I watched the John Cusak movie, Serendity, the other night. It was notable for several reasons. First, it’s the first time we have been able to watch a dvd in the living room for well over a month. Second, it re-introduced me to the term serendipity. And finally it reminded me of being cubed about this time last winter.
Of late our movie watching has been confined to Rob’s computer screen as we lay cuddled up for the night in our bed - a very nice way to view a flick by the way that I highly recommend to those pressed for time and behind on their list of must-sees. We always check out the previews after a movie is over, and it is here that we have found a treasure trove of films that have proved interesting to very enjoyable views. Serendipity came to us off The Shipping News ( a good film but by warned - it’s about a widower). Rob and I are both Cusack fans, and this film looked entertaining, and death-free, and seemed vaguely familiar with it’s destiny theme of love/soul mates (though I don’t technically believe in soul mates as defined in the Holy Writ of the Widowed). It was wonderful to back back on our uber-uncomfortable sofa in a living room now free of Christmas now that the rapidly denuding pine was cozy in the snow of our front, and our decorations were packed away for our Christmas’s yet to come. I usually drape my legs over Rob’s lap, and he will absently rub my feet and calves. I love our time together regardless, but time in the dark that is intimate and yet not has such a glow.
Serendipity is a word coined from a Persian folk-tale about three princes who made fortunate discoveries that they were wise enough to recognize as such while they were questing for things entirely different. The word appears first in a letter from Horace Ordpole the 4th Earl of Orford to his friend, Horace Mann (not the American educator). In his use of his term, the Earl put heavy emphasis on the idea of being wise. In some ways it reminds me of the cliche - God helps those who help themselves. In the film, the characters discuss receiving signs from the universe that are meant to guide a person to their destiny or soul mate. The characters, like many people I know, take black and white positions on the idea of fate and destiny. Either our lives are completely scripted or we are free will all the way and the masters/authors of our own fates. No one, not surprisingly, takes the middle ground or contemplates the idea that perhaps our lives our a mixture, though the sales clerk, played by Eugene Levy, wades in with “What if it’s a random, godless universe where nothing makes sense at all?” Despite that, I am one who buys completely into the theory because much of the calmer and contented aspects/times of my life coincide with me following the roadmap of signs that the universe sprinkles on/near/around me constantly and of which I am usually only half-aware even when I am paying attention.
Rob and I are a serendipitous pairing. I am not sure if it is because our losses that we are more in tune with occurrences that a great many simply shrug off as random, or don’t notice at all, or if our new insight is part of our destinies too. I know that people who have experienced tragedy buck violently at the notion that all things happen for a reason, but nowhere is it written that the events that will make up our lives will be happy ones or ones that we would agree with if given a vote on it now. That some people experience more “bad” than “good” is a purely subjective, even if it doesn’t feel like it. I have this feeling that nothing happens in our lives without our permission, or tacit agreement, somewhere in the past. I really do think that I knew what was coming long before it did for reasons that I won’t go into fully now (except to say that more than once in my early life I seemed to know I would be a young widow - for example my Barbies were all war widows with children despite the fact I had G.I. Joes to mate them with). I am not certain why I agreed to the life I have lived so far, but I am pretty certain I did and perhaps in the next life I will remember why.
This particular dvd featured out takes and we always watch the special features because we can check out other movies or the soundtrack this way. Many of the movies we end up requesting from the library (we rarely go to the video store) come from the trailers on dvd’s , and we often check out soundtracks this way as well. All of the out takes were deleted scenes from the film. One of the scenes has the two love interests getting to know each other while the girl is “cubing” the young man. Cubing is one of those psychological personality tests which works as follows:
You are in a desert and you see a cube.
1) How big is the cube? What is its color? What do you think about that color? How far away is it from you? Is it transparent? Can you see what is inside? How big is the cube compared to the desert? What is the ratio?
2) There is a ladder. Is the ladder leaning on the cube? What is the color of the ladder? What is it made of? What impression does it give you? What is the distance between the cube and the ladder?
3) There is a horse. What is the distance between the cube and the horse? What is the color of the house?
I took a cube test similar to this one just over a year ago. Basically my cube was the size of a suitcase lying flat on the ground and was made of crystal or glass and it was transparent. The ladder was one of those aluminum extension ones and it was lying flat on the ground too and away from me. The horse was a stallion, black with a white mane and it was wandering in the distance. So, the cube represents me. I was flattened, fragile and my emotional state was obvious. The ladder was the people in my life. Aluminum isn’t the strongest of metals, it is light-weight and the fact that it was lying flat and away from me represented the fact that I wasn’t being well-supported in my life. The horse represented my lover. Black is an obvious one. He was dead. And not nearby. Cubing is one of those things you can only do once without prejudicing the outcome.
