Leaving 2021

This was an extremely rough year. We all entered 2021 into a world shut down because of coronavirus. Then came the vaccines but still so many died - some because of the virus, and some because they couldn't get the life saving procedures needed because hospitals were overwhelmed with Covid patients. So much loss. So much heartbreak. And now so many of us face the holidays without those we love. It will be hard but we honor those we loved by living our lives with tempered sadness and welcomed joy. People tell me that life goes on. Yes, life goes on but it is never the same. I think "Memories" by Maroon5 sums it up.

Here's the link:

MEMORIES

ADVENT WEEK ONE

My former parish priest used to read reflections at daily Mass from books by a priest named Carroll Stuhlmueller, C.P.  I loved Stuhlmueller's poetic biblical meditations. His style of interpretation touched me deeply. I voraciously searched online bookstores until I found and purchased copies of his reflections for each liturgical season. Here is an excerpt from his Tuesday, First Week of Advent. 

"Only strong and dedicated adults can remain persons of faith when their life seems cut down and nothing seems to remain of their hopes. All of us have lived through such harrowing experiences. All of us who have dreamed our best dreams have felt betrayed by what we considered our very best! People who hope for little, lose little and suffer less. Our best and most unselfish hopes often let us down the hardest.

Prayer:

Grant us the strength to dream out our best thoughts, the heroism to persevere through their collapse, the childlikeness to be reborn anew so that the mystery of hope be manifest in our lives. No life is ever lost, only transformed into its most mysterious possibility."

THANKSGIVING 101

To give thanks. That is what everyone does on a special Thursday in November. So,  here's the thing. Despite having faced the worst day in my life, I do give thanks this year. Do I dare say that in giving thanks this year, that I also find great joy. For forty years I was loved and cherished. Every. Single. Day. It almost seems unbelievable as I write this, but it's true. Sometimes I can't even wrap my mind around how lucky I was to have such love. It hurts like hell to be missing that love now, but oh how grateful I am for the experience of it all. For this I will be eternally thankful and, yes, joyful in the memories of it all.  

"To live in this world

you must be able

to do three things:

to love what is mortal;

to hold it

against your bones knowing

your own life depends on it;

and, when the time comes to let it

go,

to let it go." 

By Mary Oliver

 Happy Thanksgiving!

GRANDMA IDA

My guess is this picture was taken right before my dad was sent to the South Pacific during WW2. I can see my Grandma Ida and my dad trying to put on brave smiles for the camera. I treasure these old photos that hold the memories of my family. I look at my grandma's face and wonder what she felt as seven of her eight sons and one of her four daughters served in the military.  Grandma was a tiny woman with towering strength.  She raised twelve children - alone. Her husband was an alcoholic and a womanizer, always promising to be better, but wasn't. I only met my grandfather a few times, but I saw that he was a handsome charmer and smooth talker.  Grandma never complained nor spoke against him. She simply did what she had to do to take care of all her children by going to work, while the older children pitched in to help out. Grandma taught her children, and her grandchildren, the importance of being family no matter what. She loved fiercely without judgement. Her hugs could get you through anything you might be facing. Her cooking nourished your body, and her love nourished your spirit. Because of Grandma Ida, our family shares a bond that can never be broken. For me personally, I was blessed with the best of dads, and a bevy of aunts and uncles and their spouses who were a rich part of my life, giving me cousins I loved fiercely, all 43 of them. I think it's important to know your people, the tribe to which you belong, the tribe that will always be there for you. My Grandma's life was a testimonial to endurance, and most importantly, to great love. As busy as her life was she took the time to show a ten year old how to knit and crochet, and I think of her every time I pick up my needles. To have had two amazing grandmothers as role models is a gift life has given me, an inherited strength that gets me through the ups and downs that come my way. I feel them with me every day.

NANNY

In this photo my Nanny is about 36 years old. She is with my Aunt Alice walking along some avenue in Newark. By this time she is a young widow with two young daughters. The year is about 1939. I love everything about this photo and wonder who took this picture and why. It is such a great shot of a mom on an ordinary day. How I wish I had thought to ask my grandmother more about her life and what she thought of being 69 years old, the age I am now. At 69 she was still taking the train to Newark everyday to her job as a telephone operator. At 69 she had endured so many tragic losses. At 69 she embraced each day with inner joy and energy. At 69 she went with me to Spain and Portugal for two weeks, walking the tours dressed to the nines in stockings and heels, and dancing at the clubs in the evenings. She was truly an amazing woman. I miss her every day. Don't get me wrong. I had an equally phenomenal mother, but my grandmother was more sympatico with me when it came to issues of the heart. She knew just the right thing to say, how much to help and how much to stand back. When I reflect upon her life as a way to tap in to her wisdom and perseverance, I can almost hear her say to me, "Adele, you have to just pull yourself up by your bootstraps and keep on going. There is no other choice." Okay, Nan, I can do the hard stuff too. I can pull up those bootstraps just like you did so many times.

