My Heart to You

It has been so long that I have truly written here, that I barely knew my sign-in name. 2011 held my most profound moments and emotions.  I do come here, to look at how many people have visited and from where in the world they came.  This was an amateur blog, written from the heart.  I also come here to read.  Sometimes, I can read only little bits at a time; other times, I read through everything like a novel.  First, I remember every feeling and moment.  Second, I see others that I approached to contribute their writing's and also know many have passed away.  Third, I notice my lack of editing and grammatical errors.  

Still, I notice that over 15,000 people have come here.  Some, just due to a google question that went wrong.  Even if that were half of the people who came, both halves matter.  

I have barely started writing again.  This place, I was so honest and raw, that it has been hard to write again.  I have been busy, trying to find my own spirit and supporting my children.  But, when I come here to read, I know that I was honest.  This disease.  Not everyone who has Pulmonary Fibrosis has the same experience and some make different choices, plus, it is a different time.  

For my husband, this has been the most truthful account from someone who loved him.  I still do.  Love him.  The words I write are not just for the sake of raising awareness, but instead; I am a writer, that writes about difficult experiences that have come to me personally.

Thank You for coming here.  Don't be discouraged.  No matter what, reflect outward in the way that is most creative and beautiful to you.

The things I tend to read on my blog are from this period of time.  If you want to go further back, hit- Older Posts, at the bottom of the page. This represents my heart the most and is what I have the hardest time reading, but am still thankful to have every experience associated with my husband and family. 

It is a love story that I hope you read...http://breathingair1.blogspot.com/2011

~~Breathing

Since You've Been Gone~ 5 Years

Well, Honey, here we are at the 5 year mark since you passed away.  It is just you, me, and time here to commemorate this occasion.  Not sure what to do.  A part of me wishes we could raise our glasses and make a toast.  Maybe to wish each other some form of congratulation.  It really should be that way.  It may sound strange, us, clinking glasses to your leaving this world.  All I know is, I was able to survive thus far, and that has got to be worth something…

I mean, it hasn’t been easy.  Trying to embrace life became my own battle of survival.  I don’t think I am all the way there yet.  Not sure anyone gets “all the way there” in this world.  But, I have come a long way, went out on a limb or two and took some chances.  I learned to laugh in rough situations.  Began to think about my future and make decisions for me. 

As you already know, I tried dating this last year.  Only one person, and you know that took a lot for me as I have not been with anyone since you.  It was, shall I say, interesting?  I didn’t stay closed off and I opened my heart, so I am proud of me for that.  It was nice to feel pretty in someone’s eyes again. 

Still, I will never forget your eyes.  How blue and sparkly they were, the way I could see your love for me within them.  So far, Baby, you have been the best man that I have known.  Such a stand up person.  I don’t overly romanticize our love, because I also remember the look in your eyes all those times I annoyed you as well.  I still wish you were here.  I still draw hearts on my misty bathroom mirror for you.  This morning I saw the snow fall, in big heavy flakes, and my heart went to thoughts of you.

Everything I do, from raising the children, to taking care of our home and even opening my heart, I still feel that you are my confidant.  You are the person who really knows what’s going on and what it takes for me to do these things.  I believe that you help guide me.  Thank You for that.  Even though you died, I know you never truly left me. 

Let’s raise our glasses, Baby, and make a toast.  First, To Life~ which brought us together, what an amazing thing life is!   In its complete beauty that people and their generous spirits can impact the hearts of so many others.    To Us, My Darling~ and all the things we have accomplished and are still working towards no matter how simple, profound, easy, or difficult.  And Finally, To You~ for guiding me along, never abandoning me, and to your beautiful blue eyes.  

Until we meet again, my love,

~Breathing

Since You've Been Gone~ 4 Years

Hey Babe,

It is hard to believe that 4 years have passed since you left us.  In a way, I know your not very far away and I can feel your gentle support as I make my way through life.  

When you first left, I remember sleeping.  I slept as I never had and someways, now that I think about it, I probably sleep-walked through the entire first year.  It was probably my body's way of recovering.  As time passed, I, then had trouble sleeping without you.  Staying up to the wee hours of the night and awakening before dawn.  Each day was always a reminder that you were not there.  

I made it a point to take road trips.  Less about the destination and more about the desire to prove to myself that I was a capable woman.  During the second year, I got myself a camera.  Nothing too expensive, but it suits me fine.  Since then, my camera has been my little companion.  I have always been creative, but when we went through your illness, I wondered if that part of myself had been lost.  It might sound strange but the camera saved my life.  I enjoy the beauty that unfolds each day and I enjoy the patience of photography. Being still.  

I still have a hard time with what seems like our shrinking family.  My oldest is now out on his own, following his dreams and working hard at it.  The youngest, is a teenager now.  Very thoughtful and attentive, although, as you know with teenagers, that only can go so far as they really need their space.  I try to remind myself not to rely too much on him and to learn to find contentment in my own space.  It is something I work on daily.  It is scary to think that I am completely on my own.  I think the hardest part about it is not being able to share things with another who understands me.  Certain thoughts and experiences to only be kept to myself.  I have found though, there is a beauty in learning to thrive within the serenity of my own soul.  

