Wisdom From the Arch

I fell in love with St. Louis. It is a clean, pretty city, very easy to travel in. After living in the Chicago area all my life, the traffic there was nothing! Lots of pretty plants, flowers and parks. I felt safe.

While visiting the Arch, we spent some time in the gift store looking at the books. I was captivated by the large number of diary accounts from women who'd gone West. Part of me knows I'd have made a lousy pioneer. Think about how rustic life was back then. I can't get through a day without showering. Back then they only washed up once a week if that. And how would I live without some makeup? Good thing I'm living now though of course modern life brings on a different set of difficulties.

I love the whole symbolism of the Arch. That it is a tribute to those who went Westward despite the dangers and passed through St. Louis as the gateway to a new life. The shape of the Arch is derived from the bridge that was built over the river because St. Louis was missing out on much needed trade to Chicago because they were cut off from trade routes. The designer of the bridge had never built one before and used arches in the construction. Even today, bridges follow his structural design.

Even way back then, men and women advertised for mates in the personals. But I saw that most advertising were widows, usually with a child or two. They were willing to travel Westward for another chance at marriage. This just confirms my belief that there is something inside us that seeks companionship on an imtimate level.

One of the diary accounts I was leafing through ended with this: the authour was at the end of her life somewhere on the West coast. She had lived as a rancher admitting that her life at times had been very hard. But she added, a life without challenges didn't seem to her to be as full when compared to an easier life when everything always went well.

Security

I was at Barnes and Noble last week for a browse (can't buy anything there when there is a half-price book store down the street) and flipped through "Throw Out Fifty Things: Clear the Clutter, Find Your Life" by Gail Blanke. There was a chapter that caught my attention titled "Letting Go of Needing to Feel Secure." Really, I mused. What's so wrong with wanting to feel secure? Isn't it an almost instinctive quality within us?

Think about how some have been told to marry for security over love. Or even my parents urging me to change my college major from Music Therapy to basically anything else because they didn't think I'd find a job. Or if I did, it wouldn't pay the rent.

After losing my home, which provied me a tremenous amount of security and a sense of identity along with two husbands (ditto the security and identity) I think it would be questionable if I just threw up my hands and said, "Let life take me where it will. I'm ready for the ride!"

Somehow these losses have made me less open to the randomness of the future. I want to feel some level of security within my life be it a strong, loving relationship. solid home around me or decent job in which I feel valued and productive. I think when these things are lacking it is very difficult to feel content and "happy" in one's life. I guess I believe that there has to be a certain level of stability surrounding someone or all bets are off for personal happiness.

Maybe it is easier for people who have a decent level of structure and security already existing as a foundation to throw more caution to the wind. But I believe when your foundation has been shaken and you have lost what has been of value to you, that there is no harm in seeking what makes you feel secure. I am finding that as I continue this widowhood path, the more I seem to disagree with all the advice, like this, out there. I'm finding it all doesn't pass muster with what I have felt and experienced. As for this advice, no way am I going to give up on my search for attaining more security in my life.

Four Things to Remember

The graduation speeches were excellent. I gained a lot from hearing them even though they were geared to the graduates. One speech in particular really hit a nerve. It was given by a retiring history teacher, which my husband also taught.

The speech centered on four things this teacher hoped the students would remember. He joked that the only thing he remembered about his high school graduation was the three parties he attended afterward.

The four things he spoke about were:

1. Do what you love. If you don't, you're probably not going to be very happy.

2. Learn and practice humility. We're all going to fail and fall.

3. Life is difficult. Accept that and accept responsibilty for your actions instead of blaming others.

4. In a society that seems to only recognize greatness, it is okay to just be good - a good parent, a good neighbor, a good citizen of the world, a good employee...

How applicable this insight is for people of all life stages. Here I am at mid-life, like so many others, trying to figure out a new career direction. It was good to be reminded to concentrate on what I love.

Boy oh boy, have I fallen in the recent years since my husband's death. I've had a hard time making it on my own as an only parent. And I've made mistakes and the wrong decisions. I need to cut myself some slack.

Just the other day I was mulling over how hard I've been on myself the past years as a widow, always putting myself down for seemingly not being able to keep up with married parents. I thought that I need to stop this way of thinking and simply accept that I truly have done the best I can under sometimes trying circumstances. I totally agree that it is a fine accomplishment to be excellent but sometimes good is actually what is more important.

Fine points to consider and reflect on for all of us "graduates" of the world.

Everything With Grace

A few weeks ago, my son's original composition for wind ensemble was performed at the Senior Farewell Band Concert. The piece was great but I was even more impressed by the creative thought process behind my son's work.

His director introduced the piece by admitting that when he had first heard it, he had not believed my son had written it - it is that good. "Where did you copy this from?" he asked my son. He went on to say how much the top band had embraced the piece and one of the students had quessed it had been my son's. During the semester, the director asked my son to address the band about his compositional process. And this is what I am most proud of.

My son related that during life we all grow and change. We face trials and tribulations. But he believes through it all that we must conduct ourselves with grace. That grace needs to be a part of everything. I reflected on this and tried to understand what my son meant. That whatever happens to us, we need to be gracious, strong and have dignity. That we celebrate our successes joyfully but without gloating. And we rejoice when others have their turn at the top. When times are tough, we don't give up but stand tall and keep on going. And we are kind, respectful and understanding to others.

My sister said that my son's piece sounded as good as those written by actual composers. As a surprise, my son got to sit in the audience to hear his work when he had expected to be playing it along with the rest of the band.

The director said he is very moved whenever he hears my son's composition and told the audience he felt they would be moved too. The piece is titled "Grace Be With Us" and I am inspired by my son to try and hold the words "Everything With Grace" close to my heart. We were asked to write a speical message to our senior for the band memory book. I included how much my son inspires me because he lives his beliefs every day. What a cool thing to be at a place where I am learning from my son instead of the other way around.

