50 years ago

It's not often when you can pinpoint the exact moment when your life changed.
Yes, there are occasions that mark momentous events - marrying your best friend, the birth of a child, the death of your soul mate.
But those are the obvious ones.
I am talking about something that seems totally innocuous on its face but, when you look back on the arc of your life, you can actually say “This. Here. This spot. This day. This thing that I did. That’s when my life started. That’s when I embarked on the road that led me to the exact place I am today. Without that one thing, everything would have been different.”
Today is such a day for me.
Fifty years ago today I had a first date with someone. That someone turned out to be a man I spent some years with off and on, eventually even becoming engaged to him for a short period of time. We never married and eventually even lost touch with each other. Then through the magic of Facebook we reconnected earlier this year. He’s happy now, married, and thriving.
But that is not the point.
The point is if I had not started seeing him, other things would not have happened.
I would not have eventually met and married my first husband.
And if that hadn’t happened, I would not have wound up in Pennsylvania working at a place where I finally met the love of my life.
My John.
My soul mate.
The man whose life completed mine.
I guess the fact that I am approaching 70 years old in a few months is making me feel introspective.
And 50 years is a long time.
I don’t regret that day at all. I was lucky to have known a very nice person who I still like today. I’m glad we have reconnected, even if it’s only on the Internet. It completes the circle, so to speak and I know John is ok with it too.
Truly, I am in awe how life works out.
If not but for...then this wouldn’t have.
Have you ever felt that way? Can you single something out like that?
I feel lucky to be able to see the pattern in my life.
I am grateful.
Namaste.

♥

Just when you think you have it all together and you have this grief thing down pat and are in control, something happens and you melt.
Tonight was just such a time.
I met a wonderful group of women this evening. Some ladies in our town formed a small widows group. We met for the first time at a local restaurant and shared. We laughed, we hugged, we nodded at similar stories.
We acknowledged how we will be there for each other. We came from all walks of life. Working, retired; newly widowed, widowed several years - and more.
In the parking lot we waved good-bye and said we looked forward to the next get-together.
I felt good about new friends, new support.
I can do this.
And then -
and then -
On the way home a song came on Pandora ["I Will See You Again" by Westlife] and I cried all the way home.
Not just a little teary.
Big ugly sobbing tears running down my cheeks crying.
The crying will never end.
The missing will never end.
And it's okay.
I miss you, John.
Today I am one day closer to being back with you again.

I love our home

I think it's important to keep the energy of our home positive and happy. It makes me happy to decorate it. I know John likes me to do this. He loved our home too.
I played with this photo in one of my photography apps to give it some Fall character.

I miss the little things that make up our love

Many many years ago I worked as an inpatient oncology nurse. I was chemo certified so part of my job was to administer intravenous chemotherapy to our patients who came in strictly on an out-patient basis. These people were not as immuno-compromised as our overnight patients. They came in, stayed for a few hours while they received their medication, and then - if all went well - they went home. Most times they were accompanied by family members. That gave me a chance to observe how the family dynamics were doing with the stress of the illness, do some teaching, offer support, and just enjoy the interactions.
Even though this was over 20 years ago, I still remember one particular married couple.They were probably both in their sixties. The woman was the patient, receiving chemo for advanced stage breast cancer. She  looked as though she had lost weight recently and her bald head was wrapped in a colorful scarf. But it was obvious that they had a wonderful loving relationship just by how they interacted with each other. Her husband doted on her, sitting with her while she underwent treatment, anticipating her every need. I know he was probably feeling very helpless and wanted to do what he could - anything - to lighten her burden. Over the course of her time with us, I got to know them fairly well.
One particular incident stands out in my mind.
I remember she was going to read a magazine to while away the time and she pulled out her glasses from the bottom of her purse. Right away her husband jumped up and held out his hand.
"Here, let me clean those for you," he said.
He immediately went over to the sink in the room and lovingly washed and dried her glasses before handing them back to her.
It was a small gesture. Something we all do every day.
And yet to this day, whenever I wash my own glasses I think of him. That one small gesture said volumes.
She was loved.
Cherished.
Cared for.
It's the little small things we do for each other that make up the bigger picture of our lives.
And when death robs us of our loved ones, our hands hang idle, longing to do one more loving act.
I ache to be able to caress the soft spot next to John's eyes.
I wish I could cook one of his favorite meals for him again.
Or surprise him with a bag of red vines - his favorite candy.
I often think of the times John would go grocery shopping and come back with a bouquet of flowers for me.
Or make my coffee just the way I liked it.
Or make me soup when I was ill.
It's the every day things that I miss so much.
Each and every day.
That couple I met all those years ago have probably gone on to the next World now but I still remember them and the lesson the husband taught me.
Little gestures of kindness, of affection, of saying I know you and I love you just the way you are are what make the world go round.
How I wish I could share another moment like that with John again.
But I am grateful I was able to share them when we did.
I love you, John.

To John

I am so happy we shared this lifetime together - and all the lives we shared. Looking forward to eternity with you.

Wonderful messages

I feel blessed.
I have been getting some very nice compliments and reviews on my book [since this was on a closed Facebook group I have shielded the group name and participants].

This is just a small sampling of what people are saying. It actually brought tears to my eyes to read all the good thoughts.
I couldn't help but wonder what John thought of all this. That evening, as if to let me know, I found this right in my path as I was walking back into the house.

Thank you, John.
I didn't do this on my own. I know that. I had help from John and my Team on the Other Side. I appreciate all of it.

I still miss John - I still miss my best friend

I have been feeling very down these last few weeks.
I can't say I can identify a particular reason. Maybe it's because our wedding anniversary was the end of last month. One more day without him. One more big day reminding me we can't celebrate together in this world.
Or maybe it's not that. Maybe it's just plain old grief. No reason. Just grief. Grief doesn't have to follow any rule. You can be bopping along all confident and happy and then something - a scent, a word, a song - anything - will remind you of your soul mate and the grief returns and the sunny day is gone.
Or something will cross your mind and for a nano-second, your mind forgets and you think "I must remember to tell J - oh, wait, I can't." And the world crashes in on you. And just like that, the sadness, the longing - it all returns.
That's what it's been like for me recently.
Not constantly.
But enough so that I am aware. Grief is an ever-present companion. An unwelcome roommate.
We have a detente of sorts.
But I would give anything for it to leave.
I miss my best friend, the man who made the sun rise and the birds sing in my heart.
The man whose smile made my day. Whose eyes lit up when I entered a room.
Whose hug eased my sorrows. Whose wise words helped me through life's trials.
Whose love cushioned me, surrounded me, gave me strength.
I forge on. I know I can do this grief thing.
I will make John proud of me.
But I still miss my best friend.