I have taken a few chances.  Recently, I bought a very old cottage to renovate.  One day, it might be my downsized home.  When I am there, I feel happy.  There is something about having a home that is just mine.  It is the first place that I have owned that I have not shared in raising a family, or as a married person. Lately, I go there and paint on a canvas.  Just simple abstract stuff.  But, again, that is another thing that I stopped doing when we went through your illness. It feels really good to blast music and just mindlessly paint.  It seems cleansing and healthy to me.  

I am trying to make the conscious effort to be a healthy person.  Not necessarily physically, although that is also coming along.  But more about, up here, in my head.  One of the best things I did recently is decide, that I do not want to be a martyr.  Yes, I am a widow, and yes, only you and I know the ways in which I still grieve.  At the same time, I have chosen not to be "In Mourning" my entire life.  It was a personal choice that needed to be made.  Since for whatever reason, I happen to still be walking on this Earth, should I allow my entire existence to be determined by your death?  I want to celebrate in my existence.  For instance, everyday, I have been playing music.  Recently, I started to dance to the music.  Really dance.  To feel my body come alive, to feel sexy, female again, elevated my heart.  I did this without guilt.  I found myself happy for a moment and I have decided that is okay.  I am still here, still ~Breathing.

I love you, Baby.     

I'd Be Lying

If I said I had never been in love

I'd be lying, 

Sailing on an open road,

Beneath a blanket of stars,

Glimmering light reflect in our eyes,

Unspoken secrets dance in our hearts,

Whisper trust,

Between promising souls,

If I said I had never been in love,

I'd be lying.

If I said I didn't miss you

I'd be lying,

Mapping lines around your eyes,

Lost in the turn of your smile,

Intertwined and connected,

Your hand in mine,

If I said I didn't miss you, 

I'd be lying.

If I said I didn't believe in you,

I'd be lying.

Between the grey and blues,

A night bird coos,

Familiar melodies floating in air,

On softness of moonlight,

I know you're there,

If I said I didn't believe in you,

I'd be lying.

Happy Anniversary, Baby.  I miss you.

~Breathing~

L O V E

"If you are not too long, I will wait here for you all my life."

Oscar Wilde

Dear Darling, Happy Valentine's Day.  It has been three years and two months since I have kissed you.  I miss you, Babe.  I dream of you often.  As the years have passed~ Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter continue to flow as scheduled.  The children are growing, fine young people.  Our home, still safe and comforting.  The river so surreal, a beautiful gift everyday.  Sunrise and sunsets, with birds flying and making sounds.  The fish jumping upon waves of diamonds.  Clouds, kissed by light, whisper and beckon .  

The Stars, though, as beautiful as they are, To me, do not shine as brightly.  However, the Moon, is as mystical and glowing~ as ever before.  Blooming and ever-changing, like a Rose.  

I could go on and on.  Words really can't explain the transformations that occur moment by moment in the daily life.  For You, words do not have to.  You penetrate my heart, existing in all that my senses allow. ~~~Breathing~~~

“There is a time for departure, even when there is no certain place to go.” 

Tennessee William

****Hello, this is Breathing, I just wanted to Thank You for all the support you have given to Pulmonary Fibrosis, as well as me.  My 'counter' indicates 13,208 people have come to my blog, from many different countries.  I hope our family's experience has helped to raise awareness.  I do know this blog has helped me through such a difficult time.  I have shared with you our experience and have never held back, because most of this I typed in 'real-time'.  Now, I have transformed a bit since my husband's passing.  Not too much, but just enough to somehow realize that I have many thoughts that are better realized in my own time.  I will not post as much here, but anything that seems newsworthy to our cause will not be ignored.  Thank You my beautiful friends.  You show support just by coming here and reading this:

The word "pulmonary" means “lung” and the word "fibrosis" means scar tissue – similar to scars that you may have on your skin from an old injury or surgery. So, in its simplest sense, pulmonary fibrosis (PF) means scarring in the lungs. But, pulmonary fibrosis is more serious than just having a scar in your lung. In PF, the scar tissue builds up in the walls of the air sacs of the lungs, and eventually the scar tissue makes it hard for oxygen to get into your blood. Low oxygen levels (and the stiff scar tissue itself) can cause you to feel short of breath, particularly when walking and exercising.

Also, pulmonary fibrosis isn’t just one disease. It is a family of more than 200 different lung diseases that all look very much alike (see “Causes and Symptoms” below). The PF family of lung diseases falls into an even larger group of diseases called the “interstitial lung diseases.” Some interstitial lung diseases don't include scar tissue. When an interstitial lung disease includes scar tissue in the lung, we call it pulmonary fibrosis.

The most common symptoms of PF are cough and shortness of breath. Symptoms may be mild or even absent early in the disease process. As the lungs develop more scar tissue, symptoms worsen. Shortness of breath initially occurs with exercise, but as the disease progresses patients may become breathless while taking part in everyday activities, such as showering, getting dressed, speaking on the phone, or even eating.

