Thanksgiving Thoughts

As Thanksgiving Day rolls around, there are many things for which I am thankful:

Friends and Family: Both those near and far, those still here and those gone who had impact upon my life both before and after grief took root in my heart. Who love me irregardless of my many faults and are kind enough not to often mention them.

Love: From my dear Jim…the love of my past life…and given to me in unquestioned measure for over 30 years though I often deserved less.

From my Handyman, Craig, who loves me lumps, bumps, wrinkles, gray hair and fluctuating moods not always related to grief…and the love of this new life in which I find myself.

From my children who often do not know the woman before them, yet love me anyway.

Humor: Which keeps me insanely sane.

Life: Without which I would have none of the above.

Tomorrow I will share all of the above with family and friends in an atmosphere of love and laughter, for which I am truly grateful and welcome that my heart no longer aches so badly than I cannot enjoy them.

We have, however, received regrets from one houseguest:

Martha Stewart will not be dining with us this Thanksgiving. I'm telling you in advance, so don't act surprised. Since Ms. Stewart won't be coming, I've made a few small changes:

1. Our sidewalk will not be lined with homemade, paper bag luminaries. After a trial run, it was decided that no matter how cleverly done, rows of flaming lunch sacks do not have the desired welcoming effect.

2. Once inside, our guests will note that the entry hall is not decorated with the swags of Indian corn and fall foliage I had planned to make. Instead, I've gotten the kids involved in the decorating by having them track in colorful autumn leaves from the front yard. The mud was their idea.

3. The dining table will not be covered with expensive linens, fancy china, or crystal goblets. If possible, we will use dishes that match and everyone will get a fork. Since this IS Thanksgiving, we will refrain from using the plastic Peter Rabbit plate and the Santa napkins from last Christmas.

4. Our centerpiece will not be the tower of fresh fruit and flowers that I promised. Instead we will be displaying a hedgehog-like decoration hand-crafted from the finest construction paper. The artist assures me it is a turkey.

5. We will be dining fashionably late. The children will entertain you while you wait. I'm sure they will be happy to share every choice comment I have made regarding Thanksgiving, pilgrims and the turkey hotline. Please remember that most of these comments were made at 5:00 a.m. upon discovering that the turkey was still hard enough to cut diamonds. As accompaniment to the children's recital, I will play a recording of tribal drumming. If the children should mention that I don't own a recording of tribal drumming, or that tribal drumming sounds suspiciously like a frozen turkey in a clothes dryer, ignore them. They are lying.

6. We toyed with the idea of ringing a dainty silver bell to announce the start of our feast. In the end, we chose to keep our traditional method. We've also decided against a formal seating arrangement. When the smoke alarm sounds, please gather around the table and sit where you like. In the spirit of harmony, we will ask the children to sit at a separate table ... in a separate room ... next door.

7. Now, I know you have all seen pictures of one person carving a turkey in front of a crowd of appreciative onlookers. This will not be happening at our dinner. For safety reasons, the turkey will be carved in a private ceremony. I stress "private" meaning: Do not, under any circumstances, enter the kitchen to laugh at me. Do not send small, unsuspecting children to check on my progress. I have an electric knife. The turkey is unarmed. It stands to reason that I will eventually win. When I do, we will eat.

8. I would like to take this opportunity to remind my young diners that "passing the rolls" is not a football play. Nor is it a request to bean your sister in the head with warm tasty bread.

9. Oh, and one reminder for the adults: For the duration of the meal, and especially while in the presence of you diners, we will refer to the giblet gravy by its lesser-known name: Cheese Sauce. If a young diner questions you regarding the origins or type of Cheese Sauce, plead ignorance. Cheese Sauce stains.

10. Before I forget, there is one last change. Instead of offering a choice among 12 different scrumptious desserts, we will be serving the traditional pumpkin pie, garnished with whipped cream and small fingerprints. You will still have a choice; take it or leave it.

Martha Stewart will not be dining with us this Thanksgiving. She probably won't come next year either. I am thankful. (The Martha Stewart Thanksgiving is courtesy of an e-mail from a friend)

Happy Thanksgiving, my friends, may you find peace in abounding measure.

May those that love us, love us.

And those that don't love us,

May God turn their hearts.

And if He doesn't turn their hearts,

May He turn their ankles

So we will know them by their limping.

