When my daughter Emily was about a month old I remember telling my father that I couldn't wait until she could sit up. He told me not to wish her life away; to which I either literally or figuratively rolled my 25 year old eyes. What did THAT mean?
I so totally understand his sentiments now. Emily is now 32! What? How did that happen? Tonight I read my alumni magazine from St. Olaf -I graduated in 1978...35 years....how did THAT happen?
You know the years have gone by when you skip marriages and births and career changes, and skip to deaths, in the alumni magazine. It is morbid, but true. And then when you sigh a breath of relief to realize nobody you know is on the list.
The other shocking thing I read was the obituaries of two profs that were "newbies "when I started college. Huh?
So...how do you continue to live your life when you know the inevitable ending?
Fake it. Live like you have forever. Take the chances. Spend the money. Take the trips. Ride the horses. (Okay. Riding a horse is on my bucket list.)
I've learned there is a fine line between planning for the future and living your life without regret.
Glenn lived his life. He understood the balance very well. I was the worrier ...he just lived life without much worry. He never got his Ford F150 pickup truck, but he had many other cool vehicles.
I always thought his weakness was his desire to live in the present.
I now think it was his strength.
Lessons on the journey.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Seasons of Life
Contrary to the Bangles song a few years ago, Sunday is NOT my "fun day." Today is the 14th Sunday. Some have been better than others, but today was just hard. I had a sense of hopelessness for the first time about the quality of my life from here on out. That is not my nature. I realized I was operating "below the line", as my friend Trudi uses to measure attitudes. But it was where I needed to be today. And I let myself stay there.
It has been a season of loss for me. Besides the loss of my soulmate and the life and future we had planned, there have been other losses as well this summer. I didn't call or blog or Facebook anyone because I just needed to mourn today, for the things and people I have lost in the last 14 weeks.
And then an old song started playing in my head and it's been there ever since. It is based on chapter 3 in the book of Ecclesiastes.
It has been a season of loss for me. Besides the loss of my soulmate and the life and future we had planned, there have been other losses as well this summer. I didn't call or blog or Facebook anyone because I just needed to mourn today, for the things and people I have lost in the last 14 weeks.
And then an old song started playing in my head and it's been there ever since. It is based on chapter 3 in the book of Ecclesiastes.
Ecclesiastes 3
New Revised Standard Version, Anglicised (NRSVA)
Everything Has Its Time
3 For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
2 a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
3 a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
4 a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
5 a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
6 a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to throw away;
7 a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
8 a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
3 a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
4 a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
5 a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
6 a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to throw away;
7 a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
8 a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.
For those of you who would like to listen to the Byrd's singing "Turn, Turn, Turn" circa 1966, here is the You Tube link: I hope you can open it. Every life journey has its seasons.
Saturday, September 14, 2013
Bonfire Appearances
Shortly after moving to Minnesota, Glenn and I took up camping. Sometimes the children reluctantly came along. :) We started with a tent, so that we could pull our boat and still take one vehicle. Sleeping on mats turned into cots, and after a few years, the tent turned into a popup camper. We went all over Minnesota, and in 2006 we camped all the way through Glacier, up to Jasper, Alberta, and down to Jackson Hole, Wyoming. We were gone for most of the month of July. Wonderful memories.
By the next summer we decided that the only part of camping we would miss was sitting around the fire in the morning and again at night. Our air conditioned home and bed won out, and we started docking the boat on Gull and enjoying it there.
After we bought this house, we tried different methods of recreating our campfires. We had several "portable" models, until Glenn, being Glenn, decided we should build a mammoth bonfire pit in our back yard. If you follow me on FB, you watched the construction and the ensuing decisions of what color to paint the adirondack chairs. We decided to fill it in with soft beach-like sand, so the grandchildren could play there too. We always planned to brick it in someday, but it was so big we probably would have had to win the lottery first.