Due to a lack of oxygen in the blood, some people with idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis may also have “clubbing” of the fingertips. Clubbing is a thickening of the flesh under the fingernails, causing the nails to curve downward. It is not specific to IPF and occurs in other diseases of the lungs, heart, and liver, and can also be present at birth.

Other common symptoms of pulmonary fibrosis include:

• Chronic dry, hacking cough
• Fatigue and weakness
• Discomfort in the chest
• Loss of appetite
• Unexplained weight loss

The Pulmonary Fibrosis Foundation is here to help you understand what it means to have pulmonary fibrosis. You can always reach us through our Patient Communication Center at 844.Talk.PFF or by email at pcc@pulmonaryfibrosis.org.

~~~~For my Baby, On Valentine's Day~~~~

"FIELDS OF GOLD"

You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we walk in fields of gold

So she took her love
For to gaze awhile
Upon the fields of barley
In his arms she fell as her hair came down
Among the fields of gold

Will you stay with me, will you be my love
Among the fields of barley
We'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we lie in fields of gold

See the west wind move like a lover so
Upon the fields of barley
Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth
Among the fields of gold
I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that I've broken
But I swear in the days still left
We'll walk in fields of gold
We'll walk in fields of gold

Many years have passed since those summer days
Among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down
Among the fields of gold
You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in fields of gold
When we walked in fields of gold
When we walked in fields of gold

Since you have been gone~ 2 years, 4 months

It is Spring once more, Babe.  This year I have been much better about pulling my head out from the covers and enjoying going outside.  It still was a struggle to see that a new season has come upon us and you are not here, physically to share it with.  Sometimes, I think it was because you passed away in December, two-weeks before Christmas, and I tend to stay in that space too long.  -The space in which it is cold outside and the shortness of the day descends upon me like a shadowy cloak.  I feel invisible during that season.  The feeling is familiar and reassuring, but then, like a surprise, a new season gradually comes upon stretching sunlight into my world. Rather than hide reluctantly from it, as my previous tendency has been, I realize that it will still come and that time will move forward.   

Not a day goes by that I do not speak to you (as you know) and most of the time I hope you can hear me. The rest of the time, I am not so sure because you know I can be long winded and sometimes tend to ramble.  I think you might even know when I am going to do that before I do.  I see the signs you send me, especially all the birds, and I also feel the way you still support me and there are times I really do sense a larger, overall feeling of glowing love with the intensity that can only be from you.  I also think about the year-long period that you were sick.  The heart-breaking moments when you struggled and there was nothing I could do.  

I think about the moments that I used to step out onto the balcony and look at the stars and think that this could not be happening and I would wish with all my might that something might turn around the progression of Pulmonary Fibrosis within your body.  At that time, I also had a sense that what I was praying for was bigger than you and I, almost like I wanted to re-write the stars themselves.  

I stay involved with the Pulmonary Fibrosis community and I have to say, since you have been gone, there have been so many new names and each person has such an individual story that at times I wonder if our individual story has made any kind of a difference at all.  But then, I realize all of our stories, collectively, create's one large entity of its own.  Still, there is not a cure for the disease, although it seems as though there is more conversation regarding a variety of treatments as well as possible links as to why this disease occurs in some people.  I know you always wondered what caused it for you. 

 It even scared your best friend and co-worker enough that he, himself, went and had a CT scan while you were ill. He was afraid it was something environmental that he may have been exposed to as well.  He showed no signs of it.  Of course, he never told you that, but he let me know about the ways your illness affected him, shortly after your funeral.  Speaking of friends, I have to say that there are so many wonderful people who, unfortunately, have become familiar with Pulmonary Fibrosis, either by having it themselves, or through losing a family member to it.  I feel honored to know some of these people and am truly amazed at the support we feel for one another.  

Home is going well.  I planted 4 lilac bushes along our west fence-line and 10 more are due to arrive, soon. It was one of your favorite plants and I won't forget that one time we were sitting at our favorite hamburger shop and you were talking about the Lilac because there were a whole bunch outside.  You were saying how much you enjoyed the smell of them during spring and as you were talking, a really large gust of wind started up outside the window and the Lilacs started to lose petals from their bloom.  It looked like it was snowing Lilac.  That was right about when you wanted to discuss getting married at that exact hamburger shop!  That makes me giggle.  I still go there, but I am glad we found our own perfect spot for our wedding. 

 I think a lot about our wedding, too.  That was a perfect day ~always.  I see your face, the way it looked when I was walking down the aisle toward you.  I know the bride is supposed to be glowing, but you really had a light emulating from you and it made me want to run up the aisle to join you!  I had to pace myself.  I also remember how you got Strawberry Lace cake on the top of my wedding dress because you tried to shove the wedding cake into my face.  Not cool!