At the end of the film, the characters have followed all of fates clues back to each other and are celebrating the serendipitous moment at Bloomingdales where they met years ago. I remarked to Rob that it would be difficult for us to go back to the place where we met - the YWBB - because it is an Internet message board. He reminded me that he had saved the entire thread before he unregistered and had his posting history there erased. I had gone him one better when I left there and you would be hard pressed to find any evidence I was ever there at all. I suggested that we could return to Idaho Falls and he suggested we stroll along the frozen banks of the river that runs through a park in the town. Ironically, though we have pictures of some much of our time together, we haven’t a single picture from that weekend. Too much serendipity that weekend and I don’t think it can be captured on film anyway.
Of late our movie watching has been confined to Rob’s computer screen as we lay cuddled up for the night in our bed - a very nice way to view a flick by the way that I highly recommend to those pressed for time and behind on their list of must-sees. We always check out the previews after a movie is over, and it is here that we have found a treasure trove of films that have proved interesting to very enjoyable views. Serendipity came to us off The Shipping News ( a good film but by warned - it’s about a widower). Rob and I are both Cusack fans, and this film looked entertaining, and death-free, and seemed vaguely familiar with it’s destiny theme of love/soul mates (though I don’t technically believe in soul mates as defined in the Holy Writ of the Widowed). It was wonderful to back back on our uber-uncomfortable sofa in a living room now free of Christmas now that the rapidly denuding pine was cozy in the snow of our front, and our decorations were packed away for our Christmas’s yet to come. I usually drape my legs over Rob’s lap, and he will absently rub my feet and calves. I love our time together regardless, but time in the dark that is intimate and yet not has such a glow.
Serendipity is a word coined from a Persian folk-tale about three princes who made fortunate discoveries that they were wise enough to recognize as such while they were questing for things entirely different. The word appears first in a letter from Horace Ordpole the 4th Earl of Orford to his friend, Horace Mann (not the American educator). In his use of his term, the Earl put heavy emphasis on the idea of being wise. In some ways it reminds me of the cliche - God helps those who help themselves. In the film, the characters discuss receiving signs from the universe that are meant to guide a person to their destiny or soul mate. The characters, like many people I know, take black and white positions on the idea of fate and destiny. Either our lives are completely scripted or we are free will all the way and the masters/authors of our own fates. No one, not surprisingly, takes the middle ground or contemplates the idea that perhaps our lives our a mixture, though the sales clerk, played by Eugene Levy, wades in with “What if it’s a random, godless universe where nothing makes sense at all?” Despite that, I am one who buys completely into the theory because much of the calmer and contented aspects/times of my life coincide with me following the roadmap of signs that the universe sprinkles on/near/around me constantly and of which I am usually only half-aware even when I am paying attention.
Rob and I are a serendipitous pairing. I am not sure if it is because our losses that we are more in tune with occurrences that a great many simply shrug off as random, or don’t notice at all, or if our new insight is part of our destinies too. I know that people who have experienced tragedy buck violently at the notion that all things happen for a reason, but nowhere is it written that the events that will make up our lives will be happy ones or ones that we would agree with if given a vote on it now. That some people experience more “bad” than “good” is a purely subjective, even if it doesn’t feel like it. I have this feeling that nothing happens in our lives without our permission, or tacit agreement, somewhere in the past. I really do think that I knew what was coming long before it did for reasons that I won’t go into fully now (except to say that more than once in my early life I seemed to know I would be a young widow - for example my Barbies were all war widows with children despite the fact I had G.I. Joes to mate them with). I am not certain why I agreed to the life I have lived so far, but I am pretty certain I did and perhaps in the next life I will remember why.
This particular dvd featured out takes and we always watch the special features because we can check out other movies or the soundtrack this way. Many of the movies we end up requesting from the library (we rarely go to the video store) come from the trailers on dvd’s , and we often check out soundtracks this way as well. All of the out takes were deleted scenes from the film. One of the scenes has the two love interests getting to know each other while the girl is “cubing” the young man. Cubing is one of those psychological personality tests which works as follows:
You are in a desert and you see a cube.
1) How big is the cube? What is its color? What do you think about that color? How far away is it from you? Is it transparent? Can you see what is inside? How big is the cube compared to the desert? What is the ratio?
2) There is a ladder. Is the ladder leaning on the cube? What is the color of the ladder? What is it made of? What impression does it give you? What is the distance between the cube and the ladder?
3) There is a horse. What is the distance between the cube and the horse? What is the color of the house?