We loved it and used it frequently. Many world, local and family problems were solved while watching the flames. Last fall and spring Glenn spent a lot of time cleaning out the woods so we would have plenty to burn.
And now he's gone. I've had 3 fires this year, including one right now. But it's not the same anymore, and every time I look at it, it reminds me of what I have lost.
So lately I've been contemplating taking it apart, and maybe replacing it with a pool next summer. I love water, and it represents warmth and laughter and happiness. We will see. Last night I was thinking about offering all the bricks and insert to anyone who would come and take them away.
This morning shortly before I awoke, I dreamed that the fire pit was being taken apart, only there were huge holes, such as you would make when excavating for a house. And after all that this guy was refusing to take the bricks.
And then, Glenn was standing there. In the same dark blue, paisley shirt he had on the last time he was in my dreams. He had that shirt about 15 years ago; it puzzles me why it shows up. In fact, he had his old aviator style glasses on too. Doesn't say much about heaven's fashion sense.
He didn't say anything, he just stood there expressionless like the last time,and it was obvious, that although my kids and others were there, that I was the only one who could see him. I think I said something about a pool, and looking forward. I reached out to put my arms around him, and even in my dream I could feel the corse texture of that shirt, and how it felt to lay my head on his chest.
And then I woke up. And I haven't been able to get past that dream.
I came outside a little while ago and lit the bonfire my friends had laid a few weeks ago when it was still too hot to enjoy a fire. And I cried like I haven't cried in weeks. It's all part of this journey.
By the next summer we decided that the only part of camping we would miss was sitting around the fire in the morning and again at night. Our air conditioned home and bed won out, and we started docking the boat on Gull and enjoying it there.
After we bought this house, we tried different methods of recreating our campfires. We had several "portable" models, until Glenn, being Glenn, decided we should build a mammoth bonfire pit in our back yard. If you follow me on FB, you watched the construction and the ensuing decisions of what color to paint the adirondack chairs. We decided to fill it in with soft beach-like sand, so the grandchildren could play there too. We always planned to brick it in someday, but it was so big we probably would have had to win the lottery first.
We loved it and used it frequently. Many world, local and family problems were solved while watching the flames. Last fall and spring Glenn spent a lot of time cleaning out the woods so we would have plenty to burn.
And now he's gone. I've had 3 fires this year, including one right now. But it's not the same anymore, and every time I look at it, it reminds me of what I have lost.
So lately I've been contemplating taking it apart, and maybe replacing it with a pool next summer. I love water, and it represents warmth and laughter and happiness. We will see. Last night I was thinking about offering all the bricks and insert to anyone who would come and take them away.
This morning shortly before I awoke, I dreamed that the fire pit was being taken apart, only there were huge holes, such as you would make when excavating for a house. And after all that this guy was refusing to take the bricks.
And then, Glenn was standing there. In the same dark blue, paisley shirt he had on the last time he was in my dreams. He had that shirt about 15 years ago; it puzzles me why it shows up. In fact, he had his old aviator style glasses on too. Doesn't say much about heaven's fashion sense.
He didn't say anything, he just stood there expressionless like the last time,and it was obvious, that although my kids and others were there, that I was the only one who could see him. I think I said something about a pool, and looking forward. I reached out to put my arms around him, and even in my dream I could feel the corse texture of that shirt, and how it felt to lay my head on his chest.
And then I woke up. And I haven't been able to get past that dream.
I came outside a little while ago and lit the bonfire my friends had laid a few weeks ago when it was still too hot to enjoy a fire. And I cried like I haven't cried in weeks. It's all part of this journey.
Monday, September 9, 2013
The Journey continued...
Lately I can really relate to the posters we have all seen that say, "It's not the destination, it's the journey." This is quite a journey.
Last week was harder than I thought. Even though I am in my 11th year of teaching, it felt like I was starting a new job. Hard to explain, but it was almost surreal. So familiar, yet so strange. By Friday night I was exhausted. It has now been 12 weeks.