I was out in the country visiting an antique shop (something I've wanted to do for eight years). I took these photos and now see them as a good representation of my son's journey to college, in a very rural town, four hours away. He will be taking that road into the future in just a few months but I am feeling confident that he is starting out on his new path with a strong foundation under him. Maybe stronger than most other young people.

Easy Street

I'm sick of hardship. There are times I fully admit to the Universe that I want an easier life and I want it now! I've had my share of learning from grief, loss and difficulties. Seems to me that we can learn from kind and gentle experiences too.

We already live in a society that focuses on making the details in our life less cumbersome. All the fast food places, instant copies, Nice & Easy Hair Color, frozen dinners, to name just a few examples of so many.

I've started to use plastic cutlery and paper plates in an effort to cut down on the dishes piling up in the sink. I've even played the Lotto twice when the winning amount was way up there for the heck of it - someone will win and if I don't get a ticket it won't be me.

Bring on the easy life. I've worked hard all my life. In school, at home, in my marriages, with my children, on the jobs.

Tonight at Knit Club I struggled with a difficult pattern and after a few hours of work realized I would have to start over. All my work was for nothing. I lamented about this and how it tied in with the theme of what I wanted to post on as I drove home. Funny, but I thought about what photo I'd use for this post and low and behold ended up passing the street sign I used in this photo. I laughed about this coincidence - or was it really a coincidence? Wish everything would come to me as easily as this photo did to me today.

Asking For Help

I am humbled and saddened by the news going on in Japan. What brought tears to my eyes today was the msnbc headline appearing over the images of the earthquake's destruction that Japan had asked for help from America and then Obama's reply that America would do what we can. It made me think about this macro issue in micro terms. Here is one great country asking for help and another offering its assistance.

If I could turn back the clock a few years, I would have asked for more help - more help in caring for the kids, seeking advice, requesting support and trying to get some personal "me" time. But I didn't. I was raised in a family where we were expected and had to rely on ourselves - no one ever requested help or gave it. We were considered weak and inept if we couldn't do it alone.

Of course, I see how silly that belief system is now. And all my trying to do it by myself has resulted in nothing but creating a somewhat bitter, overtired, stressed only parent. I'm making an attempt to call people when I need to talk things over and to verbalize my needs more. But it is not a process that happens overnight. Old habits, especially the ones learned in childhood are hard to break.

Anyway, if two great countries can model this behavior, we as individuals should be able to do so too. It is okay to admit we can't do it on our own and I hope more people out there are willing to lend a hand when someone asks for help after disaster strikes their life. In a perfect world no one would have to ask and help would just come because it is needed. But I've learned that is not how it works. Sometimes if you don't take the steps of asking, help won't be delivered.

A disaster like this shakes us all up. Makes us realize the fragility of our lives. My prayers go out to the people of two great nations, one in need and one giving. How quickly can the giver turn out to be the one in need in the future.

Valentine's Day Observations

I think I better post about Valentine's Day before the month of February is over. For the first time in many years, I did not feel the sense of pain and longing this day usually brings. Instead, I felt more of a universal focus of love rather than an emphasis on romantic relationships.

My close girlfriend and I had dinner at the restaurant I work at, which featured a special three-course meal and exchanged small gifts. I had to go to Target to purchase a set of sheets and passed by the card section. There was no longing or sadness as I looked at the large crowd surrounding the cards. What I did find of interest was that there was only one card to "My Boyfriend," although there were so many to "My spouse or better half." It just provided me with more evidence of how much our society recognizes couples and excludes or puts down singles.

The day approached and ended with me feeling happy and glad that there is a day recognizing love in all its forms and that is what I tried to keep in my heart during that time. I sent messages of good will to the people buying cards for their spouses and felt gratefulness for the love of my sons, the friendship and love of my girlfriend. Love has far more meaning and goes so much more beyond the limited boundaries of romantic/couple love our society elevates.

Come Together, Right Now

We are Green Bay Packers fans and living in the Chicago area among Bears fans can have its moments. I was actually punched on my shoulder twice the last week (hard, not just a tap) by guests at my job hearing of my alliance. My youngest son could not believe this. Punched? Yes, punched. How old were these people, he asked me. Middle-aged and both were women. Go figure!

I watched Obama's State of the Union Address last night and it made a positive impact. I really liked how the Democrats and Republicans were for once sitting side-by-side and the overall atmosphere seemed less contentious. Why are we such a contentious and judgmental society anyway? I asked my sister at the memorial for my dad why she has been so distant to me the past few years and her comment was that she has been too judgmental of me. She acknowledged that this is her issue and something that she has to work on. I left it at that but am curious why she has had such problems with me. I've been a poor, struggling mother. In my eyes someone deserving of some compassion not judgment.

Yet all of us seem to always want to be right. In the end what does it all matter? We should all try and be on the same side. Like what happened last night. We're all Americans and I think all of us want basically the same goals.

I have said it numerous times but will briefly say it again that widowhood has made me so much more aware of how judgmental people can be. Even I myself. Over the years I have received so many criticisms of how I have parented, grieved and lived my life. It has seemed that people in general feel more free to criticize because I am on my own if that makes any sense. When I had a husband by my side no one dared say some of the words I have heard. It was like being married provided me with an invisible protective screen around me. But that all aside, I know I have made a huge effort to be less judgmental and more kind since my husband's death. And my divorce.

I read somewhere that before speaking we should take care to make sure our words are "thoughtful, deliberate, kind and empathetic." We shouldn't be so hasty and quick to say the first things out of our mouths but take a moment to step back and consider our responses. We don't always have to agree but can disagree more kindly. Or at least give people more benefit of the doubt and reserve our judgment more often than not.

