11/27/11
Thanksgiving was easier than I had anticipated; I had been to the doctor earlier in the week (for a physical only) and he told me to have more fun than I expected. Then I talked (and cried) with Kelli on the phone Thanksgiving morning. She reminded me there would be pinochle to play; sure enuf I played 3 or 4 games and had a good time.
It did get a little blustery Thanksgiving Day and I was reminded of another Thanksgiving several years ago when the power went out, with the turkey in the oven. It stayed out for several hours, but we were finally able to eat.
When Vic saw that I had brought pumpkin pie to Blair and Jackie's he, of course, recounted the time that I left the sugar out of the pies, and the following year put in waaaaay too much salt. Uncle Steve was such a good kind soul. He's the only one who ate his dessert immediately after dinner--he saved a hole for dessert while the rest of us filled ourselves so full there was no more room. Anyway, both years he ate the pie, never said a word, and we didn't discover it until an hour or so after they went home.
My friends, Kelly and Randy Young, had their house burn on Thanksgiving. Randy wasn't home and Kelly was where she couldn't see the house--down at their shop, playing w/their dogs. The shop phone rang and it was the alarm company telling her that 7 fire alarms were going off in her house. She thought it was a malfunction, ran up to the house and tried to open the garage door--it just collapsed. The fire started in the garage, went directly up to the kitchen and on up to the master bedroom. All she was able to get out were the clothes she had on, her purse, wedding ring set, her bridge and their guns. Actually, she was unable to get anything out, but the fire crew got them for her. They live so far out in the country--south of Eatonville on way to Ashford--that getting a fire crew there was difficult. Because of jurisdiction the Eatonville dept. couldn't go until called by responsible department. The first truck took about 45 minutes to get there and then called for Eatonville. Had Eatonville been allowed to respond when first called, they would have been there in about 15 minutes and probably could have contained the fire.
I was pleasantly surprised when I came home from church today to find a Christmas tree and a bag w/a couple of sweaters--just because--waiting for me. I had not decided what I would do about a tree this year, but now I know I'll have one. It's smaller than I'm used to, which is nice, and I'll put it in the dining room. Won't have to move so much furniture and I will be able to enjoy it from my glider in the living room as well as here at the computer. Michael came over for a few minutes and got the decorations out of the attic for me. I won't get it up until later in the week, but now my "wondering" is over.
Until next time...
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Sunday, November 20, 2011
It's been a looooong time since I sat down to write something here, and don't even know where to start.
It will be 9 months tomorrow since Stan died and I was completely unprepared for how life would be without him. I had always thought I knew how my friends who had been widowed felt--I had no clue.
Now I have some idea how Vic felt when Peggy died and he was left alone, and I did so little to comfort him. I thought he was coping well because he would always say okay when asked how he was doing. Now I understand that is a coping mechanism in itself.
I had expected that when I wrote here again it would be to tell what I know of Stan's life, but that will be saved for another time. At the risk of being too maudlin, I must say that I miss Stan in virtually every minute. Sure, as always, I laugh, talk and sometimes cry w/my friends, but in the back of my mind, there's the niggling thought as I wonder what Stan is doing. There are minutes when I still expect him to come around the corner, to be home when I get home or to be sleeping in his recliner. It's only been a couple of weeks since I woke up, noticed the other side of the bed was empty and the thought went through my head that he had gotten up before me.
There is no one here to share my day with, no one to pick up the slack, no one to share an inside joke with, no one to hold me when I cry, no one to put his arms around me and say, "loves ya, babe," no one to snuggle when I go to bed and my feet are cold, no one playing the tv too loud, no one to complain or hear my complaints over what is going on around us, no one to enjoy a pretty sunrise, sunset, crossing the Narrows bridge, looking at a pretty tree (or lots of them), Mt. Rainier, the Olympics, no one to go for a long drive--just because, no one to share my pride in our kids and grandkids, no one to enjoy a meal with me--day after day, no one to do the things on the computer that I don't know how to do, no one to just be present with. There is no one here who can help wipe away my tears.
I am thankful, however, to God for giving me a man who only loved me--even during the times that we might not have liked each other (or ourselves, for that matter). I am thankful that he knew God--and vice versa, that he was loyal, hard-working, funny and caring. The 2 things that I would have changed for and about him if I'd had the power: I would have taken away his pain and would have helped him to think more highly of himself than he did.
Kelli put it very well when she said, after his service, that even if the things spoken about him had been written to him or spoken in his presence, he would not have believed they were about him.
I plan to be back sooner and hope not to be so "weepy." There are, however, lots of uncharted waters ahead for me. I am glad God gave us both tears and laughter to get through the rough patches in our lives.
It will be 9 months tomorrow since Stan died and I was completely unprepared for how life would be without him. I had always thought I knew how my friends who had been widowed felt--I had no clue.
Now I have some idea how Vic felt when Peggy died and he was left alone, and I did so little to comfort him. I thought he was coping well because he would always say okay when asked how he was doing. Now I understand that is a coping mechanism in itself.
I had expected that when I wrote here again it would be to tell what I know of Stan's life, but that will be saved for another time. At the risk of being too maudlin, I must say that I miss Stan in virtually every minute. Sure, as always, I laugh, talk and sometimes cry w/my friends, but in the back of my mind, there's the niggling thought as I wonder what Stan is doing. There are minutes when I still expect him to come around the corner, to be home when I get home or to be sleeping in his recliner. It's only been a couple of weeks since I woke up, noticed the other side of the bed was empty and the thought went through my head that he had gotten up before me.
There is no one here to share my day with, no one to pick up the slack, no one to share an inside joke with, no one to hold me when I cry, no one to put his arms around me and say, "loves ya, babe," no one to snuggle when I go to bed and my feet are cold, no one playing the tv too loud, no one to complain or hear my complaints over what is going on around us, no one to enjoy a pretty sunrise, sunset, crossing the Narrows bridge, looking at a pretty tree (or lots of them), Mt. Rainier, the Olympics, no one to go for a long drive--just because, no one to share my pride in our kids and grandkids, no one to enjoy a meal with me--day after day, no one to do the things on the computer that I don't know how to do, no one to just be present with. There is no one here who can help wipe away my tears.
I am thankful, however, to God for giving me a man who only loved me--even during the times that we might not have liked each other (or ourselves, for that matter). I am thankful that he knew God--and vice versa, that he was loyal, hard-working, funny and caring. The 2 things that I would have changed for and about him if I'd had the power: I would have taken away his pain and would have helped him to think more highly of himself than he did.
Kelli put it very well when she said, after his service, that even if the things spoken about him had been written to him or spoken in his presence, he would not have believed they were about him.
I plan to be back sooner and hope not to be so "weepy." There are, however, lots of uncharted waters ahead for me. I am glad God gave us both tears and laughter to get through the rough patches in our lives.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
