Wednesday, September 26, 2012

He took the flag


I am reminded from time to time that the universe conspires to make us laugh if we remember not to take things so seriously.

I so rarely leave my house during the day but this past Monday I left and went to the Twin Cities for the day.

I returned home at 7pm only to find my 20’ flag pole and flag missing.

Yes, you read that right. 

The flag pole that my late husband, a Vietnam veteran put up in pride was missing.

It was just gone.  Totally gone.

After filing police report, making several calls, and stewing for a few hours it came to light that my lawn service accidentally hit the flag pole with the mower, bent it and couldn’t fix it so they cut it down and took it to the flag shop. 

The owner understood the sentimental value and was having a hard time telling me about it. 

Obviously they agreed to fix it.

What we all understood is that you can fix / replace the physical aspect but they can’t replace the emotional / sentimental aspect given that Bill bought the flag pole from the VFW, put the flag pole up and flew the flag proudly as a veteran.

Some things just can’t be replaced.

I was angry, frustrated, sad, and just plain tired.

So where, you ask, is the humor I mentioned at the beginning?

At 2:30am I woke up laughing and thought “Bill must have read my blog from Labor Day and decided he needed to divorce me too so he took the flag”. 

(You have to read the blog titled “Labor Day Weekend / Cleaning Stuff” and read it all the way through to understand this comment.)

As my son said, “Dad’s flag is gone.  The next flag that goes up, Mom, is yours.”

Touché, Bill, touché.

And I’m laughing.






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Saturday, September 8, 2012

End of day


The candles are lit
Casting shadows
On the wall.

The clock ticks softly
Chiming the hour
Down the hall.

The night is dark
The air calm and still
Quiet for all.

I reflect on the day
And what was accomplished
And what remains to do.

My thoughts drift to you.




Copyright 2012, DayJOY, LLC.  All rights reserved.

Monday, September 3, 2012

In that moment


You are the
One I write about
In that moment.

At times you
Are the one
In front of me.

At times you
Are the one
I think about.

At times you
Are the one who’s
Here and now.

At times you
Are the one who’s
There and gone.

Sometimes you are friend,
Sometimes you are lover,
Sometimes you are higher power.

You are my mirror
And I am yours
In that moment.

We see the world
Through each other’s eyes
Whether friend, lover, higher power.

And in that reflection
We see what is
And what could be.

And while we are imperfect
I see perfection
In that moment.






Copyright 2012, DayJOY, LLC.  All rights reserved.

Sunday, September 2, 2012

Labor Day Weekend / Cleaning Stuff


Warning – if you are newly grieving the loss of a partner this post may not be comfortable to read.  You may want to skip it and come back when more time has elapsed.

Remember, my grieving started October 28, 2008, the day of Bill’s diagnosis of terminal cancer so I am basically almost 4 years into my grieving process even though he passed away in 2011.

And, when you’re grieving, it truly does matter where you are on the time elapsed continuum.





Labor Day Weekend

It’s Labor Day and a beautiful weekend.  Lots of sun, a light breeze.  Great time for doing outside work like washing windows.   Getting things ready for the winter we all know is coming.

So out comes the ladder.  We bought one of the collapsible ladders when we moved to the house however was something I had neglected to learn how to use at the time.

Note to self – tis great when one can read and understand manufacturer’s instructions.  Too bad they didn’t mention where not to put one’s arms, hands and fingers when extending and collapsing the ladder. 

Ladder extended, windows washed, ladder collapsed and stored again. 

Outside work complete; only a bruise, some minor bleeding,  Still have all my fingers and they all still work.  I am grateful I didn’t fall off the ladder or break the window below the one I was trying to wash when the ladder tipped.  Oops and good save.  Whew.

Now for the inside of the windows.

And that’s when it hit me.  I have a lot of stuff inside my house.

I’m really not a hoarder.  If I’m honest, I’m more of an avoider.

And out of the blue this thought pops in my head that I need to also divorce my late husband.

Whoa – where did that come?  I’m betting half of you just choked and the other half went ‘wow, that’s harsh’.

But hang on before you close the blog.  Stay with me here and let me explain.

I’ve been both divorced and widowed. 

Both leave. You. ALONE.

And dealing with stuff.  Lots of stuff.  Some emotional, and some physical.

The key difference is with a divorce, the two of you agree on the division of physical stuff.  Well, mostly agree, not that divorced couples can agree on much of anything, Probably why we all got divorced.

In the world of “your stuff” (your partner’s), “our stuff” and “my stuff”, you each generally keep what you brought into the marriage and divide the “our stuff” into “your stuff” and “my stuff”. 

And end up with two piles of stuff and each take theirs leaving you to deal only with only “your” physical stuff. 

If along the way you choose to leave ‘stuff’ behind, you forfeit said left behind stuff.  The other person gets to claim forfeited stuff as their stuff, or basically “your forfeited stuff” becomes “my stuff.”

And I get to do what I want with my stuff without guilt.  Well, maybe a twinge of emotional guilt now and again, but generally in a divorce there is more anger than guilt.  So tis much easier to dispose of said stuff.

So, once again, at the end of the day, the only stuff left for you to deal with is your stuff.

However, when you partner passes away, “their stuff”, “our stuff” and “my stuff” end up being all “my stuff” by default, not forfeit.

Wow, and what an emotionally charged time it is trying to work through the disposition of “their stuff” when everything takes on a huge emotional life of its own.

It’s hard to let go of “their stuff” as each time you part with something you feel like you are parting with a piece of them.

Most days I still can’t do it without my eyes leaking.

So I avoid dealing with it. 

Until I try to wash windows from the inside and realize I can’t get to them because of the all stuff I’ve avoided dealing with up to now.

For example, there’s an oscilloscope on the workbench (and yes, I had to look up how to spell oscilloscope).  What is that you ask – I also had to look up what it's used for  – anyone with an electronic background would recognize it as something that reads electronic signals. 

So I haven’t used it in 18 months, and since I’m not in the electrical field and never plan on getting into that profession, I have no practical use for an oscilloscope. 

So, from a practical standpoint, it should be an easy piece of ‘stuff’ to part with.

Yes, one would think, but no, not quite that easy.  I am close to crying trying to agree on a price and in the end basically say take it, make it go away.

I realize I’ve gotten so used to seeing and avoiding his stuff.  It’s just there.  I dust it, store it, and move it from room to room.  But I don’t process it.  The stuff quietly takes on a life of its own just by being there.

I’ve come to appreciate not making a decision is also a decision.

And by deciding to not process ‘the stuff' yet it’s another way that I keep stuck in an emotional rut without ever being consciously aware of being stuck.

So that’s what I mean when I say it occurs to me that I have to divorce my late husband.  I really need to separate my stuff from his stuff.

Maybe this will be easier if I look at all of ‘his stuff’ as “forfeited stuff” and claim it as my own and make it ‘my stuff’.

It doesn’t mean that I have to get rid of everything.  It means I have to claim what’s mine as mine, not as it used to be his, now it’s mine.  It’s just mine.  I just need to stop holding onto his stuff from habit.

I have to let go in order of this stuff if I’m honest with myself and want to make room for others.

Hopefully this makes sense now and not seem quite so harsh.

If not, I’ll use the excuse it’s another one of my musings from the middle of the night with a full moon.






Copyright 2012 DayJOY, LLC.  All rights reserved.