Ken, my son who lived with me, killed himself the day after Christmas. I’m still in shock and disbelief. I’ll write more later..
I started the process today of having my last name changed. This is the story behind such an action:
I was married to Forrest for 51 years. He died in 2007. I was lonely, met Richard and married him in 2011. Just weeks after our wedding, Richard fell ill and he died six months later of pancreatic cancer. We spent a lot of time with hospice health care givers and Richard’s family and friends. The circumstances prevented us from developing the give and take of a real marriage.
I was able to keep Richard at home, which was his greatest wish. He died in his favorite chair in the living room with his family and friends around him and me holding his hand.
I knew that Richard’s first wife had been the love of his life; I placed her photo on the mantel where he could see it and just be with her as he watched TV.
I’m glad I was there for him and able to help him die at home, but now I want to finish my life with the name of the husband I grew up and shared my love and most of my life with. I spoke with a lawyer today and the process has begun. I feel as if I’ve taken the first step of coming back home.
This morning I ordered the 2013 Poet’s Market from Amazon. I’ve made a promise to myself to send out at least one poem a month. I haven’t tried to publish in literary magazines or small presses in years. I hate the business end of it and would rather spend the time creating but it IS nice, once in awhile, to see my poems in print along with other poets. Also, at this time in my life, sending out the poems gives me a purpose, something to look forward to, whether the poems are published or not. My life has become so humdrum, so void of freshness or excitement. This will be an adventure.
Happy holidays to my fellow bloggers and other friends who stop by. I wish you peace and many blessings now and always.
- My Top (and Bottom) 10 Favorite Christmas Songs of All-Time (mommabethyname.com)
“It’s a Wonderful Life” is on the TV tonight. Scott loved that movie. He watched it every year. I’m surprised at how just knowing its on fills me with dread. It’s been 13 years since Scott killed himself and I still can’t watch his favorite programs, look at his photos, his handwriting, anything that reminds me of him. He loved sizzlers, Seinfeld, Star Wars, roast, rice and gravy.
I often wonder what he would look like now, if he’d be married, if he’d have children. I loved him so much. I still can’t believe he’s gone. And I miss him.
I’ll be glad when Christmas is over. Next, I have to get through his birthday, January 9th. He’d be 49. The hurt never goes away.
I’m really into food. Mostly healthy food. I think about meals a lot, like I used to think about boys when I was young. Breakfast. Lunch. Supper. What do I want? Wht do I have? What do I need to order? Food is about the only pleasure I have left.
I’m also into nutrition, nutrition that will benefit my physical conditions—low sugar, low fat, low salt.
So I order cookbooks and books on nutrition from Amazon– Dean Ornish, Joy Bauer, Dr McDougall. I watch the Food Network on TV. I have my own page with Dr Weil online. It’s personalized and includes health tips for my particular problems and the latest health news. I get a daily menu which includes three meals a day and a library of meals I can choose as substitutes.
Today I roasted vegetables (my own recipe) for lunch and made hummus for supper. I substituted peanut butter for the tahini because it’s healthier and, surprisingly, I don’t taste the peanut butter in the finished product.
Making those two things and cleaning the kitchen used up all my energy for today. And I did most of it sitting in a wheelchair. The things I fix these days must be quick and easy. So I’ve had to put away most of my old favorite recipes.
I tried Meals on Wheels but the meals aren’t all that healthy or good. So, it’s a struggle, but I can still put a meal together; and though what I do now is far removed from what I used to do in the kitchen, the food I cook is much better than having it brought in. And I’m grateful for that.
During WW II, when I was in my teens and searching for love, I met a soldier at the USO, after dancing with several others, who seemed like a perfect gentleman. We danced all evening to Harry James, Glenn Miller, Tommy Dorsey. At intervals, especially after high energy dances like the jitterbug, the soldier brought coca colas to me for refreshment.
On the sidelines, an army recruiter I’d dated a time or two, watched. As the night wore on and people, one after another left, my soldier and I became the last couple on the dance floor. I was ready to leave with him when the recruiter told my female friend that the soldier I was with, had been spiking my colas all evening and to not let me leave with him. She convinced me to go home with her as we had planned. Looking back, I’m pretty sure the recruiter saved me from a bad experience.
Sometimes I wonder how most youngsters make it in the world. I had other experiences which turned out okay but could have gone in a different direction. Today I want to honor and express my gratitude for the guardian angels/saviors in my life. I believe we all have them, whether we realize it or not, and, also,we ARE them, or can be.
Maybe one thing I can do the rest of my life to make it worthwhile is to feel responsible and care for all of God’s creatures, when the universe asks me to, even when it’s inconvenient.