What a year it has been! I remember this day last year like it was yesterday. In fact, it feels like maybe three months ago! December 23rd was a Monday, there was a little snow on the ground and the sun was shining as I did a few last minute errands around Lake St. Louis. I distinctly remember a phone conversation with Allan that afternoon in the Target parking lot. It left my heart skipping and also left me a little sad. He would be spending Christmas alone again, as he had so many before. Once again, my heart overflowed with gratitude because I was surrounded by an abundance of love and companionship. It was my first Christmas without Ken in nine years and though my heart was a little confused, I had friends and family making sure I felt joy and knew I was loved every day.

I'll never forget sitting in my living room a few weeks before Christmas, fire crackling in the fireplace, a periwinkle sky filling the floor-to-ceiling windows as the sun set, and feeling a wave of contentment. I missed Ken terribly, but I had come to realize that God had a plan, and my husband was at peace, maybe for the first time ever. I still had Barney, I had my LSL family, and in the midst of the turmoil that had been raging inside of me for seven months, I finally had a sliver of my own peace.

I had no idea what was in store for me. I had my mind set on living in LSL for at least another year, trying to find myself as a single person again; living life on my terms. I had just begun to look forward to the unknown instead of dreading it, when out of the blue came the phone call that changed my world. As Allan and I renewed our friendship, it became clear that we were meant to be together, but we didn't know how and I didn't know if the timing was right. I searched my soul, I asked Ken, I asked God, and not once did I hear or feel a "no." I decided the gift of love was not something to ignore and it's not something that comes around time and time again. 

So, here I am, spending my ninth Christmas in the Florida sunshine. I'll be sharing it with my sister and her husband (for the first time in 10 years), my niece and nephew, and of course, Allan, who will be surrounded by more love than he's used to (he might long for those "alone" holidays after this one -- LOL)!

I have to admit, I've had some blue moments as the season has unfolded. I've felt Ken around quite strongly a couple of times, and of course, I miss Barney more than words can say. I still well up when I let myself stop and think about them . Barney was my warm fuzzy New Year's present in 2003, and was an endless font of happiness for 10 Christmases. This year, as Barney was preparing to leave this world, along came another New Year's blessing -- Allan. We saw each other for the first time in eight months on New Year's Day and our love unfolded.

Now, as 2014 races to a close, I remind myself to dig deep, find a quiet place to reflect and try not to take time for granted. Christmas feels different since I've experienced death at such close range. There is a depth of meaning that I could never have had otherwise. I am reminded of the beauty in this world when I see the neighborhood peacocks or the sunset, when I look back on how far I've come emotionally and physically in the last few years, and especially when I feel so much love all around me.

May you hold peace, love and abundant joy this Christmas, and may you be blessed with your own wonderful surprise this New Year... God Bless. 

Hi All! Let me start out by apologizing for not writing in such a long time. I am honored and humbled that so many of you have asked me why I quit writing. It inspires me when you exclaim how much you enjoy my blog. Thank you!!

There is not any particular reason I haven't written -- I can only address the question by admitting that most days, by the time I get a chance to blog, I'm whooped and the creative juices have gone to bed for the night!

I have been writing in my journal (which is more like a prayer log these days) and working on paying projects, along with many other "jobs." I have recently become a notary so that I can marry people on the beach. I know there is a tremendous need for officiants here in Florida and being a notary is like being a Justice of the Peace. I think it will be a fun and fulfilling experience. What a gift to bear witness to such a happy occasion!

My summer has been a series of ups-and-downs, with mostly positive outcomes (no, I still don't have a new computer...might need to seek counseling for that affliction!). I won't bore you with the details of the ups and downs, but for a few days, I've been pondering the hourly fluctuation of good news/bad news/good news on a daily basis that never seems to end. It has just occurred to me that this IS the definition of life. It is never going to be ALL good, just as it's never ALL bad. Seems like a cliche' and you're probably thinking, Yeah...so?

When we're young I think we are under the impression (or we're taught) that the purpose of life is to make sure nothing bad happens. If we do all the right things -- play by the rules, take care of our health, have loving relationships and do unto others, we will be rewarded with a long, healthy, fairly stress-free life. 

For most people, it's a wonderful way to get through the first forty years (or so) and I'm sure it's by design that we live with the above goals for so long. The truth is, no matter how GOOD we are, life happens all around us. Trials do happen the entire time we're growing up, but I think we look at them as isolated incidents. In my young life, with each challenge or disappointment, I would say to myself, "Just get through this and you'll have smooth sailing for a while."  And with every fiber of my being, I believed when a rash of bad things would happen, that I was all set for a while -- life would hold nothing but positive events for a stretch; I had paid my dues.

I'd like to say at forty-four, I've finally realized, there's no definitive line; no ALL good for a while. Good and bad are stitched together to create each day. It's impossible to get through a day without both. For each little annoyance or struggle, there are joyous moments. Some days the balance is tipped one way or the other, but I find that I am extra attentive to the peaceful, happy minutes. I find myself standing still and watching a delicate bird on the feeder and marvel at the detail in her feathers. I'll turn the TV off to listen to the lullaby of steady rain (currently) and the frogs singing their tune.

