The escape.

I stayed home today because I wasn't feeling well. Now, this is something...I hate being in that house by myself any more than I have to, but today, I am stuck there. I won't go into the reasons other than to say I needed to stay in the house. I am feeling a little bit better now and may go out to get some medicine. I decided it was a good time to do some writing, though, so here I am.

Oh, and I promised in the previous post that I'd talk about some music that has been my brain theme these days. I hope to get into that into this entry, but not sure yet. Let's just see how it goes.

I think I'll talk about some things that happened from last Wednesday through yesterday first.

Lately I've been busy trying to find things to do to keep me occupied in the evenings so that when I'm ready to rest for the night, I'm ready and won't dwell on the overwhelming loneliness I feel these days. I'm trying hard not to let it consume me, but sometimes I fail at that, and I guess that's okay. I'm allowing myself to grieve, too, as I know that's important right now.

So...as you know, Monday was choir. Tuesday was orchestra. Wednesday...I did something very difficult. I went to work out at the gym for the first time since John's therapy. I had gone to have therapy on my heel and foot more recently, but in those times, I didn't "work out."

I decided I'd just use the treadmill, and ended up walking almost 2 miles. Headphones on, quietly crying the entire time. Picturing John walking on the treadmill next to me, just as we'd done many times during his physical and occupational therapy sessions. And then I had a nice hot shower afterward.

Thursday night, I took myself to a movie, choosing Silver Linings Playbook. I was actually okay at the movies. The movie wasn't all that close to hitting home, and that helped. And ultimately, I thought the movie was good, though I wasn't sure at the beginning that I was going to like it. I haven't gone to more than one or two movies since May...and really, not much more since November 2011. Prices have gone up, so I may have to limit myself to occasional movies at the matinee showings...or perhaps to one of the small-town theaters in neighboring towns.

Getting to work on Friday was a challenge; the snow had fallen and was just high enough to make the journey to work (at least the part in my neighborhood) a challenge; the roads were, however, also pretty scary. I was glad to get to work early (I always leave early when there's bad weather); I even got there before the plow trucks were done, so I sat and listened to the radio while waiting for spots to be cleared in the parking lot. I must say that they do a quick and efficient job!

After work, the gal that cuts my hair had agreed to give me a haircut right after work so that I could visit a friend over the weekend. So...freshly shorn and a little overnight case plus Elvis and his gear in the car, we headed for an adventure in Roseville, which is a suburb of Detroit. My college friend and her lovely husky-lab mix, Sandy, live in an adorable little house not far off the highway. And I have to tell you...Elvis has finally found a dog who will play with him. So Sandy and Elvis spent a good share of time romping in Suzanne's large backyard.

Most of the time, we just hung out, which was fine by me. We did normal things like walk the dogs, eat, chat, listen to music. My friend took me for a drive--mainly down Jefferson Ave through all the Grosse Pointes...all the way to Cobo Hall and back. She even took me by some of her old neighborhoods, and by Selfridge ANG base, where my dad's last ANG assignment was before he retired from military service. We even went by the home of the mayor of Detroit, though I'm told the current mayor does not live there. But it's the site of much intrigue during disgraced former Mayor Kilpatrick's term.

One of the fun things I saw on our little tour was a bunch of people ice fishing on a bay off of Lake St. Clair. I even got out of the car to take pictures; there was a club with fake palm trees, and some of the photos I took looked like summer in Florida with the white sand that was actually snow. And then the little shacks on the ice...hundreds of them!

Saturday, my friend had a babysitting job with a client of hers and his sister. It was a great deal of fun eating together, filling my friend's  tiny but inviting kitchen. This client is autistic, but my friend has made a profound difference in his life. In my eyes, he's a lovely ginger-haired 8 year old who has made great leaps in his development in the three years she's worked with him. I was amazed to learn of new legislation pushed by our not-so-beloved-by-me Governor. Apparently, this young man will have to be "re-certified" as autistic, as if this condition will ever go away. Testing costs thousands of dollars, not covered by insurance. This seems like some sort of racket to me. I can see re-certification for other temporary conditions, but autism? This seems very wrong. But they will have to do this every three years with him if they want him covered on his insurance.

Sunday, I slept in a little; and then I had breakfast and a massage. Did I tell you she's a certified massage therapist? She is amazing and I felt so good afterwards. I had really messed up my back from carrying water from the basement a few nights before, and this was wonderful.

Later, we traveled to Plymouth, were we attended a Sigma Alpha Iota alumnae meeting. SAI is the music fraternity both of us were in while we studied at Michigan State. It had been years since I'd been to a function, and I'd forgotten nearly everything, so I needed to be re-educated. My wonderfully talented friend sang at this; it was lovely to hear her sing after all these years and after all the health challenges she's had.