For some reason during the week, I was able to find a place of increased peace. It came from this. I realized that at 69, Glenn was too young by today's standards to die. But he had lived a very full life and he left this earth at peace with God and loved by me. He didn't suffer. I thought we would have ten more years together, at least. But I still wouldn't have been ready to let him go ten years from now. And I came to see, that after watching three of our parents suffer terribly from the ravages of advanced old age, I was feeling at peace that he was able to live big and leave quickly. That is not to say that I don't replay that fated night over and again. Time will heal that scenario, I hope.
Last week, our dear friend Jim came and organized the garage. I am comtinually amazed and humbled. This weekend, Rianna's sister Ariel, her fiancée Devin, Chris and Rianna came and gave me an HGTV makeover for the great room. I saw that stuff I was used to looking at was out of date. It was cathartic to start purging. With just a few changes, I got a fresh look and now every time I come into the room, it makes me smile. During the day, friends stopped over to view the transformation. It was such a happy day for me ; full of new beginnings. One of the best I've had in twelve weeks.
So today I went back to work feeling much more solid. And yet, at about 10:30, I started to email Glenn a good morning text, to say hi. It caught me way off guard, that my conscious mind could be one place, and yet subconsciously I am still operating from old habits and routines. Wow.
The journey continues.
The journey continues.
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
The first, first day.
Today was the first day of school. I awoke very early this morning, probably with some nervous anticipation, as I have every year,but this year my whole schedule is suddenly brand new and today was the real deal, after a few dry runs last week.
Boo thinks that going for a long walk in the morning is a great idea. He doesn't know that I'm trying to tire him out and get all the "business" done before he has to stay alone 8+hours for the first time ever. He did a great job. I left the TV on, but he hasn't let me know which channel he likes best. Hopefully he picked up some tips from Dr. Phil.
Every year for the previous 10 years, Glenn got up with me the morning of the first day of school. He always kissed me and said" Go make a difference." It became a precious tradition. Today, when I was ready to go, I told him I was off to make a difference. But this year, the start of year 11, I said it to his picture. But he heard me. That I know for sure. I certainly missed his big hugs when I left the house.
I did fine. Many friends checked in with me to make sure I was okay. 12:40 was tough. I always called home at that time to check in before I went to lunch . Today I started to make new habits and routines. It has to be. Life has changed and I need to roll with it.
And I will. But who I am as a teacher is partly the gift that he left to me. He so believed in my calling, and my ability to share myself with needy adolescents.
A new year. A new beginning. The first, first day.
Boo thinks that going for a long walk in the morning is a great idea. He doesn't know that I'm trying to tire him out and get all the "business" done before he has to stay alone 8+hours for the first time ever. He did a great job. I left the TV on, but he hasn't let me know which channel he likes best. Hopefully he picked up some tips from Dr. Phil.
Every year for the previous 10 years, Glenn got up with me the morning of the first day of school. He always kissed me and said" Go make a difference." It became a precious tradition. Today, when I was ready to go, I told him I was off to make a difference. But this year, the start of year 11, I said it to his picture. But he heard me. That I know for sure. I certainly missed his big hugs when I left the house.
I did fine. Many friends checked in with me to make sure I was okay. 12:40 was tough. I always called home at that time to check in before I went to lunch . Today I started to make new habits and routines. It has to be. Life has changed and I need to roll with it.
And I will. But who I am as a teacher is partly the gift that he left to me. He so believed in my calling, and my ability to share myself with needy adolescents.
A new year. A new beginning. The first, first day.
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Metamorphosis
A butterfly goes through several life-changing stages before it emerges into its final beautiful self.
Although a common and well- known metaphor for change and rebirth, I can't help but think that today was my time to emerge from a caterpillar into a chrysalis.
A caterpillar's main goal is to grow and survive by eating a lot. (So far it sounds exactly like my summer since Glenn died.:) I have been able to respond to my waves of emotions as they crashed. I could nurture my grief, work through it, or at times, give into it. It was a summer where I was able to concentrate on my own healing. There was no timetable to which I needed to adhere.
