On Your Mark, Get Set, Grow Up!

 "The tragedy of old age is not that one is old, but that one is young"

Oscar Wilde

When I was a child, I had the notion that it would be cool to be older.  You know drive, have a job, have a husband, have kids,  and drink.  Not that I ever did a lot  of drinking while I was growing up.  As I grew up, I noticed a lot of drinking going on around me so around age 18 I decided to try it.  (I was out of high school but not of age).  Big surprise, I liked it.  I was funnier, more witty, and best of all less shy.  We all want to be older than we are when we are young.  You can't wait to grow up.

Fast forward (and I do mean fast) 40 years and it's not quite what I envisioned.  I am now a card carrying member of Medicare as of April1.  Somehow this is not how I thought my later life would be.  First of all my dreams of retirement included my husband Sam who is nowhere to be found except in my heart.  Arthritis which flared up during Sam's  illness is only getting worse, so I cannot wear any of my beautiful rings he bought me.  They say 60 is the new 40, but I don't think they told the men I have an interest in about that little factoid.

Some compare getting older to a fine bottle of wine.  The more it ages, the better it gets.  You're not getting older you're getting better.  I've got a million of them.  I exercise regularly, eat pretty well, still trying to cut down on the alcohol, but I am here to tell you, no matter how hard you try, it pretty much just takes over.  Yes you can have a face lift, but the minute they see your hands,  it is over.  You can apply all the face cream on earth, but eventually there is nothing that can be done to fade the dark circles under the eyes or brown spots all over your body.  I can hear my Mom now telling me to get out of the sun, it will age me quicker.  She told me, I ignored her. 

I am  sitting here, aging like a piece of cheese.  And speaking of cheese the next person who moves mine is in serious trouble.  Thinking I have done a marvelous job of adjusting to life events,  some of my own making, I am just plain tired.  Tired of feeling the same way I did at 40, but having the mirror tell a completely different story.  Tired of the 30 somethings and their opinion of old people being anyone over age 60 or God forbid, has platinum hair. 

What I am really trying to say is that 65 has come all too fast, and I know that I have less time ahead than behind me.  It is scary, but it is my intention to make the most of those all too fleeting years and try to make a difference as I live each day to its fullest.  Too bad it took me 65 years to grow up.

Try A Little Tenderness

We who have suffered a loss do get weary, the grief makes us weary and with all the turmoil going on in the world, sometimes it is more than we can bear.  With the holidays here it brings memories of happier times and those damn Christmas Carols playing "I'll Be Home for Christmas" and the like, it's hard to get through some days.  As the saying goes "life goes on".  No one mentions if that's a good thing.  It goes on, but it is never the same for us.

Okay, so how do we try to lighten our load, so to speak?  Here are a few ways I am finding to bring some peace back into my heart.  One way is spiritually,  not the "Long Island Medium" kind but the belief that God is always with us and if we ask for his help he will give us what we seek.  For a lot of us guilt is a block to finding inner peace.  We must forgive ourselves for a myriad of choices we have made in the past.  Now I know that this is no small task, but once we eliminate the demons that drive our feelings, we can move ahead to tackle what lies ahead. 

For me it was the realization that my time here is finite and I want to enjoy the time I have left and maybe make a difference in someones life, even if I don't understand what is happening at the moment.  A smile or a hello to a stranger is a small thing, but if we are so wrapped up in our grief or guilt, we will not  have time to notice what is going on around us.

So here is my advice, and as always you can take it or leave it, but cut yourself some slack.  In this busy holiday season take time for yourself.  I know radical, huh?  Read the Bible,  do some things that bring you joy.  Call your grand kids or your best friend just to see how they are,  and listen.  Enjoy some solitude.  Read the signs that people and the Lord are giving you.  Love yourself.


My favorite scripture is the following:  "For I know well the plans I have in mind for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare, not for woe! plans to give you a future full of hope.  When you call me, when you go to pray to me,  I will listen to you.  When you look for me, you will find me.  Yes, when you seek me with all your heart you will find me with you, says the Lord."  Jeremiah 29:14

I hope it brings you the same peace it does for me.  I wish you all a very Merry and Blessed Christmas and pray that you find the Peace of Christ in your life.