Reflection, Renewal and Healing

It has been less than a month since my father's death and I have been doing a significant amount of reflecting on grief, loss and the way our society deals with these issues. At work, no one and I repeat NO ONE, acknowledged my father's death. Not one "I'm sorry" or "How are you doing?" I know that I am a new employee and that some of the people I work with are younger. But not one acknowledgment seemed so bizarre and insensitive. What are we teaching our young people in school, what are parents teaching their children about life and death?

I know that an elderly parent's death warrants less sympathy in the grand scheme of things than a young person or even middle-aged one. There was sympathy provided when my husband died. But somehow this blatant disregard in acknowledging the loss of my dad hit me very hard.
When I mentioned that my father had died on 12/21 to the group of friends I went out with on New Year's Eve, one of the women actually told me to stop talking about it because she did not want to ruin her evening. I wasn't planning of dwelling on the subject. I just mentioned it because it was a big factor in my life. To have such a major event dismissed is troubling to me.

The last week has been insane. Dealing with the repair of two vehicles, getting the boys through finals, filling out the college financial aid reports, going to work, trying to shop for an outfit to wear to my father's service (unsuccessful), and dealing with all the requirements of getting my oldest to the talent contest, in addition to all the other normal duties of life as a widowed mom pulled me under the waves. There was just too much on my plate. I was exhausted and absent minded. I ended up losing the key to our mail box and having to pay $40.00 to have the lock changed. I also lost my knitting bag and all my expensive gadgets, implements and a skein of yarn from the project I was working on.

We got home from the talent contest at 2:00 a.m. Sunday (I'll post about the talent contest in another entry). I awakened tired and still had to quickly go through boxes and bags of my father's photos and awards to take to the service, starting at 1:00. I was upset with my family for being put in the position of having to jump through hoops to attend the ceremony. I felt more consideration should have been given to my situation with the talent contest where we could have held the ceremony either the week before or after that event. Again, I constantly struggle with how so few people get how hard it is to be an only parent. To just get through a normal week is challenging enough but to add on extra ordinary events pushes me beyond my limits.

I certainly was on an adrenaline rush last week. But now I seem to have crashed. I am exhausted and it is so cold here. I just want a day to myself, to take some time to reflect on my father and to renew my spirit. I am reminded of my husband's death and how there is approval for grief during the funeral and early period which gradually dissipates around the three month mark. Now that my father's service is over I'm supposed to be magically recovered, only I am finding that I'm not. The problem becomes trying to find the time to reflect and renew. As a widowed mom there is even less opportunity to fit this into my life.

I read in Dr. Phil's column in this month's "O" magazine about a woman who feels smothered by her husband's attentiveness - she lost both her parents in the past year and he apparently is worried about her well being. She feels he is being overattentive. Good for him I want to say. There are some of us out here dealing with grief and life on our own. We don't hear many words of kindness or concern or receive the support of a loving, caring spouse.

I recently was told that phrase I have absolutely grown to hate - "God doesn't give us more than we can handle." First of all, how does God really know how much I can handle? I've pretty much reached my limit as this past week has demonstrated. Message to God here - "You can stop the challenges for awhile. They are not making me stronger. I am becoming weaker, in fact. Ease up on the worn and weary and especially the widowed. We already carry such a burden in our hearts and souls." For those who believe adversity brings on strength, I will counter that sometimes that is not the case. I know it is contrary to what one would expect. But people only can handle so much before breaking.

As for the weeks and months ahead. If I have learned anything from my husband's and my Mom's death, it is that I will not stop grieving or put my needs aside because of the discomfort of others. I need time for healing, reflection and renewal with this new loss. I won't stop talking about it. Maybe I'll ask for a day off.

The dead deserve respect and we provide that with services and memorial. But so do the living and somehow we seem to shortchange the ones left behind. We are expected to go on demonstrating strength and courage. The reality is that without taking the time for renewal and healing, it isn't really possible to go on successfully.

Joy in the Midst of Sorrow

In the midst of life we are in death, and we find joy in the midst of sorrow.

I came across these words reading Jennifer Weiner's delightful novel, "Certain Girls." It struck a chord with me at this time. Rose Kennedy believed that God wants us to be happy. She said, "Birds sing after a storm, why shouldn't we?" I am trying to find a song even within this storm.

I read somewhere that when people are depressed and struggling they often keep their heads and faces down. When I shot this photo I was thinking about that and how even during the bleakest times, we need to keep our faces uplifted!

An Early Bah Humbug

Is it just me or are others bothered by the Christmas decorations that are suddenly appearing? I want to enjoy turkeys and Pilgrims another week before having to think about trees, candy canes and Old Saint Nick. At the shopping centers there are holiday decorations right beside pots of fall mums and wreaths of leaves and gourds. Somehow, the bright greens and reds clash with the muted autumn colors.

I don't like disparity. And I like it even less since my husband died. I cringe at clashing colors and I want one holiday to be officially over before starting the next. A few days before Halloween the local hardware store actually had some inflatable snowmen out - talk about me having the heebie jeebies. Yesterday I heard the radio station that plays all Christmas music on the air. Years ago, they didn't start broadcasting the exclusive holiday music until Thanksgiving. Why is everything being moved up sooner?

It almost seems like we are shortchanging Thanksgiving and diminishing its meaning by rushing in the holiday season. What I learned from my husband's death was that it is important to savor the moments we have in our life and not try to hurry onto the next exciting event. Or maybe it also stems from the fact that when you're caring for someone very sick, life becomes so crazy and jumbled up that clarity and unity not disruption are longed for. I passed a home with Thanksgiving and Christmas decorations both up. Maybe if I ever live in a home again and have the opportunity to decorate my yard I'll put up a Thanksgiving display and keep it up through Christmas. That might give people some pause as to my meaning - it would be a protest of premature celebrations.

Falling Apples

Tonight was Senior Farewell Night at the football game. The parents line up with with their son and the names are announced over the stadium speaker. The principal shakes your hand and the moms get a flower with a ribbon in the school colors. Pictures are taken, etc. I've been dreading this event the past months but it went by in such a quick blur I survived it! I was given a really nice laminated large photo of my son in his football uniform.