I took a cube test similar to this one just over a year ago. Basically my cube was the size of a suitcase lying flat on the ground and was made of crystal or glass and it was transparent. The ladder was one of those aluminum extension ones and it was lying flat on the ground too and away from me. The horse was a stallion, black with a white mane and it was wandering in the distance. So, the cube represents me. I was flattened, fragile and my emotional state was obvious. The ladder was the people in my life. Aluminum isn’t the strongest of metals, it is light-weight and the fact that it was lying flat and away from me represented the fact that I wasn’t being well-supported in my life. The horse represented my lover. Black is an obvious one. He was dead. And not nearby. Cubing is one of those things you can only do once without prejudicing the outcome.
At the end of the film, the characters have followed all of fates clues back to each other and are celebrating the serendipitous moment at Bloomingdales where they met years ago. I remarked to Rob that it would be difficult for us to go back to the place where we met - the YWBB - because it is an Internet message board. He reminded me that he had saved the entire thread before he unregistered and had his posting history there erased. I had gone him one better when I left there and you would be hard pressed to find any evidence I was ever there at all. I suggested that we could return to Idaho Falls and he suggested we stroll along the frozen banks of the river that runs through a park in the town. Ironically, though we have pictures of some much of our time together, we haven’t a single picture from that weekend. Too much serendipity that weekend and I don’t think it can be captured on film anyway.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
The Best
Here in Alberta licensing is out-sourced. The provincial governments allow private businesses, like insurance companies, to set up outlets in towns and cities and they handle the paperwork and fees. These businesses handle all types of licensing from marriage to driver’s to hunting/fishing to animals. Because of this, there is often quite a lengthy wait when applying for whatever type of license you might need. Last week I was finally able to get the GDL designation taken off my driver’s license as I had recently received my proof of licensing from the state of Iowa. It took over a large chunk of my afternoon between standing in line and waiting for approval from the provincial authorities who needed to see a faxed copy of my paperwork before giving the okay for the change.
During my second stint in line, I noticed a couple at the counter who were obviously getting a marriage license. I must say I love the rituals associated with marriage in the Alberta province. If you ever have need of writing marriage vows, I urge you to check out the Alberta official ceremony. It even impressed my staunchly Catholic mother and aunt and that is significant. At one point in application process, both parties are required to raise their right hands and swear that the information they have given for their application is valid. I think it’s neat, the seriousness of the application process and the ceremony after all this is a country were people don’t have to marry. There is a common-law option. I watched the couple thinking what most people would think “Isn’t this sweet? Two people starting life together as a committed pair.”
When they were finished, they had to walk right by me to leave. The woman was young but still a bit older than Rob’s oldest daughter by my estimation and the man about thirty, give or take. She was smiling in a dreamy sort of way, and he was putting his credit card back into his wallet (a marriage license is about $77 dollars) with a disgusted look on his face and he muttered loud enough for nearly all about to hear, “Well, that was a waste of money.” I was a bit stunned and I wanted to chase the woman down a few minutes later and tell her to run, far and fast, but I chose to stay in line because you can’t really know what is going on inside a relationship from bits and snippets. Although as I told Rob recently that what you see is generally what you get in terms of how people’s public behavior is usually not far off their private persona. As my old English supervisor, Jerry Wadden, was fond of reminding us at the start of each school year, “These parents are not keeping the good children home and hiding them in closets. They are sending you the best they have.” And so it follows that it is the same with adults. They aren’t saying their best for a stand-up routine in front of the mirror each morning as they brush their teeth. They are giving the world the best they’ve got. I think though, as in the case of this young couple I observed, that sometimes people tend to settle for less than the best they deserve.
During my second stint in line, I noticed a couple at the counter who were obviously getting a marriage license. I must say I love the rituals associated with marriage in the Alberta province. If you ever have need of writing marriage vows, I urge you to check out the Alberta official ceremony. It even impressed my staunchly Catholic mother and aunt and that is significant. At one point in application process, both parties are required to raise their right hands and swear that the information they have given for their application is valid. I think it’s neat, the seriousness of the application process and the ceremony after all this is a country were people don’t have to marry. There is a common-law option. I watched the couple thinking what most people would think “Isn’t this sweet? Two people starting life together as a committed pair.”
