Tuesday, October 27, 2009

An Anniversary for Remembering

Today is the anniversary of one of the most painful, sorrowful, and heartbreaking events of my life. It is not an anniversary to be celebrated but an anniversary for remembering the single most important person in my life, the one who when he went away left a void that can never be filled, an ache that will never go away, a sadness that even in my happy moments is hidden away in my heart, ready to make itself known again. Sometimes that sadness creeps up on me when I least expect it but there are other times when I know in an instant - when I hear the first few words to a song or I come across a picture or a card I had saved or when I close my eyes to go to sleep at night.

One year ago today my Martin passed away. One year and twenty three days after he was diagnosed with ALS he slipped away, surrounded by those who loved him. He fought the good fight, he handled his disease with grace and courage and with his wonderful sense of humor. I am comforted only by the thought that he is no longer suffering and that someday I will see him and we will never have to be separated again.

Today I remember Martin, my husband, who gave me the happiest times of my life and who loved me like no other.

Sunday, October 25, 2009

A Rare Moment

I just now finished eating my dinner - a pasta bowl from Wegmans with bowtie pasta and sliced chicken - accompanied by a bottle of Sam Adams that had been poured into my Pike Brewing Company glass that I bought back in July while having dinner in the restaurant in Seattle, with Phil and Amanda- and reading the current issue of Artful Blogging and being enchanted by the story of Dottie Angel.

I closed my unfinished magazine (it will take some time to get through it because there is so much to look at and to savor) and felt pleasantly full. But more than that I realized I actually felt content. It is not often that I am visited by that feeling. I was amazed that I could feel this way when I am surrounded by vast heaps of stuff that is waiting to be packed for the move to Seattle. I looked around the room and I didn't see a mess. What I saw was a little corner of my world, messy though it is at the moment, and I loved it. My eyes rested on my collection of Boyds Bearstones, waiting to be carefully packed away in their boxes in order to keep them safe for their journey across the country. I looked at teapots and honey pots and piles of books. I looked at the living room lamps that my sister and I shopped for when she was here in June, when our mother passed away and I was still trying to create a place that was mine, even though there will always be something of Martin in everything I have.

I couldn't understand how I could be feeling content when in two and a half days it will be exactly one year since Martin passed away. How could I feel content when I am faced with so much work to do to accomplish this move to Seattle and I cannot see how it will all be done by November 21 when Molly and I board a plane and fly across the country to start a whole new life?

I sat and drank in the total silence in the room. Normally I am not happy with too much silence but there are those rare instances when I fall in love with it. I felt that I'd had a good day, though it was certainly nothing exceptional, not by the standards of most people. I felt I had accomplished something simply by getting up, taking a shower and fixing my hair, putting on my makeup and my earrings and then leaving the house. It was a major victory for me - me, who had not left the house since last Monday when I drove my sister to the bus station.

Did I do anything of any great importance when I left the house today? In my world, yes. I did. When you consider the fact that I really had nothing in the house to make a meal from and had been scraping together odds and ends for the last several days, then yes - it was important that I got up today and did all those things and actually went to the store to buy food. Unless you have been in the place where I so often find myself - that place of really not caring what happens on a daily basis and that place where I struggle just to find a tiny spark that will make me do something as simple as moving - getting showered and dressed and going out and being a part of something other than these four rooms that I choose to hide in - unless you have been where I am then you cannot know what a monumental task it is to simply do those things that so many people do on a daily basis and think nothing of.

So yes, I felt content - not only with the silence and the good meal and looking at all these things that need to be packed - and that will be packed because there is nothing else to do with them - but I felt content because I had gone outside my comfort zone and I had actually enjoyed it.

Saturday, October 3, 2009

Maybe this is the right time to start posting to this blog. Major changes to my life - and isn't that what has been happening for the last two years? - with a move across the country to the Pacific Northwest - the city of Seattle - to start a whole new life. Exciting and frightening, all at the same time. So much to do to get there. It all makes me dizzy!

Since losing Martin, and then my mother, and finally my job - a job I truly loved, working with people that I love - has been the straw that broke the camel's back. I have reached my breaking point and I want and need to be near my son now. He is so excited and happy that I have made this decision - a decision I could not have made a year ago when Martin passed away. Then was not the right time but I believe in my heart that the right time has arrived at last. I will be travelling an unknown path, embarking on my great adventure, starting my new life at the age of 56.

"You have brains in your head and feet in your shoes
You can steer yourself any direction you choose
You're on your own and you know what you know
And you are the one who'll decide where to go."
~Dr. Seuss

Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Tuesday, Mar. 31

To speak gratitude is courteous and pleasant, to enact gratitude is generous and noble, but to live gratitude is to touch Heaven.
Johannes A. Gaertner