Those of us that have been pushed to our limits and have uttered in frustration, "Why me? I've tried to live right and be a good person" eventually figure out that it has nothing to do with the kind of person we are. It has everything to do with opening our eyes in the morning, stepping out of bed, and being part of this world. With experience comes wisdom and on the other side of the bad is a good that's richer, deeper and more serene. 

In the last two years, I have grown and matured beyond measure. My resolve and appreciation for every minute has deepened and I am outwardly grateful many, many times a day. I log my multitude of daily prayers in my journal and know that I am heard, and that with each trial comes a blessing. I thought I knew myself and my limits until last year with the death of my husband and my beloved Barney, but I had no idea. Out of the pain came a healing of spirit and an appreciation for being middle-aged and more settled in my soul.

 

Mercury Retrograde -- Yeah, that's it!

I sit here on this sticky, hell-fire afternoon (couldn't think of any description that's hot enough!!) and have finally calmed down from weeks of technology melt-down. According to one of my yoga instructors, it's because Mercury is retrograde! Well -- THAT explains it!


"Three times a year for about three weeks, the planet Mercury goes retrograde so it looks like it's moving backwards-but it's just an illusion. This round of retrograding ends on July 2, so what's the deal? Astrologer Eileen McCabe explains:

1) Mercury is the planet of communication. Mercury (another name for Hermes the messenger god) linked people together by delivering messages. This period of time involves making connections.

2) But connections aren't happening as smoothly. You might miss a phone call, the bus or train. There are going to be some life glitches."
 
Miss a phone call? How about the entire house imploding on technology -- modem, land-line phone and cable box all decided to quit (spent last Saturday waiting for cable guy), cell phone went to black and now refuses to allow yahoo email anymore (even cell phone guy doesn't know why) and my brand new laptop was full of viruses right out of the box. Silly me, thought I could fix it, and it pretended to work for a day or two until today, when it decided to lock up and shut down the household internet again. Ugh!


Therefore, rather than risk any more high-blood pressure, hammer-smashing laptop daydreams, I will wait until July 3rd when Mercury decides to move forward, to attempt to buy a new computer (again). Me and my old, trusty Toshiba are limping along just fine -- today anyway.
 
Which leads me to one of the points of this blog -- after I pitched a childish fit when my new laptop locked up this morning and Allan decided he needed to vacate the house and go to work, it hit me how ridiculous it is to become an ugly, swearing fool over technology. I was ashamed; felt like an idiot. Me, the person who has grown to realize the true importance of our days, let a computer ruin what had been a really peaceful morning.


Shortly after my meltdown, I had to get to an appointment, which was probably the best thing that could've happened at that moment. As I was driving with the AC on 'hurricane' (thank you Willis Carrier for HVAC), and Coffee House on the radio, I calmed down and took in the scenery -- palms blowing in the breeze, osprey soaring overhead, primary-colored flowers in bloom along the roadside. Stress slinked away. I decided I would return the insolent laptop, hopefully without much ado (beyond the inconvenience and time already spent). Problem now solved.


We are so burdened by our "advanced" lifestyle that the millions of tiny miracles happening every moment are overlooked. I should be happy to have a day or two without the albatross that has become our way of life, yet without it, I can't do my job. I guess the lesson here is to continue to find BALANCE. By definition, "mental steadiness or emotional stability; habit of calm behavior, judgment, etc." Yoga, wine, friends, reading, walks, church, faith...whatever it is that helps us take a deep breath in this crazy world we live in, just do it (think Nike minds?)!


While composing this blog, I've been getting a pop-up message from BlogSpot (I think it's Mercury's little joke right about now) "An error occurred while trying to save or publish your post. Please try again." Really? As Allan is so fond of saying, at the most inappropriate moments, "It could be worse!"



 

There is Meaning

The end of May is already upon us -- hard to believe that I've been back in Florida five months already. I know for those of you up north, the winter lasted forever and you're ready for summer. I, however, dread the summer months here in hot, sticky Florida. But, I also know why I am here -- not only is this my "place" in the world, I will stay through the summer (rather than run away to the north as originally planned) because I don't want to be away from Allan, and I am reminded, once again, that I was in the right place at the right time one week ago today.


In this crazy world of loss, upheaval, and constancy, I make a conscious effort to slow down, feel the love around me, and let go of worry. This has been especially true over the last two weeks of heartache. Amazingly, I find myself still standing, and have witnessed another blessing.


May 8th, my Barney went to heaven. On May 13th, as Allan was getting on a plane to London for two weeks (ugh), I got a message from one of my oldest and dearest friends that sent chills through my body. Immediately, I was taken back to the first moments of finding Ken as I physically felt their pain with the news -- their 25 year old son was dead. A beautiful, talented, loving, young man with his whole life ahead of him, decided this world is too hard, and in a moment of angst, took a permanent step that would not just change his existence, but alter everyone who knew him and loved him, forever. The absolute worst pain a human can feel -- the loss of a child.


Once you experience loss to the depths of your soul, you are never the same person, ever again. It physically and emotionally changes you. Every minute of each day becomes different. When you open your eyes every morning, the hours in front of you hold different meaning. The only way to survive the heartache is with time, faith, and the love of others. I never wanted any of my loved ones to feel that kind of pain, yet I suppose we all do at one time or another. My heart is with them as they travel this terrifying journey, and I am reminded of Ken as they unite in their pain; the rawness of the "firsts." Ken's birthday is in four days, he would've been 48.


