Wednesday, May 16, 2018

7 Years

It was an unexpected find when I came to this blog, my safe haven, to reminisce on the past 7 years, only to find my unpublished post from last year.  I am happy I did stumble upon it because there have been differences, changes in me, changes in my life that made me forget about where I was just a year ago. 

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Seven years.  Seven years, wow.  Seven years is a long time.  It's so long that there are so many new people in my life that don't even know what happened seven years ago.  They don't know that I was widowed.  They don't know how I chose to stay in New York City alone.  They don't know how I raised my son alone for four years.  They don't know that my husband took his own life.  And to be honest, sometimes, I forget too.

This past year has been extremely difficult and stressful.  My son was having behavioral issues that worried me tremendously last year at this time.  My best friend had just found out the she had cancer.  Later on in the year, we found out that my grandfather had cancer.  He passed away just last month, just days after my cousin died from pancreatitis.  My cousin was only 22 years old and had spent a month in the hospital before my aunt had to make the excruciating decision to let him go after the doctors told her there was nothing more they could do for him.  My mind was occupied with worry.  It still is.  Although my son is back to his old self and my best friend is in remission, there is one condition that I didn't yet share, and that is my mother.  She has early on-set dementia.  It's been about 2 years since we suspected and the testing began.  She is still with us mentally.  She has not forgotten our names and major events.  But her short term memory has been shaken.  And it is noticeable.  And it is heartbreaking.  Daily thoughts of my mother and her condition have seemed to replace my daily thoughts of Dale.

I was happy to be reminded from the post I wrote last year of how much I still thought of him.  It was nice to read that those thoughts were all mainly positive ones.  Unfortunately now, just a year later, I can't say that I think of him daily.  I still think of him often.  But not as much and not deeply.  

Seven years ago, my world was silenced.  You know how you feel after going to an extremely loud concert?  When your ears are still pounding, yet you have a deafening daze about you?  That's how it felt when I got the call seven years ago.  I felt like I was in a daze.  I could hear and see the world around me, but it was as if there was a layer of fog between us.  Over time that fog lifted, but it always returned in May.  That first day, it can back immediately.  The countdown began May 1 and it was a painful 17 days until it came.  

I am always very well aware of the date, but this year, it didn't hit me until tonight, a few hours ago.  Once the night wound down and my son went to bed, the memories became to surface.  It's different though.  It's not a countdown of events.  It's not the wonder of what he was thinking or doing the days before or even the hours and minutes before.  It's now just a day, a day that I still wish I could erase from the calendar, but a day that still brings that foggy daze of silence.  

My son, who is now 8, has been asking about the anniversary date.  He has a memory like his father and its now locked in.  He has requested that we look at pictures, watch videos, and go through a chest of his belongings tomorrow, before we go out to dinner to one Dale's favorite restaurants.  I am happy that Ewan wants to do things to celebrate his father.  I am happy that he initiated it too.  

So that's all I have for tonight.  My writing seems dull, I know.  But despite that, I will still press publish, so that next year I can look back and see how life has changed.  

6 years

**Note:  I found this as a draft as I came here to post for the 7 year anniversary.  I don't think that I have visited this blog since last year, on the same day, at the same time.  Even though I didn't complete my thoughts, I decided to post it anyways.

May 16, 2017
For better or for worse, the lives that we are currently living can forever be changed in an instant.  The life that I once knew and cherished began to crack long before it's destruction.  It became weak and vulnerable.  However, it didn't shatter until I got that phone call 6 years ago today.  The words "he's gone" is all that needed to be said to let the bottom out.

Six years is a long time.  It's the majority of my 7 year old's life.  It's enough time to be immersed in living a new one.  And that is where I am today...

I still think of him, of Dale, every day.  But I don't let my thoughts linger or wander.  I have exhausted all routes to further my understanding of all that had happened.  There is nothing more to think about, it just is. 

I still do dream of him.  Sometimes I am conflicted in my dreams because both he and John are in the picture and Dale is never the person that I am meant to be with.  Sometimes my dreams are so pleasant that I wake with a heartache because he's no longer in the conscious world.

I have found that while I do think of him less, I think of him more softly which causes me to miss him more now than before.  We spent so much time together and so much time alone, that there will always be that "black hole" of memories that only come and pass through me, but never are able to be revived again.  That saddens me and makes me feel that Dale's death took a extra piece of me with him.  

I have been hardened.  I am not as empathetic as you may assume someone in my situation might be.  My vision of what is truly sympathetic has been reserved for just that... truly sympathetic.  I do not get caught up in trivial details nor in details in which people have control over, but do nothing about them.  Sometimes this makes me feel that I am a bitch.  Sometimes I am grateful that I appreciate that I haven't lost appreciation for the little things because I still don't get caught up in the big.  

Saturday, February 11, 2017

Moment of the Week

I currently have 3 blogs, lol.  Amazing for someone who has had both writer's block and limited time to write over the past year or so.  There's this one, obviously.  The second, A Moment's Glory, I started about two years ago as a spin-off to this one.  I even said goodbye to Glimmering Through Aspen.   My third is one, Fresh and Fabulous:  Capturing Your Inner and Outer Radianceis what I use along side my "business" or better stated my hobby as a Lemongrass Spa consultant.

I go through an ebb and flow on each of them.  Right now I find myself with a mild flow on each.  I have even added a new feature on A Moment's Glory, called the "Moment of the Week" to help keep the flow going.  "Moment of the Week" is just a way for me to think about and appreciate something that has happened to me during the week no matter how minuscule it may seem.  It's also a good way to focus a day of writing and to help prevent writer's block, ;).

After yesterday's post here, I felt that my moment of the week from two weeks ago fit in perfectly to show exactly where I am at this point.


I had just dropped my son off at school on Wednesday morning and continued along my own daily path to work when Fields of Gold  by Sting came on the radio.  That song always brought warm and loving imagery to mind when Dale, my late husband, was alive.  It was unofficially our song.  After he passed away, I was so laden with a multitude of emotions that the song lost its innocence.  I just couldn’t listen to it the same as I once did.  Until Wednesday, and as I made my beeline commute to work on Brooklyn side streets, you could say that I got swept away.

Long after the shock and confusion surrounding his death subsided, it was the bad memories and guilt that hung around.  Guilt being the more powerful of those two forces.  It’s taken almost every bit of the nearly 6 years since his death for me to finally feel those tight grips loosen up.  Wednesday morning, they let go and I managed to listen to the whole song without a bad memory or an ounce of guilt (my nemeses) interrupting.  It was warm and it was sweet and I cherished every moment of that 3+ minute song.