When they were finished, they had to walk right by me to leave. The woman was young but still a bit older than Rob’s oldest daughter by my estimation and the man about thirty, give or take. She was smiling in a dreamy sort of way, and he was putting his credit card back into his wallet (a marriage license is about $77 dollars) with a disgusted look on his face and he muttered loud enough for nearly all about to hear, “Well, that was a waste of money.” I was a bit stunned and I wanted to chase the woman down a few minutes later and tell her to run, far and fast, but I chose to stay in line because you can’t really know what is going on inside a relationship from bits and snippets. Although as I told Rob recently that what you see is generally what you get in terms of how people’s public behavior is usually not far off their private persona. As my old English supervisor, Jerry Wadden, was fond of reminding us at the start of each school year, “These parents are not keeping the good children home and hiding them in closets. They are sending you the best they have.” And so it follows that it is the same with adults. They aren’t saying their best for a stand-up routine in front of the mirror each morning as they brush their teeth. They are giving the world the best they’ve got. I think though, as in the case of this young couple I observed, that sometimes people tend to settle for less than the best they deserve.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Happy Halloween
It’s been a full day. Katy has been in her Dancing Princess costume since 10AM and as I type this Rob and Katy have been home once to get a bigger bad for her “collection taking” (and to drop off our cat who has followed them up and down the street playfully attacking swinging goody bags and trying to gain entry to our neighbors homes when they open their doors).
Katy’s new school is not like the one she attended back in Des Moines. My old school district was very careful with Halloween, as they were with all holidays. Never acknowledging by name. No parties. No costume parades. In fact, the city of Des Moines and its surrounding suburbs neutered the holiday long ago by refusing to allow it to be held on the 31st and changing its name. They referred to it as Beggar’s Night and with the exception of only one year in the twenty that I lived there, it was always held on the 30th for two hours. This was supposed to cut down on vandalism and maybe take some of the “satanic” taint away from it. I find it ironic that Halloween is thought to be a holiday of evil. It’s druid origins have more to do with acknowledgment of the departed than the calling up of demons, which is actually Christian nonsense anyway.
I volunteered to help out in Katy’s class again today. It was fun. The kids from all the grades gathered in the gym. We sang - okay, they sang - O Canada and then each class got to parade across the stage to show off their costumes. Katy’s teacher had an assortment of party stations waiting for them back in the room, and we helped the kids make Mardi Gras type masks and decorate those tiny “pumpkins” and make tracings of familiar Halloween images like bats and ghosts which they labeled themselves.
Katy was so impatient to get out a trick or treat tonight. She decided that Rob should take her because he couldn’t be trusted at home with the candy. Katy was sure he would eat most of it before anyone could come knocking for it. I don’t think he would have. Eaten all of it that is. Some would be a given though.
After they returned, we set out for the bookmobile as Wednesday night is library night. Rob, me, the little dancing princess and our cat tagging along. We probably made a very heart-warming sight and looked quite the nuclear perfect family. Little would anyone guess where we all were at just a year ago, though I don’t like to make those comparisons. I didn’t decorate this year because Rob isn’t ready for tombstones in the front yard, even if they aren’t real, but I was ready in a way. I listened jealously to my best friend describe the haunted house that our Jaycees friends build every fall to raise money for charities. Will and I fell in love while building one in the fall of 1998 and shared our first kiss in the shower scene I created. There amidst the splayed body in a tub full of blood with spooky music in the background and strobes blinking was were it all began for us. Couldn’t have been anymore romantic. And those memories are good ones. Decorating and remembering creations past feels okay these days. There are things that don’t come back. Priorities change and continue to evolve for some time after the loss of a loved one. It’s inevitable and probably not a bad thing at all. Some people go the whole of their lives without ever given a second thought to how they live their lives and in my opinion that doesn’t make them luckier than I am.
So, Happy Halloween, my friends.
Katy’s new school is not like the one she attended back in Des Moines. My old school district was very careful with Halloween, as they were with all holidays. Never acknowledging by name. No parties. No costume parades. In fact, the city of Des Moines and its surrounding suburbs neutered the holiday long ago by refusing to allow it to be held on the 31st and changing its name. They referred to it as Beggar’s Night and with the exception of only one year in the twenty that I lived there, it was always held on the 30th for two hours. This was supposed to cut down on vandalism and maybe take some of the “satanic” taint away from it. I find it ironic that Halloween is thought to be a holiday of evil. It’s druid origins have more to do with acknowledgment of the departed than the calling up of demons, which is actually Christian nonsense anyway.
I volunteered to help out in Katy’s class again today. It was fun. The kids from all the grades gathered in the gym. We sang - okay, they sang - O Canada and then each class got to parade across the stage to show off their costumes. Katy’s teacher had an assortment of party stations waiting for them back in the room, and we helped the kids make Mardi Gras type masks and decorate those tiny “pumpkins” and make tracings of familiar Halloween images like bats and ghosts which they labeled themselves.
Katy was so impatient to get out a trick or treat tonight. She decided that Rob should take her because he couldn’t be trusted at home with the candy. Katy was sure he would eat most of it before anyone could come knocking for it. I don’t think he would have. Eaten all of it that is. Some would be a given though.
