I have spent the last two years of my life letting go.
I let go of my old life.
I let go of many possessions as I downsized into a smaller version of what was.
I let my son graduate from high school and leave for the Marine Corps.
I let go of all of TBHITW's clothes, tools, and "things".
I let go of the business that he worked so hard to build.
I let go of all these things with my palms facing upward. My hands steadily releasing all that was.
Some days I let go in a great torrent of things. I let go in a big flow, like a river, hopes and dreams and imagined futures. I let go of secret smiles, of shared moments, of stolen glances that wives and husbands have shared for eternity. I let the Friday night ritual of date night go. I let shared laughter and the things only couples share go. Other days I let go in small agonizing droplets.
Things leaked out in tiny, painful baby steps. But still, I let go.
The only thing I haven't let go of is Grief. Grief is such a strange creature. As much as the heart and mind and soul want it to end Grief has a way of comforting you. You can wrap Grief around you like a security blanket or a shroud. You can hide behind its monstrous face. You can wallow in it and accept it and make up all kinds of excuses for it. You can act any way you want because you are grieving.
You can cry in public and stay in bed all day if that's what you feel like. Grief can become a friend. Not a good friend, but a friend all the same. At least you recognize its face like an old friend.
I am approaching the two year mark of carrying around this Grief and I think it is time to let it go. It is the last thing I carry from my old life and it is becoming heavy. Very heavy.
Letting go of Grief is not forgetting the reason for its existence. No, I will never forget the love and joy that existed before Grief came into my home and became my companion. I am simply saying that you (Grief) have to go now. I have to find and embrace the new joys of a new life.
Yes Grief, you have to go now. I know you will visit me periodically for the rest of my life and that's fine. But you are not allowed to live with me anymore; you are not allowed to be my constant companion. I know that a new version of Grief will come and stay for awhile in the future. My parents are aging and in time I know Grief will once again visit. But for now, Grief has to go.
I am letting go. It's time to turn my palms downward, into the grasping position. I need to grasp the new. I need to grasp the possibilities of new found wonders, a new life, a fresh beginning.
So I am choosing to let go.
Grief and life are much like crossing monkey bars. To get to the other side at some point you just have to let go.
On, On.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Monday, July 23, 2012
Welcome To Pennsylvania
So.
On June 25th, as planned, my youngest kidadult left for Parris Island, South Carolina to begin life as a Marine Recruit.
On June 26th, as planned, the moving company came and packed up all my belongings.
On June 27th, as planned, the moving van came, loaded everything up and drove off with all my belongings.
I stood for the last time on my front porch and watched the van drive away. It would take the truck two hours to get to my new home. I was to meet them there.
I took one last look around; one last walk through the house. I heard and felt the laughter, the joy, the tears and the years of our life all around me as I walked from room to room. I touched the walls and the counters one last time. I walked through my carefully tended gardens, I smelled the newly bloomed gladiolas and dahlias and gathered a last bouquet of daisies. When I was finished inhaling all the memories that a house can hold I got in my car and pulled out of the driveway for the last time.
Two blocks later I had to pull over to the curb because I could not see through my tears. But I did not look back. I dried my eyes and began my new journey. By the time I saw the "Welcome To Pennsylvania" sign at the last toll booth in New Jersey I knew I had made the right decision. A new home, a new start. A new life. As planned. By me.
It's been almost four weeks now since I have been here. I love my new condo. It is bright with natural light, it is open and new and I have made it my space. I have an incredible view of the mountains that surround the valley and can watch the sunrise from a small balcony off the kitchen; which I do often, cup of coffee in hand.
I am cooking again. I am moving forward on my own two feet. I am breathing and living and doing and being. I am me. Newly minted, freshly made. I am close to my family. I have met all my neighbors. I have a brand new bike that I ride with abandon.
I remind myself everyday,
“You have brains in your head. You have 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, Oh, the Places You'll Go!
On, On.
More new recipes soon. I promise.
On June 25th, as planned, my youngest kidadult left for Parris Island, South Carolina to begin life as a Marine Recruit.
On June 26th, as planned, the moving company came and packed up all my belongings.