You see, she is a multiple cancer survivor. And she's been one of my best sources of support and knowledge; she helped me navigate this whole world of cancer treatments, trials, etc. And she also helped me in my...and actually our (John's, too) decision that enough was enough with the treatment. We talked a little, cried a little this weekend.

The subject of my pastor's homily came up. Suzanne had a difficult time with it--particularly the "it's not fair." I was confused, as I thought it was dead-on the right things to be saying. But I forgot about her perspective: She started to cry as she said it wasn't fair that she had survived and so many of her friends hadn't. I wish I'd said more because I know what I was thinking...so I'll say it now in case she reads this:

My dear friend, you are still here while so many--including my beloved husband--have passed from this heinous thing called cancer. You must not feel guilty about this because I don't think you realize what a wonderful person you are. So giving, even when you don't have that much financially to give. Yet you do. You give your whole heart. God needs you here and has a special purpose for you. John's purpose was fulfilled and though I miss him so very much, his work on earth is done. Yours...and mine...is not done.

It's not fair that cancer and other things hit us either directly or the people we love. It's not fair. But God did marvelous things with John and me, and he's done marvelous things through and for my friend.

So, I drove back last night after a little Chinese New Year feast with my friend and her dad. It was a little scary in places, as Detroit traffic seems to drive too fast all the time, even though it was a bit slippery and windy during my drive on the expressway. I loved my weekend escape and hope to have more adventures with her and with other friends, too.

Now, I'm feeling a little guilty because I yelled pretty badly at Elvis because he took so much time going to the bathroom last night. Here we were in the cold rain and he just didn't want to go, though I knew he must have to.

And it killed me because for awhile last night, he acted afraid of me. I don't know why I blew up--I didn't hurt him physically and never would. But he seemed to absorb my anger and steer clear. Later, just before I went to sleep, I pulled him close and he seemed to feel safe again with me. Soon, he was dreaming and barking in the dream..and even running a little. This morning, like I said, I didn't feel well so I've spent most of the morning cuddling with him and he seems to have forgiven me.

Well, I think I'm going to get a bit more rest this afternoon, with my wonderful and unconditionally loving beagle by my side.

One thing nice happened today; do you know how--when you drift in and out of sleep--you remember dreams a little more? Well, in one, I felt John spoon me. I didn't see him, but I felt his arms around me. And when I woke from that, I smiled through my tears.

I think I'll wait until another post to talk about music.

Until now, I'll try to remember that hug by my husband in my dreams and sleep some more today.

Oceans of Grief

One of my favorite things to do is travel. It's something I'd like to do more of in my life. I even have a daily calendar on my desk that's based on the book 1000 Places to See Before You Die. Each page has a new location. Now, I've traveled a bit in my life, but so far, I haven't seen a place I've actually visited yet. But we're only a month into the year, so I'm sure I'll see some of the places I've been. In the meantime, I'm keeping track of the suggested places, and dreaming about places I'd like to go. A friend suggested that I plan on one place that John and I had wanted to travel to together. But there isn't just one place--there are several. But maybe in awhile, I'll figure out one special place and make that a goal to plan for in the next year. I do have a new passport, thanks to an almost-trip to China.

I think one of my favorite things about living in Michigan is the beauty of the Great Lakes. I think much healing takes place when I stand on the shores of a body of water--particularly here in Michigan--the beautiful Lake Michigan. Once per year, I travel with a bunch of girlfriends to Grand Haven--I didn't go last year, as John had just began his stay in Stoneleigh that week. I usually don't get to church that weekend. At least not in a building.

I started a tradition which I've honored almost every time I go on this trip. I rise very early on Sunday morning, and I go down to the beach all by myself. And usually, I have the place to myself except for the occasional fisher on the pier. That has become my church on that weekend.

Have you noticed that grief is often compared to bodies of water or water itself? "Waves of grief," "Cry me a river," and "I cried buckets," come to mind.

It's true.

The reason I'm whittling away at this on breaks this morning is because I had a tidal wave last night.

I had just finished laundry and I went to Meijer to pick up a few things. On my way home (I was about 10 miles from the house), I cried about the hardest I've ever cried in my life. Thankfully, I was in the car, so no one--save God--heard me. I started to think I should pull over but somehow, I was still able to navigate my way home. Actually, I hardly remember driving.

You ever heard the phrase "wailing"? Well, reader, that was me.

And it did two things: It helped me release. A lot. And, it made me tired. So all that worry about being able to sleep? It was not a problem.