After they returned, we set out for the bookmobile as Wednesday night is library night. Rob, me, the little dancing princess and our cat tagging along. We probably made a very heart-warming sight and looked quite the nuclear perfect family. Little would anyone guess where we all were at just a year ago, though I don’t like to make those comparisons. I didn’t decorate this year because Rob isn’t ready for tombstones in the front yard, even if they aren’t real, but I was ready in a way. I listened jealously to my best friend describe the haunted house that our Jaycees friends build every fall to raise money for charities. Will and I fell in love while building one in the fall of 1998 and shared our first kiss in the shower scene I created. There amidst the splayed body in a tub full of blood with spooky music in the background and strobes blinking was were it all began for us. Couldn’t have been anymore romantic. And those memories are good ones. Decorating and remembering creations past feels okay these days. There are things that don’t come back. Priorities change and continue to evolve for some time after the loss of a loved one. It’s inevitable and probably not a bad thing at all. Some people go the whole of their lives without ever given a second thought to how they live their lives and in my opinion that doesn’t make them luckier than I am.
So, Happy Halloween, my friends.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Time, Timing and the Healing of All Wounds
There are essentially two camps of thinking when it comes to re-partnering or finding love again after being widowed. The first camp is loud and belligerent in its conviction, believes that time must pass and grief work must be done and that all parties involved must be consulted beforehand. I don’t belong to that camp. I find them to be irritating and sheople-like. But then again, I don’t believe that time heals wounds or that such a thing as grief-work even exists (it sounds suspiciously like those “camps” that Dr. Phil holds, tapes and uses as filler when he can’t come up with real topics to discuss). I am also a firm believer in not allowing friends and family, who are merely appendages to your life really, to have say over the general direction my life. In-laws will get over you. Parents and siblings have lives of their own that should occupy them more. And children grow up and go out into the world to live lives that they won’t allow you to input to, so why do you owe them input into yours when they are essentially not mature enough, or self-less enough, to give meaningful input? The second camp, my camp, believes that love will come along again if you are open to the idea and living your life minus the drama of single twenty-somethings who read Cosmo for the man-snaring dress and sex tips and visit their tarot readers monthly to see if their bar-hopping is going to pan out. And the grief part? The idea, prevalent among first campers, that if you wallow in it hard enough and long enough it will diminish to a corner of your psyche where you can wall it off and pull it out only on anniversaries is the most simplistic thing I think I have ever heard. Grief is. And it continues to be. Forever. It diminishes, if you want to use that term, as you begin to reclaim your life and rebuild it. Nothing short of that works. Could that be the “grief-work” everyone talks about? Perhaps. But what does love have to do with it?
When I was single, and I was for forever and a day, it seemed to me that the more time I spent pondering my single state the more single I remained. It was only when I was busy living and moving forward that the opportunities to fall in love and have that love returned presented themselves. The same held true after my first husband died. And what love has to do with grieving is that it is made easier by being able to share the load with someone who cares about you in a more intimate manner than your children or your mother-in-law can. This is true of most everything in life.
I am not going to pretend that I didn’t think about falling in love and marrying again early. In fact I thought about it even before Will died. Ours was a Terry Schiavo-ish situation with him first suffering from a rapidly progressive dementia until within little more than a year, he couldn’t communicate or understand at all. At that point, I spent well over an additional year on my own before he died though the man I had married was long since gone. Though I can intellectually understand those with terminal situations who refused to contemplate the future before their spouses died. I don’t get that kind of denial personally. So, when I read things other widows have written about time lines and respect for one’s late spouse or the need to make your children the epicenter of your life until they are grown or “working” the misery as reasons to not date or begin relationships, I chalk this up to the fact that some people aren’t me.
There was a recent flare-up on the widow board caused by a poster’s plea for others to not casually toss about absolutes when replying to other people’s queries. I watched the thread for a day or so because I knew it would dissolve into the age-old debate between the daters and the not-daters. Everything widow eventually breaks down along those lines when the subject is moving on. A woman I have little patience with leapt upon this topic, as she always does, to criticize and shame those people who haven’t followed her example of simply living for her children and waiting for the day that she no longer misses her husband. I have always felt there was a story behind that and to my surprise, those who usually support her vitriol, openly or through their silence, chastised her to the point where she admitted that she was the hypocrite I suspected her to be, an early dater. Her relationship however didn’t work out and she is essentially carrying a torch for this man still. Not at all unlike what happens to the single and divorced in the world. We are not as unlike them as we like to think in this respect anyway. So much for the idea that waiting is the given though, and those who begin to feel again and act on those feelings are horrible people and bad examples.