Which brings me to the blessing of last week. Thanks to Ken, once again, a friend of mine has been saved. Last summer, because of his death, my brother-in-law pursued a stress test and ended up having quadruple bypass surgery within weeks to save his life.


This time, my friend Michael was at our house working on the AC (even it doesn't want to work in this heat) and I shared the details of what happened to Ken, mentioning his stubbornness to not see a doctor when needed. Thanks to that conversation, Michael is now in the hospital, being catheterized this morning. He is also in his mid-forties. He had been feeling strange but was, in his own words, "being stubborn about it." I have no doubt, the chain of events of my being in Florida, the heat being too much for our old AC, and Michael having time to come by last Tuesday, spared another family heartache.


I am reminded, repeatedly, that Ken's death was not in vain. There have been a few other stories such as this where young men we know have gone for tests and have been diagnosed with heart disease, and are being treated accordingly.


Being the spiritual person that I am, I find meaning in the order of things -- I don't believe in mere coincidence. I do believe that each and every situation we find ourselves in serves a purpose, we just may not know it right away. This unique journey I've been on for the past 10 months has been full of loss, along with countless blessings. My intuition is heightened, my spirit is vulnerable, and I realize in every moment, there is meaning. 


To those who've gone before us, thank you for the love you bestowed on us, for the ways in which you've touched our lives, and thank you for the lessons you're still teaching us.


Go in Peace...

To Love Again

A quote that moved me to tears today...such truth.


"Love all God's creation, the whole of it and every grain of sand. Love every leaf, every ray of God's light; love the beasts, love the plants, love every creature. If you love everything, you will perceive the divine mystery in things. And once you have perceived it, you will begin  to comprehend it ceaselessly, more, more and more every day. And you will come at last to love the whole world with an abiding universal love. Love the animals: God has given them the rudiments of thought and untroubled joy." Fyodor Dostoevsky


....for Allan, who won't even kill a bug in the house, and for our Barney, the true example of untroubled, unbridled joy.

To My Boy, Barney

May 9, 2014

To My Baby Boy, Barney,

You left this world yesterday and, oh how much better it was because you were in it. For twelve wonderful years you graced us with your goofy smile, that signature tip-of-the-head, and that eternally happy wag of your fluffy husky tail. On our walks, strangers were drawn to pet you and always exclaimed, “Wow! He’s so soft!”  You made even the grumpiest smile.
 
You suffered countless health issues in your little life, yet you were always joyous. When one of us would come home, we were greeted by your enthusiasm and a tennis ball as you raced to get into the yard and begged us to throw it – rain, sleet, heat, snow…”I wanna chase the ball, Mom.” Of course we would oblige with a giggle and a few words about a silly dog.
 
You were a well-traveled pup – you lived in Traverse City, Las Vegas, South Pasadena, Lake St. Louis and St. Pete, often visited Tennessee, and either flew over or drove through every state in-between.  We knew traveling was not your forte, but once we got to our destination, the adventure and new animals to chase made it all worth the hassle.  Watching your expression change and ears perk up as you experienced new smells and terrain, and met new doggie (and swan) friends, brought us the utmost delight.

As the minutes tick by, the after-death movie of our escapades plays on.  Snowshoeing in Traverse City – you would race around and race around and then sneak up on us from behind and walk on the backs of our snow-shoes until one of us would trip. I swear you would laugh, then run away into the snowy night and come back and do it again a few minutes later.

When you were three, we moved to Florida and you became a blissful beach dog. You would rip so fast on the soft, white sand that it would squeak under your paws as rooster-tails of sand flew up behind you. You’d run full-force into the gulf, run out, turn around with a huge grin to see if we were watching, then splash in again. We had as much fun watching you as you did frolicking.

When we road-tripped to Vegas and then to Palm Springs for a weekend, you were a brave boy chasing coyotes in the dessert. From that enjoyment came a sprained wrist, along with a cactus up the nose from chasing bunnies. You seemed so proud of yourself, you didn’t care if you were hurt!
I think the best days of your life were between ages five and eight. You still had endless energy – yep, I never thought the walk to the park for an hour of ball chasing would ever end. It was the highlight of every one of my days. We’d get to our shady, gorgeous, flower-and-tree-filled park at the end of a long work day, and off the leash would come. Away you’d run – almost fly, I think, as I’d throw your rubber Life is Good ball about a block. You would start to run after it, jump in the water fountain on the way, never really stopping as you drug half the water out of the fountain with you, racing to beat the ball. You’d grab it, run back, jump in the fountain again, lower yourself just enough to cool your belly, jump out and proceed to stand in front of me shaking off the water and dropping the ball for more. There were people who came to the park just to watch you. Your happiness was contagious and it was my therapy.

I’ll never forget the first time you had filet mignon. Thanks to your daddy, who could not believe how deprived you had been (hahaha), you tasted nirvana at age five. After that, you turned yourself inside-out whenever there was steak and salmon on the grill. Very quickly, they became your two favorite delicacies. Life would never be the same without at least one per week.

