Soon it will be the second anniversary of Ken's sudden illness and transformation into the next realm of being. The memories are still strong but are not as painful. It is easier now to hear those favorite songs like "Waltz Across Texas" or "Can I Have This Dance for the Rest of my Life" and though they can still bring a tear to my eye or make my chin tremble, the feeling is bearable and brief. The sages are right...time does heal.
The following may sound weird but this week on the way home with a friend following a meeting of nearly fifty women at a local burger joint, I had this "ah hah" moment. A realization that I am happy! Really, really happy for the first time in a very long time. My life is on track and good beyond my wildest dreams! My family is all doing great and if there is drama, I'm not involved. I am in a relationship that is fun and comfortable! I have projects going that give me the satisfied feeling of giving back to my community and I have some wonderful girl friends. I am free to come and go as I please and make choices on my behalf.
In the last year I have been to Colorado, to Charleston and Savannah, back to Houston, to Vienna, Germany, Amsterdam along with exploring the Texas hill country with its wineries and glorious sunsets. Soon I will head south back to San Miguel de Allende, Mexico for an art retreat with my delightful companion; Mother's Day I will be in Colorado visiting my in-laws and nieces; in June I'm being treated to a week in Costa Rica with family. I truly have a magical life that I never dreamed of and have to pinch myself to believe it is all real.
All this and I wake up each day with this gorgeous view of the hill country and have so much fun joining in activities here in the retirement community I reside....water aerobics, dinners out, lunches and brunches in.
Now that I am on to up side of the grief process, I am ready to give support to others using my skills as a therapist. Twice a month I lead a grief support group here; death occurs regularly here in this community of aging residents. The loss of spouses and occasionally children seems to strike randomly and all too often around here along with the need for support
Saturday, January 19, 2019
Friday, January 18, 2019
I feel I lost a friend....
I feel I have lost a friend who spoke my language...
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear? Who made the grasshopper? This grasshopper, I mean- the one who has flung herself out of the grass, the one who is eating sugar out of my hand, who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down- who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes. Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face. Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away. I don't know exactly what a prayer is. I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass, how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields, which is what I have been doing all day. Tell me, what else should I have done? Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon? Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?
~ Mary Oliver (Sept 10, 1935 - January 17, 2019), "Summer"
In her poem "When Death Comes," Oliver wrote this about the inevitable: "When it's over, I want to say all my life/ I was a bride married to amazement."
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