But just as a caterpillar reaches maturity from eating and growing and then changing into the next stage, I did too. Today I became a chrysalis.
It was the first day of our teacher workshops today. It is always an exhausting first day; beginning with a staff "rally" early in the morning, followed by meetings, classroom preparation and culminating in a two-hour open house to welcome our students and their families. It was the first day I had to truly function. I couldn't retreat as a caterpillar and eat and grow. And the memories...of eating a delivered sandwich together in the parking lot because I didn't have time to come home-of calendars from last year with notes to remind G to "pick up M and A" at 5:00,because their parents both teach and couldn't make the connection-of sharing first impressions of students-and finally every year, of expressing the fact that we were lonely for each other after spending the entire summer together everyday. It was emotional.
And it was hard. I slept about three hours last night, so I awoke tired and edgy. In the swarm of people at the rally I was whisked up by dear friends. Misty shared that she too had been awake thinking of Glenn and memories for a good share of the night. On my other side sat Trudi, my dear Trudi who I have loved since Chris was in 6th grade. I was surrounded by support and friends. It was safe. I was emerging. I managed to plan my lunch around making time to come home to let Boo outside, and I also found time to chat and laugh with my lunch buddies and colleagues. Emerging a bit more.
Suddenly it was time to do our dog-and-pony- show for the new crew coming in. I had to take a few minutes because the tears were threatening to happen. My self-confidence was wavering. I took a few deep breaths and recovered. I looked out and saw my wonderful neighbors in the audience and made eye-contact..they gave a little wave and a smile. Their support helped me get stronger. Several times, various friends came and just stood in the background and gave me the "look" which relayed that they were there for me.
The description of a chrysalis(also known as a pupa) says that "although it may look as if nothing is going on, there are big changes happening inside."
Yes. There are big changes happening on the inside. I am growing, healing and will someday totally emerge. Apparently the time frame that a chrysalis remains in that state before the final change to a butterfly, can be months or years.
Emerging in my own time.
Although a common and well- known metaphor for change and rebirth, I can't help but think that today was my time to emerge from a caterpillar into a chrysalis.
A caterpillar's main goal is to grow and survive by eating a lot. (So far it sounds exactly like my summer since Glenn died.:) I have been able to respond to my waves of emotions as they crashed. I could nurture my grief, work through it, or at times, give into it. It was a summer where I was able to concentrate on my own healing. There was no timetable to which I needed to adhere.
But just as a caterpillar reaches maturity from eating and growing and then changing into the next stage, I did too. Today I became a chrysalis.
It was the first day of our teacher workshops today. It is always an exhausting first day; beginning with a staff "rally" early in the morning, followed by meetings, classroom preparation and culminating in a two-hour open house to welcome our students and their families. It was the first day I had to truly function. I couldn't retreat as a caterpillar and eat and grow. And the memories...of eating a delivered sandwich together in the parking lot because I didn't have time to come home-of calendars from last year with notes to remind G to "pick up M and A" at 5:00,because their parents both teach and couldn't make the connection-of sharing first impressions of students-and finally every year, of expressing the fact that we were lonely for each other after spending the entire summer together everyday. It was emotional.
And it was hard. I slept about three hours last night, so I awoke tired and edgy. In the swarm of people at the rally I was whisked up by dear friends. Misty shared that she too had been awake thinking of Glenn and memories for a good share of the night. On my other side sat Trudi, my dear Trudi who I have loved since Chris was in 6th grade. I was surrounded by support and friends. It was safe. I was emerging. I managed to plan my lunch around making time to come home to let Boo outside, and I also found time to chat and laugh with my lunch buddies and colleagues. Emerging a bit more.
