MY Sweet PLACE and Men who this Widow can Count ON

June of 2019 had been the catalyst of re-ignition. That is, reigniting my sense of accomplishment,  especially when sharing it with good men while working on the property.  And boy, it all came back to me….that is, remembering how much I loved working outside with men, even as I had done as a child, wanting to be near my father and two brothers on our grass-seed farm.

 In 2015,  some of my adult children had told me, “Mom, we will come out and help you…just DON’T sell the ranch!!!”  As time has passed, they’ve had well-meaning intentions but the fact is (1) they work full time jobs, some of them work two jobs (2) they have families and/or do not live near me.

 

 I loved working on this land with Loren……actually, it started 30 plus years ago when mowing for Loren’s dad on this exact land…I enjoyed driving the back trails with him as he shared his vision for the property….all while he still owned the undeveloped land that Loren and I ended up purchasing from him.  Afterwards, Loren and I thrived in our pioneering adventure.  To stay on top of the up-keep, two Saturday  afternoons a month (year ‘round rain or shine) we’d each hop on our ol’- farm-work-horse quads, hooked up to trailers, go back into the trails and trim vegetation, shovel out overflowing ditches, gather firewood, and end up sitting on a log somewhere in the forest and talk about random “out there” dreams of special ways to improve the place.

In 2016 I had hired 3 teenage farm boys to help split firewood.  Not only did I have to oversee every minuet thing they did (or didn’t do), I quickly realized my husband had been out-working 3 young whippersnappers at the snap of his fingers.   Thankfully, I had never taken his raw strength and willpower for granted but at that moment I was thrown in to the thoughts of, “What will I do without him here?

For two years I did my best, mostly with daughters Jasmine and Brenna helping,  (Brianne and Jasper a few times) doing  “the big stuff” (chainsaws, gutters, moss killer on the roofs) that Loren and I would’ve done together.  On my own, I still spray the Round-up, maintain the landscaping, mow the lawns, move wood and do the basic up-keep on the buildings.

BUT,  in 2018 I gave myself permission to STOP FEELING GUILTY  over the need to hire Loren’s two retired friends, Marvin and Dan, to mow the back fields, keep the back trails open, fall blow-down trees, prune trees that are growing over road ways, clean out the culverts,  spray the poison oak and Scotch Broom and the list goes on and on.  Dan can outwork 3 teenage boys at age 65.  Marv is a strong workhorse at age 77.

Loren’s faithful dog, Lucky, who passed away 3 years after him…Lucky went everywhere with us and watched  as we worked.

Simply put, everything feels right when these friends are out working on the ranch with me.  They are good men with beautiful wives to share life with, their children and grandchildren too…those loving relationships to nurture on their home-fronts.

Maybe it “feels so right” because they are long-time friends who have remained friends in Loren’s absence…..men who haven’t cleared out because I am single.    I trust them.   My children know them and trust them.  Most importantly,   my children and the men trust me.  Which is priceless.

It’s THIS that makes peace flow my way…knowing that ultimately everything is alright…knowing I have people on my side in a world that at times still feels harsh.

It’s awesome to have my sweet spot.  My place.

P.S.  Thank you dear father, TF, and my dear brothers, Galen and Dennis, for being the good, dependable men that you are!

FRieNdS and Widows, SHRINES and OpiNioNs. Chapter 3.

  • “Be careful to not build a shrine of him”.
  • “You have to be careful. Don’t let these pictures become an idol!”
  • “You know, Julia, he’s gone now”.

These exact quotes have been spoken by two causal friends who have visited my home, never having been in my home before Loren passed…..and I might add, friends who have not lost a spouse by death.   And, yes, the vocal opinions are part of the friendship package since these ladies are quite vocal.   🙂

Today, I googled Websters Dictionary for the definition of a shrine.  I am faaaaaar from having “a shrine” because we all know Loren was not diety nor was he a saint.  Now, the definition of “an idol”….there might be something to it….  I grew to greatly  admire, love, and (in a way) revere him….(that’ll be an interesting topic to write about in the future)….

RE:  MY SHRINE:  I have a group of three photos of Loren and I sitting on an end table along a wall.  One, a wedding photo. One, a photo of Loren and I participating in a vow renewal service at church, for multiples of couples, 25 years ago.  The last picture,  Loren and I in 2014. On a wall in a nearby alcove there hangs a very large picture of Loren, the same picture that was at the front of the church during his Memorial Service.