Ghosts of Christmas Past

Dear Sam

This will be our third Christmas without you.  I miss your larger than life personality trying to make the season bright for all, especially me.  The years you would dress up as Santa Claus and visit Max and Addie every Christmas Eve.  It was even magical for me.  When the kids moved to Vegas they still flew home for the holidays and we spent Christmas morning together.  So many happy memories.

I came across a video this morning while looking through pictures from Christmas 2005.  The kids were unwrapping their presents and that was the year we wrapped each present and then put the presents in a big box and wrapped it.  They really loved that, so exciting for them.  Even though we lived in Washington state and Andy lived in Chicago and Max and Addie lived in Kalamazoo we still managed to make Christmas special and you were a big part of that.  The video focused on the kids and I wish you were in the video more, but I heard your voice and I was back there all those years ago.  Oh did I enjoy that.

Each year seems harder than the last without you.  The longer you are gone, the more I miss you.  The older I get the more I need you.  It is hard getting older, so much change, I must believe in myself as you believed in me.  That is a tall order and find myself lacking the desire most days.

On a bright note Max had his senior picture taken with the trombone you bought him and is playing songs out of your trumpet songbooks.  I am going to get a concert when I am down there for Christmas.  I know you will be there too.  Please ask our Lord to help me when I have days like this,  I look forward to the day I can be with you again.

The Dead Husbands Club

Not exactly a club we want to be members of.  Our husbands are gone, and here we sit, wondering what the hell happened.  I must confess, when left on my own, the question still bothers me.  What the hell happened?  Don't want to be a member but I am.  More and more through life, I find that it doesn't matter what I want, I must take it as it comes.

As you can maybe tell, I am wallowing in self pity today.  Maybe it is a good thing I am alone, because I don't know of too many people who want to be with me when I am like this.  Honey came over to the couch as I was sobbing and tried to make me feel better with a nuzzle, such a sweet girl.  I just cried harder.

Today I am angry that Sam left me here,  alone and missing him more than I ever thought possible.  I feel as if the grief is insurmountable today.  My therapist tells me there will be days like this.  That does not make it any less painful.  I guess it is normal, but I don't want to be normal, I want my husband back.  I am a child today. I want my way.  So much pain..so much pain.

HELLO WORLD

"Hello world, my old friend, it's good to see you again"  from one of my favorite songs by Lady Antebellum.    It talks about cell phones ringing, traffic jams, distractions we all experience.  Lot's of things and people vie for our attention, on a daily basis and we don't take time to look outside ourselves to what is going on.  It is very easy to get wrapped up in our schedules and obligations to the point there is little time for anything else.  Yes we can stop and smell the roses, but is it possible to even find them?  I think it is safe to say we often times do not know where to look.  Too busy...

Here is another angle to percolate on.  During my daily walk this morning I listened to it from a different perspective.  Grief also engulfs us and distracts in a way where we can stop living.  We go through the motions, and life is a dull roar in the background, we are afraid and unable to stop and really think about anything, because the ghosts and the pain comes back.  We are in a coma of sorts, missing out on life and loved ones.  By no means am I saying it is that simple.  What I am saying is that eventually the noise quiets down, the fog lifts, and we slowly wake from the nightmare of death.  We rejoin the world of the living, but still revere our lost loved ones.  We look for ways to keep them close in our hearts so their spirit lives on.  When we are able to do that it becomes easier to face each day head-on and make the most of the time we have left.

Lighten Your Load

The last few days have proven to be somewhat of a challenge and eye opening as well.   Seeing as it has only been a scant five months since I moved back, I have started to go through the pile of boxes in my garage which take up half of it.  Due time, don't you think?

I find it difficult to go through the boxes, as there are reminders of my previous lives (that's right, lives) contained in each one.  So I tried to break them down into categories.  Andy's childhood, Sam, Max, and Addie.  Now normally one would think what, a box each maybe?  Well......Sam has around five boxes, Andy three, Max and Addie...OMG.   Oh and I can't forget about me, I try, but to no avail.