TMI AND TMJ

Believe me, I have been one of those people who roll my eyes when someone shares too much information (TMI). But I need to share the following because I think trauma is something most people experience. If the trauma is severe enough, it can often trigger physiological problems making day to day functioning an uphill battle. This is when it may be necessary to get help from a licensed therapist. There should be no hesitancy in seeking professional help. Personally, I strongly believe in cognitive behavioral therapy. Throughout my life, beginning at the age of 27, I have used therapy to get me through rough patches. Back in 2014, when I was diagnosed with PTSD, therapy helped me manage the dibilitating anxiety and the sudden onset of panic attacks. Today I was diagnosed with TMJ which is causing jaw and ear pain. My family physician says this could be related to stress and recommended that I consider therapy if it continues to be problematic. In doing some research I learned that "the cause of TMJ disorder isn't always known, but research has shown a strong link between PTSD and temporomandibular joint dysfunction (TMJ). Someone with PTSD is operating in a constant “fight or flight” mode. They anticipate danger at every turn, and their body responds accordingly." I have been living in this "flight or fight" mode for almost two years constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. Well, the other shoe dropped, and now I am dealing with the fallout and the stress. If the stress and TMJ do not soon dissipate, I most certainly will return to therapy. And there is no shame in that. Therapy is certainly better than suffering in silence or self-medicating with drugs and alcohol. TMI, maybe, but I'm sharing this as a message of hope to whomever needs it.  If trauma has made you sick,  get therapy and get relief. Your family doctor can help you locate a licensed therapist.

LITTLE BY LITTLE

Little by little the pieces of a broken life get put back together. Things start to normalize. New routines get put into place. Time marches on. While grief still looms in the background like a ever constant shadow, a new sense of freedom slowly begins to emerge. The old rules and expectations of how things should be no longer apply. Things can be done differently. Traditions can be held or not held. No. - really is a complete sentence. Now life gets a new design of how things might be. I won't have to cook Thanksgiving dinner this year, and I'd really like to spend it differently. This year I'd like to sit back with a great big cup of coffee and watch the Macy's Day Parade from start to finish. Then, while still lounging in my PJs, I'd like to take in the dog show and then, while enjoying my pre-prepared Turkey Gobbler (WaWa), I'd like to watch Miracle on 34th Street. I don't want to make small talk. I don't want to plaster on a fake smile for the day. I want to be home for the holiday surrounded by my beautiful memories of a beautiful life. It's a comfort to me to be in the home that brings me joy. This plan sounds just right for me this year. Who knows, next year might be completely different! Like I said there are no set rules anymore. 

  

WHAT COULD HAVE BEEN

It hasn't been a particularly spectacular Fall this year in the mountains. Although, there are some pretty spectacular trees hinting at what could have been. "What could have been" seems to be the operative phrase lately for a lot of people. It's easy to get stuck in melancholia but it's not a safe place to stay. Melancholia too easily allows a pile up of "woe is me" artifacts - broken pipes, dead mouse in the wall, holes in walls and ceilings to replace pipes, half painted house, dirty carpets from repair guys, etc. Yet, the rain finally stops, the sun shines down on beautiful brisk autumn days, pipes get replaced, holes get repaired, house gets painted, and carpets can be cleaned. As for the mouse, he still stinks in the wall! But, hey, silver linings on the rest of it. And today there will be spectacular music from the Glenn Miller band at Penn"s Peak. Time to replace "what could have been" with "what ifs"! What if you just moved ahead with what is! Carpe diem !

REACHING OUT

It really doesn't matter how old you are, or what life circumstance you find yourself in. Everyone needs to be seen, to be heard, to be comforted. I know whenever I feel overwhelmed, I first try to remind myself that I need to learn how to reach out and ask for help. This is a very humbling proposition for me because I've always seen myself as fiercely independent. Life circumstances made me so. But now, I know asking for help, asking to be seen, to be heard, to be comforted is absolutely necessary for survival. Life is tough and we need other. We need to reach out and we need to let people reach out to us. Whether you are the young parent at home overwhelmed by child rearing responsibilities, the senior citizen overwhelmed by struggling to keep up with the demands of everyday living, or the single person overwhelmed by isolation and loneliness, we need each other. In this current era of division and fingerpointing, it is more important than ever to fight back against this environment of meanness and remember how good kindness feels. This all can start with each one of us doing what we can to be there for one another. I see you. I hear you. I understand. Sounds good, right?