On another end table 4 feet away is a photo of Loren, myself, our children and grandkids….this photo was taken 8 months prior to his passing, amazingly enough, on his 60th birthday.  (Loren had strategically placed this photo so he could see the photo as he walked through the living room towards our bedroom).

On the grand piano, 20 feet away, sits a photo of Loren and his mother (two loved ones who are now in heaven).  There are also photos of two daughters and their weddings, with other random family photos (ALL pictures taken since he’s passed).

Should you visit my home and think I have a shrine, you need to know:

  • A few months before he unexpectedly passed, Loren had been saying, “We do NOT have ENOUGH pictures of our family displayed in our house” (to him, photos on the computer and cell phone were not adequate and I had become lax on displaying photos).
  • Loren was the one who voluntarily went to Goodwill and Target, in one evening, and purchased close to 10 photo frames and brought them home.
  • I then painted the picture frames.
  • We, together, placed pictures of the family in the great room.
  • My husband was a sentimental man. He carried pictures of each of the kids and grandkids in his wallet and proudly showed them to others.

And really, who’s business is it anyways to suggest how many photos a person should or should not have in their home?  Is not my home my place to enjoy?  And (to defend myself) I am not stuck in time (as far as my home goes).  I have redecorated my Master Bedroom.  I have reorganized rooms and am in the process of sorting things, still.  I have brought out pretty things that women typically enjoy (I had them boxed up for years) and now display them in my dining room….and, yes…. an almost smirk-ish smile STILL comes on my face when I think of the “idol and shrine” comments.   But I will choose to continue friendship with these ladies and learn to practice “speaking up”  instead of “reacting” in speechlessness… that is, when I hear random opinions that I wouldn’t believe to be the gospel truth…..for me.

I must tell you, though, Loren would be ELATED that I still have a “shrine” of he and our family.  Makes me giddy happy just thinkin’ about it.  WHY HADN’T I DONE THIS SOONER? 

 

FRIENDS and the WIDOW. Beliefs about Burial. CHAPTER 2.

  • “WHAT?   You haven’t buried him in the ground yet?    That’s horrible!      He can’t rest in peace until you do!”
  • “You should’ve never cremated him!   What about the resurrection?”
  • “His spirit is restless because he hasn’t been laid to rest”.

Yes, these are exact quotes that casual friends, of different religions,  have said to me.

As a young Mennonite child it was common procedure going to multiples of funerals…even walking by open caskets of people I didn’t know (I hated that)!  As an adult musician, I professionally sang and played keyboard for multiples of funerals…being weekly hired by three prominent Funeral Homes in Salem, Oregon.  Being hired to provide a service to families in grief, I mostly was able to separate myself from the pain the families must’ve been feeling.  In addition, I sang at Loren’s parent’s Services and brother-in-law Max’s Memorial Service,  other Wasson family members,  3 of my grandparent’s Funerals, and my first cousin’s 16 year old sons Funeral, but even in that sadness,  things were different…………I hadn’t yet been the spouse sitting on that front row.

From day #1 of marrying Loren, he was VERY VOCAL about wanting to be cremated,  even though cremation was not yet common in the late ‘70’s.  He was known to say, “Caskets take up too much space in the ground, it’s ridiculous to spend thousands of dollars on funerals, and I WON’T BE THERE ANYWAYS BECAUSE I’LL ALREADY BE HOME”.

Now, at that time, I did NOT agree with him regarding cremation!!  I’d immediately respond, “You’d better put your wishes in writing because I’m not sure I can cremate you”.  However, many years later I watched a descriptive four – hour documentary on Funeral Home Procedures.  It was then, I immediately assured Loren I’d respect his wishes.

I’ve come-to-the-conclusion that whether it be  cremation, boxes or beautiful urns, cheap caskets, expensive caskets, open caskets, closed caskets, vaults, burial in the ground, burial in a wall.…. the majority of decisions are based on one of these five:  preference, honor of the loved ones wishes, tradition, religion or finances.

I have no regrets.  I DID THE RIGHT THING!  I’ll go a step further and say I HONORED HIM.  I honored Loren in life AND in death.