I did leave the television on, as I didn't want the house to be quiet--if that makes sense.

I didn't even cry myself to sleep. I had cried enough in that drive that I had none left to release. But even after that much crying, I'm sure if I needed to, it would be there.

And I awoke this morning, got ready, and went to work.

And at one point, I caught myself feeling a bit of peace as I peered out a window and watched the snow gently fall during a stroll through the building. No joy yet, but it did make me think of a couple of scriptures, which I'll leave you with on this post.

Sing praises to the Lord, O you his faithful ones,
   and give thanks to his holy name.  
For his anger is but for a moment;
   his favour is for a lifetime.
Weeping may linger for the night,
   but joy comes with the morning.
Psalm 30:4-5

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying,
‘See, the home of God is among mortals.
He will dwell with them;
they will be his peoples,
and God himself will be with them;
he will wipe every tear from their eyes.
Death will be no more;
mourning and crying and pain will be no more,
for the first things have passed away.’   
Revelation 21:1-4

And one of my favorite musical settings of the text from Revelation follows; music by Edward Bainton, performed by King's College, Cambridge:

I Saw a New Heaven, Edgar Bainton

Thoughts on the second day back to work.

I just finished my first two days of work since John died. It actually ended up being a good thing; plenty of distraction, but spaces to grieve, too. And everyone has been fantastic and supportive, and that helps.

I've been wrestling with a word ever since...well, ever since November 18, 2011. That word is...

Widow.

First it was, "Oh no. I am going to be a widow. I'm too young to be a widow. I don't want to be a widow. I want John to stay. I love you. Please don't leave me alone!"

In more recent months it's been kind of shoved to the side on a shelf; it sparked up occasionally in my brain. But now, since January 19, 2013...I am one. And I hate it.

I remember my first time hearing that word. It was the first time I saw Meredith Wilson's wonderfully exhuberant musical, The Music Man, on television. Set in approximately 1912, the main character--an irresitable con-man named "Professor" Harold Hill, calls Marian-the-Librarian's mother "Widow Paroo." I did some research on this, and the practice of using the title Widow is no longer in practice--at least here in the United States.

Thank goodness.

I remember another time this word (in its masculine form: widower) appeared in my thoughts. It was in early 2002, a few weeks after my mother died. I remember thinking: "Wow. This means Dad is a widower." I just could not wrap my mind around that one. And so, I think it only came up that once outside of my subconcious.

Those of you who are on Facebook know that there's a status area on your home page that gives your relationship status. And you'll excuse me if I don't switch it to "widow" right away. Because I don't feel like I'm a widow. I still feel very attached to John. I still want that relationship "link" there.

Someday, I'll probably change that. Not anytime soon, anyway.

And no, I will never get used to the idea.

I was thinking again (and it pops up often, actually) about Sleepless in Seattle, the first movie John and I saw together. Over the years, I have tended to think about all of that movie except for the first ten minutes of it. The part where Tom Hanks' character has just lost his wife, whom it was obvious he dearly loved. Back at work--like I am, now--a well-meaning coworker hands him a card with some sort of support group. He kindly accepts it and then reads through a stack of business cards with various support groups for him and his young son. I was trying to look up the exact quote but can't find it now...but after reading off these various groups, he quotes something someone has apparently said to him...that X group will "see you through this." He then goes on with "Don't mind him. He's just a man who's lost his wife."

I used to ignore that part, and now, that's the only part that plays out in my head.

Before I go on, I should say that I have nothing against support groups, and actually have one in mind that I may check out. And the wonderful love and support I have received (and continue to receive) from my dear friends from the Cancer support group in church was wonderful. But on the other hand, I totally GET what his character says.

Back to the subject of getting back to work...

Yesterday, I was--understandably--a little fragile. The routine of work helped greatly.

Today, I felt a bit better. And caught myself smiling. And then immediately afterward, I felt guilty.

I guess that's normal, but I know that any emotion I have is the "right" emotion, because it's a minefield of emotion. A wise friend said to me that I will often find myself smiling one moment, and crying the next. That the normal for grieving is different for each person.

I'll take that a step further: Not only is it different for each person--it's different for each loss. I have, in the last few years, lost my older brother, my parents, several pets, and now, my husband. And each grief is different. Each is profound, but each is different.

I guess the important thing right now for me is to be gentle with myself, to try and start fresh (some cleaning projects have helped with that immensely), to allow the waves of grief...and to sometimes smile or even laugh at a memory.

In that, John still lives--in my heart. Even in one waking dream a couple days ago.

So...no. I'm not ready to say I'm a widow yet. Even with ten death certificates in my posession, he still lives.

And yet...I still hurt.