You were my rock and my shining star through the many trials of my young life, and many times, because of you, I didn’t give up when things got really bad. I had you to take care of, to walk, feed and love on. When I was laid up with my back surgery, you kept me company, never leaving my side, making sure I could get around the house. When your daddy died ten months ago, I knew you weren’t feeling well, but you hung in there to get me through the pain, made me laugh every day, got me to experience the pure peace of early morning walks and the wonder of star-filled, late night outings in the yard.

Flashes of you walking with your half-folded ears flopping and tail up, treeing squirrels and tasting baby possum (which was quickly spit out – definitely NOT steak), laying in your grassy yard with ears blowing in the breeze, frolicking and burying yourself in the snow as a pup and an elder, sleeping soundly like an angel on your bed or the couch, and sharing my morning coffee and pizzelle – all running through my thoughts today.

I’m so sorry you got cancer, but I am eternally grateful that we got a few great months of puppy antics and tons of laughter. I know you waited to make sure your momma was happy and loved, and that your new papa had a chance to bond with you. It was your way of going out like you wanted to be remembered.

The last several days, you were obviously hurting and miserable, yet on the very last day, you woke up perky, smiling, posing for photos like usual, eating like a champ, chasing squirrels on your short walk and wagging your tail, all the while, reassuring me you were going to be okay. You knew daddy was waiting to greet you in heaven with a filet, some salmon and a tennis ball.

Letting you go was the hardest decision of my life, but I promised you no suffering. It was my gift to you to go in peace, in your home, surrounded by your babies and those of us who love you deeply. I already miss your presence, your wonderful, clean smell (never did smell doggy), the familiar sound of your nails on the floor and let’s not forget, doggie-drinking, doing the Barney backstroke in your water bowl.

Since my age of thirty-two, it’s been the two of us, taking on the world, lifting each other up, playing off of each other’s emotions, feeling the same pain and happiness beyond explanation. You were more than just a dog – most people agree, you were a little boy with fur who loved unconditionally and wholly, and shared that love through your gentle spirit. I am so blessed to have walked through the last twelve years with you, my amazing Barney, my kindred spirit.

I sit in my office this morning, looking out over the most scenic back yard I could've ever imagined I'd have...green, rolling hills, morning sun touching the tops of trees as old as me, shining golden against a silvery blue sky. There is a misty peace that hangs like a deep breath.



This is my time of day -- I've always been a morning person. The serenity envelopes me like no other time of day. This is when I process, when I do my best work, when I'm fresh and positive, thoughtful, grateful.



From the moment I open my eyes, thoughts of Ken run through my mind like a movie. Memories play out as if I've recorded them and I keep hitting rewind and pause. It's amazing the details I remember looking back over the years. The tough times are minimized, as our laughter and love take center stage.



When I look at my favorite swirled blue vase in the bathroom, I remember my surprise trip to Knoxville to see him for his 40th birthday. There was an art fair downtown where he had a condo, and he bought that vase for me. The entire trip plays out in snippets of what was most meaningful.


Then my mind goes to how lucky I was to have a man who sincerely liked to shop and meander. I review the many times we explored different shopping areas in every town we visited, he was always on the search for a piece of unique jewelry or shoes for me. He loved to buy me pretty things -- whenever he came to town that first year, he would buy me a pair of sandals at the Don Cesar shoe boutique. I still have every pair (20? 30? I'll have to count) and to this day, I get compliments on them, they are the most unique designs. I will keep them forever, they come with special memories of those weekends at the beach and his proud smile.



I am finding out how much we shared -- everyday little things. I want to call him and tell him how the autumn light is changing the look inside our new home as the day progresses. Believe it or not, he appreciated those details as much as I did. We couldn't wait until the deck was shaded during the day -- it's comfortable now by about 1:30 in the afternoon. I can't believe he won't be here to watch the 10 acres of woods beyond our yard in all it's brilliance as the leaves turn. I'm certain it will be an ever changing kaleidoscope. I now realize, life IS richer when shared with the person you love the most. I used to thrive on having my own life -- until I was loved so deeply by a person who appreciated my way of being in the world.  He gave me that ultimate gift -- to be open to sharing life. That's what it's all about.

Northern Michigan Summers..

I was just looking for a file on my computer and came across a story I had written about when I was a little girl and the excitement of summer...it's been a LOOOONG, COOOOLD winter up north. Think back to these precious moments (those of us who grew up near the beach) and know that it IS on it's way...

The Perfect Summer Day

Until I moved away as a young adult, the ultimate days of summer were lived at the beach. In my early elementary years, beach days were met with so much simmering excitement it was like shaking a carbonated beverage and then taking the top off. Usually, Mom would take a few of us, but the extra special days were when it was just her and me.  From late morning, when I would put on my colorful one-piece bathing suit until the short drive home at five o’clock, we had our own rhythm; it felt almost like a secret.

Around noon, she’d pack a bag with an old sheet and big towels, bright buckets and shovels, Coppertone lotion (SPF 4 – the highest factor back then) and her little black radio with an antennae and a roller to dial in the stations. The cooler held peanut butter and jelly or bologna sandwiches, Bugles and Cheetos, Chips Ahoy cookies and Kool-Aid for me, Pepsi for her.