It was cold and my son said he wouldn't be playing since they changed the lineup and in order to win this crucial game put in bigger guys in my son's place. So I didn't stay the whole game which we thankfully won! I went home for some dinner, a nice warm cup of black bean soup with some cheese and crackers.

I was spending some time on the computer since it can be hard to get online when the boys are home. For the heck of it I looked up a Facebook comment made on my son's page from a few days back. I had no idea this happened but he wrote that he had passed a homeless man holding a sign that said he would work for food. So my son stopped at a McDonald's and bought the man a dinner. The man cried when my son gave him the meal and shook his hand. My son said it made him feel better than he had in a long time. One of my son's teachers commented that he was proud of him. I was floored, especially since I had no idea this happened. And my sons and I are pretty tight/close in talking to one another. I am surprised he didn't say anything to me.

A couple days ago my youngest cashed his work paycheck and asked me to take him to the dollar store so he could buy a hat for winter that he had seen. He also needed deodorant and body wash that he bought himself. As we left the parking lot, I too noticed two homeless guys with signs. I only had a few dollars change on me but pulled around and went back to them. My youngest asked what I was doing. I told him that I don't have much to give but they looked like they needed help more than we did. So we stopped and I gave the guys a few dollars.

I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

My handsome son made me proud tonight because of his athletic leadership which was stressed as the boys were introduced. But I wish that announcer could have told everyone what he did a few days ago in buying a meal for a man in need of some food. Especially when we are struggling ourselves and my son surely would have enjoyed a fast food meal himself since we so rarely get them now.

For a few brief moments tonight I made a quick call to the heavens telling my husband I wished he was on the field beside me to share this moment. I hope he was also witness to the goodness in my son's soul as he pulled into that McDonald's.

The Spirit of Love

It's sometimes hard not to get overly caught up and dwell on my own worries and concerns. I try and give myself a break because there is a lot of stress and turmoil going on with my life right now and my life sure isn't easy. How can I not worry and despair? It's part and parcel of my life at this time, pretty unavoidable.

But I still think that widowhood has increased my selfishness to an extent. Not having a partner to be a sounding board and helpmate gives me an awful amount of time to engage in self-rumination. Blogging is also a pretty self-indulgent activity. It does come down to "me, me, me" much of the time. Is that a bad thing? I question my selfishness and don't like it but then I realize that I really don't have anything to give to anyone besides my sons anyway. Then I consider all my years of volunteering and working in social services and I tell myself it is okay to concentrate on myself right now.

Widowhood has seemed to shrink my world. I no longer have a husband to consider and devote attention to. I know there are many, many others out there feeling the pain of grief and loss and struggling financially but a part of me remains disconnected since I am so in need myself.

I'm reflecting on my sidebar, where I relate that what really matters is love. And that is today's topic. It is all about love. The love that comes from inside us can be released and multiply into a universal energy if let it. If we make that our goal. It totally starts from each of us within. It is a spark that can erupt into a flame.

I say do all things with love, think all things with love, be love. I truly believe that but yet I lose sight of that in the day to day struggles of survival and getting by on my own. I need to remember and be more conscious of this belief. Love will rule out or at least soften anger. So if I am upset and crabby and can feel those emotions with an ounce of love for myself, that pain to myself and what I transmit to the world will be lessened.

Even in the face of hardship and difficulty I can choose to think about and react to most every conceivable situation with love. All this summer I struggled so much with feelings of resentment and envy toward other moms my age and in my community seemingly living easier and happier lives. I could have turned that energy over to love by concentrating on being more self-nurturing instead of trying to obtain external validation. This great concept is the brainchild of Julie who recently suggested it to me in her comments about an earlier post. Pure genius! The act of soothing my internal pain would have most likely helped extinguish some of the bitterness I was experiencing at the time. Just one example of how love can heal and that healing lead to being able to love others in addition to ourselves - the ultimate goal - to spread and sow the seeds of love to the best of our abilities, each and every day. Even being aware of our shortcomings and trying to work on them helps. We all need to refocus, regroup and recommit to our goals.

Today, I pledge to do my best to honor what I have learned about love, to make it the driving force of my spirit and being in and to all things.

Beyond Comprehension

I watched Dateline on Friday night and it was about a man accused of murdering his daughter, who was around 12. Now the guy at first adamantly denied the charges (he made over 600 denials) but later admitted to the deed after intense and grueling police interrogation. The DNA found on the poor girl did not match the father and was matched with a sexual predator who had made other attacks on women in the area. The father's testimony and reenactment of his confession was found to be totally inaccurate with the facts of the crime scene and forensic evidence. The leading expert in false confessions determined this was a case of an innocent man falsely admitting to the crime. The prosecution's theory was that the father knew the sexual predator and "arranged" for the murder. The sexual predator said he had never met or knew the father until they were linked together in the case. He said the father was innocent but remained silent on his own involvement.

I relate this utterly sad and horrible story because of the verdict of the jury. Despite all of the evidence proving this father's innocence, they still found him guilty because they could not get around the fact that he admitted his guilt to the crime (a number of times). They believed that an innocent man, especially a father, would go to his grave proclaiming his innocence. They were utterly unable to comprehend how a man could be manipulated or give in to a crime he did not do. This was despite the fact that the police had told the father they had proof he did so and they also "prompted" him in his confession. The jury was simply unable to imagine what the human mind is capable of or what another man can do under horrendous pressure, strain and events.

Dateline asked the false testimony expert about this and he shook his head and said there are numerous cases on the books of innocent people admitting to crimes they didn't commit. It happens. Just because we can't conceive of it, doesn't mean it isn't capable of happening.