That dreadful, shock-filled morning, after the coroner and fire chief were leaving our home,  my children,  along with my brother Galen and my mother,  Loren’s sisters Joyce and Janet,  close friend Carole, and friend and Chaplain, Pastor Connie,  had all gathered to be with me…..we had our 5 hours with Loren in the house before the mortuary workers took his body away.  Even though I was in deep shock, I clearly understood this would be the last time I’d see my love.  I held on to him…. laid close beside him on the hardwood floor.  But as his body no longer felt normal it was time to let him go.  Nature was taking its course…..and I couldn’t reverse time…..

The day we went to the mortuary to pick up Loren’s ashes  my three daughters and I still spoke our relief that we had not had to choose a casket, burial clothes or pallbearers when making arrangements for his Memorial Service.

To this date Loren’s ashes are in a special place in my home.   I’m drawing closer to the thought of burying a portion of the ashes  in our-already-purchased-plot in the cemetery.   At that time, I’ll have a private gathering of close friends and family as we commit his remains  to the  ground under Loren and Julia’s joint headstone that I’ll have had made.  One of our daughters is looking forward to having  a place to take flowers to…for a time of private remembrance.

But,  IT’S NOT TIME…..from the very beginning, my kids and I have discussed doing one or some of the following:

#1.  Divide the ashes.  Put them into lockets.  #2.  Divide the ashes.  Make hand-blown glassware with them.  #3.  To honor Loren’s wishes,  make ammunition with some of his ashes and then shoot them out of his gun (for years, he’d made it clear he’d want this done with his ashes)!

AND,  if he knows what we are doing he’ll be grinning that huge grin from ear to ear.   😊

…but somehow I think my kids and I are acutely aware that taking this next step may bring more sorrow than we’d hope to face, again.  As far as following through with our ideas, we’ve agreed that it’ll be Jasmine and I who will divide the ashes……and YES!…at this  moment I’m pondering if I would’ve regretted having buried all of his ashes immediately after his passing…. you know, there’s something to be said about making life “easier”. 

I’m LiVing in 3 WoRLds and Will I Ever FIT IN?

Today at 4 years and 1  1/2 months out,  I alarmingly realized I am living in 3 worlds and haven’t yet accomplished living in “one” world.  Will I ever?  Am I even supposed to?

The “3 Worlds” that I find myself floating between, beside, under, above or IN are:

  • “THE PAST” that I lived with Loren.
  • “THE PRESENT” which I didn’t choose or hope for.
  • “THE FUTURE” with one foot (my heart) in Heaven and still “THE FUTURE”… continuing on as I am…as a widow.   Other than enjoying the consistency of my job for the Willamina School District and teaching my private piano and private voice students,  I often feel   I.   DON’T.   FIT.   IN. 

    1.  As  a single person I struggle to fit in at church.  Who does a person sit with?  Does every other single person hate arriving and leaving by themselves?  Does every other single person hate the unknown plans after leaving church, whether they will be eating by themselves or with family or friends?  And then, am I the only person who can HARDLY  WAIT to get home after that? …to that place that feels most comfortable, where I can control my  “internal peace meter”.

    2. Because of extenuating circumstances I no longer have the privilege of serving on a worship team…the one place, since I was in my teens, where I flourished and felt revived.  I no longer have that one free night a week to drive and dedicate those hours of rehearsal.  And now, these few years of crying uncountable tears has basically thrashed the once-controlled-voice.

3.  Even though all of my adult children (and spouses)  are simply wonderful to me, sometimes I still feel like  I.  DO.  NOT.  FIT.  IN.   It’s a quandry where I often feel torn:

  • Feeling disgusted at myself that I even notice  how I feel, telling myself that I should be highly grateful to see my children being happy, that they are  even wanting to spend time with me.
  • Feeling grateful that somehow Loren’s death has meaningfully strengthened familial relationships and our adoration toward each other.
  • Feeling deliberate to put that smile on my face and do my best to join in the current festivity because I am all too aware I will be returning to my silent abode.
  • Feeling happy to be with my family yet sometimes feeling dreadfully alone with them.

Can I just become Superman and unwind my life back to 4 years and 1  1/2 months ago?…  but that doesn’t seem quite right to be selfish…to go back in time, assuming I had the power to change the course of events…to do that would mean my incredible grandson Lincoln would never have been born….that my two glorious son-in-laws may not be part of our family….which would mean 3 of my 4 children may not be where THEY are at today (with the “happiness meter”, I mean).