Rob finds the finger-waggers as irritating as I do. Not because he worries about what people think. He doesn’t. But because it is disrespectful and presumptive of others to claim knowledge of his heart and mind simply because they share his widowed state. As he is fond of pointing out, widowhood does not make saints out of assholes generally, nor does it give any special ability to guide or give counsel to people who had social issues or issues at all to begin with. So, I resisted the urge to re-register and comment. Easily as it turns out but I couldn’t let it go enough not to blog on the topic because, personally, I feel that the vast majority of the bereaved are back out into the world sooner rather than later and it is those who cling to their grief via arbitrary timelines and “rules” and absolutes who are the ones who really need help. The rest of us are doing all right without them.
When I was single, and I was for forever and a day, it seemed to me that the more time I spent pondering my single state the more single I remained. It was only when I was busy living and moving forward that the opportunities to fall in love and have that love returned presented themselves. The same held true after my first husband died. And what love has to do with grieving is that it is made easier by being able to share the load with someone who cares about you in a more intimate manner than your children or your mother-in-law can. This is true of most everything in life.
I am not going to pretend that I didn’t think about falling in love and marrying again early. In fact I thought about it even before Will died. Ours was a Terry Schiavo-ish situation with him first suffering from a rapidly progressive dementia until within little more than a year, he couldn’t communicate or understand at all. At that point, I spent well over an additional year on my own before he died though the man I had married was long since gone. Though I can intellectually understand those with terminal situations who refused to contemplate the future before their spouses died. I don’t get that kind of denial personally. So, when I read things other widows have written about time lines and respect for one’s late spouse or the need to make your children the epicenter of your life until they are grown or “working” the misery as reasons to not date or begin relationships, I chalk this up to the fact that some people aren’t me.
There was a recent flare-up on the widow board caused by a poster’s plea for others to not casually toss about absolutes when replying to other people’s queries. I watched the thread for a day or so because I knew it would dissolve into the age-old debate between the daters and the not-daters. Everything widow eventually breaks down along those lines when the subject is moving on. A woman I have little patience with leapt upon this topic, as she always does, to criticize and shame those people who haven’t followed her example of simply living for her children and waiting for the day that she no longer misses her husband. I have always felt there was a story behind that and to my surprise, those who usually support her vitriol, openly or through their silence, chastised her to the point where she admitted that she was the hypocrite I suspected her to be, an early dater. Her relationship however didn’t work out and she is essentially carrying a torch for this man still. Not at all unlike what happens to the single and divorced in the world. We are not as unlike them as we like to think in this respect anyway. So much for the idea that waiting is the given though, and those who begin to feel again and act on those feelings are horrible people and bad examples.
Rob finds the finger-waggers as irritating as I do. Not because he worries about what people think. He doesn’t. But because it is disrespectful and presumptive of others to claim knowledge of his heart and mind simply because they share his widowed state. As he is fond of pointing out, widowhood does not make saints out of assholes generally, nor does it give any special ability to guide or give counsel to people who had social issues or issues at all to begin with. So, I resisted the urge to re-register and comment. Easily as it turns out but I couldn’t let it go enough not to blog on the topic because, personally, I feel that the vast majority of the bereaved are back out into the world sooner rather than later and it is those who cling to their grief via arbitrary timelines and “rules” and absolutes who are the ones who really need help. The rest of us are doing all right without them.
Friday, October 19, 2007
Family and Friends
Rob asked me the first night back why I had wanted to make the trip here. This was after observing me with my folks when we finally arrived. Neither of my parents really listened to much of what I had to say and my mom especially would interrupt me to talk about herself. And that is just them. As I had explained to Rob before, no one in my family really gets me on a deep level or truly understands who I am. He has said himself that I am a “complex” person, though I am not sure why he thinks so. I suppose I am a contradiction at times but I am not sure that qualifies me for “complex” which sounds so much more interesting than it is.
I am not sure I wanted to come back as much as I just needed to for a bit. To check on my folks who are getting older and are not healthy, my father especially. Katy needed to see her grandparents and cousin, Luke. She has and is adjusting quite well in Alberta but she is still just a very little girl. The high school reunion thing was just a coincidence. As it turns out I will probably not see many people from back in those days. Everyone lives so far away and has significant people and family that have taken them far from Dubuque and the kids that we once were. It’s okay. I have never been one to have those BFF type relationships with people who stick with you for lifetimes and would come at the drop of the hat if called upon to do so. I find those types of friendships interesting but don’t know anyone personally who has one. And maybe no one really has someone like that. Maybe it is more the case that we have people who are supportive of us in ways we accept as good enough, often enough. If that makes any sense.
