You know... I don't actually feel okay. 

I feel pretty good most days, but I don't feel whole... or healed... or together... or at peace.

I keep thinking that I need to make plans for the future. That I need to begin DOING something with this life of mine --- other than take care of dogs and college-children.  I feel somewhat guilty 'cause I don't even have the motivation to plan and prepare my own meals for my girls. I can't even cut my own grass these days. I think I need to be active in society and make some little corner of my world a better place.

I just don't have it in me right now, though. And, I think that's okay... I KNOW that I have suffered a fair number of losses (six) over the past eight years and that a person doesn't just get over those. They compound. It takes years to heal from loss...  And yet, I struggle 'cause I'm not doing anything. And, I'm trying to give myself some grace...

I was reminded tonight, though,  that Harv took good care of his family. And, while there is a definite hole in our lives, he provided for us in a way that gives me the luxury of healing for pretty much however long I need to take. Even though I wish I didn't have to heal at all, I am thankful that I can. 

Another sign of his thoughtfulness and love for his family.

Sure do wish he was here.

For the past week or so, I've felt unsettled and "on edge"... Haven't been able to really understand exactly why, but I can't seem to relax. 

Last Thursday, I was in the garage workshop area gathering camping supplies and making a pile for what turned out to be a one day trip. (RAIN!) But, as I was gathering, I realized that it was Harv... It was Harv not being here, not packing for the trip, not making lists and organizing the camping equipment stuff... The fact that he wasn't going on this trip with us... THAT'S what was buggin' me.... Tears welled up in my eyes back there in the shop and I kinda felt a little bit of release and relief -- at least in identifying what was buggin' me.

But, I'm still unsettled and "on edge." Not totally sure why, but maybe identifying it helped but didn't actually "cure" the uneasiness. Maybe it's 'cause our sweet kitty, Andy, wandered from home and still hasn't come back yet. Maybe it's 'cause I miss Laura, too, and I don't feel like I really have had time to grieve that loss because Harv died only five months later. 

Maybe it's just 'cause I want to heal from all the loss and hurry up and get back to normal... (who knows what THAT is?!). I think I just want to stop feeling sad and lonely and grief. I just want to be better...all the way around...

I know that's not how one gets through grief. You just have to walk that whole path -- however long it takes...

But maybe that's what's buggin' me.

I don't know. 

I DO know that Harv should be here. So should Laura. 

I DO know that I was lucky to have both of those sweet people for as long as I did.

I DO know that I still have a good life...

Thankful for that.

Some days

Sometimes I just can't get over what work it is to miss people and to try to figure out one's place in the world when so many loved ones are gone... 

Some days I pretty much breeze through the day...just doing regular things and feeling pretty good.

Some days are full of good friends and good family and moments with those good people.

Some days I think about how this life turned out this way and how, if I had been directing the play, I would've made the ending to a few parts of this story quite a bit different. 

Some days I feel very thankful for so many blessings that have come along the way.

And some days -- or even some parts of some days -- are just plain sad.

Sometimes I wish there wasn't so much silence in my mornings and evenings. 

And, sometimes I think about people who have traveled this road before me and I think about how I had no clue what they might've been feeling after their loss(es). I technically still don't really know, but I think I have an inkling now.

I wonder, sometimes, what my future looks like? Do I have 30 more years here? How do I do 30 more years without those I'm missing? Will I feel less strongly in a few years than I do now?  When do I stop feeling incapable of completing projects? When do I jump into creative things? When can I concentrate enough to finish a whole book without distractions in my brain? When do I get to the point where I am available to friends who are going through hard times? When do I stop thinking about me?

Sometimes I want to fight and yell and scream and change the story back to the way I imagined it years ago... And then I snap out of that fantasy and have to accept what is...against my will.

I don't like missing people I love. 

I just don't.

Recently, I received an envelope full of newsletter + pamphlet on grieving from an organization that I know of and I just wanna say... 

I know that the people who send those things are trying to help me through my grief. They mean well and they want me to heal and feel better again... I totally get it and I respect their calling to help others through grief... Because grief is hard. 

But I'm just gonna say it: when I see those things -- that I KNOW are meant to help me and are sent with concern -- the first feeling I have is anger. 

I don't want to read any information about grief. I don't want to hear that anybody else has cancer. I don't want to volunteer to walk or ride or skip or jump or whatever to raise money to save lives of those with cancer... I've had enough cancer for a while...

Someday, I might want to jump back into fundraising and cancer support. Someday I may be the one who sends out the newsletter to the grieving community.

But for now... I don't want to have lessons on how to grieve better or participate in anything that relates to cancer.