Speaking of Strawberries, I planted a whole strawberry patch!  All I could think about the whole time is how much you would have loved if I did that years ago.  We now have six, good sized rows.  I really do feel you guiding me.  It was amazing because about 3 weeks back I kept posting pictures of strawberry stuff on Breathing's Face Book page and that same week at my orthodontist appointment, the assistant and I started talking gardening and she mentioned that she is going to thin out her strawberry patch.  I said, "I'll take them!!!"  and Viola! We have baby strawberries!  

It has really been a Godsend.  Because of the strawberries, and the preparation thereof, I have been wearing my gardening hat at 8:am in the morning.  It feels good.  It feels good on the outside and on the inside.  To be out there, not caring what anyone thinks, and why should I?  I am doing what you and I loved doing together.  Boy, after losing you, I had the hardest time carrying on working in the yard because you and I spent most of our free time together doing it together.  We found it so beautiful and it almost hurt to do it without you.  The same goes for traveling.  Everywhere I went, I remembered everything we ever saw together.  And, we put on a lot of miles with each other.  When I do these things now, I feel it is when I am closest to you.  

Thank Goodness for Spring.  It literally has come to save me.  I love you so much!  ~And I will see you tomorrow in the garden.  

~Breathing

The Last Sunset~ New Year's Eve 2013

Babe, I saw the glow of the sunset coming through the window tonight.  I was able to catch this picture. It wasn't until after I took it that I realized it would be the last sunset of 2013.  Our little family is safe under one roof tonight.  This feels like the biggest, warmest gift that I could ask for.  I look back at our year and recall so many beautiful moments, just as I look back at our life together, and my mind is flooded with so many strokes of beauty.  Big or small, all of these moments have touched my heart.  They literally changed my life and in some ways even my future, as I know, now, to always take the time to slow down, almost remove myself ~for one moment, and take a mental snap-shot of a precious slice of time and space.  I carry these snap-shots in my heart and they have layered upon each other, cascading like a waterfall within my mind. As I collect these treasures in my heart, I see you moving in each moment. One day, even if I have nothing, I will still have this when I close my eyes.  I love you with all my heart.  ~Breathing

First Cut Is The Deepest

I was sitting in the car with a song on the radio.  Rod Stewart's, First Cut Is The Deepest.  The lyrics and guitar just sang into my heart as I drove along the highway.  Empty banks of snow glowed along each side of the road and blue mountains glimmered against the sun.  Passing the big rigs, I adjusted my glasses.  I was in the moment and for sure, it would not be right if anyone noticed tears streaming down my face.  Ahhhhh, I miss my husband so much.  I really can't explain or put into words my feelings, even in that moment.  I missed him doing the driving.  Me, sitting in the passanger side, and always my hand on his leg, or his on mine.  I know he would be wearing his blue jeans.  Tiny, blonde hairs glimmering on his wrist and arms as he handles the steering wheel.  I could almost see him turn to me and smile.  An open mouthed smile, the kind one does when they have no self-consciousness.  He had a very tiny, little over-bite.  Only noticable, when he tilted his head back and smiled this way.  I loved it and always wanted to grab his face and kiss it.  He would be wearing his little round glasses while driving and that, too, drove me crazy.  I was crazy about him.  

As I drive down the road thinking of these things, I am still crazy about him.  I look around.  To the snow banks and rolling hills, as if I could see him or find him there.  But, I can only feel him in my heart and this drives me more crazy.  It feels good though.  To be alone in the car and able to let my feelings out.  I still wish he was sitting next to me.  I listen to the words of the song....

"I would have given you all of my heart

But there's someone who’s torn it apart

And she's taken just all that I had

But if you want I'll try to love again

Baby I'll try to love again but I know

The first cut is the deepest

Baby I know the first cut is the deepest

But when it come to being lucky she's cursed

When it come to loving me she's the worst

I still want you by my side

Just to help me dry the tears that I’ve cried

And I’m sure going to give you a try

And if you want I'll try to love again

Baby I'll try to love again but I know....."

I realized what I already knew.  That love is complicated.  My husband felt the way of this song when he met me.  His heart had been broken by his first, true love.  He was grieving over the end of that relationship when he met me.  He still wanted me by his side, and if I wanted, he would try to love again.  We were together many years and created a life.  He was my one and only.  I was and am still, head over heels for him. Sometimes I wonder if, when he tried to love again, did he?  But, then I see him smiling at me, in his blue-jeans......

~~First Cut Is The Deepest~~  Credits:  Songwriters: GERMAIN, BRAD / KNICKLE, ADAM / TWEEDLE, RYAN / SHIELDS, SCOTT

(cat stevens)

Twisted Knots

Hi Babe, It is me.  In December it will be nearing the 2 year anniversary when you departed my arms.  Only a few months away.  I have been working along my little path and even when I can't see where it is leading, I have been sure to stop and soak in the beauty around me.  For that alone, I know you are proud of me.  Fall is now here and the leaves on the trees are changing color.  The coolness in the air surrounds.  