Any who, I start to take a razor knife to the boxes and cut them into bite size chunks (don't worry, no running on the treadmill backwards stories), and put the packing paper in the recycle bin.  Then I begin opening the boxes that are still full of God knows what.  BOOKS!  My lord do I have books.  One medium box full of Jim Harrison, a lot David Baldacci paperbacks, Paulo Coehlo, fortunately I do have a place for them.  Then I open two boxes of vinyl albums from the 1970's - 1980's.  Then there are the four or five boxes of cassette tapes and cd's.  Good God Almighty, I need an organizer of some kind.  So I start pitching.  The first thing of note to go was the copper punch type picture, I made in Pauline Raynor's 5th grade Science class of a baby fawn.  I hauled that thing across the country and from house to house since then.  Time to purge. 

I have not yet subscribed to my Son Andy's method of moving (100 yard dumpster in the driveway) but am starting to appreciate what he does. 

"What Becomes Of The Broken Hearted?"

Today's post is the first of what I hope become essays on grief, that might help someone experiencing it. Grief is explained by some as a process, certain steps that everyone goes through.  If there is one thing I have experienced during this time, it is that there are different kinds of grief and loss.  It  cannot be categorized by steps experienced in certain order. 

There is little difference whether you know it is coming or not.  The result is the same, you are alone.  Maybe not at first, as right after it happens you are inundated with food, flowers and friendship.  Of course at this stage you are numb and feel as if all of this is a bad dream, so you can't take it all in.  I must caution not to get rid of all their stuff right away, suggesting that if you have help, let them pack it up and put it away for a while.  Reality comes calling after everyone goes home and you are left with all the reminders of your former life.  The person you shared everything with is gone.  You still talk to them, ask them what they think and desperately look for signs that they are with you.  And they are.  All that energy cannot just simply disappear over night. 

Even though you don't feel like it, it's important to stay in touch with friends, but always be prepared to  leave in a hurry, as at first it is hard.  I had to call my friends at times and ask them to come over and just sit with me for a while.  It helped beyond belief.  I an  m so blessed.  Visiting a grief counselor also did me a lot of good and the girls at Blessed Sacrament in Allegan were an absolute God-send.

It didn't happen overnight.  Sam has been gone not quite 2 1/2 years and I still have a long way to go, but what I am saying is it does get better, God brings new people into your life to help fill the void, not take their place, but to enrich your life.  Give you reasons to see you are really blessed and be able to pay it forward in some way.  I am much more spiritual than before and try to appreciate what I have and not just sad over what I have lost.

I believe grief is something we never truly get over.  As I read in a Jim Harrison book once, "A lifetime is not long enough to get over it."

The Sheriff of Tiny-Town

This is Waylon the dog, aka The Sheriff of Tiny-town.  That's what Sam always called  him when he tried to act like he was head dog in charge.  I could just imagine him with a little cowboy hat on coming into the bar under the swinging saloon doors.  Now you're really in trouble people.

This will be a short post as I want to remember Sam on the second anniversary of the day he left us, which is tomorrow, but I don't feel much like writing. 

What I wanted to tell you all is that I am now remembering the good times.  Every once in a while I hear him talking about the sheriff of tiny-town, or his morning mouth feeling like someone had been walking through it in little tiny barn boots, or his maladies as "just part of the wonderful world of being me".   Or how something exciting was "Spazmagorikal"

It has been so long that I only remembered the last couple of years of his life and his struggle to stay here.  His illness consuming us and becoming our life.  It helps going through all of our old pictures and seeing Halloween Parties where is dressed as the Big Bad Wolf, or the scariest of all The Devil, with red cape, horns and fingernails, Yikes!

One of the hardest parts of losing him is the time that has passed.  Two years since I heard his sweet voice or felt the touch of his hands.  He is alive in my heart, and always will be, and there is never a minute when I don't think about him. 

