A Grocery Store Revolution

We must all.........

Everybody has an answer to fill in the blank.  Everybody knows what it takes. Words like love, respect, prayer, patience, peace, tolerance, reform, control, matter; words, words, words, ideas, ideas, ideas.    Let me ask a question: When you walk out of your door, get in your car and go buy groceries, are you living up to your words?  Are you practicing your ideas? How do we do that?

Everybody has to buy groceries.  We don't always enjoy it, but we do it to live.  Let's take a scene at the local Wal-Mart Neighborhood Market.  It's weekly shopping time.  Everyone arrives at the store in their own way - driving, walking, bus, however.  When you walk through the doors of the Market, you become a "grocery-store person".  You choose your buggy (cart, basket).  So does everyone else.  You walk each aisle according to your list, or your shopping style. So does everyone else.  Do you ever really pay attention to the "grocery-store people"?

There's a family blocking the cereal aisle because the four kids won't stay on one side.  There are teenagers being loud, perhaps even pushing one another in the cart.  There are senior citizens moving slowly and standing for what seems like forever in front of the eggs, just when you need some.  Do you practice your ideas on these people?  I'm not specifying what race or religion, these are just grocery-store people.  Do you smile?  Do you speak a kind word?  Do you respect?  Do you remind yourself in your own mind that they were once you, or could be the future you? 

I think this is where it starts.  I have had many occasions to simply smile at someone that may have made me impatient or uncomfortable.  I'm also not so innocent that I don't think of how to defend myself in certain places and situations - but I don't think that will build the better world for which we all long.  I don't pretend to have the answer as to what will build that better world; but I do know that you can give it a jump-start at the grocery store. Start a revolution.  Smile at someone today.  

One year, cloudy water and Mother's Day

This was intended to be my final post.  I told myself  "I'll end it at the one year anniversary.  I'll just let it be about the first year of grief."  I tell myself a lot of things that don't happen.  There's a story that is my life and I've chosen to chronicle it here.  It would be unfair to leave it hanging at this point.  I'm wanting to know what happens myself!

Mother's Day morning, the pool water was yellow and cloudy.  Somehow, the cloudy water mirrored my attitude.  Three days prior was the one year mark for Scott's death. It was a day.  Not horrible, not great, just a day.  I called his mom, I called my girls.  I was grateful that the girls did the public, social media "wish you were still here" tribute.  Both were beautiful, and I didn't want to have to do that.

I received one note in the mail before that day.  It was from Maria, my college roommate, who lost her husband the very same way last September.  Maria gets it.  She understands that the date must be acknowledged, but she also knows about Robbie and how I'm feeling hopeful again.  Part of her note said :You can now walk into May 9th and into your next chapter, or rather volume, feeling happy and excited."  I kept that in mind on Friday, May 9th.  I took a breath and carried on, thinking positively.

Friday turned out to be a positive day.  Robbie sent me flowers at work.  That's a big deal.  A beautiful arrangement that was still going strong a week later, and a nice note.  Positive, happy and excited were on the front burner.  Saturday then dawned bright and my mood wasn't even shattered by Gordon getting dirt all over my white linen pants.  Although alone most of the morning, I solved that problem by leisurely shopping and doing errands.  My friend came over in the afternoon, we hit the pool and then saw a movie.  Not too bad.

Mother's Day Sunday, I woke to one nice note, although not from my kids (at that point).  When I looked out the window, I was surprised to see the the pool water had turned a cloudy yellow. I immediately checked chemicals, turned on filters, researched "yellow, cloudy water", scrubbed, emptied, etc. etc.  I then sat back and crossed my fingers. That's what I do with the pool, a lot of the time.  It may have been Mother's Day, but that water was not going to clear itself!  The rest of the day was filled with either visiting or talking with those whom I love.  I was only alone for a portion of the morning.  I did talk to one person that was having their first mother's day without the mom of the family.  As much as I want to reach out, and even though I've experienced almost the very same thing, I don't feel I helped very much.  Some days are just hard.