I just want to get through (what seems to be interminable) grieving for all the ones I've lost over the past eight years... 

I mean no harm... but I don't want any lessons right now...

That's all... 

I've been struggling for quite some time to try and describe what's happening inside of me. I've started THREE posts and deleted them all... It's hard to explain what's happening, but here is my attempt.

A widow's perspective so far:

I don't like the word "widow."

I don't like eating my dinners in front of the tv every night... Though I do enjoy some mindless-no-puppy-supervision-activity.

I miss having my family here even though you heard me complain for YEARS how much I love alone time. I DO love alone time...but I think I've had enough for now... until I'm ready for more.

I miss having a best friend who lives here who can listen to me wail and cry and yell and complain... and laugh and dance and be silly and eat fun food and watch tv with me...

I miss being able to discuss financial decisions (which I feel overly inadequate to handle) and house decisions and family plans with that best friend.

It is almost inconceivable that I will never again in this lifetime ever see my husband again.

And, I am SO thankful that he is no longer sick. SO thankful that he no longer has to endure pain or chemo or anything crappy at all.

I want him to meet Clementine.

I want him to rejoice at all the things his daughters are doing.

I want him to go camping with us on Father's Day this year.

I want to hear him complain about a cold or a headache that he doesn't feel like doing anything about...

I want to hear that STUPID guitar playing RIGHT IN MY EAR when I'm trying to concentrate on something else.

I want him to sit with me in the kitchen while i fix dinner.

I want him to wrestle with Raney in the family room while I'm trying to watch stupid tv.

I want to have his legs twitch in the bed while I'm trying to go to sleep..

And, I want to wake up with him next to me in the morning...

I KNOW I will get through this... I KNOW that it's "making me stronger"

But I don't actually want to be strong.

I want Harvey here...

Random Beach Thoughts

We’re at the beach. Kalaloch (pronounced “CLAY-luc”)… It’s on the Pacific coast off the Olympic Peninsula. We discovered it one time when we were driving to the Oregon coast and we’ve come many years since then. We like to get the bluff cabins so we can stare straight at the ocean. We also like coming when it’s cold and rainy and blustery. I wish you all could hear this ocean. It’s so giant and loud and powerful…  And when you’re on the beach, looking at the horizon, you have to look up a little bit…

There are logs all along the shore that have washed up… HUMONGOUS logs that would certainly injure or kill a person if they weren’t careful. Beautiful logs… red, brown, tan, gray…

When the tide is out, the beach seems vast…. When it’s in, you might better stay in your cabin or at least on the bluff.

Raney loves the beach ‘cause she can walk mostly off-leash and explore all the smells and choose from a multitude of sticks…in various shapes and sizes.

I love the beach here ‘cause it’s wide open (at low tide) and I can walk forever and ponder many deep and wondrous things. I can talk to myself or God or whoever I feel like talkin’ to…

The first time we came here, Sarah and Hannah were in the third grade.  The last time we came, Harv was about two months away from dying….  So… there’s been a lot of life lived between those times.

The beach has always caused me to think deep thoughts… God always seems so big when I’m at the beach – especially one like this one. I almost always get introspective when I come to the beach… and I know that’s okay….

I’ve found that I’m pretty possessive of the way I grieve Harv… I don’t really want to share much out loud about my grief. I know I share a lot with my writing but there are some things that I keep close to me…that I believe are pretty close to sacred in the way I feel them.

How do you let go? How do you get past the wantin’ to tell stories or share inside jokes or call when you’re on a trip? I know you don’t. I’ve known that since Mama died… but I kinda wish there was a point…. And I’m also glad there’s not gonna be…  ‘Cause it means that the ones we love are still with us…

So, I will walk on that beach and look up to see the horizon… and I will watch the sun set tonight and think of that man that I love…and others I love… and be thankful their lives intersected with mine…

And, sometimes… I’ll just go ahead and feel that hole (or those holes) more acutely than others… but I will still feel.  And I will always love.

I discovered something today...

I can only do a few things in a day.

I suppose that it's part my personality and part grief.

By most people's standards, I did almost nothing today... Saw a puppy, went to a few stores for errands, threw the ball for Raney, did a tiny bit of crafting and then I was finished.

I had other plans for the evening, but I just couldn't do 'em.

Sometimes I just reach capacity with social things pretty quickly -- even if I haven't been very social.

I also have noticed lately, that decision-making is difficult.

I do and I don't want to do most things.

I love the idea of venturing out and I take great comfort in being reclusive.

Exploring new things sounds simultaneously exciting and scary.

Sadness and resolution and happiness are often right there next to each other.

This whole thing will work itself out...

It's just another funny little stage in the journey of my life.

Love you people!