I have been maintaining and managing to the best of my abilities.  The house is buttoned up with the exception of one repair that I would like to make before Winter sets in.  If I can get that completed then all my homestead goals will have been fulfilled for this year.  The garden has been the best it has ever been.  It was a record year.  I think it was because I laid straw down to keep the weeds out and it worked very well to hold the moisture in for the plants.  

The river bank?  It is still the same river bank, growing as wild as ever.  Although two trees, the same ones you kept cutting down so it would not obstruct our view, came back. They were growing big!  So big, in fact, I knew it was something that I had ignored and once they began to take over, I contemplated just letting them grow.  I wondered if I should just let them grow and tried to imagine not seeing the water from the house anymore.  I thought it might be a blessing as a windbreak.  But, deep down I knew I was just justifying keeping those big weeds around because I didn't know how to remove them.  So, I made a phone call and had someone cut them and immediately was glad I did.  I vow to catch them early next Spring so that they will not grow out of control anymore.

You have really changed my life.  Given me the opportunity to see what my own capabilities are.  I am even thinking about my future.  Trying to imagine in a very real way what I would want the second half of my life to look like.  I can only see a foggy outline.  Snippets of things like me still living and taking care of our home, River-Rose.  Each year living more simply and naturally.  I realized that I only envision myself doing tasks that make me extremely happy- only have to do with the family we once had.  Now, our immediate family has dwindled as my oldest has left the nest and our youngest has just become a legitimate teen at 13 years old.  I try to imagine what the house will sound like when there is no one to call out to.  What type of thoughts will roam through my brain as I live my existence alone?  Will I be comfortable with the stillness?

I realize that you and I had an age difference and that is why we joked you were the geezer.  Still, your life ended too short from Pulmonary Fibrosis at age 50.  Which is an age that I think is still very young.  When I transfer that to being a widow at my age, it seems I have a long road to walk down in solitary.  This is not how I pictured things would be for me when you and I were healthy, before this disease came into our lives. At the same time, the idea of being alone does not cause me enough discomfort to want to be with anyone else.  To the contrary, it actually prompts me to discover how I can be more at peace with myself.  To perhaps imagine finding a different kind of joy in my journey.  And that is why I contemplate.  I realize that I must imagine what things I want to bring into my life that will fill my future days.  I cannot be complacent in a comfortable area.  If I would like my life to be a journey of joy, I cannot wait for joy to knock at my door, I have to reach out and work for it.  

Money, travel, clothing, things, may bring a little better sense of security to ones mind, but it doesn't change what lives in our mind and soul.  I have picked up and left and driven for days.  I have found the most beautiful, exciting, and serine places.  In the wrong frame of mind, none of it filled me.  I could have the ocean outside my window, sitting in a beautiful room, and still be filled with twisted knots.  

Just a thought, My Love.  Thank You for bringing me to a moment in time that I have been forced to be truly honest with myself.  Even though I have not discovered the answers, the period of discovering purpose is a gift in itself.

With All My Love....

Doodles From Grief Counseling

 I look at my spirit like a garden.  There have many days I have been cultivating my garden, and there have been times that the wind and storms have ripped it to shreds.  There have been times that I have ignored the weeds and there have been times I have been on my knees, picking each one out.  I have introduced new plants to my garden and I have learned which plants are not suited to grow there.  Loving and kind friends have suggested that I may be spending too much time on my garden alone.  I should enjoy sharing my garden with others.  

Just over a year and a half after my husband's passing from Pulmonary Fibrosis, I decided to go to a grief counseling group.  Although, I feel that my understanding of my husband's death has been fairly healthy and I can look back over the year and see the ways that I have grown as a person, I also know that it is good to push myself out of my comfort zone.  Often it is under these circumstances that I have grown the most.  

It was a very small group and ice-breakers were in order to get us acquainted.  A small envelope was handed to us and inside the envelope were many words cut into small squares.  We were told to pick one word that best described our last week.  I poured the words on the table before me and sifted through each one.  Words were spread out before me such as Anger, Isolation, Bitter, and Sad.  I searched, but could not find one nice word.  I did want to say something, maybe all my nice words fell out or was given to someone else in the group.  But, I do not like confrontation and I didn't feel like defending my standpoint, that while, Yes, I did feel some of those negative words last week, I also felt Love, Laughter, and moments of Joy. Perhaps in haste, I decided this was not where I needed to be.  It's one of those things when you just need to listen to your inner-voice. 

 I did stay the rest of the meeting and most of my time was spent with ears open, and hands on paper, doodling.  I still wanted the discussion to flow through me and to absorb what I could, when another exercise seemed quite fitting.  It was explained that grief is not just one big thing but a series of small things over a period of time.  For instance, yes, I miss my husband and learn to deal with that everyday- although why is it that when I have a problem with the plumbing, I unexpectedly break into tears and sadness for a whole day? It is because our loved ones are made up of many components and our love has many facets.  We not only miss that person, but a million tiny things that remind us of them and grief is mourning each and every one of those things individually.  