I don't like not being able to help people and I don't like not being able to help myself.  Thank goodness these "hard days" only last a while.  Time marched on, I've seen Robbie face to face again, and last night my girls came home.....with a Mother's Day present.  The few hours of the cloudy water and being alone have faded away like the cloudy water itself.  All it took to clear the water was two bags of chlorine shock and a little time for filtering.

Most of the past year has been cloudy for me.  I've learned that it is possible for the cloudiness to clear with time.  It took the shock of the fact that life can go on with happiness and the time to filter that fact. It might not be exactly one year, but dismissing the timeline is becoming easier.  Just this past weekend (two weeks after mother's day), the cloudiness started to creep back into the pool. No fair! I thought it was gone! I also thought that grief might disappear with the one year mark. You guessed it. It doesn't. It can be eased, though. Shock and time.  Go away, cloudy days.  I choose the shock of feeling happy and secure once again along with the time that has gone by to banish cloudiness and restore clear vision.

Sometimes I Can't Say It, But Disney Can 4/29/14

I can't say certain things.  I have a code that I employ.  Those close to me usually know what I mean, but I avoid the most direct words.  I don't know why,  I should be able to speak clearly about anything.  I enjoy employing the right words to get a message across.  So why am I shut down when it comes to talking about Scott's death and all the things that happen afterward?  I didn't even want to type those words in that last sentence.

Many of you have heard me speak directly, contradicting what I just said.  It does happen.  I try hard.  I act. I pretend that I can say that and move on with the story or conversation at hand.  I fool myself and it works for a while. Other times, I just can't. My voice can't speak "when Scott died", so I say "...with what happened...", usually with a wave of my hand and a sad look on my face.  People understand.  They don't push.  I'm pretty sure people would understand anything, though, so I don't know why I hide.

I hide what I'm doing.  If I say I need to "get some things done", I am probably finally cleaning his clothes out of the chest of drawers and taking them to Goodwill.  If I have a "meeting", I am probably finding out how to transfer assets or close an account (or even a business) by seeing a professional in person or talking on the phone.

I'm trying now, though.  Since I'm starting to be open about the fact that I'm seeing someone (dating, have a boyfriend, in a relationship.....what's it called when you're in your 50s??), I'm really attempting to state the facts. Today, though, Disney made it clear.  You see, there are some Disney movies that, when they are showing, I can play every word of dialogue and every song lyric in my head.  I can do a complete talk and sing-along with these certain few movies.  Today, it was "The Lion King".

It's "Field Day" at school for the the next three days.  During Field Day, a grade level goes outside for their fun races/relays for half of the school day.  Six grade levels, one half day each  = three entire days.  Since the coaches run field day, the 'large group' time happens with me and the art teacher.  All the kids in the grade level, sitting in the gym, watching a movie.  Sounds easy, right?  It is, about eighty percent of the time.  The other twenty percent is filled with the challenge of pre-teens that have attitudes, eight-year-olds that hit each other, or little ones that throw up or bite someone. Today I play imperial ruler and choose which movie will entertain a grade level the best.  I decided that third grade would get "The Lion King".  They needed a powerful movie because they came in all dressed in their colored t-shirts, ready to go for their afternoon of field day.  I was blindly singing along when I sang these words:

"From the day we arrive on the planet

And blinking, step into the sun.

There's more to see than can ever be seen,

more to do than can ever be done.

There's far too much to take in here,

More to find than can ever be found.

But the sun rolling high 

Through the sapphire sky

Keeps great and small on the endless round

It's the Circle of Life

And it moves us all

Through despair and hope

Through faith and love

Till we find our place 

On the path unwinding

It's the Circle,

The Circle of Life"

I'd heard it at least five hundred times before. I've sung along, taught the notes, conducted it in performance. I've even heard it several times since Scott died.  (See what I did there? I'm trying!)  But I heard it differently today because of the progression of events in my life.  Who knew that a cartoon about lions could validate what I was discovering;  that life can move on - from despair to hope?  Quite often though, I find that songs or writings can give me inspiration, validation and a sense of confirmation for what I am feeling.  I think we all do, and that's part of the reason the arts exist.