I thought about this relating to widowhood. I get so frustrated trying to explain what this life is like and largely I am misunderstood or blown off. I think the prevailing attitude is that widowhood can't be that bad, I'm making more out of it than I should, and I'm too much of a compainer. I've come to the conclusion that my efforts to explain myself, my feelings, frustrations and my life are pretty much in vain - unless I'm talking to another widow/widower. It is beyond the realm of consciousness for people to get me and what I try to describe, especially how drained and tired I have become.

The jury was so stubborn and steadfast in their belief. Because they were unable to comprehend it being any other way. For an innocent man to admit to such a despicable crime doesn't make sense. Therefore, it can't be. They were so rightous, so certain. I felt frightened at the end of the show of how innocent folks do get sent away for crimes they didn't do. Sometimes the innocent are wrongfully punished. I was also scared of how people can come to false determinations based on their own limited knowledge and biases. And I am worried too that there seems to sometimes be a limit as to what the human mind can comprehend and understand. That there can be a lack of compassion and empathy toward others.

I guess I will recall this jury the next time I am met with a wall of resistance when I try and explain some aspect or another of widowhood. Some things are impossible to get unless we have lived them or are living them.

Not Tempting Fate

To say I became more cautious after my husband's death would be an understatement. It was about a year before I would let anyone else give my boys a car ride. I was under the deluded assumption that I could somehow control my own destiny and I wanted assurance that if anything was going to happen, it would to all of us at the same time.

Today I take the back roads to avoid highway traffic and the semi trucks that scare me when they roar past. I drive the speed limit or only go a bit above when I'm on the road long distance. Locks and the stove are double checked. No longer do I take any chances. I know too well that the unexpected bad fluke can happen. I also realize that I can't protect myself from every calamity, but I sure make an effort to do what I can.

This is one of the reasons I've probably not done so well at the nursing home job. I don't take chances with the residents under my care and I play by the rules. We were told in my training that a spotter is needed whenever using a mechanical lift with a resident. But to track down another CNA who is available to help takes time - sometimes up to 15 to 30 minutes. The old timer CNAs just use the lifts by themselves. They save time and their own skin. But not necessarily the residents' health or safety.

Early on, there was a mishap with one of the lifts - the switch wouldn't shut off and kept going. At the time, I was being assisted by another new CNA and our resident was a 300 pound woman, with a paralyzed left side due to a stroke. We managed to get the woman safely to the ground where she lay until another lift could be obtained to get her up. It was scary and very worrisome. The resident ended up on the floor for 30 minutes while arrangements were made as to how to best "rescue" her. We'd been told that if such an incident happened like that and we were operating the lift alone, we'd be immediately terminated. Also, there is the grave concern of actually injuring someone and then as a result losing our CNA certification, not to mention possible injury/neglect charges.

So, I never took the risk. For myself but most importantly, the residents I was caring for. I think that some of it comes from my husband's death. I can't take chances anymore and I won't, even if it comes at my expense. No use pushing fate. I wonder about the other CNAs though. Their carelessness and disregard for the helpless residents in their care. I guess it is easier to be confident and cocky that nothing bad will happen when you haven't suffered a loss or losses. I can only assume that others don't think about it because it isn't on their minds. It doesn't exist within the realm of possibility. Or if they do think about it, they can quickly dismiss the worries of something going wrong. But I think for the most part that people just don't think about bad things happening. And it is easier to not think about them if you haven't experienced loss.

We become different people after our loved ones die. We don't think or act in the same ways. It is sometimes hard to fit into a world where perceptions haven't changed as ours have. I'd like to believe that I am a more caring and introspective person than I was before. But it can end up being a hindrance when we're interacting in a world that isn't the same for us anymore, or dealing with people that don't think like we do.

Two Songs, One Night

Saturday I watched a PBS special on Peter, Paul & Mary. It is a group that I grew up with but have since pretty much taken for granted. Seeing footage of the war demonstrations and March on Washington brought back a surge of memories. One of the facts that most impressed me that I didn't know was that Paul wrote "There is Love" (The Wedding Song) in honor of Peter's wedding. He felt that the song had been "given" to him to compose as a gift. Thus he never received any royalties for the song. He considered the song his gift to the world. Some kind of charitable trust was set up in lieu of the royalties. Now that just blew me away!

First of all, I'd forgotten how great the song is. The words to this verse especially hit me:

"Is it love that brings you here or love that brings you life?
For if love is the answer then who's the giving for?
Do you believe in something that you've never seen before?
Oh, there's love. There is love."

Hearing the song just reaffirmed all that I believe about love since my husband died. It is what brings us here and it is what brings us life. It is the answer and the reason. It's unseen power is the fuel of the world. I felt moved, motivated and inspired by this song. It was a gift to hear!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A1v84WKC6Pg

Later in the night, I started to watch Saturday Night Live which was a rerun from the 1/9/10 show. I'd already seen that show but something propelled me to watch it again. When I heard the song Alicia Keys sang I remembered being blown away back in January. I had made a mental note to get the CD but then forgot about it. Alicia sang "Sleeping With A Broken Heart" and if you haven't heard it, the lyrics relate so much to my widowed feelings of heartache.
http://bossip.com/201602/alicia-keys-on-snl-video/

"Even if you were a million miles away
I could still feel you in my bed
Near me, touch me, feel me

And even at the bottom of the sea
I could still hear inside my head
Telling me, touch me, feel me
And all the time, you were telling me lies

So tonight, I'm gonna find a way to make it without you
Tonight, I'm gonna find a way to make it without you
I'm gonna hold on to the time that we had
Tonight, I'm gonna find a way to make it without you

Have you ever tired sleeping with a broken heart?
Well, you could try sleeping in my bed
Lonely, own me, nobody ever shut it down like you

You wore the crown
You made my body feel heaven bound
Why don't you hold me, need me?
I thought you told me you'd never leave me

Looking at the sky, I can see your face
And then I know right where I fit in
Take me, make me, you know that I'll always be in love with you
Right 'til the end

Refrain

Anybody could've told you right from the start it's 'bout to fall apart
So rather than hold on to a broken dream, I'll just hold on to love
And I can find a way to make it, don't hold on too tight
I'll make it without you tonight

Refrain"

I did a lot of crying on Saturday. Tears for the power of love I continue to believe in. And for the loss of loves and the sadness of sleeping with a broken heart. I was just stuck by the opposite continuum of these two emotions. Trying to remain hopeful that love will continue in my life, while grieving the loss of love. A knowing that I was meant to hear those songs on Saturday. To find consolation, solace and hope in them. To continue to believe in love. As Alicia so beautifully put, "I'm going to hold on to the time that we had." "So rather than hold on to a broken dream, I'll just hold on to love."