On June 27th, as planned, the moving van came, loaded everything up and drove off with all my belongings.
I stood for the last time on my front porch and watched the van drive away. It would take the truck two hours to get to my new home. I was to meet them there.
I took one last look around; one last walk through the house. I heard and felt the laughter, the joy, the tears and the years of our life all around me as I walked from room to room. I touched the walls and the counters one last time. I walked through my carefully tended gardens, I smelled the newly bloomed gladiolas and dahlias and gathered a last bouquet of daisies. When I was finished inhaling all the memories that a house can hold I got in my car and pulled out of the driveway for the last time.
Two blocks later I had to pull over to the curb because I could not see through my tears. But I did not look back. I dried my eyes and began my new journey. By the time I saw the "Welcome To Pennsylvania" sign at the last toll booth in New Jersey I knew I had made the right decision. A new home, a new start. A new life. As planned. By me.
It's been almost four weeks now since I have been here. I love my new condo. It is bright with natural light, it is open and new and I have made it my space. I have an incredible view of the mountains that surround the valley and can watch the sunrise from a small balcony off the kitchen; which I do often, cup of coffee in hand.
I am cooking again. I am moving forward on my own two feet. I am breathing and living and doing and being. I am me. Newly minted, freshly made. I am close to my family. I have met all my neighbors. I have a brand new bike that I ride with abandon.
I remind myself everyday,
“You have brains in your head. You have 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, Oh, the Places You'll Go!
On, On.
More new recipes soon. I promise.
Monday, May 21, 2012
Change and JOY
There is a lot of change going on in my life right now.
I am trying (struggling?) to accept all that IS. The house is sold. My youngest not so "little" (okay.. he is now a kidadult, okay.. truth be told - he is a man) is graduating from high school and just five short days after that is leaving to become a US MARINE.
hmpf.
okay, double HMPF.
He has wanted to be a Marine since he was 5 years old. I have tried to talk him out of it for the last 13 years. Not because I don't respect, admire and honor the US Marine Corp. and all the young men and women who serve, but because he is my little. No matter how many muscles he has. No matter how many miles he can run, no matter how fast he is or how brave he is. He is my little boy. The little red headed boy that begged me to read that book "just one more time.
The little copper headed boy with the mischevious grin who could melt my heart with a smile, a word, a hug... and he now wants to become what??? A MARINE???
On Saturday he participated in a statewide "POOLEE" event (that's what they call recruits - poolees).. and was awarded this:
who is this child?
He is warrior, he is survivor, he is my son. His dad died. He survived. He MADE himself. A Warrior. He made his mother (that would be me) PROUD.
OO-RAH.
I fell in love with you the day the doctor told me I was pregnant.
I am honored to call you son.
On. On. My son. On, On. It is what we know. It is how we live and love and honor life. On, On. I love you and hope that you can be as proud of me as I am of you.
On, On. It is what we do.
- Mom.
AKA: The Good Cook
I am trying (struggling?) to accept all that IS. The house is sold. My youngest not so "little" (okay.. he is now a kidadult, okay.. truth be told - he is a man) is graduating from high school and just five short days after that is leaving to become a US MARINE.
hmpf.
okay, double HMPF.
He has wanted to be a Marine since he was 5 years old. I have tried to talk him out of it for the last 13 years. Not because I don't respect, admire and honor the US Marine Corp. and all the young men and women who serve, but because he is my little. No matter how many muscles he has. No matter how many miles he can run, no matter how fast he is or how brave he is. He is my little boy. The little red headed boy that begged me to read that book "just one more time.
The little copper headed boy with the mischevious grin who could melt my heart with a smile, a word, a hug... and he now wants to become what??? A MARINE???
On Saturday he participated in a statewide "POOLEE" event (that's what they call recruits - poolees).. and was awarded this:
He is warrior, he is survivor, he is my son. His dad died. He survived. He MADE himself. A Warrior. He made his mother (that would be me) PROUD.
OO-RAH.
 |
| TOUGH MUDDER 2012 -MAY |
I am honored to call you son.
On. On. My son. On, On. It is what we know. It is how we live and love and honor life. On, On. I love you and hope that you can be as proud of me as I am of you.
