Dec 13, 2020

Birth, Death, Joy, Grief (42)

“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.

12/13/2020          Saturday I revived an old tradition. I started making my favorite Christmas cookies, molasses. I had made these cookies sometimes over the years, but it has been several years (4-5) since I last made them. It is a fairly intensive project; making the dough one day and baking the next day as it has to sit in the refrigerator overnight. (Actually anytime over one hour, but it takes several hours just to do the mix, at least for me, and so I always wait to bake. So did my Mother, as this is an old German recipe she had from her Mother.) I kept Christmas music on, using the Hallmark channel as source. The nice thing is that with a little care they last for months, if I add an apple slice to the container(s) every few weeks, and keep the cookies separated by wax paper. I will make various shapes with the cookie cutters we have, and maybe ice them with colored icing if I feel up to it.

It is amazing how the days seem to flow by, it seems that I just got up and it is bedtime. And day follows day, and here it is almost 10 months since Eileen died. I stopped by the cemetery this week, just to talk with Eileen about Christmas and how much I miss her. I have accepted the truth that she is gone, but her laughter and joy fills this house, in my memories. She keeps encouraging me to expand (a challenge with COVID) and be open to the next adventure when it comes.

And so life goes on. The pain in our world is graphic, and COVID has made it more visible. Part of our broken health system has revealed the areas of medical scarcity in these almost-invisible areas. The death rate in supposedly safe places of homes for the elderly is frightening. (40% of the known COVID deaths have been in these facilities.) And the apparent increase in severe cases in people of color shames us as a nation, let alone the mockery of the democratic process now going on. (This may get me in trouble with Facebook, but so be it.) (Yes, it did before when I mentioned the election process.)

Sufficient time has passed being alone is the new normal. The day slides by as I keep myself busy and the seasons move on. There seems to be no surprises except the occasional phone call from a charity that Eileen supported, and I have to tell them that she died. That and the many charities we both supported whose appeals come in both our names. That is somewhat ironic in that I spent quite a bit of time getting both of our names as a couple on their lists. It was completed about the time that Eileen was diagnosed with cancer. Now I have the reverse task.

I no longer expect to see her in her chair or in the kitchen. That has passed, and life continues. I do find myself often wishing to tell her something, often just a remark in passing that I can no longer do. We are a community species; and it is a challenge to be completely alone. One of places I sometimes use is the family text, so I can tell someone, such as baking the cookies.

And Facebook is present, as our friends and family communicate well there. Especially Eileen’s family with their 18 families (Eileen’s three siblings had 18 children all told) plus a new generation starting. Lots of nieces and nephews to watch, and their children, and now the next generation. Love the pictures. Several engagements announced, etc. And of course Facetime gives me access to grandchildren that are almost, but not quite, as good as being there.

There are times where depression sets in, often in the morning when I first get up. Then I have to force myself to get up, and I use that time of morning after breakfast to immersive myself in meditation and readings. These pull me up and help me to realize that just being alive is a God-given gift of enormous proportions. God gently holds me every day, and helps me to start the day, keeping things clean, orderly, and pleasant to gaze at. That is so important – the beauty of the house and the breathtaking view of nature outside sheds love and wonder at the goodness of the Lord. I am starting to realize that if I wish to pass a feeling of the joy of this house on to my family I will have to start to declutter the house. Eileen had boxes of files of her lessons and all the things she did over the years, and I have a similar pile. Next year will be a time of sorting and getting rid of things that are of no use but remembrances of days gone by.

Meditation

Oh Gentle One, I lean on You throughout the day, every day. I find joy in surrendering to You in the morning prayer period, and You often speak to me through feelings and emotions that arise. The love that is Eileen that permeates all is breathtaking, and I am led to continue joy in life for as long as it persists and to add my own joy to life.