Bryant Park was a mile and a half from our house, tucked away behind our little peak-roofed, half glass church. Once Mom parked our burgundy station wagon among the pine trees and unloaded it, she and I would lumber to the crescent-shaped beach to get a prime spot. We’d lay out the flowered sheet carefully to avoid immediately swishing it with sand (futile effort) and the radio would get tuned to WTCM. Tunes from stars like Charlie Rich would echo from the speaker, “When she lets her haaiirrr haaanng down,” and I’d sing along, heading straight to the sixty-degree bay with my arm floaties, mask and snorkel.  I would fall face-first into the frigid water with lightning speed to get brain freeze over with, then proceed to snorkel all day along the sandy shore looking for Petoskey stones, fish bones and pretty rocks.

Eventually, Mom would get too warm on shore and wade in slowly to gradually numb her limbs. She’d let me take off the water wings and help me swim – pure delight. After a few minutes, we’d head into the deeper, glittering blue and she’d let me dive off her shoulders. It brought splashes and giggles from both of us.

Mid-afternoon, I would drag myself to the sheet, sad to leave my treasure hunting, but with agonizing hunger, plop down and plow into my sandwich. The Bugles went on my fingertips and were eaten one at a time despite the request to “not play with my food.”

At the end of the day, probably around 4:30, Mom would have to start convincing me that we had to go. Despite pruned skin, yawns and goose bumps, most days she would have to take my hand, lead me to the sheet and with stern Mom Voice, coerce me to dry off. I hated saying goodbye to the fantasy world I had spent all day creating. As we’d pull away, despite my tiny age, I would burn the blue, green and tan scenery into my brain like a painting so I could dream about it until the next perfect day.

 Thanks, Mom, for the great memories!

Progress

I have been so bad about writing like I had intended. Each day is still full of non-stop activity but the end of the kitchen renovation is in sight. The pod-like containers holding what is left of my "life" are finally empty and out of the driveway. Some of my belongings are in storage and the rest are filling the third bedroom, part of the dining room, and a little in each of the other bedrooms. Ugh!



Though the above progress is great news, I have to admit, I've been a little out-of-sorts, or as Allan (and Barney) say, "Grumpy." Being the wildly Type-A person that I am, I do NOT like living in chaos. I don't know how hoarders do it -- I feel like I can't get organized no matter what I do! Once the kitchen is finished (end of this week most likely), I can empty all of those boxes and then there's room for the rest. Can hardly wait!



I'm trying to be more self-aware and less cranky, and in doing so, I've noted several other reasons that I'm not feeling like myself. Aside from not being able to exercise or hit the beach at all right now (a little surgery to remove a mole on my foot), I've not been doing anything creative or doing basic things like COOKING, not eating as healthily as I usually do (back to not cooking) and the biggest reason seems to be mourning my Lake St. Louis life. Surprises me too. I loved living there, mostly because of my LSL "family."



When faced with the decision to move back to Florida so rapidly, take the wild-card on love and go for it, I didn't think I'd miss what I left behind so much. It doesn't mean my decision wasn't the right one, it's just another BIG change in a year with no consistency. It's led me to ponder the fact that with every choice, there is always a positive and a negative. I am inclined to whine and say whyyyy??? but a wise man once said, "Don't ask why? (there is rarely an answer), ask what? instead." So I ask, WHAT can I do about it?



I can continue to feel the blessings bestowed on me. I am grateful every day to have my health and thankful every moment that I have found love again (still can't believe it some days) and how amazing it is, to know the true sense of the word friendship and love from so many. Though I have life-long friends I couldn't live without here in Florida and in Michigan, I have never been so deeply impacted by friendship as I have been by those wonderful people in LSL. I miss them daily and hope to bridge the distance with visits, though it's not going to be the same as meandering out to the deck to share a glass of wine, or walking to the park, watching the turkeys, enjoying the new spring days....



Again -- such a swirl of emotions. I am elated to be spending the winter with my sis, Susie, and that I was here for her when her beloved golden retriever went to heaven last Tuesday. I am happy for Barney that he's out of the cold and getting to enjoy his last few months in the warmth with lots of walks and a step-papa that he adores. Every time I look at Allan, I am overwhelmed by love and know that I am right where I'm meant to be. When I get to do yoga near the beach and feel the sea breeze, pure contentment reigns, and I realize this girl is a beach-baby.



Through my Cracker-Jack box of daily emotions, I remind myself that I am human, I've endured a shocking amount of change in a year, and that it's okay to be on the roller-coaster, as long as I ride it, feel it, and move on.



"We must let go of the life we planned, so as to accept the one that is waiting for us."
Joseph Campbell

PS: I am finally going to be published in a poetry book that'll be for sale at B&N and on Amazon! More on that next time...

Kindness

Finally a few minutes to write. Since I returned from Missouri, I've sat down several times in the evening to compose a blog, and before I can open my laptop, I'm dozing off. I've been back two weeks and each day is over before it has begun!

The trip to pack up the house was successful and crushingly stressful. The first day, my closest LSL friend and her husband came over to help me sort, pitch and pack. We started about 8:30AM and before I knew it, the sun was setting. All I did was sort and pitch. There was no time to pack. With Kellene's help, I went through Ken's belongings like a sergeant -- methodically, keeping emotions to a minimum. I had to read almost everything in order to know whether to keep it, pitch it, shred it or give it to family.