On, On. It is what we do.
- Mom.
AKA: The Good Cook
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Once Upon A Time
My beautiful and loving brother in law and his wife sent me this picture along with a darling hand made bird house for my new home. New life, new beginnings, old memories.
The picture, along with the bird house, was accompanied by a loving note - about life, about moving forward, about the past and about the future.
The entire package brought tears running down my cheeks ... not a hard thing to do these days... but most of all it brought the glorious comfort of the memory of love. I don't recall or was conscience of this picture being taken. Mark (TBHITW's brother was behind us... ) and unknown to us.. was snapping away with his camera....
On, On.
I give you a simple walk of a couple in love, in Central Park in NY, in the fall -not so very long ago.
I remember TBHITW. I remember.
Recipes Soon.
THC.
The picture, along with the bird house, was accompanied by a loving note - about life, about moving forward, about the past and about the future.
The entire package brought tears running down my cheeks ... not a hard thing to do these days... but most of all it brought the glorious comfort of the memory of love. I don't recall or was conscience of this picture being taken. Mark (TBHITW's brother was behind us... ) and unknown to us.. was snapping away with his camera....
On, On.
I give you a simple walk of a couple in love, in Central Park in NY, in the fall -not so very long ago.
I remember TBHITW. I remember.
Recipes Soon.
THC.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
SOLD in 17 Days
So.
My house (my home) is sold. After 17 days on the market.
People say "congratulations". "How exciting." "Oh my gosh, in this market?". "You must be thrilled!".
I smile. I nod. I say "thank you". I cry late at night.
I walk through the rooms and halls and remember. Or try to remember. The kidadults are upset. This is their childhood home. This is our past. Our history. Their height markers are still on the doorjambs of their bedroom closet doors. How tall they have become. How small they once were.
How alone a new house will be. No nicks, no height markers. No memories. Everything will be in place. No dirty little hand prints. No damp towels on the floor. No laundry piled up in corners. All the things that drove me crazy...
So. The house (my home) is sold.
The hundreds of daffodils and tulips that bloom today in my gardens, that took years to plant and propagate, will bloom next year for a new family.
The fish in the pond will rely on someone else to feed them.
The grass will grow. Mowed by a new gardener.
So.
On, On.
My house (my home ) is sold. My only wish for the new owners is that they find at least half of the happiness and love I had here. That will be enough.
On, On.
THC
My house (my home) is sold. After 17 days on the market.
People say "congratulations". "How exciting." "Oh my gosh, in this market?". "You must be thrilled!".
I smile. I nod. I say "thank you". I cry late at night.
I walk through the rooms and halls and remember. Or try to remember. The kidadults are upset. This is their childhood home. This is our past. Our history. Their height markers are still on the doorjambs of their bedroom closet doors. How tall they have become. How small they once were.
How alone a new house will be. No nicks, no height markers. No memories. Everything will be in place. No dirty little hand prints. No damp towels on the floor. No laundry piled up in corners. All the things that drove me crazy...
So. The house (my home) is sold.
The hundreds of daffodils and tulips that bloom today in my gardens, that took years to plant and propagate, will bloom next year for a new family.
The fish in the pond will rely on someone else to feed them.
The grass will grow. Mowed by a new gardener.
So.
On, On.
My house (my home ) is sold. My only wish for the new owners is that they find at least half of the happiness and love I had here. That will be enough.
On, On.
THC
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Home For Sale
The sign says "House For Sale".
But I know the sign is a lie. I know the truth. It should read "Home For Sale".
It has been 19 months since The Best Husband In The World left this world for another. I wonder at the time. Where has it gone? Yesterday he was here....
I have put our home up for sale.
A home that saw much laughter and much love. And some squabbles along the way. And some tears. And some heartache. All the things that make a house a home. All the things that make a gaggle of people a family.
So the sign says "House For Sale".
My kidadults are well on their way now. No longer littles or middles, they are forging ahead into adulthood. They are making their way into this great thing we call life. They are falling in love, graduating from college (and high school - my youngest little)... they are creating their own lives.
That leaves me.