The Other Women

This topic has been on my mind for a long time. I want to relate it because I continue to believe that I should stop this blog or change its direction. And I want these feelings down for the record. May 1st is my goal for blog shut down.

My husband was married for 12 years when his wife had an affair with her boss for about 9 months - he never knew and when he found out was devastated. They had all been friends including the wife of the boss for many years and often socialized together. I was 10 years younger than my husband and the two wives and 20 years younger than the boss - the new kid on the block. I also had not had children yet.

To my husband, my being age 30 to his 40, made me somewhat of a trophy wife. When we went out together people often thought I was my husband's daughter. The two couples had kids - lets just say I didn't know then what I know now. But what I did and still know was how unacceptable having an affair was to my conscience. I witnessed what the long-term ramifications were over the years. They are far reaching and in the end even had an impact on my two children.

I have to say that I didn't and still don't hold much respect for an educated and professional woman who conducted herself in such a dishonest manner. If I were married and considering an affair I would be honest about it. It was the deception that really tormented my husband. But I relate all of this just for some background in terms of what I really want to discuss.

What bothered me was the fact that my husband's first wife made no effort to save her marriage. She wanted out and got out. And I'm not even sure there was ever a real reason she wanted out in the first place. My husband was a very hard working, decent, honorable man. He was the main caregiver for their son during the early infant years and then when the wife returned to school in pursuit of a doctorate. At the time of the divorce, their son was nine. There was never any emotional, physical or substance abuse involved.

My husband begged for counseling which the wife flatly refused to do. She left their home on Thanksgiving (really, could she have made it any worse?) and my husband started back dating in December. He and I met through the old way they used to conduct personals - by print ads published in the newspaper and where you first corresponded by mail. We had our first date in early February and married on October 20th. And the wife was furious! Her divorce had been finalized in July but it was still dragging out with her boss/lover. They ended up marrying in January.

I'll leave mention out of the early years of our marriage when the ex caused a great deal of strain with unfair visitation requests and the like. In fact, she was also furious when I got pregnant because she felt that the old agreement in place during her marriage (to only have one child) should still be upheld by my husband! She became very bitter when I had our second son.

Cut ahead to the recent past. I meet Sam whose wife left him under similar conditions, although he denies she had an affair. He also has a son, age nine. Again, similar circumstances - her desire for a divorce comes out of the blue, she refuses counseling. As I started to get to know Sam I was struck by the deja vu quality of the situation. And like my husband, Sam had been the main caregiver for his son through the years, taking six months off when his son was born to stay at home and then working jobs that allowed him to be off with his son in the afternoons after school.

I would characterize both wives as being strong, driven, independent and career-orientated women. I, on the other hand, am more dependent, less driven and not that interested in career goals. I am more focused on family and doing for others.

I could say that perhaps these women are more selfish than I, that they look out for their own interests more than I do. I just know that divorce is not always the answer and I would have made an attempt at counseling. Again, I don't feel Sam really ever got a specific reason as to why his wife wanted the divorce. Both women had never given the men any warning prior to their announcements that they were leaving their marriages ahead of time. To me, that is probably the worst aspect of all because it showed that good, open and honest communication was not in place - and that is necessary for any relationship to be successful.

Sam's ex-wife got remarried as soon as the divorce was final and relocated some months later out-of-state taking Sam's son who has since been diagnosed with Autism. In my case with my husband, the ex and her new husband ended up living down the block and there were problems related to the proximity of our lives/homes. We were always running into one another and sometimes that was uncomfortable because we had no space or distance between us. So I'm not sure living nearby is always the best option either - but I suppose for the children it is.

I ended up getting my Master's Degree in counseling because I wanted to work with families struggling with blended family adjustment. That was because of the horrors I witnessed as the result of this divorce and broken family. But again I regress. What truly gets me more than anything about these women is that they went from one husband to the next without missing a beat. In fact, my husband's first wife had been briefly married before and the ink on that divorce wasn't even dry before she was engaged to my husband.

I know comparisons are totally fruitless and I know I get too caught up in the unfairness of life. But it upsets me to no end to see women that I think have been less than honorable go on with their lives without much regard for the consequences, especially toward their children. This is all along the lines of the bad people getting the prize when they don't deserve it. Although my husband's wife was very attractive and had a high ranking/well paying job in administration, Sam's wife is just average in looks and even overweight - yet she managed to marry a man 10 years her junior!

AND THIS IS THE REAL KICKER - THESE WOMEN HAVE NEVER HAD TO SLEEP ALONE! That is what really upsets me here. They went from one man to another without ever having to experience the loneliness and discomfort of a big Queen or King bed when there is only one person sleeping in it.

Sleeping alone is what is slowly killing me, I think. I have reached the point where I can't stand it anymore. I don't feel I ever get a good night's of sleep - this has been going on for years and is taking a huge toll on my physical and emotional health. I just don't feel comfortable, safe or secure sleeping alone. Every night it is like I am only half sleeping because my brain and hearing doesn't completely shut off. I am never fully rested. What a sad realization to be making about my life as a widow because sleep is something we take so for granted. And yet it is also so necessary and vital for our well being.