Suddenly it was time to do our dog-and-pony- show for the new crew coming in. I had to take a few minutes because the tears were threatening to happen. My self-confidence was wavering. I took a few deep breaths and recovered. I looked out and saw my wonderful neighbors in the audience and made eye-contact..they gave a little wave and a smile. Their support helped me get stronger. Several times, various friends came and just stood in the background and gave me the "look" which relayed that they were there for me.
The description of a chrysalis(also known as a pupa) says that "although it may look as if nothing is going on, there are big changes happening inside."
Yes. There are big changes happening on the inside. I am growing, healing and will someday totally emerge. Apparently the time frame that a chrysalis remains in that state before the final change to a butterfly, can be months or years.
Emerging in my own time.
Friday, August 23, 2013
Expecting the Unexpected
I have come to expect the unexpected. Sometimes it is grief at experiencing the familiar alone. Yesterday I went to watch Glenn's grandson in a hockey tournament. We saw the same team last spring at the same arena, and I remarked to Lynn that it felt strange to climb the stairs to the ice, rather than wait for the elevator as Glenn needed to do because of his joint replacements. My legs felt sad and heavy climbing those stairs alone. It was unexpected to feel grief over the simple act of being able to climb the stairs without having to find the elevator.
The other day it was a fascinating surprise as my dear friend who never professes to be a person of faith, shared with me a vision of sorts that she had coming out of anesthetic. In it, she was to pass along a message to me that outlined the reasons we landed in Brainerd, and what Glenn's purpose was in bringing us here. I think it amazed even her a bit, and although she later tried to explain it away, it was too rich and detailed for it to have been from her "reptilian" brain. Comfort from unexpected places.
Tonight I had great fun with lots of familiar faces at a fund raiser for our fantastic library. It was a chance to rub shoulders with some fairly famous authors who happen to live in Minnesota. :). Remember- I have a t-shirt that says,"Authors are My Rock Stars." Yes. It it a nerdy English teacher thing. I admit it. Anyway, as I was mingling, I saw an old acquaintance. No one I knew terribly well, but we have many mutual friends. Her husband died two years ago under similar circumstances. Finally I heard the words I needed to hear. She told me that my path will not be worse or better, just different. That if I concentrated every day on finding joy, and giving joy, and making a difference, that I will be okay. And that I should not let anyone dictate the way in which I need to grieve. She also said something that stuck with me: that it is not only the loss of a loved one, but it is also the loss of your dreams. Yes! Lately I have felt so sorry at all that Glenn is missing with our family and friends, and all that we still wanted to do together. Her words gave me strength and hope and comfort in an unexpected place.
Expecting the unexpected.
The other day it was a fascinating surprise as my dear friend who never professes to be a person of faith, shared with me a vision of sorts that she had coming out of anesthetic. In it, she was to pass along a message to me that outlined the reasons we landed in Brainerd, and what Glenn's purpose was in bringing us here. I think it amazed even her a bit, and although she later tried to explain it away, it was too rich and detailed for it to have been from her "reptilian" brain. Comfort from unexpected places.
Tonight I had great fun with lots of familiar faces at a fund raiser for our fantastic library. It was a chance to rub shoulders with some fairly famous authors who happen to live in Minnesota. :). Remember- I have a t-shirt that says,"Authors are My Rock Stars." Yes. It it a nerdy English teacher thing. I admit it. Anyway, as I was mingling, I saw an old acquaintance. No one I knew terribly well, but we have many mutual friends. Her husband died two years ago under similar circumstances. Finally I heard the words I needed to hear. She told me that my path will not be worse or better, just different. That if I concentrated every day on finding joy, and giving joy, and making a difference, that I will be okay. And that I should not let anyone dictate the way in which I need to grieve. She also said something that stuck with me: that it is not only the loss of a loved one, but it is also the loss of your dreams. Yes! Lately I have felt so sorry at all that Glenn is missing with our family and friends, and all that we still wanted to do together. Her words gave me strength and hope and comfort in an unexpected place.
Expecting the unexpected.
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