Just me.
And I have to grow, just like them. I have to move on. I have to accept the change. The biggest change of my life. Not one that I anticipated and not one that I asked for. But the only thing that is constant is change.. right?
This old house is too big for just me. Some days I feel I am walking through the gossamer curtain of ghosts. Some days it is too much. Some days I want to stay and embrace the ghosts and never leave. But it's too easy to draw the curtains and shut out the sunlight.
A very wise person in my grief group said, "You want to honor your loved one. They are gone, they lost their life and you’re upset about it, which means life must be precious. You shouldn’t waste life. By dwelling only on the loss you are wasting the very thing they lost and that does no honor to them. Honor them by reveling in what they ought to have had. If life is indeed precious then use it well. That would truly honor them."
I pondered that for some time until I understood its truth and wisdom. So - I have put our home up for sale. I don't know where I am going - I just know that I can't walk through halls of ghost. Ghosts of laughter, ghosts of memories.. things that were and things that could have been.
TBHITW would have said "On, On". I have to honor that. I have to find a new life. A life that holds precious what was, while finding a precious what will be.
I am finding solace in cooking right now. My hands feel good kneading bread, my pots and pans are simmering on a burner and I remember meals cooked, meals shared, recipes created and recipes best forgotten. I love my kitchen and am spending every last minute I can in it before I give it over to someone else. Someone new. Someone who will create their very own memories and scents and tastes.
So - my home is for sale. I only pray that the next family who occupies these walls finds all the happiness in them that we did.
On, On.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
feliz cumpleaños (Happy Birthday)
Tonight I had the great pleasure of being invited to one of my very dearest friends son's 21st. birthday dinner.
Myrna and her family have held me close these last 17 months. They have adopted me. Loved me. Held me. And included me in everything from backyard BBQ's to Christmas celebrations (feliz navidad), christenings, informal get-togethers.. you name it. This beautiful family has wrapped their arms and hearts around me, loved me, cried with me, laughed with me and lived with me.
Tonight they asked me to join them in celebrating Richie's (Ricardo) 21st birthday. The only requisite is that I had to speak Spanish. Myrna and her husband are from El Salvador. Let me tell you what I have learned from my beautiful El Salvadorian friend:
Family is everything.
If I love you, you are my family.
Eat.
Love.
Hug.
Laugh.
Cry (if you feel like it)
Mi Casa es su Casa.
Come here. I will hug you.
Come here. I will feed you.
Come here. I will love you.
Eat some more.
I cry so much that I sometimes forget that so many people love me. That so many people hold me in their hearts. That so many people cheer me on. Tonight I remember and thank all of you in the blog world and all of you in my everyday world for all the love and support and encouragement you have given me since my very first "broken" post. I love you. I honor you. I will never forget what you have given me. Love, Peace, Places that I remember....
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h6TvegK-IUE
In my life Jim (TBHITW) .. I loved you more.
Myrna and her family have held me close these last 17 months. They have adopted me. Loved me. Held me. And included me in everything from backyard BBQ's to Christmas celebrations (feliz navidad), christenings, informal get-togethers.. you name it. This beautiful family has wrapped their arms and hearts around me, loved me, cried with me, laughed with me and lived with me.
Tonight they asked me to join them in celebrating Richie's (Ricardo) 21st birthday. The only requisite is that I had to speak Spanish. Myrna and her husband are from El Salvador. Let me tell you what I have learned from my beautiful El Salvadorian friend:
Family is everything.
If I love you, you are my family.
Eat.
Love.
Hug.
Laugh.
Cry (if you feel like it)
Mi Casa es su Casa.
Come here. I will hug you.
Come here. I will feed you.
Come here. I will love you.
Eat some more.
I cry so much that I sometimes forget that so many people love me. That so many people hold me in their hearts. That so many people cheer me on. Tonight I remember and thank all of you in the blog world and all of you in my everyday world for all the love and support and encouragement you have given me since my very first "broken" post. I love you. I honor you. I will never forget what you have given me. Love, Peace, Places that I remember....
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h6TvegK-IUE
In my life Jim (TBHITW) .. I loved you more.
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