I remember the distress I felt when I first learned that Sam's wife had gotten remarried. The first thought I had was of outrage that she had gotten the turn that should have gone to a still single widow out there who wanted to get remarried. The widows had paid their dues but not this woman. And that she gotten a man who loved her and was willing to marry her while I still struggle with men who don't want marriage or commitment - and that he was so much younger! It was a lot for me to swallow.

As much as I dislike what these women did to my husband and Sam and their sons (and even me and my sons too) I do now look at their actions and decisions in a new way. Yes, they were selfish and perhaps unthinking of others. But they went after what they wanted and got it. They had an advantage of still being married and not having to move from their homes or deal with financial crisis because of that. Add those hardships to the mix along with some exhaustion and depression from having to deal with solo parenting and grief/loss and you have some pretty depleted women like me - barely able to have the energy to go out on dates, yet not wanting to sleep alone anymore. Looking back, I wish I had thrown myself into the dating arena sooner then I did while I still had money to afford haircuts, clothes and manicures - and still some hope, energy and optimism besides - plus fewer gray hairs. But beating myself up over that is wasted energy that needs to be focused elsewhere.

I've been struggling the past weeks with the awareness of how damaging my negativity is and not knowing how to redirect it. Do I just let myself slide into a deep depression and stay there awhile? Do I make myself think and act as positively as possible, even though in the beginning it will be forced? Do I just forget about grieving, period? Give myself a break from self-reflection, healing and growth? Looking back and observing the actions of these two women, so similar to one another has provided me with some insight into my quest for these answers. Throughout my life I have always taken care of others and put my needs and desires aside. Maybe it is time to be a bit selfish - not in destructive and damaging ways but to make a point of really caring for myself, my needs and desires. To not do anything I really don't want to do. To focus on healing myself mentally and physically as best I can with the limitations of our finances and being an only parent.

One of my other close girlfriends and I chatted and caught up on the phone the other day. I have always been amazed by her energy and she is older than I am. She works full time, has three kids (one away in college). She too divorced last year. But throughout her life as a married woman and now newly single woman, she has always made time for herself. In fact, she goes out every Friday night with girlfriends and Saturday nights are reserved for her guy friend, whom she has been seeing almost a year now. When we last talked, I brought up how even years ago I was amazed that she made herself such a priority since I struggle to do that for myself. She replied that she knew early on that to be a good parent, she'd have to devote time for herself and as long as her kids are safe and taken care of she feels as though she has done her job.

I know that even years ago I questioned that she wasn't spending as much quality time with her kids that I thought she should. But she is a different person than I am and we have unique personalities and life histories. I have always been a more involved parent. I would never have sought a divorce without undergoing some pretty heavy duty therapy/marriage counseling. And she, like the two woman I've depicted here, refused any counseling with her husband. Even though I would never have acted in the ways these woman did, nor will I ever agree with their decisions, I can take something worthwhile from them. They did think of themselves and even put themselves first. For me to do that even some of the time would be a huge risk and change in my life!

So, I have come to the realization that for me, my future path will not involve dissolving into deep despair or depression - nor will it involve faking my way into optimism and hope. Rather, I'm going to take the next few weeks/months and devote them to healing my mind, body and soul. And that will center on thinking of my needs and trying to devote as much as attention as I can to them. I don't want to ponder so much about grief and loss anymore. I want a break from it. I need a break from it. I have started some self-study in the area of happiness, positive thinking and overcoming negativity. And I have found some points that have struck home for me that will be helpful. So in a way, the next step for me on this journey is to continue that study and see where it leads me. Not to forget about the great amount of grief and loss that has occurred in my life the past few years, but to transcend that and focus on a different level - if that makes any sense.

I might continue to blog with that as my goal - it would be a good way to keep track of my progress - but I think it would need to be a different and new blog and not part of this one. It would almost be breaking free of the issues and feelings that have been a part of this blog.

Anyway, I have always wanted to post about this topic and the two ex-wives of the men I was involved with - how similar the situations were, even down to the ages of the two sons. But a prior post would have just centered on the selfishness of these women and the unfairness of life in general. Now, I see it all in a new light. Not that I will ever agree with the divorces that resulted. But I can see that I can make some choices that involve what is good for me. Life shouldn't be all about what makes us happy, nor should it be about just making other people happy. These women have shown me that I need to spend some time and attention on me for awhile - I've never really done that EVER. And it is time. And I think it is what will end up being a very healing component in my life right now. And hopefully that will lead to other big changes in my life involving renewed hope and optimism AND not having to sleep alone!

Life Lessons

I was recently asked the question of what I had learned from my parents as a life lesson or lessons and was upset that I could not really come up with anything specific. So I decided to ask my sons what they had learned from me and this is how they responded.

My youngest first said that he had learned from me by example, not so much by anything I told him. He related that I had taught him about perseverance and to never give up.

My oldest first replied that I had taught him to never talk to strangers. But when I asked him to go a little deeper his response was that I had taught him to never put down or judge others.

I felt some peace of mind with these answers because they are lessons I am proud to have given my boys, despite the life circumstances that resulted in them being taught.

Crying

I attended a home volleyball game last night. When the varsity team comes out, they do so to the beat and noise of a current hit song and take a lap around the gym. Seeing my tall, handsome son jog around the gym resulted in my crying openly in the stands where I was as usual, sitting by myself. In the past, I've cried during athletic events because of the sadness I felt that the boys' Dad wasn't there to proudly see them. Last night, the tears were of honor and pride for myself and my son.

The numerous hardship and pain over the past years hasn't totally ruined us. Despite it all my sons have had their moments of success and I hope some happiness in there too. If I hadn't moved back for second semester, my son wouldn't have been playing volleyball at all since it is not a male sport in the state where Sam moved. Nor would he have won "The Mr. (High School)" contest and been crowned king of the school in February.