MARG AND ME

When I awoke this morning it was to the news that my dear friend Marg  Groetsema had passed the night before.   Marg is the first person to befriend me when we arrived in Vancouver the Fall of 2004.  Fortunately she and her Husband Dale lived just down the street from us and Dale worked with Sam at Boise, Inc.  We never lost touch throughout the years for which I am grateful. 

She was so supportive of me during some of my hair-brained business ventures.  Always showing up to make sure I wasn't alone when nobody showed up at one of my jewelry parties, candle parties, etc.
I was blessed because she thought I was funny.  One of the best stories I have is when I first moved in and she would have me down for coffee and it would always be so strong, I mean really strong, almost undrinkable.   She told me I was welcome to make the coffee the way I liked it if I wanted to.  Like a dummy, I thought she didn't know how to make coffee.  Never dawning on me that she liked her coffee EXTRA STRONG. 

Marg and I had a date at Starbucks on 192nd Ave every week.  That is where we shared all our news, including her Leukemia diagnosis.  It seems to me she always had a Toffee Nut latte, but I always had the flavor of the season.  What was the most fun was stopping over at the Pay-less Shoe Store after coffee and looking at all the new shoes that were out.  There was seldom a time that we walked out of there without any shoes.  What fun.  I never felt like a stranger when Marg was around. 

I am writing this through tears, knowing I will never get to see her again,  happy that I did get to tell her how much I loved her and hug her one last time when I was there to visit the end of February.

Today I pray that God will wrap his loving arms around her, and comfort Dale and Maria as they mourn the loss of their Wife and Mother.  Here's to you Marg, thank you for all the great memories and the love you shared with all of us.  We are truly blessed for having had you in our lives.

Oh What A Beautiful Morning

I am fully convinced that God puts us where we need to be all the time.  I have been pissing and moaning this entire time in Atlanta.  The traffic, the people, the expense, among other things.  On the brighter side, I have spent more time with my Grand Kids in six months than I did the whole time I lived in Allegan, MI.  The restaurants here are great, and I get treated to dinners and lunches and brunches a lot by my Family.  And I missed the worst Winter Michigan has seen in fifty years.   

Most of you know that I have been feeling like this move was a mistake on my part.  But had I not come down here I would be up north kicking myself for not going.  So let's call it a learning experience.  Yes, right.......an expensive learning experience, but I cannot let that stand in my way.  Not now, not when I am trying to re-invent myself.   Sounds like a big job, but it must be done, because my life has changed and I am no longer Sam Bond's wife.  I am his widow.  A moniker I could due without, but it is what it is.  I need to look ahead and try to imagine my life without my husband, because up to now I have just been reacting to his death.  I must consciously plan a life without him.  He would be the first one to tell me this, so I will go with it.  

Today I woke up and the birds were singing and the sun was shining and I felt better than I have in a while, especially since the time change.  When I took the dogs out, I realized it was going to be really warm so I got myself around to walk.  I felt like taking a different route and I think that changed my attitude also.  As I was walking it dawned on me that I was exactly where I belonged today.  That this past six months HAD been a learning experience.  Once again I had to go through this to appreciate everyone and everything in my life and exactly where I fit into what had temporarily been a puzzle to me.  I feel like the darkness is starting to lift, and I must make it a point to keep all this in mind and keep moving forward with my new life.  

So boys and girls I am on my way back to Kalamazoo, MI, where the majority of my family and friends reside.  Where I am most comfortable, where my roots are,  where my heart is.  It is where I will spend the majority of my time, and as it stands now, I am welcome to visit the kids in Atlanta anytime I would like and stay with them.  To me that is the best of both worlds.  

Look out Kalamazoo, T Bond is coming home!

The Adventure Of It All

"Look at this as an adventure,"  I donned my Santa Hat and after searching every where for my packing tape (including the garage) in the pouring rain,  my package was ready to be mailed.  Yesterday I had seen a post office right around the corner from me, so I loaded the box into my car, (in the pouring rain) and drove over there.  CLOSED SATURDAYS the sign read.  RATS I said.  Went back to my car (in the pouring rain) and tried to find a post office that was open today.  Thank God for navigation,  but got lost.  So I pulled into the Home Depot parking lot and tried again.  I navigated from there to the post office.  By now I am used to making two trips to arrive at one destination.    It's a good thing I have no time constraints.