Moving on doesn't mean we leave our past behind. (Or "your behind in your past" , as Pumbaa says!) Simba didn't want to talk about Mufasa's death, either.  But his friends encouraged him to try to keep enjoying life. "Moving on" is not about forgetting the past;  for me it means finding my place on "the path unwinding".  I have my own personal "Timons and Pumbaas".  Thank you for all your kind words and encouragement to find my place.

Last, but not least, a round of applause for Tim Rice, lyricist, and Disney - well said, my friends.

Are you entertaining? 4/1/14 (not an April fool!)

It was the cutest question ever.  I'm a sucker for the old-fashioned phrases anyway, but this one just made me giggle, blush and think "Oh, how cute!" at the same time.  There is this adorable, very stylish, Southern LADY (capitals on purpose!) at my workplace.  She is a source of inspiration to me because her charm and happy attitude never falter.  She also went through losing her husband suddenly - but is now happily re-married.

I asked her, shortly after I started talking to someone, how soon after her husband died she started dating, or met her second husband.  I was trying to sort through my own feelings of stepping into any kind of involvement, especially when a year had not passed. (Her answer was more proper than my situation, so I just tucked that knowledge away and carried on!)  I just get the feeling that if I do something too quickly or without seeming to show proper respect, that everyone will pass judgement.  Maybe I've watched too much "Gone With the Wind", but this is what my mind sees when people ask a question and I answer honestly:

So instead, I drop hints or keep quiet.  If you read this, then you know - but there are very few of you, to tell the truth.  I'm not sure some of my relatives even read it!  It's a fact I can share now, though; I'm dating.  He lost his special someone, too, so we have that in common.  I didn't search for him, he searched for me.  I feel like a character from a book because things have been so coincidental and magical.  It's early days right now, but it's very nice.

I thought I was keeping things to myself and a few close friends, until the cute question today.  Precious Southern lady came into the workroom for lunch, and started looking around while her food was heating in the microwave.  "I just love to look at what everybody brings for lunch!" she drawled.  Focusing on my little dish:  "Oooh, you made a pot roast?  For just you?"  I blushed, and just shook my head 'no'.  She then whisper-exclaimed (oh, so properly...) "Oh my goodness, are you entertaining?"  I nodded, laughing, while she gave me a big hug.  "I'm so glad to hear that, good for you!"   I could only agree.  Please don't faint like Aunt Pittypat.....please just accept the notion that I might be "entertaining" and it might be making me happier than I have been in a long time!

Double Classes and Taking a Breath

Double classes.  Sometimes it's terrible.  Sometimes it's perfectly fine.  Sometimes even - one hour of terrible followed by one hour of wonderful.  Double classes for a "large group" teacher does not mean two homerooms.  It means three to four homerooms of darling children.

It takes a certain amount of disciplinary skill to handle large group.  There's the authoritative voice, the appeal to all the years that they have known you (and your expectations), the promise of reward, and the occasional threat (and action) of having to "sit out".  It is possible to manage a large (from 60-90) group of students successfully if you have enough tricks in your bag.

Teaching double classes is difficult and sometimes annoying, but I only expound on that to relay the miraculous fact that I, on a day like today, can still be in a "good mood".

Someone like me, on their journey of grief, may smile, laugh or joke on the outside.  But for a long period of time, those looks and sounds are surface only.  I heard an actual account, just yesterday, of what others say about "how she's doing" (she being me).  They say "She's doing great!"  and best of all; "Her spirits are good."  The person that knows my spirits is someone I only speak to about once a week.

I am not calling those people liars.  They are telling the truth as they interpret it.  They are seeing my act on the stage that is my world.  The costumes, the makeup (Thank God!) the portrayal of expected emotions, and the utterances of the lines that everyone wants to hear.  I have fooled them all, haha!  Until now.  Today, my smile felt real.  Today, the feeling down deep inside matched the way my eyes crinkled with laughter.  On a double class day, no less!

It's a journey.  On a journey, you make progress.  Some are quicker, some are slower.  There is no minimum or maximum speed.  Some progress is internal.  Some is very public.  And some...well, some has to do with coming to terms with your new self because all of the sudden it's not as new, it's who you are.  It was an abrupt realization.  In my mind I compared it to someone in the movies or on TV that is knocked out and not breathing.....and then WHAM! - they take that breath and they're still alive.  My emotions did that recently.  That isn't a complete victory over inner sadness - it's just a break from it.  Like anything that starts, though, it can grow.