I now see, this blog has been very therapeutic.  Yes, for the ultimate good of everyone I believe I must target more contentment….that is,  choosing to somehow thrive in the world I am now placed in, even if I never feel like I’m living in “one world”.

 

 

 

I. DON’T. WANT. TO. RE-START. MY. LIFE!

I’ve been on two awkward “let’s-meet-on-a-specific-date-at-a-specific-time-at-a-specific-place”.  They were supposed to be friends catching up.  Granted, it felt good for someone(s)….whom I already knew… to pay attention to me.  But, I immediately  felt miserable.   I felt as if I was playing a game.  This was fun when I was 19.  Let’s face it.  I am too old to play games.  And the hardcore truths are, “My heart is  still ‘twitterpated’ for my deceased husband” and “I don’t believe I’ll ever get over him”.

                                                A few weeks back I had an ah-ha confirmation!

                                            I.  DON’T.   WANT.  TO.  RE-START.   MY.  LIFE!  

But you need to know, there is this VERY REAL spoken AND unspoken expectation that I should NEED to “move on”….to “start over”…as if there is something WRONG with a widow who doesn’t!!

The vivid alone-ness, and, yes, very much missing all of the perks of marriage,  is NOT propelling me towards the pursuit of finding another….

Instead, I’m discovering I’m finding “my own new life” in the EXACT place where I experienced a full, meaningful life with Loren:

  • Sleeping in our four-poster bed, the exact bed we slept in for 37 years.
  • Sitting in his oversized leather chair and driving his commuter car to work.
  • Working at his oversized desk, now moved into a different room and re-arranged in the way I need it to be.
  • Enjoying the house we designed and built. Still admiring and protecting the cedar logs he cut and milled for those seven years.  Appreciating the floors that he milled and laid.  I pass through the doorways and look through the windows and their beautiful trim that he milled and mounted.  I sit and look upward at those amazing purlins and tongue and groove ceilings that he milled…those beautiful cedar decks he milled.
  • I view  the out-buildings that I designed…that he then cut and milled the lumber before he built.  What a gifted, hardworking man (there’s very few men like him)!
  • Everything on this land revolves around memories. Fun times and very difficult times but those honest memories represent the 23 years of being good stewards of the land God had allowed us to own/manage together.
  • I’d be a fool to leave!  Together, we pioneered this place from the ground up  (and the truth is I also am not ready to grieve one more time…….). 

I’m going to forge ahead, continue on, and make progress.  I am stronger.  I am gaining self-confidence.  I’ve ‘got’ God, my gun, and my family and I’m not afraid to live by my self.  I now see,  I am growing thru grief!

 

“My dad WAS SUPPOSED TO walk me down the aisle” (Brenna’s heartache)

                                                                                                    FOUR YEARS

After I saw my dad I vividly remember the words that spilled out of my mouth through tears:  “Who is going to walk me down the aisle when I get married?”“  I wasn’t engaged.  I didn’t have a boyfriend.  I hadn’t even MET my future husband!  But I knew that the most important man in my life for the past 24 years was going to miss one of the most important days of my life.  He was going to miss one of the most significant roles a father can play for his daughters.

In a sense, I think I dreaded my future wedding day since the day he died.   He was supposed to be there.  He was supposed to  hold my hand as he walked me down the aisle.  He was supposed to give me away.  He was supposed to cry while doing it all – and for those of you who knew him, you know that those tears would have been running down his face.  He was supposed to dance with me to Tony Bennett singing, “The Way You Look Tonight”. He was supposed  to give me one of his enveloping hugs as I was whisked away with my new husband.  He was supposed to…. but death took that all away from me….it took it away from BOTH of us.

Nine and a half months ago that “dreaded” wedding day came.  Although his physical body wasn’t present, I knew my dad was there.  I felt him.

He was there in the front row where the quilt made out of his shirts sat, saving his seat.  He was there in the boutonniere pinned on that quilt where his Winco shirt read, “Loren”, right next to our picture.  He was there in his handwriting on my tattoo.  He was there in my mom as she walked me down the aisle and gave me away with the words, “Her father and I”.  He was there during the ceremony as I told Eugene how much my dad would have loved him for loving me so well.  He was there.  I know it….and I believe everyone who was at my wedding, who knew my dad, knows it as well.

I think someday, when I am reunited with my dad in heaven, we will talk about my wedding.  We will talk about how much we BOTH loved that day!