(an Irish blessing my Jim loved and shared with me long ago)

Reflections of a Widow - A Gift to a Friend

My Tennessee friend began her journey down the widow’s path long before the death of her husband to heart disease. They had lived with challenges of what it did to his health for 9 years.

Today, as her oldest son prepares to leave for Germany and her youngest prepares to enter life as a young adult, I loan my space in honor of that man, my friend, her sons and new daughter-in-law that she may share them with her friends.

The words and pictures below are hers.

“Reflections of a Widow”

These words from the song “There’ll You Be” by Faith Hill express so much of what I want to say:

“When I think back on these times
And the dreams we left behind
I'll be glad 'cause I was blessed to get
To have you in my life
When I look back on these days
I'll look and see your face
You were right there for me
I'll keep a part of you with me
Well you showed me how it feels
To feel the sky within my reach
And I always will remember all
The strength you gave to me
Your love made me make it through
Oh, I owe so much to you
Cause I always saw in you
My light, my strength and I want to thank you
Now for all the ways
You were right there for me
There you'll be in my heart
There will always be a place for you for all my life.”

Faith Hill, Soundtrack to Pearl Harbor (2001)

I think back to that morning on July 28, 1998 when I walked in to wake you and found that you had left silently in the night without a goodbye. You had known much pain and sickness even with the anguish of your death you fought a good fight. I knew it was time by the sweet look of peace on your face. The doctors had told us the time was near, but when the time is that moment, no one is ever really prepared.

Not a day goes by that thoughts of you aren’t with me. After seven years I still see you and feel you. With every detail of your boy’s lives, I see you. You will forever be, forward I go. Yesterday was, today is now. I was blessed to have had you in my life, thank you for teaching me about love and life, for loving me, caring for me and giving me two wonderful sons.

I took a long time to heal. Time doesn’t heal, but healing takes time. The depths of my soul filled with grief and pain that threatened to throw me into the darkness of a bottomless pit. I had to find me again, I was no longer we. I lost myself, but now through much soul searching, prayer, and endless tears that came in the wee hours of the night today, I can finally say I know who I am.

I am no longer Clyde’s wife. I am a woman who has known the greatest sorrow in her life, raised our boys, and now it’s time for me to start and finish college. I am a woman who wants to know love again and truly live again until my time on this earth is no more.

No longer am I in love with you, the young boy that captivated my heart with those sexy blue eyes and that smile that made me melt so very long ago. I only see those eyes and smile now through the twinkling of a special star that I gaze at from time to time. You are no longer here to be in love with, but I will always love you; continually carry you and our memories within my heart. I am saying goodbye, I am letting go. In my heart, I know, you are at peace and with the Lord and so I say thank you my sexy blue eyes.

Sometimes it seems like it has been forever and yet sometimes it seems like yesterday. The years have passed like the blinking of our eyes. The boys are fine and you would be so proud of them both. I have grown through the grief of your death, the years we had and learning from my mistakes. God has been good and shown me the way. I'm a better person. My only regret is that your time was so short and that the boys have so many firsts that you will never see or celebrate with them.

We made mistakes. We both knew we had no perfect marriage, but we did have a love that never dies. You taught me passion, compassion and what being a partner really meant. I hope you would be proud of me today; I have tried to instill in the boys everything I knew you would had you been here.

I am a better person because of you and all the trials and good times we had in our marriage. No longer do I mourn, but, I breathe and enjoy life. I have memories we shared and our boys. I smile now and really laugh, even when I have my down moments. I know I was blessed to have had us for the time we had. I am living again, I can see joy.

My tears still come, but smiles are more now than tears. Even through the loneliness I know a new love and life can await me someday when the time is right and it is the Lord’s will. My dreams are real and can be realized, and I'm as sure of that as I was the day we met. Because of your love and the strength you showed during your 9 year battle with heart disease. I know I can be who you always saw me as once again, only better.

I am forever changed, death does that and I will never be the same, but, I still want the same values of life, only I have more zest and know how short life is. One moment is not to be taken for granted, not one “I love you”, “How was your day”, “Let me hold your hand” Not one discussion, not one hug. For in the twinkling of the eye it can all be gone never to return.

You have your dream now…peace is finally yours as you look from high on your mountain. Pain, strife, despair, illness and demons are gone never to control you again.