So, as I listened to this, I began to add to my doodle some of the ways I missed my husband and acknowledge that I will need to mourn these things as well....

Understanding

Love

Togetherness

Your Eyes

Holding Hands

Your Smell

Our Music

Making Love

Security

Dreams

Our Travels

Companionship

Your Hair

Annoying You

Arguments

Making Up

Talking

Laughing

Your Eyes

Partnership

Advice

Safety

Guidance

Your Coffee

Sharing

Parenting

Trust

Comfort

Our Plans

*What I miss most of all and really can't be replaced is 

Our Chemistry

Love, 

~Breathing~

Water

When you were born, you were cleansed in it

Thirsty, you drank from it

Playfully, you splashed in it

In Sadness, it rained upon you

With Loneliness, it froze and drifted from the sky,

 Love, you threw in rose petals

Comfort, it gave you in illness

Spiritually, it renewed you

You, just like Water, slipped through my hands.

Write This Down

Exactly three days after my husband passed away, I was asleep in bed and felt a firm hold upon my right hip which startled me from sleep.  There, above me, was my husband's face.  He had a very intense look coming from his eyes and it felt as though he looked directly into my heart.  I sat up and and stared at his face.  Overwhelmed, I asked him over and over again, "Is this really you?"

With his eyes he told me firmly, "Yes."

I asked him if I could touch him, and again he told me -Yes. 

I put my arms around his shoulders and buried my face into his neck and just cried and cried.  I was amazed at his patience allowing me to do this for it seemed, as long as I needed.  Then, he held me away from him and looked deep into my eyes, he told me, "Write this down..."

I was unsure of what he was about to tell me, but I knew he was going to tell me a message.  A very important message.  I did not feel prepared and told him to let me find a pen and paper.  He just repeated, with a very intense look in his eyes, "Write this down."

I ran around the room looking endlessly for a pen and paper when suddenly I found myself behind my very first typewriter, one that I had used as a teenager.  I put paper in the typewriter and my fingers on the keys, and told him I was ready.  Then, he disappeared. 

This time, I really woke up from my sleep and I cried out into the empty room, "Please tell me!!" 

But, there was no response and I knew it had been a dream.

For many days, I would fall asleep mentally asking him to come back and tell me what his message was.  Days turned to months and the intense dream I had, after my husband had passed, stayed with me and I often wondered what it all meant.  Until one day, it hit me.  I realized what I believe is the answer.  The message he wanted me to know is exactly what he told me.  To simply, Write This Down. 

If anyone wonders why I stay motivated in sharing parts of our story, his illness, and our lives, it is because I think he wanted me to write it down.  How sharing these things may help or affect others, I will never really know, but I do hope some good will come from it.

xoxo

The Big Hill

I'm a list maker.  I always have been.  I save all my tablets of lists from over the years so that my grandchildren could read about all the mundane things a person did, back in the old days.  When my family was young, I made lists for shopping, homework and chores.  When my hubby had his trucking company, I made lists of repairs and maintenance, lists for taxes.  I think my hubby liked this in me.  I made the lists so he didn't have to.  If there was something he was forgetting, he could always look at my list - or the 'honey do' list that I made for him :)

When my hubby was diagnosed with Pulmonary Fibrosis, my list making really went into action.  This is where my expertise kicked into gear.  I made lists for medication, bathing, food, topics to bring up to the doctor.  Lot's of stuff to list!  When my hubby was on hospice, I made more lists having to do with the end of his life.  Some where things I knew that I would need to do, other lists I took dictation from him.  Call so-and-so.  This is what I want for you and the children, ect...

I started doing this a long time ago, because I had trouble sleeping.  I would toss and turn and think of the things that I thought needed to be done.  I realized that writing things down eased these feelings and would help me sleep better.  I also felt that it was my way of taking care of others.  To know what was expected of me and what needed to be done.

After my hubby passed away, I made a list of 5 small things that were actually huge.  They were some of the biggest things, I knew in my heart I needed to do.  Some of the items had to do with finances, others had to do with the children, another healing.  This list, for once, I didn't write down.  It stayed in my head and I tossed and turned many-a-night.  These were such large things to me, that one could simply give up due to the overwhelming feeling and sometimes I really wanted to.  The things on the list were also connected to my life with my darling husband.  A way to make him proud of me, if that is possible.  So, I couldn't walk away from this list.

Today, I completed that list.  I should feel proud and in some ways I do.  I actually think the list has got me through this last year.  It gave me a reason to go on.  Now, I have finished it.  I climbed a big hill and now am sitting on top of it, feeling not proud, but sad.  I never thought of what I would do after climbing the big hill.  I guess I will sit here and ponder it for a while. 

The Red Tree

Every year, on the day after Thanksgiving, my hubby would climb into the rafters to pull down all our boxes of Christmas decorations.  This year it was two days after Thanksgiving that I climbed into the attic to fetch the boxes. 

"Not bad."  I thought to myself, somewhat proud that it was only a day off from what was our annual tradition.