He may no longer be here in the flesh but I believe he is not missing out on everything.  He is still with us.

That doesn’t mean we don’t grieve.  OH, how we continue to grieve!  I miss my dad.  I never knew I could miss someone so much.  My heart aches to see him again, to talk with him again, to hug him again.  I long for my husband to know my dad and for my dad to know my husband.  I long the same for our future babies.

One of the last pictures of Brenna and her dad together. December 2014.

My nephew, Lincoln, was born 3 ½ months after my dad died.  But he knows his “Papa Loren”.  He talks about him often.  He points him out in pictures.  He prays for him.  He asks to visit him.  He loves his Papa and he knows that he is loved by him.

I am sad that my future babies won’t be held by their “Papa Loren”.  But I don’t have to dread their births as I dreaded my wedding day.  They may not experience his love in person, but they will know his love just as my nephew Lincoln does. I am confident of this because as history has shown,  although my dad is no longer with us on this earth, he is still here!

                                                                                                                         FOUR YEARS AND COUNTING.

 

FRIENDS of the WIDOW. The HARD QUESTIONS. CHAPTER 1.

My married friends (couples Loren and I were friends with) have impacted my life since Loren’s passing. The majority have been with me through thick and thin.  It’s true, periodically  I feel like I am the odd man out.  It’s possible I’ll always feel that.

Last Saturday one of Loren’s best friends  teared up when he randomly mentioned, “Now TWO of my best friends have up and died on me.”  It touched my heart deeply to see how Dan still misses Loren.

I gratefully recognize I have not found a level of betrayal some widows feel  they experience, that is, where “couple friends”, and sometimes the deceased spouse’s own family,  no longer associate with the living spouse who is left behind after a death.

BUT IN ALL HONESTY, I DID initially notice a layer of hesitancy..withdrawal..especially from two of the wives.   I believe it was because I GRIEVED SO HARD for the first three years.  In retrospect I WONDER:

1.     DID THE FRIENDS FEEL HELPLESS?

  • Did they feel uncomfortable when I suddenly broke down and sobbed?
  • Did I seem like a stranger?
  • Were the dynamics of the relationship suddenly changed?
  • Did they understand I didn’t know what would help me? Were they frustrated because they couldn’t fix it?
  • Did they sense I was uncomfortable in all social settings? (however, I DID love visiting with a husband/wife when they came to visit me in my home).

2. DID THE FRIENDS BECOME FEARFUL OF LOSING THEIR OWN SPOUSE?

  • Did being around me force them to acknowledge what they may go through?
  • Did it force them to look at the other part of their marriage vows, “Til death do us part”?
  • Did my heavy grief cause them to feel overwhelmed?

3.   WERE “BIG UNCOMFORTABLE” QUESTIONS SURFACING BECAUSE A MARRIED PEER  PASSED BEFORE THEY WERE “OLD”? 

(Some of the questions might be):

  • Should I be the one to die first, would my spouse, children, and grandchildren stop missing me and no longer talk about me?
  • Would they deeply mourn my death?
  • Would they get rid of my things and make “me disappear” to hopefully ease their pain?
  • Would my spouse remarry and how soon?
  • Would my parents, brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews tell stories about me and not be afraid to mention my name at family gatherings? Even years later?
  • Would people do something meaningful on a given day of each year to remember me and honor me, how I had lived and dwelt with them?

I DO know I’ve been blessed to have positive reinforcement from my tribe!  I’ve been told:

  • “I’ve been comforted seeing how deeply you have continued to love Loren”.
  • “I’m pleased you haven’t tried to find someone else to fill the dark void”.
  • “Loren would be so proud how you’ve handled things”.
  • “Loren would be so proud of the good decisions you’ve made in business matters”.
  • “Even though we miss him we haven’t lost you”.
  • “You know, he still loves you.”

☹ …choke…sob….NOW the tears are surprisingly flowing….gkg..uhmmmmm….. but, I surely must say, “God, THANK YOU 😊 for my faithful friends who have not been afraid to remain in my life”.

 

WE don’t GRIEVE as Others DO and WE don’t DATE as Others DO

On January 16th this unexpected, unanticipated emphatic phrase RESOUNDED in me…

“WE DON’T GRIEVE AS OTHERS DO AND WE DON’T DATE AS OTHERS DO”.