After about four hours of managing his things, we started on mine, giving it the same, cold treatment. When we came upon my ballet slippers, my baby clothes, my first raggedy teddy bear with one eye and no fur -- no exceptions. Garbage bag. It broke my heart for a while -- it felt like I had died a little too. I had to ask myself, why keep it and move it and store it? Who is ever going to want it? Kellene was the gentle voice of reason and reminded me of the impending move and the limited space in the moving container. All-in-all, 15-18 of those particular boxes and bins became four. And the Consolidation Award goes to...Kristin!

The rest of the trip was packing, pitching, sorting, and selling everything. I sold almost all of the furniture. Again, emotionally difficult and still stinging a bit. Not the material part of it, just how hard we worked and how proud we were of those few special pieces that we splurged on when we bought our first house together; the forever bedroom set we finally purchased when we moved to Missouri. Gone to the new owners of the house, to friends and neighbors. As sad as I was to see it go, I was grateful that everything sold as easily and quickly as it did. And, I am equally glad that much of it is still "in the family."

Four days, fifteen to eighteen hours a day of marathon packing, and the whole house was ready to go into two 16x8 containers for shipment to Florida. Each of those exhausting days was a kaleidoscope of determination, melancholy, disbelief, numbness, and regret, mixed with bouts of despair and crying laced with moments of happiness and love from the sweet texts that would come from Allan just when I needed them most. I wondered if I was finally losing it! (Yes, I know, you're thinking  I lost it a long time ago).

The saving grace for my sanity that week was friends and neighbors, who are now lifelong friends. I am utterly AMAZED at the kindness, love and support from people I have known for a handful of months. When Ken died, they took me under their wings, watched over me, fed me, hugged me, knew just when I needed them most and the doorbell would ring. They became my rocks, my laughter, my companions. And, once again, in my time of need, they all rallied around and helped me accomplish what would've been impossible without their help.

Ken's best friend, Tyler, his wife, Kym and their son, Colt, who moved to Missouri with us for work, helped immensely throughout the week, even though they too are still grieving. By moving away, I am cutting the ties to our new lives; the physical reminder to Ken, and yet, they selflessly support my move back to Florida and continue to show how much they care.

My time in Lake St. Louis feels like a dream. It was one year -- one short year, and yet it changed my life forever. I am a better person for having lived there, for knowing that there is a world where strangers willingly ban together, reach out and share their love with someone in need without expecting a single thing in return. A world where neighbors will mow your yard or blow the snow out of your driveway or watch your beloved dog on a moments notice without being asked, or if you do ask, say yes without hesitation. A world where you feel the true meaning of friendship every day and you know that you're never alone. What a gift and an example for my future interactions.

Kindness, according to book two of Aristotle's 'Rhetoric' it is defined as: "helpfulness towards someone in need, not in return for anything, nor for the advantage of the helper himself, but for that of the person helped". 

Thank you all and God Bless.

 

Swirling Winds of Change

How quickly my life changes...

I sold my house in Missouri yesterday. Three weeks. Can't believe my luck! As much as I wanted it to sell fast, I haven't gotten to truly settle in here in Florida yet. Though I suppose I'm not going to be settled without some of my "stuff" around. It has been hard living out of two states -- my neighbor and good friend has been a life saver mailing me things each week.

My emotions are swirling like a tornado, and I'm doing everything in my power to breathe deep and keep the enormity of what I have to do in perspective. I head back to MO to start the moving process Sunday. The daunting part is sorting, pitching and packing the details of the life I've had for so many years. I'm cleaning house -- selling most everything, starting over.

Getting rid of Ken's things -- ouch. I realized a while back that the stack of diplomas and certifications that he worked so hard to achieve get to go....where? a dumpster! Without kids to pass things on to, once we're gone, all our efforts and the things we're so proud of just go away. His favorite clothes, his photos from years of travel and his life before I met him -- who gets them? Some will go to charity, some will get sold, some will go to the landfill. I will, of course, keep OUR photos and memories, but I can't keep it all. So final.

It also makes me wonder why I keep moving, move after move, my school achievements and photos from when I was a kid, my old ballet slippers and boxing shorts, yearbooks...they may follow Ken's things this time!

I sit here tonight with warm, wonderful thunderstorms all around, and ponder the wild ride I have been on for years now. About four months ago, I told my friend, Kellene, "I'd like a BORING year of status quo. Nothing exciting, no surprises, no drama." Well, so much for that! She laughs and thinks that's not possible for me. I wouldn't know what to do -- she's probably right! I never could've dreamed the positive changes that have been bestowed upon me.

Through all of the ups and downs, THE biggest treasure has been the people in my life. The unconditional love I feel from so many -- old friends, new friends, family and now Allan, keeps me grounded and makes me feel blessed beyond reason. I can't quantify it, I can't explain how it moves me, but it is truly all that matters. When we are gone, what lives on? The memories and the love.

As I embark on the next phase of cleaning the slate of that which has become my life, I pray for stability and grace to not just get through it, but to feel it and release it like yoga breath. As I cut the final thread of the past ,I hope to weave it into the fabric of who I have become, continue to grow from my experiences, and embrace each new moment with dignity and gratitude. I am so blessed.  