SO HERE'S THE THING

 After one and half months into widowhood here's what I've learned. Have that glass of wine but keep it at one - any more than that will throw you into a crying jag. Also, when the funeral director says don't worry about social security benefits because they will be automatic once they are notified by the funeral home. This is a big f***ing lie. You need to set up an appointment. After two months of no increased benefits I called Social Security and got an appointment to fix this situation but the first available appointment is December 3. So okay, this is really helping to push me into the anger phase of grief. You feel me yet?

Next up is the lovely state of New Jersey where my husband worked as servant in education for over 40 years and I for over 32 years. The Teacher's Pension and Annuity Fund are just the real motherf****ers of all time. Notified by fax on August 30 (one day after he died) with death certificate and funeral home verification, and with seven plus phone calls, I still do not even have the claim forms to file for my pension benefits guaranteed by the state. I was also informed that once they get the claim forms it will be three to six months before I start receiving my legal pension benefits. Wow! So glad I was an educator. *sarcasm*

Well, I guess I should be grateful that the sh**t h*"le state of New Jersey doesn't disappoint. Why am I writing this? To let all currently recently widowed persons know that once the initial shock wears off, you will need to get up and show up to fight - every. single. day. - for what is legally owed you. No one in the financial world gives two sticks about your loss. The bills keep coming in and the bastards who owe you your rightful money keep their tight greedy fists on it. I'm sure they count on the bereaved to just give up. But guess what Jersey? I was born in New Jersey and raised to be a street fighter!

Oh, I'm sure there's more fun coming my way. Stay tuned. Meanwhile, I'm still waiting for the painters and plumbers and wallboard guys to finish their damn contracted jobs. My apologies if my tirade offends anyone's sensitivities. Not!

Phew! That felt good. Now, I'll have that glass of wine! *smiling now* 

SHENANIGANS AND STUFF

What can I say? This picture reminds me of my mom and dad - my fearless, fun-loving parents who just never grew up! As fate would have it these two screwballs found each other and married. How lucky to grow up with parents who never lost their sense of fun and play - parents who went sledding with us, ice skating with us, camping with us, played cards with us, did arts and crafts with us, helped with stage productions and parade floats, and even dressed up and went trick or treating with us. They taught us the meaning of celebrating all of life's events, big and small. We were beyond rich in the amount of love and joy found in those moments of play and laughter. I am so glad I had the chance to tell both of them how much I loved and appreciated them for the life they gave me, and for making parenting an art form.

IT'S ALL CUMULATIVE

It's all cumulative. Whether it's joy or sorrow, the moments and experiences of life pile up. No one tells you when you're four or five years old that your sixty nine year old self will replay seemingly insignificant scenarios over and over again in your head. Why? What hope or answers can be found in the looking back at the past. I'd like to think that replaying the beautiful moments, the happy moments counteracts and balances out the sad times. Being grateful for the memories of love and joy can even tip the balance and you realize just what an amazing life you have been living! Happy Sunday!

WHAT'S IT LIKE?

How are you doing? I'm okay. Are you sure? I'm not sure of anything anymore. Are you eating? Sure, I'm eating. Are you sleeping okay? Yes, every night for about five hours. Are you getting washed and dressed and getting out? Yup, I'm doing all those things. Do you have a therapist if it all becomes too much? Yes, I know of a therapist I can call. Do you need anything? I don't think so. Will you promise to reach out if you do need something? Yes, I promise. What's it like? Well, it's like being a pariah that people want to avoid, and it's like being a stray, that people want to rescue. It's like driving in a car on a beautiful day, and then not being able to see through the tears that come out of nowhere. It's like trying to maintain a connection to all the things that make up your life. It's like getting through just this one day, and then the next. It's like making peace with the quiet and the emptiness. It's like trying to remember that life goes on . . .it's like being so grateful for family and friends who care enough to ask the hard questions. 

