Happy St. Patrick's Day!

John and I had our first date today in 1978 - 44 years ago!

What a wonderful life it has been!

I think I was in love with him from that very first day - maybe even before. ♥

Happy First Date Day, Sweetheart!

Happy Bunkie Day!

42 years ago today John and I moved in together.

Ever after that, John called this day Bunkie Day and we celebrated it every year.

Our first Bunkie Day, John made us lasagna and we went out with friends afterwards to celebrate.

Happy Bunkie Day, Sweetheart! ♥

 

Happy Valentine's Day, Sweetheart!

 

I miss you so much, John.

♥

Making a me John will be proud of

 

John was always my biggest supporter, my loudest cheerleader.

No matter what venture I decided to get myself into - and there were some weird ones over the years - he was there in my corner, encouraging me and telling me I could do anything I set my mind to.

Often, he was right. Whether it was selling crafts or entering nursing administration or writing books or starting my own legal nurse consulting business, John was there for me. He was my rock. When I needed courage and confidence and lacked my own, he gave me his. He bragged about me to his friends. He said I made him proud. He never discouraged me. I always heard "Go for it! You can do this! I believe in you. I love you."

I have struggled since his passing. Grief steals so much from you. But gradually, over the years as I have started to heal, I have felt the stirrings of self-worth return. I truly believe a lot of that is coming from John. As I try new things I still hear him in my heart saying "Go for it! You can do this! I believe in you. I love you."

Because I am now retired, I have had the time to put my energy into more creative ventures. And I have found I seem to have a knack for some things. It started with writing. I had already published two books before John died, and after he passed I wasn't sure I could write another word. But slowly things changed and as some of the heaviness of sorrow lifted, I wrote and published two more books and I have another one in the works. 

But then a funny thing happened. My creativity went in a direction I never expected it to. A few years ago I decided to try photography and not only enjoyed it but got compliments on my work.

And then the expression bug hit again last year and I decided to try my hand at painting. Watercolor to be specific. And again, I am receiving compliments and encouragement to keep at it.

My heart doesn't feel so sad when I am being creative. For a little while, it takes me out of my head and I feel a sense of peace. I like to believe John is still looking over my shoulder and smiling and still saying "Go for it! You can do this! I believe in you. I love you."

I want to continue to be someone he can be proud of.

Namaste.

I never tire of John's Hello's

The other day I was wrestling with a problem.

As I often do, I talked to John about it in my mind. This particular day I was out in the backyard with Bella. While she sniffed and enjoyed the yard, I continued to turn the problem over in my head, wondering what course to take. One outcome kept rolling around in my mind and I wondered if this was the answer. I took a few steps forward, looking down at the ground as I walked and then I saw it.

In fact, I was about to step on it. I could not believe my eyes.

There, right in front of me, was a beautiful Hello from John. A sign that he knew what was going on with me. A sign he was with me. A sign he was trying to use to show me what he thought of my choice.

Like just about every house out here in this part of Arizona, my property is covered in landscape gravel. It doesn't need watering in this desert area and always looks nice.  The gravel is made up of small irregularly shaped stones. 

But just in front of my right foot was this rock. It stood out from the rest because of its color and then its shape. I was not sure I was seeing what I thought I was seeing. But I picked it up and then I knew. It was exactly what I thought it was.

For me. 

From John.

Thank you, Sweetheart.

Message received.

I love you, too.

Namaste.

I'm feeling bah humbug

Feeling especially sad this Christmas which is probably why I forgot to post yesterday.

I miss our Christmases.

I miss John.

And being away from friends and family at this time of year makes it all the worse.

I decked my halls!

I didn't think I wanted to decorate for Christmas this year. Every year since John's passing it's been a struggle but with the pandemic more so right now. 

I figured what's the point? No one is coming over. I don't need decorations.

But as the days wore on and I got Christmas-bombarded from every side, I relented.

So yesterday I dragged out the tree etc and got to work. I actually found myself enjoying the work. I asked Alexa to play some Christmas music and she obliged. Within a couple of hours I had the tree up and decorated. I set to work in the dining room and spread some Christmas on the dining room table and the buffet table. I even decorated my front door - at least the Amazon delivery person will get to enjoy it. 😊

I was pretty pleased with myself. It was a good day.

But today I surprised myself even more. I actually had the urge to hang up our stockings. I haven't done that since Christmas 2009 - the last Christmas John and I celebrated before he died. 

So I went back out into the garage and opened the bins of older decorations - decorations I haven't touched in years. The decorations I use now were all purchased after John's passing. I couldn't bear to use the old ones. It was just too painful. But now I felt ready to go through them and search out the stockings we used to use. And there they all were - mine and John's and the pets we had then. All are gone now except for Riley and Chaz. I had made stockings for Sean and Bella (the pets I have acquired since John passed) but they have never been hung. But they had been placed in the bin, too, for safekeeping. Maybe in my heart I knew I would eventually reach this moment.

So, our stocking are hung with care - even John's. It feels good to see them up again.

It might seem like a little thing but those who know grief will understand. This was a big step for me. The grief dance is not in a straight line. We go forward, falter, take a side-step, and go forward again. Today was a step forward.

Namaste.