I am a better person for having loved you, but most of all for the love you gave to me. Rest my love and know real peace. We are fine and I know that you will always be forever.

Healing Charlie

This is my dog...Charlie...as he is most comfortable...poking about in the grass. And this is the beginning of his recovery and rehab from spinal surgery on Friday, November 4, 2005 .

20 pounds of rambunctious, waggling fur came into my life Valentine’s Day two years before my world splintered into unrecognizable slivers with my Jim’s sudden death in 2002.

Little did I know on the ride home that day that he would become the constant companion, silent confidant and tear blotter that was often my sole excuse for not leaving this life as I struggled to put it back together again.

Now, I return that favor as this 42 pound mass of waggling fur faces the challenge of rehab from the spinal chord injury that robbed him of the use of his hindquarters. The hours of therapy, slinging him for outdoor needs and encouraging his abundant spirit are but a token of the debt I owe this small, enthusiastic, trusting creature.

Watching Charlie scoot crablike across the floor tears at my heart. He valiantly labors to stand for even a handful of seconds, lumbers like a drunken sailor on the carpet and scrabbles across the kitchen tiles like a seal. (A trip to Home Depot and runners by-the-foot are on today’s list.) He pees on my foot when I aim it the wrong way and looks at me as if to say “HA!!! You thought that was going to be easy? Now you know how I feel.”

Uncomplaining and unendingly cheerful he takes each moment as it comes to him trusting that I am doing all the right things…even when I am not certain of it myself. (Not unlike the baby steps we refer to in our journey on this widowed walk.)

Yet as I feel the muscles slowly strengthen to my touch, I see him puzzled that his hind end will not keep up with his front end. He often looks around as if to say “HEY!!! What’s the deal here? I’m going this way…straighten up and get moving.”

Lucky Charlie Brown Dog (so christened by my grandmonkey) is a Boykin Spaniel, official breed of the state in which I reside, liver in color, wavy coated, amber eyed, curious, eager, eternally optimistic and thief of my heart.

Officially speaking:

“Medium in size, sturdy and typically spaniel, this sporting dog is first and foremost a working dog with proven retriever instincts and hunting ability, characterized by boundless enthusiasm and endurance, moderate speed and agility and possessing an intelligence and a desire to please which makes him easy to train. As a pet and companion he is exceptional with amicable disposition and love and personal attention improves his desire to hunt. He is a strong swimmer, taking to water easily and is valuable for water retrieving as well as field retrieving.”

Charlie will never be a gun dog, never run in a field trial nor be a champion show dog. He is just a plain old dog who loves to rummage in the brush and flush the birds and other wildlife that dwell within the borders of my little 1 ½ acre plot in the boonies of the foothills of lower Podunk, SC.

Recovery will be measured in microns and every step hard won. Yet, if will can “make it so” then he will succeed and rehab to be as happy on what ever ground he recovers on four legs as he is even on two that work and two that don’t.

Here’s to you, Charlie.

Charlie’s “siblings” Grace (aka Queen Bee Shitzu) and Jax (full name General Beauregard Jackson…I didn’t name him…honest.)

Change of Season ~ Part Deux

Life among the shadows.

Still wearing melancholy like a thread worn sweater or favorite holey jeans it has become more a strange sort of comfort than discomfiting yoke. There, yet not overwhelming in its need to be recognized. Even so, as is often true with me, I felt a need to stand outside my own self and look at life and shadows from another view.

Camera in hand in search of some small patch of color, I took myself to the public garden at the edge of my little city. Not your formal, tidy garden it is more a woodland with pathways running throughout like a patchwork quilt. As I sat quiet on a bench the sounds of life rustling and flitting beneath the dry leaves and browning trees. In accordance with the current state of my soul the hues were subtle and subdued along with a surprising smattering of late blooming flowers to punctuate the stillness.

I felt peace. And, it was good.

What follows are a random series of pictures chosen from the nearly hundred I took yesterday.

Enter through the arbor and walk with me.

(Even so there is more in my mind to write I think I will be still and wait for tomorrow)

Happy Halloween

Son of Creepy is a memorial to the original Creepy designed and built by a man who was still child enough to love Halloween. His stood over 6' tall, had glowing eyes and a moving arm that I lack the skill to recreate.

Happy Halloween, Darlin'...we did it for you this year.