The context of the resounding statement came mere hours after telling Mary about an acquaintance of Loren & I… about my heart surprisingly battling with the rationale of this man after he contacted me (again), telling me that I “NEED TO HAVE FUN”….this time, he inviting me to meet him for dinner.  Me, of course, feeling flattered that he is contacting me.  Me IMMEDIATELY recalling how (a few years before Loren passed) Loren had hesitated and said, “I…don’t…know…I’m… not sure… about that” (after I had commented to Loren how this same work associate of his was SUCH a nice man).

Those words that came from Loren’s mouth that day have been re-playing through my mind!   Even though his response to my comment happened six years ago, I am 100% sure I am  to listen and take heed.

See, I’ve been recalling how Loren had insight in areas where I did not…whereas I  had insight in areas HE did not!  O, I miss this gift.  The gift of balance. The gift of a lengthy seasoned marriage where time does its magic…blending and mixing…where the two know each other better than any other live person on earth.

TWO INCIDENCES OF LOREN’S PERCEPTIONS COME TO MIND: 

  • When a lady I was mentoring was slowly wearing me down because I hadn’t kept solid boundaries in time management and/or bringing her struggles into my daily life. He was right.  I had not been diligent.  And it was affecting me… greatly.
  • When a person, who was not supporting my leadership, had a hidden agenda. He was right.  Not suspicious.  He saw clearly through the smoke.

It’s in THESE types of possible future scenarios where I fear I’ll be a “fish out of water”.

Back to dating and the poor decisions people can make….. let’s just put it this way……      “it never ceases to amaze me some of the ridiculous, desperate actions that I’ve personally witnessed other grieving people do”.

By close observation, their stories prove to have consequences most people wouldn’t wish for.  It appears their distress is now greater than mine because of the varied complications heaped upon the great loss that was first there!

And the “WE DON’T GRIEVE AS OTHER’S DO?” Undeniably, I have grieved hard.  I lost my  man whom I counted on growing old with.  And just because I believe in Heaven and have a sincere relationship with God doesn’t mean I would bypass the distress.   I have an acute awareness of  sorrow that rests beneath the surface…….and will most likely until the day I die.

I guess the one way I haven’t “grieved as others do” is by

  •  being very selective with who my close friends are
  • I “guard my heart” (spiritually, mentally, and emotionally)
  • I  protect myself (spiritually, mentally, emotionally and physically)
  • all- the- while understanding that  uncontrolled grief can cause people to do careless things they would’ve never dreamed they’d do!

And, the best thing of all?    In the far, far distance I know how my love story will end!!

P.S.  O, the guy?  I declined the invitation.  Again.  (because, it’s simple… I can read the monumental sign on his forehead that says, “I. CREATE. DRAMA”).

I Need PEACE more than HAPPINESS

The 2018 Christmas season was the most difficult, by far.  You’d think my 4th Christmas Season  without Loren would’ve been “happier” as far as enjoying the preparation for the Holiday.  I made honest efforts.  Another factor in the mix: this is my 2nd season of not directing K-6 Christmas Concerts and my private student’s Christmas Recital. Even though I enjoy the lowered stress I very much miss performing with students.

IN MY GROWING-UP-YEARS my happy Christmases were filled with:

  • Going to the Rickreall Christmas pageant and being enamored with the live animals and live baby Jesus.
  • Santa Claus surprising we Elementary kids at our small Country Schoolhouse, he passing out bags of candy and oranges.
  • Christmas parties.  Christmas Caroling.
  • Watching my mom bake and prepare Christmas goodie platters to share with the neighbors.
  • Me sitting near the tree for hours in the evening with the lights dimmed… rocking while entranced with the sparkling colors on the Christmas tree.
  • Receiving modest gifts, but always one special toy and a pair of new pajamas.
  • Delighting in the magical times at Grandpa and Grandma Kropf’s house.
  • Eating Grandma Kropf’s homemade candies and banana cream pies with the flaky buttery crusts.
  • Eating roasted Duck and ice cream pie on  New Year’s Day at Grandpa and Grandma Gingerich’s home.

By the 1977 Christmas season I was dating Loren. By the 1978 Christmas season I was married to Loren.  We continued many of the traditions.   I continued singing but now in much larger Christmas presentations and eventually started hosting Christmas piano and voice recitals in our log home.  To top it off, our children and the excitement of  our “he & I” celebrations brought much excitement to my life.