So I arrived at the post office only to be told that the line was not where I was standing (the sign said it was), but I let the woman go ahead of me.  I knew people would be gunning for me because of the hat, but I was going to be cheerful, dammit.  The postal employees were friendly, referring to me as Mrs. Santa Claus.  Mission accomplished, package in the mail.

"I deserve a Skinny Peppermint Mocha Latte."  So I drive to Starbucks, which I can see from the post office.  So in the pouring rain I drive over and try to get in the drive-thru.  Evidently,  I was blocking a drive and this woman in a Lincoln Continental kept honking at me to move, so I pulled up so she could get around me.  I tried to stare her down but she wouldn't make eye contact.  Again it must be the hat and Michigan license plate.  The thickness of my skin needs to increase, but at 63 I am thinking that is a lost cause.  Personally I am sick of people being butts.  So I just smile at them and then say what I really think when they are not around.

I know I put myself in this situation,  but I do so enjoy being around the kids.  They love me and I love them, and that's the way it will always be no matter where I live.  I wish I would have realized that before I moved myself down here.  But it's only for a year,  I will look at it as an adventure.

Searching For Normal

I don't know where I belong.  There,  I've said it.  It's here in black and white and yellow and green polka dots.

Right now I am staying in Atlanta, to be with my Grand kids who moved down here this summer.  After selling our home on Lake Allegan,  being in Kalamazoo didn't feel like the place to be right now.  The weather is a damn site better (one of my Dad's sayings).   Since being down here, I have seen the kids and spent more time with them than the last couple of years when I was living only 30 miles from them.  That's the upside.

My life and everything I identify with has been turned upside down.  I am lost.  My precious Sam is gone and he is not coming back.  What the hell do I do now?  I am feeling my way through  the darkness.   It is going to take time and the things I do will puzzle some.  Truthfully,  I have not given myself the time I need.  

Right now I can't say this is a permanent move.  It probably won't be, but I will enjoy the time here with the kids who will help me heal. 

The reality is that I now have a new normal which I have yet to recognize,  let alone adjust to. 

Giving Thanks

Sitting here in my Mother's living room on Thanksgiving morning, I am compelled to post.  Thankful for so much that I have,  it is difficult.  Where to begin?

I am thankful for having my Husband and best friend for over thirty years.  We made so many happy memories and he has left part of himself in our Son Andrew.  Through example he taught him how to treat others, especially those he loves, a good work ethic, and maybe what not to do at times.  You do not have to be blood to have a child and leave a legacy. 

I am thankful for my immediate Family, Andrew, Max and Addie.  They are the reason I keep on going.  They are the light of my life.  I am so lucky to have my Mom who is ninety and very healthy and ambulatory,  my Brothers and their Families.  How I enjoy seeing all of my Nieces and Nephews and their Children grow and become responsible citizens of the world.  I am in awe of all of them.  They bring me such joy.

I am especially thankful for our Military who selflessly leave their Families for months, sometimes years at a time to protect the freedom that we so enjoy and take for granted all too often.

I am thankful for the little things, being able to have a hot shower every day,  enough money to  buy food and help others if I choose.  Oh I forgot.  I am thankful for my two canine kids, Waylon and Honey who gladly (sometimes grudgingly) hop in the car and accompany me on my travels.  Even though at times they can be pretty messy.  After our trip from Atlanta to Kalamazoo my car looked like we had field-dressed a deer in it.  It's nothing that won't clean up at some point.

We will all pause today and give thanks for what we have and what we have lost, for all of it makes us what we are today.

It Takes A Village To Move Me

Well, most of my earthly possessions are packed on a moving van and sitting in a warehouse awaiting the middle of October (which is fast approaching) when my new apartment will be ready in Atlanta.  It was no easy task to get to this point.  Seems like since the middle of April I have been busy either getting the house ready to put on the market, painting, organizing, cleaning, listing the house, showings, negotiating the sale, THEN the real work began.  Somehow I had to get my stuff from point A to point B.