There has been no dad or even remotely consistent male figure in my sons' lives to guide and encourage them so the credit for what they have accomplished very much rests on their shoulders. I must admit that some of the time over the past years I have been preoccupied and not 100% available to them because of the fires I've been putting out - either caring for my parents, getting remarried or divorced, been in a depressed stupor because of the divorce (thankfully that only lasted a few weeks) or selling the house and moving.

These days I don't often think of my deceased husband. Too much has happened between his death and the present. He is no longer much on my mind, hence the tears for my son and I last night - our sacrifices, our strength, our pride. The credit is all ours. My husband's influence on us all and our current lives is waning and diminished.

Last week, I cried when my son jogged out for his opening game. Then there were tears when his name was announced for the starting lineup. The team members not playing form a huddle and line around the starters, then whop and cheer as they run out onto the court. Because I was aware of the setup, I was a bit surprised that I cried again last night - I was aware what was coming.

Last week, too, I had a couple more incidents of crying. I went to another game and while reading before it began, started tearing up when my book went into a description of a couple reconciling after a breakup. I started thinking about how the people in my life seem incapable of working out "glitches," wanting to end or damage relationships because of their inability to face conflict. Part of me said, "Why can't I be involved with a man willing to hang in there until the rough patch has passed?" "Or have a family willing to talk about issues instead of pretending they don't exist which ends up being very harmful to many degrees?" This has been one of the most profound lessons I've learned from my husband's death - to not give up, to be willing to work on relationships because they are worth it, and to concentrate on what is truly meaningful and worthy and forget about the trivial stuff.

Then, one day driving home from work, I just burst into tears and had a good cry the 30-minute drive home, although I'm not sure if there was any specific reason to prompt my tears. Just the stress of everything both past and present. I let the tears flow.

Tonight is another home game and I want to attend. I'm not sure my son will be playing but it is worth my going just to see his jog around the gym and his warm-up practice. My son is one of the few Juniors with actual playing time. There are some parents who've only seen their boys practice - another pat on the back for my son. And when he has asked me later at home, "Mom, did you see that play I made...?" I am grateful that I can honestly tell him, "Yes." And that I can tell him how proud I am at how well he has played and conducted himself, which I did yesterday when he came over to me after the game.

His Dad would be very proud of the fine, young talented man he has become and is continuing to mature into.

Krispy Kreme Lesson

One of the first lessons I received regarding my new life as a widow, came even before I was widowed, a week before my husband's death. By that time he had been in a coma for weeks and was in the acute ICU section of the hospital. I was crying for most of those days. Thankfully, I could stop while I was driving the hour to the hospital but once there, I could not stop the tears - they flowed endlessly. I was bringing the boys to the hospital after school and I'd already been there during the day. Because no food was allowed in the ICU, I'd stop for kiddie meals at some fast food place along the way and the boys would eat dinner in the van. Actually, the eating in the van thing had been going on for a number of weeks, not just at the end. I was focused on having the boys spend as much time as they could with their Dad. Although I had not been officially told, I intuitively knew that death was near.

Anyway, that is a little background as to what was going on in our life at that point. I'd just taken a leave of absence from my 20-hour-a-week job which had been granted very reluctantly. I was doing my best to take care of the boys and manage the impending death of my spouse. The boys would often complete their homework in the van and were still participating in soccer and baseball. We were even involved in completing a creative arts project sponsored by our PTA. So this was not really an academic requirement. The kids were supposed to create some type of artwork be it a poem, drawing, painting, musical composition, etc. Both boys were doing a photographic collage. The artwork was due on a Wednesday. My husband died three days later on Saturday. The boys handed in their entries on the Wednesday due date.

But my oldest son's teacher rewarded those students who handed in their entries early, on Monday, by giving them a Krispy Kreme Donut. We had been at the hospital the whole weekend. I'd planned all along to hand in the entries on the day due. And now looking back I can't even believe that I just didn't have the sense to say the hell with the whole, silly art competition in the first place. Trust me - we had enough on our plates. I should mention that the school was aware of our situation and I had spoken personally to the teachers, staff and principal.

Going back to this story, because my son hadn't turned in his art work early, he did not get a donut. Nor did a handful of other classmates who all happened to be minority kids and/or the ones living in the apartments. I was pretty outraged at the time. My son did feel hurt - he was left out - and he was publicly excluded. The sad part of this whole story is that those excluded kids all handed in their projects by the due date. They just didn't get them completed early.

I think this situation just demonstrated to me that the world really doesn't give a darn about what is going on in your life. We still need to play by the rules put in place. And usually those rules don't allow for any type of adjustment, even if one is struggling or dealing with major life calamities. For a while I contemplated talking to the teacher and principal about this but after my husband died, the importance of the matter took a back seat. I guess it is still important though because I am reflecting on it now, years later. And I wish I had said something when the time would have been right. At least now I am verbal and do speak up when a situation like this rears its ugly head.

So this was probably the first widowhood lesson I received. That we have to try and fit into a world that just keeps buzzing by. Picture a train pulling into a station without really stopping. We have to jump on. No one is slowing down for us or making any concessions about our new lives. This teacher didn't even have the compassion, sense or decency to think about why this little group of 10-year-olds hadn't been able to hand in their art projects early. One's father was dying.

We're already living on borrowed time and energy. We're doing the job that used to be handled by two. We're trying to figure out the rules, find our way and stumble onward. Instead of care and sympathy, I have largely encountered criticism for grieving too long, making mistakes or the wrong decisions and not being able to keep up the pace. So not only do we not get any breaks but we don't get recognition or encouragement for trying our best to fit into a new and alien world.

I believe I ended up buying a box, maybe two of Krispy Kreme Donuts for my sons but I don't really remember. It seems like something I would have done so I'll go with that image. But I'm sure that the extra treat didn't lessen the sting of being publicly excluded. All for reasons beyond my son's control.

Today I am grateful:

1. For wind chimes.
2. For candles.
3. For paper.
4. For books.
5. For pens.