But now….things….are….SOOOO…different.   I, my children and grandchildren had desperately tried to keep Christmas-as-we-knew-in-our-family going.

After 5 days of sudden, unexpected deep sorrow and literal physical pain last month, on December 15th I GAVE MYSELF PERMISSION!!

This permission was not martyrdom. Not fatalism.  Not “depression speaking”.  Instead I believe it was wisdom.  Acceptance.  Willingness to “let go of MY NEED to experience that ADRENALINE RUSH”… that- for-the-majority-of-my-life I had enjoyed…. that build-up and then the peak of multiple performances and festivities in December.

I GAVE MYSELF PERMISSION:

  • To no longer “expect AND need to be happy” at Christmas time.
  • To be “just OK” during the Christmas season.
  • To begin to appreciate “bareness”….the lack of stimulation and multitudes of ideas and activities during the season.
  • To lower MY expectations of MY responsibilities to make my children and grandchildren happy (Brenna & Eugene did a beautiful job of hosting our family celebration on Christmas Day. Thank you for asking to host, Brenna! I also cancelled the Christmas baking tradition).

Society tells us we NEED to be HAPPY!  Happiness, even joy, are not paramount!

However, if I HAD to CHOOSE between peace or happiness I’d choose peace!  The deep tranquil peace.

P.S.  It is very possible that my increased pain was because this was my dads 1st Christmas in Heaven….just one more empty chair at the table….one less voice….and one less laugh to hear.

P.S.S.  Two days after Christmas I expedited a-change-of-course and flew to Florida to be with my brother and his family.  Being proactive brought me happiness and I, again, discovered it is healthy for me to experience new surroundings periodically.

 

 

THE LaST DAy of THis YEAR

 

Gosh, O my, “drives me crazy with some of these errors” but I still love this quote! I SO believe it!

THIS YEAR…on THIS DAY…I’ve been proactive. See, after Christmas Day, I left on an airplane……just one more thing I may have never done if Loren was here.

I’m sitting by a pool in Florida,  at an Air B & B, in a resort.  I’m surrounded by my brother Dennis & my sister (his wife) Linda, (nephew) Chad & Lisa, (nephew) Cheritt  & Kelly, Jonathan & (niece) Charissa and the “lovelies” (Dennis’s  five adorable grandchildren).

I LOVE THE GOOD CONVERSATION!  I’ve never loved frivolous surface talk.  I prefer candid heart-to-heart dialogue.  I’m enjoying getting to know my nieces and nephews as adults who are in their late 30’s to early 40’s.  To have this snippet of time to share life with them (and their families) will forever be cherished!

It’s been interesting observing the family dynamics amongst  Dennis’s family.  I smile because numerous times, since Loren passed, I have caught myself sitting back at my gatherings considering the changes that are occurring in my kids and grandkids.   Most of the changes are pleasing yet a low level of sadness hints at the heightened exchanges  amongst my children and I.  This improved respect and adoration should not be a poor reflection of Loren as much as our wakened attentiveness to the frailty of human life and the increasing desire to treasure our time together.

So, THIS LAST DAY of  THIS YEAR   brings hope and encouragement (along with the great anticipation of going to a Medieval Jousting Performance / Meal tonight.  Check.  One more thing off of my bucket list)!

THIS LAST DAY of 2018 BRINGS HOPE:

  • Trusting each Holiday Season will bring SHORTER episodes of deep longing with pain.
  • That I will keep giving myself MORE permission to try new things.
  • That I will trust that I can learn to FIND enjoyment in more settings.
  •  That I will continue being MORE comfortable in more situations.

AND.. this year I’m not home alone, for which I am very thankful!

May each of us have a  Blessed New Year (note, I don’t need a Happy New Year…I need a Blessed Year from God above)!

P.S.  THANK YOU (brother) Galen for strongly encouraging me to venture out and go.  THANK YOU mom & dad (last spring before my dad passed) for encouraging me to not stay home the 2018 Christmas Break (they knew how painful the 2017 Season was)… Thank you, my dear children, for holding down the fort…I love all of you!

The last P.S.  You need to know I would NEVER expect my adult children to include me in their New Year’s Eve plans!  I want my kids to WANT to be with me vs them feeling OBLIGATED to include me.  They need to live life to the fullest as Loren and I did at their ages.