Sorely missing in all this was my life partner who always did the majority of work involved in moving us from place to place.  As I was packing boxes left over from our last move, his  handwriting was everywhere on the boxes, bringing back memories of late night carpet shampooing, endless trips back and forth to the new residences, and making our new places home.

For the first time in almost 30 years, I am on my own.  How in the world am I going to get all of this done and be out on time?  Not wanting to be a pain to anyone, it seemed that as people volunteered to help, I would take them up on it for a day.  So when my next door neighborhood Chelle volunteered she came over and helped me pack up my dining room and kitchen.  We did it in an afternoon and it was a good thing.  Next my bestie from junior high,  Mary Ellen came and helped me pack more boxes and pile them up in the living room.  Then Priscilla Swiat who is always there to rescue me whenever I am in need came when she could and was with me the day the moving van came and left with my stuff.  Could not have done it without her, especially when I tried to put Waylon in the car and he stood at the front door wanting to go back in.  I still tear up just thinking about the scene.  The bottom line is that I have a wonderful network of friends that love me and would do anything to help.

And don't even get me started on my moving sale..The angels that visited me that day were numerous.  Again Mary Ellen and my Niece Kelli were there for crowd control and Tim DeHaan (a modern day picker) who bought a lot and then hauled away everything else and even took my stuff that needed shredding and burned it for me.  And all this time I am sure Sam is rooting me on.

The last year and half has tested me to a level which at times I am not sure I can endure.  So why not drop everything and move to Atlanta to start over.  Am I Nuts?  Probably, but my therapist says I am okay.

Those Who Seek God

I know I said today that I would be packing, but I feel compelled to blog.  As some of you know I will be moving to Atlanta in a few weeks.  This turn of events has caused me to take a good hard look at my life and what has affected me.

After an eight year journey of trying to work our way back to Michigan, from the Pacific Northwest, we finally made it in 2011.  It was a blessing really as Sam's Cancer returned and we were able to be among friends and family during the last year and a half of his life.  Looking back this is just one example of God taking us in his hands and placing us where we needed to be. 

When I became a widow,  it was altogether new territory.  Even when you are technically widowed, you really don't know how to act.  I fought the title for a full year, only recently changing my status on Facebook.  During my first visit to Fr. Jorgensen after Sam died, he asked me if I would mind if he gave my name and number to Loretta Cone.  She founded the group "Not Alone" after she lost her husband unexpectedly 15 or so years ago.  She was just what the doctor ordered, although at the time I wasn't so sure.  She came to the house and we had a great talk and she reassured me of so many things that our faith teaches us about death and eternal life.  I continued in my fog for over a year, but never forgot Loretta.  I would see her at Mass every once in a while, until a few months ago, when after church, she invited me to breakfast with the girls.  What a treat they all are.  Mostly widows, but not all.  They took me in and gave me something to look forward to.  Something so simple, something so special.  I will miss all of you ladies so much,  you have a special place always in my heart.

I enter this new phase of my life with mixed emotions, desperately wanting to be with my Grandchildren, but hesitant about leaving all that is familiar.  Lifelong friends and extended family.  So yet again I will face the challenge of making new friends, but knowing this time where to look and who to look for.   I will look for God in all the people I meet.

Since You've Been Gone

My Dear Sam:

Today marks the first anniversary of your passing from this world into the next.  Words can never come close to expressing what my life is like without you.  This year has been full of firsts, starting a week after you died with our 29th wedding anniversary.  You almost made it and I found your card you bought me in the Jeep when I was cleaning it out.  Then it was your Birthday and the Buddy Guy and Johnny Lang concert you bought tickets for and were looking forward to.  Mary, Jay and I went and I could feel you there with us.  I have to admit I really like Johnny Lang.

 Last week I finally sold the Fat Boy.  Perry's bought it and I had a nice chat with Dick Perry.  We sat in his office and talked about you and your Dad and how they called you Junior and about the Knuckle head that was stolen from Uncle Vern's barn.  He tried to find Gordy Cole so I could talk to him but to no avail.  I remember the last time you went there how disappointed you were that it wasn't the same.  Dick told me he did not recognize you until you had left.  He was sorry for that.