THE HAPPY PLACE

Yesterday, I gathered with our children and grandchildren, along with Jim's only cousin at our family's Pocono cabin. We held a picnic on what would have been Jim's 79th birthday. The cabin is our family's Happy Place. Pocohanna Colony has been part of Jim's family since the early 1930's. Five generations of memories! We gathered in love and joy for the wonderful man who filled our lives with so much laughter and many, many stories. There were no tears, just smiles of shared appreciation and gratitude for the many blessings of being family to one another. This is the final gift Jim gave us and we will carry on his legacy of family, fun and picnics. 

OCTOBER

There is this sweet memory of walking around the block with my friends in Edison, NJ. We are laughing and kicking up leaves. It is an early October evening just seconds before sunset. Lights are coming on in the houses. There's a wonderful smell of burning leaves in the air. As was the style in 1966, I am wearing a wool CPO shirt- jacket, jeans and desert boots. We are all headed back to our homes for dinner with promises to meet after school the next day. For some reason this day is etched in my memory because it was one of those just perfect October sunsets and I was standing on the precipice between childhood and young adulthood where innocence ruled and everything was still possible.

FINDING THE NEXT THING

How does one circumvent becoming invisible? I think next to loneliness, not being seen is just as spirit crushing. I think this can happen to anyone in any stage of life. People that I admire the most seem to meet this challenge of living a meaningful life by simply finding a daily purpose and routine which places them in situations that foster social interaction. In the age of our current pandemic, social isolation can often become the norm and living alone compounds the issue. So my goal will be to find a daily routine that is a good fit for me. It's scary thinking about going it alone but all new beginnings can be a bit scary. I've even developed a mental list of new routines which I will try out. While social media platforms are fine, they just can't replace in person conversations. Yesterday I went to a really cute coffee spot in a mountain lodge which I think might serve as a good spot to start each day, and most importantly, they sell the daily NYTimes. Hopefully, I will then begin a local exploration of events and service opportunities which take place on a routine basis. I will reconnect with friends in my area and see what they may be interested in doing . Starting over and making new friends at 69 is not going to be easy but it will be an adventure. I will find my purpose in the next thing and I will not allow myself to become invisible.  

STOP THE CLOCK

Even as I folded their little clothes every laundry day, I knew that these moments were numbered -finite. How I wanted time to just stand still - to literally stop the clock. I felt keenly, painfully, the premonition of an empty nest. I think most parents experience this sense of the emptiness to come, even in the busyness of their days. There are just so many perfect moments in being a parent. Now, as the fullness of time is catching up to me, I find such joy and comfort in remembering those special spaces in time. When I am out and about and see young parents,  I make a silent wish for them - that they find joy in all those "stop the clock" moments, that they remember to push the pause button and take time to see this presence of perfection for the sacrament that it is.

IT'S MESSY

Some days it's easy to feel like a road hazard. It's like I have a detour sign on my forehead. Go around - nothing to see here. Road work ahead. Slow down, don't you see the red flags? Some days . . . I just know I am under construction. . . And that's okay. Patch and repair work takes time, and it's messy. But once the steam roller does it's nasty job, I know that there are more smooth rides ahead. In the meantime, just go slowly. 

BEST FRIENDS

I knew what I wanted from a marriage. I wanted what my parents had.  A true partnership. I wanted a wing man. I wanted a cheerleader. I wanted someone I couldn't wait to get home to.  I wanted someone that I could share everything with. I wanted someone who always knew what I was thinking. I wanted someone who felt my joys and sorrows as deeply as I did. I wanted someone who looked at me with the tender eyes of love - always.  I wanted someone who saw the "real me"  in youth and old age. I wanted someone who humorously supported all the band wagons i jumped on. I wanted someone who knew what "sitting with" actually meant. I wanted a best friend.  I got all that and much much more.

Four P.M.

4:00 p.m.  Each day I look forward to 4:00 p.m. it means I made it through another day. When I was working, it was the time I arrived back home. In retirement, it was the time I would start preparing dinner.  Now it's a border line between the day and the evening. Between street clothes and pajamas. Between remembering other days and other nights. Between now and what's to come. 

Widowhood

It can be a certain time of the day or the way the  sunlight streams through the woods.  It's cooking up the other half of the flank steak we so recently shared.  It's not washing your pillow case.  It's placing pillows in a vertical line on your side of the bed. It's looking at your shoes in the mud room.  It's looking at your clothes hanging in your closet - your dup kit, your tooth brush, your comb. It's looking at the last check entry you made . It's facing all the lasts with you  and all the firsts without you. It's solitary meal times and solitary bed times. It's listening and not hearing; it's looking and not seeing. It's the absolute. It's the final. It's the never again. It's widowhood.