"Opportunities to find deeper powers within ourselves come when life seems most challenging."Joseph Campbell

The Hours of Fading Light...

It's been too long since my last post -- I have been meaning to write for days. I've gotten my laptop out, set it on the coffee table and there it stayed, closed. Finally, on this Sunday evening, as the sky turns shades of sherbet and the sun sets on yet another perfect Florida day -- sunny, 70, breezy -- I finally feel moved (and brave enough) to write what I have to say without completely falling apart.

I found out on Tuesday that my baby boy, Barney, has cancer. I have known in my heart for months that he's not felt well, but it was finally confirmed by a medical professional. The poor guy has anal gland cancer and it has spread to a couple of lymph nodes.

I took the news with stoicism while at the vet and then proceeded to descend into despair on the way home. Once the tears started, there was no stopping them. I kept rationalizing with myself that he's twelve years old and I knew he'd only be with me a while longer, just by nature, but I never wanted him to suffer.

For now he is on prednisone, acting like a wild-child puppy, eating like a trash can, and has Allan wrapped around his doggy paw. Barn can get him to do anything he desires by using his mischievous blue-eyed stare and that head-tilt that he's famous for. I haven't seen him act this frisky in years. I am tremendously thankful for the medication since it may give him a few weeks/months of playfulness and joy.

I have vowed not to mourn him until he is gone. It upsets him when I'm upset, so I refuse to cry in his presence and do not ponder what's to come for more than a minute or tears spring to my eyes. I want to enjoy every single minute with him, smiling, laughing, playing, sharing people food (finally -- human food without restriction!!) taking walks, snuggling and smelling his doggy scent.

Those of you that I've shared the news with have all said the same thing -- he's been holding on to make sure I'm okay. Our connection is so powerful, he feels my contentment and knows that I have Allan to watch over me and love me, so he feels it's okay to let go now. We also know what a constant struggle his life has been -- one illness or ailment after another; I'm not sure he's ever been physically comfortable in 12 1/2 years.  

I am grateful to Allan who invited us into his home, never flinching at the amount of dog hair and throw rugs that have invaded his space. He's been amazing in the face of this tragedy so early in our new life together. His kindness and love have made this horrible news somewhat bearable. 

He went with me to the vet for moral support, and Tuesday evening, when I couldn't pull myself together and stop sobbing, he stayed home from work to hold me, let me cry it out, and then had me laughing by night's end. Once again, facing an epic loss and life-altering event, I have a reason to be thankful and feel blessed. Thank you, Allan!

One can never, ever know the unconditional love and joy a dog can bring to life until you've been loved by one, and given that love in return. It is on a level so different than human love because there is no judgment, no disappointment -- just pure adoration and constant forgiveness. Though it is always too short of a time that they are with us, they touch our hearts and change our lives for the better, forever.

"Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice, but for those who love, time is eternity."  Henry Van Dyke

Forgive the Truisms

On a warm, sunny, morning walk yesterday, I was pondering clichés -- how we roll our eyes and get chastised for using them, but how true they are! Time heals all wounds...what doesn't kill you makes you stronger...things happen for a reason...time flies when you're having fun....life is two steps forward, one step back, and one of my favorites -- everything happens for a reason. All of these, and then some, have described my last couple of years.

In the last twelve months, I have gone from being physically challenged and partially immobile, to living a fairly normal physical life. I left my Florida home of eight years to move to a state I had never even driven through, let alone visited. I put my trust and faith in the feeling that a fresh start in a new place would be life changing and exciting, and it was, on both accounts.

I sold a house, lived in an apartment, bought another house, had two cars decide to conk out and bought a new one. Barney-dog get a tick in the face and fought horrible infections for months, and of course, just as we were settling in to our dream home, my husband Ken died. All hell broke loose, in every manner of speaking, for about three months thereafter, and then the reality of my situation set in. So many decisions to be made -- a blank page, a new beginning I could have never anticipated.

As I processed and time healed my wounds, I started seeing the light at the end of the tunnel and peace crept in. Once solace found a place in my heart, I found myself being drawn back to my home, to the beach in Florida. I was feeling the tug on my heart strings and an amazing thing happened on the way to the dance -- I found love again, in the place I was being drawn to by invisible strings. Everything happens for a reason has been a steady theme throughout my life, in hundreds of ways -- and once again, it holds true.

Being back where I belong, with a love that makes me feel more blessed every moment of the day, just confirms that we never know why things happen at the time, but I guarantee, if we look back, there was a guiding light that led us through the darkness and into the next joyous or graceful moment.

I may not understand the "why" of the wild challenges I've faced over the years, but I do know this -- if they hadn't happened, I wouldn't be where I am right this moment. I wouldn't have the faith and deep appreciation for life that has strengthened with every obstacle; I wouldn't have the level of compassion that I now have for people who are hurting physically and emotionally, and I wouldn't be as patient with myself. 
 
Nobody gets through this life without trials; who would we be without them? I would not have the amazing memories and eternal friendships that have been made throughout this journey without those challenges. There are times it seems we take two steps forward and one step back and find it's about learning to dance in the rain. I venture, if we look around us, we'll always see our loved ones dancing alongside.