Today, I was doing great.  The life-saving breath experience was still a memory that made me feel happy inside. My spirits were good today.  It's about time, they've been bad inside for almost a year - in spite of what some others think.  You just couldn't see it.  Today, the double class did not incur my wrath.  (Wrath for me usually being a lecture, haha.)  Instead they incurred my humor and sly jokes that tricked them into behaving for me.  I know that actually feeling the happiness I've faked for so long won't be permanent, but I pray it won't be a stranger, either.

Still no right or wrong? (With apologies to the Yankees...)

The "D" is wearing off my ring; my spoon ring that Mom had made from the DuRant family monogrammed silver. Yes, I will probably joke with you and tell you that we hid that silver from the Yankees, just as Scarlett would have, but I really don't think it's been around that long.  It makes me sad that the initial is a lot less pronounced than it used to be, but I don't want to stop wearing it.  It's one of my favorite pieces of jewelry. What's the right thing to do?  Who will ever love the ring more than I do?  Shouldn't I get the full enjoyment from it?  It's quite a silly dilemma, I know, and it doesn't matter.  I still wonder about how you decide things of this nature, though. Can I truly just do what I want?  Am I really still allowed to say there is no right and no wrong?

    I don't know anymore.  What's right, that is....or what's wrong.  And this sentiment has nothing to do with people that have questioned me or told me "You better watch out...."  I am a very fortunate woman; everyone supports me, cheers me on, tells me how smart I am, etc.  I am obviously smart enough to surround myself with the right people, wink wink.  Here's what I don't know - when do  I throw out that "no right, no wrong" philosophy because it has become a crutch that allows me to be a spoiled brat that says "I want this...." and gets it, with no regard for anyone involved in whatever "it" is?

This is a subject that needs a lot of "thought".  I wish it could be all light and fun.  But it's not, and I do mean to approach it still.  I want to ensure that I take the right path.  I've seen and known people that use their circumstance as an excuse to be selfish.  A "dowager countess", or "poor widow" attitude - where everyone in society still today makes excuses for their behavior.

I know that I am not a selfish bitch.  Please don't look at this and think that you have to say "Oh, no, you're not, blah blah blah.....".  I know that.  I am talking more about an inner attitude than outward actions.  I can behave myself with the best of them.   It's what I think when something is happening that has changed.  You would never know.  If you know me at all, you know that it's very difficult to tell how I really, truly feel, much less what I think; unless I let you. I have a privacy fence around my true feelings that has very few gates.

I'm stepping into uncharted territory.  I'm doing my best to finish: probate, transfers of property, vehicle sales and purchases, taxes, completing a year alone, making every decision, and always being the one to pet every animal.  I've done it.  I haven't been perfect, but I don't allow myself to be far off perfect.  However, I am also now a single person.  That's frightening.  I mean.......I realized I was  'single' the night my husband died. I just didn't put all the accessories with it, because the all-engulfing sadness of losing your spouse doesn't let you do that.  As I have traveled the road of time, I am able to put the feelings in their place.  The sadness is there.  So is laughter, pride, aggravation and loneliness.  But it also has me realizing that a part of my life is wearing off.  It's becoming a memory instead of a reality.

I suppose some people choose to put all their feelings under glass and live out the rest of their life in a sort of acid-free, preserved way. And others choose to shift the feelings as they change; to sort them and file them in the right place. Personally, I'm at a crossroads right now.  I know that it's my prerogative to sort the feelings as I choose.  I know that what's right for me is really what's right.  But when the attitude and feelings of others could possibly be affected by my sorting....I have to start caring again.  I have to start thinking along the lines of right and wrong. If you know me, you know that I can't be the snooty widow that does what she wants just because life slapped me in the face one time.  There are things to consider.

I'm still wearing the ring, and probably always will.  It's a thing; a beautiful thing. But its scratches don't actually cause it any pain.  My attitude has to be different toward life and real feelings that actually affect real people.  If I could, I would hide everyone's feelings to protect them, just as the silver was hidden from the Yankees.  As it is, I will remember that right and wrong have re-surfaced for me and I will travel the road carefully, with the rules in mind.  After all......tomorrow is another day!