Father Jim said Mass for you today at Nazareth.  That is such a beautiful chapel, so grand, yet peaceful.  The homily spoke to friendship when Christ said you are no longer a servant, but my friend and how Christ laid down his life for us and wants us to have an intimate friendship with him.  We were best friends and I can't remember how many times I wished it was me who was sick.  I would have gladly died for you.  You got angry every time I mentioned it.

I feel you with me a lot of the time.  You have helped me in oh so many ways.  Like when I need help starting the lawn mower and snow blower, and finding things that I have misplaced.  I hope you hear me when I tell you I love you every night before I go to bed.  I know you are in heaven, please put in a good word for me as I am looking forward to seeing you again.  You are ever in my heart.

Baby Steps

When I went to bed the night of May 13th, 2012, I didn't know I would wake up alone.  (Although I could argue that I have not awakened as of yet.)  They say that the day before your life changes is just like any other day.  My life, as I knew it over the last 30 some years, had changed forever.  That morning I began my journey into unknown territory, by myself.  My companion and best friend who helped me through everything (even when he was terminally ill) was not by my side.

The first couple of weeks were  spent more or less on automatic pilot.  On the phone with insurance companies, funeral homes,  thank you notes.  People wanted to see me, get together, you know, keep me busy,  I don't know what I would of done with out them.   I looked for answers that no one seemed to have.  I wanted to know when this God-awful pain would get better.  It didn't matter what I did or did not do, nothing helped.

Every once in a while I would notice that for a short time, I would feel a little better.  Just for a few seconds at a time, but it gave me hope.  In an effort to relieve some of my pain one Saturday afternoon in June, I sat in Sam's chair and let out a couple of blood curdling screams.  It was me reacting to the the horror that I felt being alone.  If the neighbors heard it they did not say anything.  I wanted to be with Sam so badly.

Grief is a journey.  No one grieves in the same way.  There is no set time.

Faith, Family and Friends (not to mention my therapist)  have all played a big part in my trip back to normalcy.  It is a new normalcy, one without a husband.  I had my wedding ring cut off my finger (before it became a medical emergency)  a few weeks ago.  I am thinking  of changing my Facebook page status to Widow (really?)

Here is how I am dealing with most things.  I am trying to face my fears head-on, not avoiding them.  I am weighing all my options about where to live and realizing that I can change my mind if I chose to.  Decisions will be made by what makes sense at the time.

And here is how I am doing on my journey through grief.  I am somewhat at peace right now.  I moved Sam's big picture and his ashes off the mantel and into our bedroom.  There is a sense of comfort I get from sleeping with him in the bedroom.  He is with me, I feel him every minute of every day, but I am not looking at his picture all day long thinking of happier times.  I have gone back to work, so I am busy, I am going to Mass more regularly, and I find strength in that.  It cannot be done all at once.  I find solace in my small victories (like getting the bathrooms organized) and being able to drive by Allegan General Hospital without thinking about us going through those doors together for his treatments and the Village Inn where we ate a lot of our meals.  These may not sound like much, and it has taken the better part of nine months, but you have to start somewhere and go at your own pace.

Baby steps.

My Funny Valentine

Today is February 14th, Valentines Day, 9 months to the day Sam Bond left this world for the spiritual one.  This special day is one more in a succession that I have spent alone since losing him.  Don't get me wrong, I am not feeling sorry for myself, just noticing the differences that my life has taken on since May.

As most of you probably know, Sam was a hopeless romantic.  From the first time we went out for a drink and he kissed my hand before he got on his Honda to ride back home, to the countless flowers with love notes attached, through our 30 some years together.  In truth everyday was Valentines Day for  Sam and I.  Before we were married he gave me a set of footie pajamas because I would get so cold at night.  I know I still have the note he left with them.  Last Valentine's day was a culmination of all his gifts and notes.  He took me to a beautiful dinner at Four Roses in Plainwell where we both had an excellent meal and dessert (of course).  I wish I could remember his exact words, but there were tears in his eyes as he explained the gift.  It was an oval blue agate cameo featuring a guardian angel protecting a little girl and he read the back to me which said,"God and I love you Theresa" and he slipped it around my neck and I have never taken it off since then.  He wanted me to have something tangible to hold and know he loved me after he was gone.