I think the biggest reason I agreed to take this trip was for the opportunity to show Rob where I came from and to spend some time off by ourselves which we haven’t had really since moving in together and marrying. My mom is a willing sitter and Katy has come to expect to be allowed to stay at my folks when we visit. This allows Rob and I the kind of one on one and intimacy that isn’t a given when you marry the second time.
My best friend, Vicki, took the day off and is driving over with her mom and daughter, Lindsay for a quick visit this afternoon. If I have a friend who comes closest to “drop everything” it is her.
Today it’s rainy. Iowa should be synonymous with “swamp” and “sub-tropic” and “Noah” as in ark. I do not miss the biblical rain season here which grows longer and longer as global warming picks up its pace. Rob and I will head out to Starbucks soon and then up to my folks. They enjoy our presence, and they enjoy fact that we are useful. We made dinner last night and cleaned up after. Rob changed the door nob on the bathroom door, so it actually locks again. I guess you can go home again, as long as you are just visiting.
I am not sure I wanted to come back as much as I just needed to for a bit. To check on my folks who are getting older and are not healthy, my father especially. Katy needed to see her grandparents and cousin, Luke. She has and is adjusting quite well in Alberta but she is still just a very little girl. The high school reunion thing was just a coincidence. As it turns out I will probably not see many people from back in those days. Everyone lives so far away and has significant people and family that have taken them far from Dubuque and the kids that we once were. It’s okay. I have never been one to have those BFF type relationships with people who stick with you for lifetimes and would come at the drop of the hat if called upon to do so. I find those types of friendships interesting but don’t know anyone personally who has one. And maybe no one really has someone like that. Maybe it is more the case that we have people who are supportive of us in ways we accept as good enough, often enough. If that makes any sense.
I think the biggest reason I agreed to take this trip was for the opportunity to show Rob where I came from and to spend some time off by ourselves which we haven’t had really since moving in together and marrying. My mom is a willing sitter and Katy has come to expect to be allowed to stay at my folks when we visit. This allows Rob and I the kind of one on one and intimacy that isn’t a given when you marry the second time.
My best friend, Vicki, took the day off and is driving over with her mom and daughter, Lindsay for a quick visit this afternoon. If I have a friend who comes closest to “drop everything” it is her.
Today it’s rainy. Iowa should be synonymous with “swamp” and “sub-tropic” and “Noah” as in ark. I do not miss the biblical rain season here which grows longer and longer as global warming picks up its pace. Rob and I will head out to Starbucks soon and then up to my folks. They enjoy our presence, and they enjoy fact that we are useful. We made dinner last night and cleaned up after. Rob changed the door nob on the bathroom door, so it actually locks again. I guess you can go home again, as long as you are just visiting.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
A Random Thought about Writing and the Widowed
We are heading back to the states tomorrow for a short visit. Per usual there is too much to still be done and probably only just enough time to do it and nothing more. I can’t figure out how my life went from being empty, open spaces to this crammed full existence that still feels as though I need more minutes at the end of every day. It seems as though it shouldn’t have as simple as falling in love with Rob and moving here to be with him, but in more ways than can be imagined, it was just that.
Which brings me to a thought. Rob and I have been talking a bit about writing. About his promise to write about Shelley’s ordeal with melanoma and the difficulty that presents in terms of digging up the past and the occupying pain, but also in terms of how does one take such a sprawling topic and pare it down to an accessible essence? The path that leads some of us to widowhood is winding and long, and there is so much more to it than just the symptoms of the disease and the doctor’s visits and the treatments. The emotional side is as vast as an ocean and twice as deep. So, what to save and what to toss? In school I would teach my students to identify the audience and make their content match the needs of their readers or listeners. I am not sure if that applies in this case. But, it’s Rob’s story to tell and knowing him I imagine that he will stick to the facts and approach it from a logical “what would someone need to know” stance. It makes sense.
He got me thinking about my own story, which I am beyond weary of telling to the point where I don’t even want to hear other people’s stories. I don’t like sharing widowhood on the loss level anymore. Not that I ever enjoyed it, but there was a time when it made me feel less alone. Not as unique or novel. These days I prefer to share moving one stories. And it’s not about being positive or practical, it just is. Who I am now is a woman who was widowed. It happened. It sucked. It’s over? No, but it isn’t my now and hasn’t been for a very long time. If I were to write about my experiences, I would start with the beginning for this year and work through the beginnings of our relationship, Rob and I. There is so much out there on loss. On coping with loss. On surviving loss. On wallowing in it too. But, there is not much on moving on by people who have actually done it and not been overcome with buyer’s remorse once they got there. Beyond blogs and posts, the movies and books are a little to sugary-coated and belie the churning of emotions that nearly make you sick with fear, hesitation, second-guessing and more concern for the opinions of the world at large than for yourself.