A Fingernail Fable 12/8/13

Friday morning hurry-up.  All my fault, because I just didn't want to get out of bed.  Have you ever been there?  Life is happening outside your bedroom, outside your house, people are driving, drinking coffee, already having meetings......and your bed is just so warm and cozy that it's an actual argument with yourself to throw back the covers and stand up.  We've all been there, I guess.  When I do that, I can adjust the getting ready and still make it to work on time, but I still hurry.  So during the hurry-up, I bent a fingernail backward trying to fasten my seat belt.  A small reminder to slow down, it's all going to be there, whether I hurry to fasten the belt or do it at normal speed!  Smoothing down the fingernail, I drove to work.  The school was still there.

I'm not used to having any sort of long fingernails.  A combination of weak nails and piano playing has always left me without nails as an accessory.  Except for the few years of fake nails, they have always just been short and.... there.  In the past eight months, they're stronger.  They grow.  I have to cut them and file them down.  It's very strange to me - did a chemical change happen in my body when I entered grief? Or was it due to happen anyway?  I don't know, but I do know that these knives that extend from my fingertips - and the care they require - is a new sensation.

Later Friday evening, the same backward-bent nail caught on something.  You know, that sensation when it brushes cloth and you feel that little drag?  I took a look.  There was a cut in the middle of the tip.  Not a big one, but like some tiny scissors just made one cut.  I went to the place where I now keep the clippers and newly-acquired file, trimmed it and filed it smooth.  It lost a little length, but it's still there.  I suppose that was the price of decorating the tree.  As Saturday came and went, more nails lost their way to the housework/decoration activities.  They were shorter, but they were still there.

Today, Sunday, makes eight months since he's been gone.  I don't really put much stock in anniversaries, but having made this portion of the grief journey personally, I see a truth.  I slowly file away my old life.  It's still there, it's just shorter.  I can buy the low-fat eggnog now, there's nobody left to complain about it.  When it's just me home, I have music playing.  When it was just us, it was always the television.  Still the same machine, just different.  When a situation changes, I adapt.  Humans adapt.  The situation is still there, but we carry on and find ways to make it. 

Adaptation isn't easy.  Sometimes it even hurts!  I took all the lights off the fifty-foot long stair garland yesterday.  Those lights have been wound around that garland for so many years that they were caught in the little wires in certain places.  As I separated the lights from the thin little wire inside the garland, I felt the thin wire slice right under my fingernail.  OUCH!  Who says decorating for Christmas is fun!  After I finished the garland experience, (a new garland is now required....) I checked the fingernail damage.  Sure enough, trim it, file it, it's still there.  Only I think the cut might leave a little scar.  And so it goes - the old life is still there, it's just been adapted, filed away, had its shape changed......with a few scars to show for the hurt along the way.

Holiday Lessons from the Animal Kingdom - or - Why the Cat Threw Up 11/27/13

The cat threw up already.  It's only Wednesday, day BEFORE Thanksgiving, and there's some purging going on around here. Poor Roxy.  She's not really purging, you all know cats don't do that, right?  But she is suffering a common holiday malady: invasion of space and routine.

I love the holidays.  I love time off work, I love seeing family and friends.  I'm especially grateful to not only have my precious girls home from college, but nephew Zach visiting as well.  We are knitting together a united front against the sadness of missing Scott.  We are staying busy, either running around or binge TV-watching.  And of course, cooking and eating.  So far, so good. And, before you read any further...he is the perfect guest, he's family, I do my thing and don't stress. All reflections in this blog came to me as - yes - Roxy threw up.

Along with the college girls comes Isis, the college kitty.  She's about six months old and cute as can be.  She's gotten much bigger since leaving here in August.  I no longer have to block the spindles on the upstairs overlook for fear that she will wiggle through and fall to the first floor, as she did in July.  She has her own opinion about where she wants to go and which other animals she likes.  Basically, it's nobody.