God Bless

PS : Forgive the piece on clichés -- it shows "lack of experience as a writer", yet they prevail in our language for some reason...

Quote of the day...

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbour. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."

Mark Twain

BIG waves...

Barney and I took a walk to the park this morning -- the sky was robin's-egg-blue,  it was a balmy sixty degrees, the palms were swaying in a slight breeze and there were peacocks meandering about. Yep, we're back in Florida! Okay, so I guess I was fooling myself. I got back to Lake Saint Louis and began planning the sale of my house. I was thinking maybe March or April when the trees are all in bloom and spring has sprung -- then, an amazing turn of events....

One of the best people I know, someone I have adored as a friend for at least eight years (and shared major chemistry with) professed his love for me. We reconnected a while back via phone and realized we had always had feelings for each other but the timing was never right . Once it was all out on the table, we were like teenagers, calling and texting about fifty times a day and into the night. My heart skipped several beats every time I found myself daydreaming about him. We sent each other love songs (ahh, the wonder of I-phones) and whispered our devotion, though we had yet to ever kiss.

When I came to Florida over the New Year holiday, we raced to be in each other's presence and there are no words to describe the feelings. It was as if we'd been waiting for that moment forever and nothing else in the world existed.  

Though I tried to rationalize the rush of happiness and lost sleep over why it wasn't right to be smitten with someone so soon after Ken died, I couldn't let myself feel bad about it. In fact, Ken knew him, liked him and respected him. I almost feel as if he's had a hand in bringing us together. All he ever wanted was my happiness and for me to be loved and cared for.

My new love came to visit in LSL last week and had a crazy suggestion. "Why don't we drive back to Florida together and you can stay with me. I don't want to be so far apart -- you alone up north and us missing each other." I gave it some thought and at the last minute, decided, why not? It may be impetuous, but love has once again been bestowed upon me and the chance to be truly happy has fallen in my lap. To know that kind of love again in a lifetime is priceless. My feelings for him are so deep, I can't believe I am capable of this kind of trust again.

So, Barney and I are once again Floridians (as if we ever weren't), living with his new step-daddy and so far, I could not be happier and more relaxed. Those of you who know me well know what a HUGE, HUGE departure this is for me. I am so TYPE A, a planner, a worry-wart, and I analyze everything to death. Don't get me wrong, I lost about 4 night's sleep over the decision. I have cried for leap of faith I am taking and for the mourning of my old life, but I honestly do not feel an ounce of trepidation where he and I are concerned.

I'm waking up every morning feeling elation instead of fear of what's to come. Maybe it is finally time for some stability? For good health, less turmoil and love beyond measure? Ken is a big reason I am open to  loving again-- he taught me how to love and be loved unconditionally. I had never known the kind of love and devotion that he gifted me with. When he died, I knew I would love again someday because he made me realize that life is meant to be shared; that when you find the person who knows your every idiosyncrasy and has your back anyway, you embrace it.

As I begin a new chapter, gratitude flows from every fiber of my being and I am excited about my future; about the love in my life. And I am HOME!

"The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why." Mark Twain


PS: Who won the bet???

New Year, New Lease

Happy New Year! I boarded a plane New Year's Day (a day early) to escape the Winter Weather Advisory that may have delayed or canceled my badly-needed trip back to Florida. For about a week leading up to the trip, I was nervous for more reasons than I can verbalize -- I can sum it up by saying it is where Ken and I met and shared most of our life together. 

I thought I might fall apart upon landing -- would I want to run back to LSL or would I get off the plane and run toward the beach, not wanting to ever leave? The "what-ifs" were rattling around in my head until I used my ever-so-new way of getting through each day...take a deep breathe and don't worry what MAY happen. Just get there and see. 

As the trip drew closer, I started to relax and look forward to it. I knew I would honor whatever feelings came crashing through my tightly-wound what-ifs and deal with the emotions as they came. Upon exiting the plane, the smell of oysters and salt-air assailed my senses and all my tension was erased. I was home. 

Throughout the week, my eyes drank in the palm trees, the flowers, the birds and the kaleidoscope of color. My skin was replenished by the moist air and I practiced yoga a few steps from the beach. I saw a bald eagle on the church steeple (at the beach) and paid attention to the changing sun and cloud patterns. Most importantly, I hugged loved ones as often as possible. 

The trip is winding down now, and I can honestly say, I have enjoyed this trip more than I imagined and feel renewed. There was no hurry, no plan or schedule, the weather was less than beach-ideal, but still warm and languid; my days ambled along hour by hour. There were not any of the horrific lows I expected, a few tears now and then, but mostly gratitude and peace. 

There is nothing like the familiarity of location and favorite things, and seeing old friends. I have one more day of zero responsibility, no demands, no appointments, and I will savor every second. 

I know all of you who know me are making bets on when I'll move back to my little island on the gulf -- nobody can win yet, as I do not know myself! I am still in "needing time" mode and will continue living in the moment.

Thankfully, I am missing the snow-storm and cold-weather event of the decade up north. Maybe it's Karma cutting me some slack as I have just come through the storm of my life. I am wallowing in the glow of serenity like the warmth from the first sip of red wine.

"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us." Ralph Waldo Emerson

Blessed New Year to you all...