When I think about it, my blog has been about moving on, and that is all that I have been willing to share really. The first blog was about loss and the frustration associated with jump-starting my idling life, but I shared that only belatedly, after most of it was written and past and it was no longer a true reflection of me.
I need to ponder this a while longer. I haven’t a deep need to write about myself beyond this blog right now. I am not sure how the world would benefit from another story about widows finding love again. It has the feel and the makings for a cheesy chick flick. Besides every widowed person I know talks about writing a book as though writing was a gift that came along with widowhood like the parting gifts game show contestant losers are sent away with at the end of a show.
Which brings me to a thought. Rob and I have been talking a bit about writing. About his promise to write about Shelley’s ordeal with melanoma and the difficulty that presents in terms of digging up the past and the occupying pain, but also in terms of how does one take such a sprawling topic and pare it down to an accessible essence? The path that leads some of us to widowhood is winding and long, and there is so much more to it than just the symptoms of the disease and the doctor’s visits and the treatments. The emotional side is as vast as an ocean and twice as deep. So, what to save and what to toss? In school I would teach my students to identify the audience and make their content match the needs of their readers or listeners. I am not sure if that applies in this case. But, it’s Rob’s story to tell and knowing him I imagine that he will stick to the facts and approach it from a logical “what would someone need to know” stance. It makes sense.
He got me thinking about my own story, which I am beyond weary of telling to the point where I don’t even want to hear other people’s stories. I don’t like sharing widowhood on the loss level anymore. Not that I ever enjoyed it, but there was a time when it made me feel less alone. Not as unique or novel. These days I prefer to share moving one stories. And it’s not about being positive or practical, it just is. Who I am now is a woman who was widowed. It happened. It sucked. It’s over? No, but it isn’t my now and hasn’t been for a very long time. If I were to write about my experiences, I would start with the beginning for this year and work through the beginnings of our relationship, Rob and I. There is so much out there on loss. On coping with loss. On surviving loss. On wallowing in it too. But, there is not much on moving on by people who have actually done it and not been overcome with buyer’s remorse once they got there. Beyond blogs and posts, the movies and books are a little to sugary-coated and belie the churning of emotions that nearly make you sick with fear, hesitation, second-guessing and more concern for the opinions of the world at large than for yourself.
When I think about it, my blog has been about moving on, and that is all that I have been willing to share really. The first blog was about loss and the frustration associated with jump-starting my idling life, but I shared that only belatedly, after most of it was written and past and it was no longer a true reflection of me.
I need to ponder this a while longer. I haven’t a deep need to write about myself beyond this blog right now. I am not sure how the world would benefit from another story about widows finding love again. It has the feel and the makings for a cheesy chick flick. Besides every widowed person I know talks about writing a book as though writing was a gift that came along with widowhood like the parting gifts game show contestant losers are sent away with at the end of a show.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Chapter 43 and 2/3
Today marks the 201st entry on my original version of this blog (see link below). I began blogging on Tuesday, March 13th of this year, just a few days before Rob arrived from Alberta for our trip to Devil’s Den in Arkansas. Just six day before he asked me to marry him. In some ways this blog has been a chronicle of the next chapter of my life.
Some widowed people mark the chapters of their lives in terms of significant others. Following that example my life didn’t begin until I was 34 and met and married Will, and my life stopped with his physical death in January of 2006, not to begin again until December when Rob came into my world. Personally, I find the idea of my life being so insignificant that it isn’t worth a mention unless I am mated to be a tad insulting though I can understand why people who have always been with someone would feel this way.
If my life were a book, it would have covered many pages through a variety of chapters of which Will and Rob are characters woven into the richness of the text. More significant than most of the other characters but not sole standouts in a desolate landscape passing for a life.
Three months from yesterday I will be 44 years old, and in many ways I feel quite new to all this life stuff. Who knows how many chapters I will write between now and then.
Some widowed people mark the chapters of their lives in terms of significant others. Following that example my life didn’t begin until I was 34 and met and married Will, and my life stopped with his physical death in January of 2006, not to begin again until December when Rob came into my world. Personally, I find the idea of my life being so insignificant that it isn’t worth a mention unless I am mated to be a tad insulting though I can understand why people who have always been with someone would feel this way.
If my life were a book, it would have covered many pages through a variety of chapters of which Will and Rob are characters woven into the richness of the text. More significant than most of the other characters but not sole standouts in a desolate landscape passing for a life.
Three months from yesterday I will be 44 years old, and in many ways I feel quite new to all this life stuff. Who knows how many chapters I will write between now and then.
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