One by one, I pulled down the boxes which were labelled with permanent marker in my husbands handwriting, "Christmas". 

Once all the boxes were brought down, I realized that I didn't need the smaller white tree that I had set up in our bedroom the previous year.  I had the tree in our room, so that my husband could experience Christmas from the bed.  The thought of having the tree in the room reminded me of all the nights, that we said 'goodnight' to each other and I would roll over and stare at the lights of the tree with silent tears rolling down my face. 

I mentioned to my youngest that maybe they could put the small tree elsewhere in the house, and he said, "No, Mom, that tree goes in your room."

"Honey, we just did that last year but it's not tradition or anything."  I replied.

"Yes, it is Mom", He argued, "It's our new tradition." 

"Okay, sounds good.  We will put the little tree in my room." 

Looking through more of the boxes, "Oh, look!  Your Choo-Choo train!"  I exclaimed.

This was the train that we set up around the main tree ever since my little-one was 4 years old.  Every year the sound of "All aboard!" and the train's whistle filled the house. 

"Oh, I don't think we need to set that up this year, Mom."  My child says.

"Are you sure, Honey?

"Yeah, let's just keep it simple."  He replied. 

"Alrighty." 

Then, I open the big box.  The one with the big, white tree that goes in our main room.  I am so excited.  I love how the tree glows, so bright and pretty.  I begin to pull the tree out of the box when I see that large portions of it had become discolored and yellow.  All these years, we have stored the tree in the same manner, and it has always remained pristine.  Why now?  I wonder to myself. 

I tell myself that it has a sweet, aged appearance, it's like an antique effect.  I proceed to set up the tree.  As I arrange each branch negative thoughts begin in my head.... 

"Why bother?  You know you feel sad.  Nothing will ever be the same without him here, not even the tree.  The glorious tree.  It's all gone now.  Who even cares?"

My thoughts run away with me as I put each ornament on the tree.   

"Do it for the kids.  But, where are they now?  Oh, yeah, playing video games, while Mom decorates the tree all by herself.  Well, you better get used to it, after they leave you will really be alone probably too achy to get up into the rafters at all!  Then what are you gonna do?  Your a real piece of work thinking like this.  Isn't this suppose to be about the wonderful gift of Christmas?  So much for that!"

"Whoa, Mom!  The tree looks great!"  says my oldest, coming up the stairs.

"Yeah, great, if you like 'the dog-peed-on-it look'."  I said flatly.

Finally, I plugged it in and all the lights twinkled and it glowed again.  The next morning, I walked by the tree.  Only noticing the yellow stains.  This doesn't look antique at all.  It looks horrible.  Maybe I should just go buy another tree.  But, I don't want to.  This was 'our' tree.  Here come those thoughts again....

"The tree doesn't look bad with its lights on.  Whenever visitors come, just turn on the lights.  You should be happy, you should be grateful.  Stop being so superficial.  It's just a white tree with enormous yellow stains.  But, I don't like it.  What are you going to do, be bothered by it all season?  Do something if you don't like it.  I miss my hubby."

Then it came to me.  One-by-one I took each decoration off of the tree.  I ran down into the garage, my feet cold on the bare floor, searching through my husband's shelves of this and that.  Until I found it!  A can of red spray paint.  Shaking the can and hearing the ball bearing rattle against the edges,

I thought, "Oh yeah!  I'm gonna do it.'

I placed the tree, in all of its yellow and white glory onto the balcony, still shaking the can of spray paint, more thoughts ran through my head...

"If he was here, he would not like this at all.  Maybe you should test the wind direction. You're probably going to get paint on the deck." 

I began to spray and immediately the tree started to look better to me.  I kept going, like a frantic artist on a masterpiece, like a street graffiti artist tagging in the subway.  It felt good, really good.  I could almost feel my hubby saying, "You go girl!  Do what you gotta do!"

Not sure how many people can say they spray painted the Christmas tree.  In the end, not one drop got on the deck.  I walk by the tree now and think it looks "different" which is fine with me.  Maybe next year I will get a new tree, or just buy a can of gold spray paint...  Good, bad, or ugly, I realize that I was marking the moment of new traditions yet to come.

xoxo

Mr. Meticulous

In the years I have been with my husband, one thing became very obvious.  He was a meticulous man.  From his bathroom shelves, to his closet, everything had its place.  He wanted things done right.  He long told the children that it would always save them time to do things right -the first time- and if not, they would end up having to do the job all over again. 

I always liked this idea, at least the part that pertained to the kids.  But, me myself, am not always so meticulous.  My home may seem clean, as long as you don't open any closets or look in any drawers!  Many times, this theory of being meticulous was something that I had to work towards and as I did, I realized that it is just a matter of slowing down.  I noticed that my husband took enjoyment from what most would perceive as small taks.  Not being in such a rush to get a task over with, and to give the task full attention. 

Still, because of my husband's skill of being meticulous, there were just some things he was better at.  I remember one time, I wanted a small button sewn onto a silk robe, so the robe would stay closed.  I decided to hurriedly sew on the button.  When I did, it looked as if the button had been tied onto the pretty robe in a messy knot.  The button hung there loosely and within a few minutes, had already fallen off.

"I can't do this."  I told my husband while handing him the robe. 

"No problem."  He said, taking the garment.