Now to be fair, the other animals either hate her or want to play too rough.  (55-lb dog vs. six-month-old kitten, you know?)  So everybody is walking around all stressed out.  Except maybe Gordon, the big dog, he only wants to play! I wish it were easier and faster to say to animals: "You're in this together, now let's be nice to each other!"   It occurred to me, just after Roxy lost her breakfast this morning, that the last time she did that was when Isis was here.  My cat gets stressed and throws up!  I know, gross. 

But how different is that from any of us that are hosting or visiting over the holiday, and have our routine interrupted?  Do we embrace it or does it just make us a little sick or even ruin our day?  I personally embrace change of routine on my terms.  For example - yes, I will have kolaches for breakfast one morning, but it's back to the cereal for me after that! I love people being around, having fun, especially if they are the kind of people that I can say "Do your thing, I'm going in here for a while!" 

I hope that all my friends and any other readers and find a way to enjoy and celebrate the disruption of routine that comes with holidays on their own terms.  My animal friends can't talk with each other and discover that they really don't have to stress.  Roxy is growling at Isis as I type this!  We can, however, be truthful about our feelings in a considerate way, and make non-routine days work nicely! Whoever you spend your holiday with, you and those people are a united front against the sadness, heartbreak and grief in the world.  Laugh together, cry together, gorge on that meal together......Together.  And no throwing up.  (at least, not from stress!)  Happy Thanksgiving, I'm thankful for all of you.

Accepting Change and Trying Not to Break Things 10/8/13

Roxy-cat fell asleep on my computer keyboard yesterday.  She pretty much owns the house, so that isn't a surprise.  This is a cat that will smack a 55-lb. dog in the face if he tries to take her place on the couch.  She regularly 'yells' at me if I stay gone too long - very loud, prolonged meowing.  I've read that she is supposedly vocalizing her love, but it sounds like yelling to me!  I think she feels better after she yells at me, like she's had her say, and it helped! She wasn't yelling yesterday, though, she was fast asleep on the keyboard.

The thing is, I wanted to use my computer at that time.  She was in my way.  So, I did what any good cat lady would do, I picked her up and put her down on the floor beside me!  Only.....Roxy didn't want to get up.  Is the keyboard of the computer nice and warm?  Does it massage?  Is she just obstinate?  Who knows, the mind of Roxy is mysterious.  Because she didn't want to get up, she held on to the keyboard with her claws.  The inevitable result?  She pulled a key right off.  Of course, anyone might say that I pulled the key off by so cruelly lifting the darling from her nap.  I noticed that the claw was caught, but the key popped off before I could let her go for relief. I wasn't too worried, I've put keys back on before.  They kind of snap back on, easy, right?

I put the key on.  I pushed.  No snap.  I looked at it - Oh!  It's not the 9, it's the 6, turn it the other way!  No snap.  Little white plastic pieces underneath keep slightly moving and not snapping.  It's broken.  The cat broke the computer key.  All because I insisted on pulling her off her spot, and she tried to hang on.  Hmmmmm......

I can identify with Roxy.  I get really comfortable with certain places, things, people.  I'm pretty sure that I'm the kid that cried when I was seven and my mom get a new car.  I don't know how I ever left for college....I think just to prove I could do it.  I still have favorite t-shirts, blankets, jewelry, mixing bowls.....get the idea?  I am huge on tradition and comfort.  I pride myself when I can change, move, toss out, rearrange - because I know that doing so is a total challenge to my personality.  I really prefer to hang on, just like Roxy.

Who handles change better?  The adventurous personality?  The rebel?  The military kid?  That would be a great study.  I have learned to handle it because there were other entities forcing the change.  I have never really wanted to leave any of my jobs.  It just happened.  I never really wanted to live so far away from family, it just happened.  And  I certainly never wanted to end up on my own at this age and stage, it just happened.  I'm hanging on with my claws like a stubborn cat right now.  I'm not cleaning out rooms in the house, because I want don't want to sell the house.  I do know that I have to, and I will....I just don't want to!!  (Funny note - we were going to sell it this spring anyway...)  So let's just hope I can turn and face change with a winning attitude and pull my claws back in and not break anything.  Maybe if I have a place where I can go and yell for a little while, I'll feel better.