Jan 03, 2021

Birth, Death, Joy, Grief (45) 

“Never be afraid to trust an unknown future 

To a known God” 

• Corrie ten Bloom

My wife of almost 59 years (59 years on June 10, 2020) and best friend Eileen had been diagnosed with terminal cancer of the esophagus, in February 2019. Eileen died on February 22, 2020, the day following the birth of our latest granddaughter, Maria; 60 years to the day after we met; the funeral was March 4, 2020, and the burial was July 3, 2020. Then my brother Tom began having serious health problems, and I spent two three-week sessions with him this summer. But Tom died in October; combined with the COVID pandemic this has created a very challenging year. This blog gives my thoughts, fears, prayers, and hopes during this challenging and difficult time looking at the spaces in my life. 

01/03/2021                               I came across the following message from God on Monday of this past week that sums up my approach to life as directed by God over the years, especially this past year: “The fullness of life is in the here and now.” This was from the meditation by Deepak Chopra that I am currently following. This entry from my life will look at the past year, trying to see it from the vantage of here and now and what God may be saying to me.  

Only by dwelling in the here and now am I able to find joy and happiness after the events of the past year. Life is short, no matter your age, and here and now includes birth and death. I will be writing this all week, pondering the events that shaped my life and so many others. All we have is what we have right now; all else is past (memories) or in anticipation. Only by dwelling on that pure fact am I able to face life as it is given to me by God. This has resulted in that I am able to cook for one, clean up afterwards, keep things reasonably neat, do the laundry (including sheets and towels), and all the things that must be done to live, without anxiety or anger, or the eternal “why me” appearing anywhere in my thoughts. (Yes, I make my bed every morning before going into breakfast.) It is only now that I realize the extent of my acceptance of this phase of life. As some say, life happens, and if you truly make the best of it, I find that I can be happy day to day. Not to say that I don’t miss Eileen; of course I do, but that is not what I have. Eileen is physically gone and will not return; her love as expressed through memory and all that surrounds me keeps me going. I find that I can do the ordinary things of life that Eileen always took care of and just move through it without resentment (at God or fate, or whatever), for this is what I have. And I find that life is still good. 

 Eileen’s motto was that it was a pleasure to look at a reasonably neat place; and once the children had left, she kept everything neat. Oh yes, children could (would) mess things up, but each evening it was cleared and lightly cleaned. Eileen tolerated my messiness; not happily, but she tolerated it. Once a week she demanded I clean up, put the mail away, and throw things away if I was finished with them. It is the same with grandchildren; the mess was accepted and loved, but afterwards everything was (is) put in its’ place. I find it is not too great a challenge if I take each day as it comes and put things in their place each day when I have it in my hand. 

It wasn’t until this fall and Barbara had left, and I was alone, that everything fell into place. I had made our bed each morning once Eileen became ill, as an unmade bed was a no-no, and I learned all the tricks over the time of her illness as she watched and directed. She would insist I clean the kitchen counters every day, put things in their place every day, and being with her all day gave me her perspective on the beauty of what she had created, and the personal necessity to continue. Things look nice; neat and orderly, but not too orderly.  

In the beginning last spring with the pandemic spiraling out of control and the empty house, and Eileen’s death very fresh, it was very difficult. I did my best, but it was a challenge to start each day and move, as all I wanted to do was sit and stare (hide from reality?); then my brother’s illness occurred, and I spent so much time with him; I had no choice but to concentrate on his needs, which included cooking meals and laundry. I depended on Barbara and Dan and family when they were here to keep things here going well, and they all had learned what the house required, so things looked neat, plants watered, etc. when I returned, I began to take control of my life as a single person, concentrating on each day, one day at a time to keep things looking good, even if the only person to appreciate it is myself. 

And that is ok. 

There is a difference between joy and happiness in my thinking (I apparently disagree with many others with these definitions, but this is how I see them). To me, joy is that spontaneous leap inside that rings the body-mind with something (like a baby’s smile or a beautiful sunset), and happiness is the condition that life is good and is treating me reasonably well, a condition that is a choice of mind and does not depend on circumstances. Thus, I can be happy, but not filled with joy most of the time. I miss having someone to chat with, especially to share things that could bring me joy; but I can exclaim firmly that life is still good.  

The next two or three months will be very challenging, as we are entering the period that Eileen became very ill, moved to hospice care at home, died, and we held the funeral. Up to this time frame a year ago she was doing reasonably well with only mild discomfort, and we even made it to Mohonk Mountain House for our annual visit with the family.  

I am leaning quite heavily on attempting to center myself on the here and now, and I can only hope that this works out. I shall start my book group back up soon using Zoom, keep myself busy, work on the models, do some of the early work on my bonsai, begin to develop my on-line course based on my book, perhaps try a little painting (using a detailed paint-by-number canvas), try and see if my hand will wrap around my guitar now that almost 20 years have passed from the hand injury, etc. And, of course, read. God has filled my life with a multitude of possibilities and opportunities.  

I find that this time of year, with the winter solstice, is a time of universal joy. Christianity chose this time of year to celebrate the birth of Jesus, but it had been a period of celebration for thousands of years before the time of Jesus. (We have no clear idea when Jesus was born, so this season was selected as it was already a pagan feast.) The end of loss-of-daylight and the start of the lengthening of the day was celebrated widely, so why not use this as a celebration of the birth of Jesus, when a new day was dawning? I personally find wishing someone Happy Holidays more in keeping with the original use of this period, and to have at least a few days when most can smile at least a bit is a wonderful thing, no matter what the reason. I believe strongly that God is happy just to see people smile and perform acts of love, for whatever reason. 

We will be moving out of that period of love and joy as we approach the anniversary of Eileen’s death, so that is a dual depressant that will be there to stare me in the face. I hopefully will let God take care of it. 

One day at a time. 

I am writing this part on New Years’ eve (Thursday). Last year Eileen was still with us, and she stayed up to see the ball drop, which was the first time in many years she remained awake. When I mentioned it, she remarked that she wanted to see it for the last time. We had no idea that within two months she would be gone, just a fact of life she accepted but I was having problems with. I did not mention that event last year in my posting (I was trying to be optimistic), but it has stayed in my memory.  

This is now Saturday afternoon, and once more I am alone, as Barbara left today to return to her home. Dan is in Peru with Alisandra and Maria, the baby. He arrived this morning. All my the Christmas decorations are still up, for maybe another two weeks, before I take them down. I have always loved the joy of Christmas and love the lights and easy mood of the season, counteracting the gloom and darkness of the season, and left lights up long after most had taken theirs down. We finished my cookies, and they were scrumptious. Had the last one last evening. But for me, I will leave the makers of joy still surrounding me. (I have always been puzzled by those who have the tree and lights down the day after Christmas. Did not they hear of the twelve days of Christmas?) The book “The Soul of Christmas” by Thomas Moore is a wonderful treatise on the broader aspects of the meaning of Christmas, (and the Christ appearing at that time). This is one of the books I am presently reading, or re-reading. 

Meditation  

Gentle One, You hold me and rock me in Your Being, supporting me and letting me breath Yourself and Eileen, love in the purity of the All, during this time. I am so grateful for the 60 years You permitted Eileen to be with me, holding me gently in love. I am so fortunate to have had that taste of eternity in love. I place myself at this difficult time under Your care, assured that I will feel Your love through the love of Eileen that permeates the air.