Today is hard, as are a lot of my days, but I try to carry on the way I know he wants me to.  He is with me always as I feel him.  He also left me with his favorite song by Adele entitled "Love Song" and when I hear it I know he is telling me of his love for me.

Thank you Sam, for devoting your life to me and my happiness, I will treasure our love always.

On Being A Widow

It is November 14, 2012, six months to the day I lost my Husband.  These past months have been filled with all sorts of emotions for me.  Emptiness, pain, sadness, loneliness to name just a few.  I am trying to adjust to being alone although it is not easy.  On Monday of this week I woke up feeling very sick.  I had a terrible headache, dizziness and felt quite nauseous.  I am not a person who likes being alone when I am sick.  For the last 30 some years I have had Sam who would do anything possible to help me feel better.  Needless to say not this particular day.   I was so sick I could not drive, so I had to rely on my family and hope they had the time to help me out.  Lesson learned?   Keep this stuff on hand.
So, at a time when I am actually loving this place again, I am seriously re-thinking selling the house.  It is a sixty mile round trip journey to Kalamazoo.

I find that I am much more industrious now that I am alone.  In an effort not to sink in a valley of tears
keeping busy is the secret.  It doesn't work all the time,  as some of my friends will attest to, after receiving calls with me on the other end, just needing to talk.  I am back to work selling real estate and there is something very comforting about seeing old collegues in a familiar setting, after so much change.

Here is another thing I have learned, grief cannot be handled alone.    You must reach out to others be they professional or not, but I recommend experts.  If you don't connect, go elsewhere, but keep trying.  At some point you must emerge from the darkness, it is what your loved one would want.  You must go on living your life, even though you only want to be with them.

I haven't changed my marital status on Facebook, or taken off my wedding ring.  I still tell him good morning and good night.   I so miss the guy in rose colored glasses I met 33 years ago at the "Y".

A Message From Heaven

I must be willing to give up what I am in order to 

become what I will be.

Albert Einstein

Death is a very scary thing.  I dare say we fear it mostly because we can not bear the thought of leaving those we love along with the uncertainty of what awaits us after we leave our physical body.  Is there a heaven or hell or purgatory?  What happens to our spirit, our energy when we die?

The week before Sam died, I experienced the worst headache of my life.  It was in both by temples and no matter what I tried there was no relief.  Finally on Wednesday Sam convinced me to go to the doctor.  Not really knowing what it was, I was given a Tramadol shot and after an hour or so it subsided a little, but came roaring back on Thursday.  I laid down in bed for a while, trying to get some rest.  It was then that I noticed a vision, I was in a near sleep state, and to my right I noticed a couple of figures, that I could not identify, there was a white horse fence between us and I knew immediately they were here for someone.  I must have fallen asleep after that, because I got up and had forgotten about the visit.  On that Sunday night we went to bed and Sam was dead approximately 1:30 a.m. Monday morning.  They were telling me that Sam would be going home soon.  

The day after he died, the telephone rang.  I picked up the receiver and it kept ringing, I hung up and still rang, one long ring.  I had to unplug it to get it to stop.  Sam was telling me he was okay.

Monday morning October 22, I was sitting in my chair watching television when I happened to look at my running shoes on the living room floor.  The right one was sitting flat on the floor, the left was on its side a little ways away.  All of a sudden the shoe on its side moved a little and flipped back onto its sole.  It looked like someone had hit it with their foot as they were walking by.  Sam was telling me he is here with me.  He has helped me start the lawnmower and find things numerous times.

We all have our Guardian Angels that watch  over us and Sam is mine.  He is with God and me and his loved ones who have gone before him.  The universe is vast and we have no idea what is within it that is beyond our understanding and what we know as reality.

 "Eye has not seen, ear has not heard, what God has ready for those who love him."