He then sewed the button on for me.  It looked and fit perfect.  From then on, he became the Official Button Sewer and Hemmer in the family.  Same goes for any present wrapping.  My presents look as though I wrapped them with my eyes closed, while standing on one foot.  His, on the other hand, looked as though they came, pre-wrapped from Macy's.  So, on every birthday or Christmas, it became his job to do all the present wrapping.  He was the Official Present Wrapper.  The only thing my hubby asked for, in return, was big kisses!  Easy!

Halloween became his task as well.  During his off hours from work, he spent weeks in advance working on the children's costumes.  He made some fantastic outfits for the children.  He created cowboy outfits, biker outfits, head-on-a-platter outfits.  All, very meticulously thought out, down to the smallest detail.  My hubby became so involved in this part of his duties, that in advance he would arrange for time away from work, so that he could go to the children's school and help them complete their costume for the school's Halloween parade.  The only thing my hubby asked for in return, was a picture of him with our kids.  And, of course,  a kiss from me.

My hubby always took the children trick-or-treating.  He would load them into the back of our 4-Runner, and put the back-hatch down.  He would drive a few blocks and let the children jump out and run to the houses.  Then, back into the truck they jumped, onward to the next few houses.  They stayed out there doing this for hours.  At the end of the night, all would have runny noses and red cheeks from the cold and wind.  When they arrived home, they would find the house glowing with candles and lights, the smell of chili and cinnamon rolls.  They would dump their pillow cases, filled with candy, onto the kitchen floor.  Where my hubby would sort through and inspect each one for them.  The only thing my hubby asked for in return, was two pieces of candy from each child, and a kiss from me.

A couple weeks ago, our youngest child and I were walking through the store, looking at all the Halloween costumes.  I asked him what he wanted to be and he shrugged.  I shrugged, too.  We were both clueless as to where to begin.  It's three days before Halloween and we still do not know yet.  For now we are just going to wing it.  They sure do miss him, and I miss those kisses.

Ray of Light Through Worn Wood- continued

*In remembering my husband, I have been looking at the big picture- seeing who I was before we met allows me to understand the full impact he really did have in my life....*

In my old Ford Bronco, we headed up the freeway through the Wasatch Mountains.  Destination, Strawberry Reservoir.  The views are stunning.  I glance over at Jade.  She's sitting next to me on the bucket seat and is looking out the window.  Behind her passes a stream of Quaking Aspen and Pine.  The blue sky is etched by the towering mountains that have craggy stone faces of grey with peaks still covered in snow.  Looking down at us; as they seem grow taller the closer we get.  All surrounded by bright green fields of the season's new grass and sprinkled with bursts of white, red and purple wildflowers.    

Jade looks at everything going by as though she does not want to miss a thing.  She is only about two years old although she has been on enough of these trips with me to know what to expect.  We will wind up the open highway onto a dirt trail that climbs even further into the mountains, until we see old remnants of tire marks veering off the dirt trail into an oblivion of trees.  We will pull off there and that is where, I will set up our camp.  Since we are only staying one night, we will make a comfy bed in the back of the Bronco.  But first, once we have staked out our campsite, we drive back down a bit on the dirt road and turn to see a beautiful view of Strawberry.  There we pull up to the reservoir and  look around to see a few other cars there, usually other fishermen, getting their gear in order. 

I will pull out my float tube.  Then I will try to find a inconspicuous way to squeeze myself like a sausage into my waders.  Get my boots and flippers on, I will try not to stumble as I get the float tube around my waste, grab my fly rod and walk backwards into the water.  Once I am eased into the water, I will use the flippers on my feet to paddle out into the center of the reservoir, grab my fly-rod and make my first cast out into the water.  That is when I take my first, good, deep breath, as all the stress eases from me.  That is the moment I really look around at the trees and notice the birds in the sky.  That is the moment I feel I am not just an observer of these things but part of it.  That we are all connected and one.  This is the time, my mind is allowed to wander freely. 

All the while, Jade, will lay down on the shore.  Her ears are still up and her posture is as though she is watching and waiting for me to return.  She stays there, because she knows I need her and so she is faithful and waits.  That night at the fire, we will share our grilled corn and fish together.  We will stare at the fire, as though we are talking but in silence.  I will feel very fulfilled in knowing that as a girl, I did this on my own.  At the same time, I will look up at the stars and wonder if I will remain alone.  I will wonder, for a moment if anyone was out there that was truly meant for me. 

In the morning, it will be cold.  We will drink ice-cold milk and eat powdered sugar donuts.  By then, I will feel very grubby and be looking forward to a cup of hot coffee and a shower.  The thought of heading back down the hill and to the subdivisions with identical houses, the gas stations every quarter of a mile, the shopping centers and traffic does not appeal to me.  I wished I lived in a place that I could really breath and catch my thoughts as I packed up the Bronco.  Driving back down the dirt road, I fully intend to turn left to head back to the freeway, but to the right is the reservoir.  I will look at Jade and she will look at me, and we will turn towards the reservoir for one more moment on the water before heading back home.