Friday, August 7, 2015

Day 794


August 7, 2015

Day 794

                                                                                                     

I am fighting a migraine today - 3 fiornal so far and it's only somewhat beat into submission.  I woke up with this one around 6am.  And of course, the kids are their most argumentative, slow-to-obey, and loud today...maybe it only seems that way because my head is so sensitive.

 

I've had a lot of headaches in recent months.  I see my  neurologist on the 24th.  I know he's going to want to put me on a daily medication, but I do not want to do that - mainly because the ones I've tried before have adverse side reactions, like weight gain.

 

It suddenly occurred to me within the last week or so that maybe my headaches are related to my eyes.  I started having trouble with my sight the same summer Paul died, which baffled me since only 3 months earlier I'd had a new prescription filled.  I assumed it was a physical manifestation of grief.  But they've never gotten better and lately I've noticed that in addition to early  morning blurriness (only with reading, thankfully) I am now having it at night, too.  So, I am going to a different eye doctor on the 17th and I'm sure he'll tell me that I need stronger bi-focals, which means I'll have to buy new glasses and sunglasses.  Since my prescription is already so strong for that left eye affected by the stroke, it will expensive to get the glasses.  But - I can't go on like this, either.

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I'm waiting for a phone call from David right now telling me I can pick him up at church.  He's been gone for 2 weeks, which is the longest we've ever been apart in his 16 years.  He leaves again Monday for Detroit, but at least I'll have him for a couple of days!

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I had a phone call last night from Ellie's preschool.  She will start on Sept. 8. No word yet on whether or not I qualify for a scholarship.  I don't care if I do or not - she's going, regardless!  Actually, her behavior has not been quite so terrible the last couple of weeks.  But, Lizzie's has deteriorated.  I guess if one is up, the other is down - ?? 

 

I had hoped for Ellie to be able to attend mornings so she could nap in the afternoon, but the school asked if there was any way I could do afternoons instead and I  reluctantly said ok.  They have  two daycares bringing in their kids in the morning (talk about job-shifting!) and are up to 30  kids for their morning program.  As far as I knew, they only have two employees, but maybe they'll hire more now.  I'd rather not have Ellie in such a big class anyway.  It's easy to get overlooked.  Although, I have a feeling Ellie could be in a group of a 100 and still manage to grab the attention of all around.

 

We were in Walmart the other day and Ben was pushing one cart with Ellie in it.  I was up ahead with another cart and Lizzie ran up to me, absolutely mortified.  She said they had passed by an obviously Muslim employee and Ellie loudly asked her, "Why are you a Muslim?"  Argh...

 

When we were at the zoo a couple of weeks ago we made a bathroom trip after eating in one of the restaurants.  A  mom was taking her son into the bathroom with her and Ellie got this funny look on her face and then said to the mother, "You know he's a boy, right?" 

 

Lizzie got a postcard this week from her teacher for this year at school.  She was pretty excited.  Now I know who she has - wonder whose room Sam has been assignd to?

 

We were shopping for lunch bags this week.  I didn't see a single metal lunch box.  I guess those have fallen out of favor.  All the stores have are insulated bags, as well as some that are more square shaped.  And you have to buy the thermoses separately.  I haven't shopped for  lunch boxes since Will and Ben were kindergarteners, I don't think.  I assume they had them, anyway.  Or did they eat hot lunch every day?  I don't remember.  Anyway, the kids approached this decision with great care.  Well, it was all over the second Lizzie saw a Frozen bag.  She wouldn't consider anything else.  But Sam looked and looked and even insisted on going to a couple of different stores.  He was leaning towards a camo printed bag and then said, making me smile, "I know this sounds crazy because I'm such a hunter, but I think I'm going to go with this yellow bag instead!"  In the end, he actually opted for a Batman bag, complete with a little cape.

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A real tragedy occurred yesterday in New Sharon, which isn't terribly far from us.  I mean, it's far enough that I don't go there regularly, but I remember when we were house hunting, we even considered looking at a house there.  Three brothers, ages 16, 13, and 10 were killed when their car was hit by a truck.  Losing one child would be terrible enough - but three?  Oh, my goodness.  I don't know anything about the family, but I wonder if these were their only children.  Not that that really matters - having other kids isn't going to make up for the loss of another.  That is going to be a difficult funeral.  And what about the driver?  It doesn't sound like he did anything wrong, from what I've heard so far.  He's 41 but for the rest of the life he will have to live with the terrible knowledge that he was involved in this accident that took the lives of these brothers. 

 

PS: Tonight a GoFundMe ad for this family popped up on my newsfeed.  I wasn't even bothered by it, so great the scope of this tragedy.  Based on a picture that was posted, it looks like the boys had a couple of sisters.  Already, $29,000 has been raised through the site for the family, which is good.  That will cover the funerals and head stones.  Although, I would hope they'd get a discount on the funeral services since they'll do the funeral together.  And I know there are some casket companies that offer children's coffins for heavily discounted prices or even for free.  But in a horrific time of  unexpected grief, who would go searching on-line for deals?

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I was listening to the news today and they were doing a bit on the California wildfires.  They interviewed a woman who had escaped her home with only her dogs.  She commented tearfully, "This has been so hard on my chihuahuas!"  Doing a bit of a face palm right now...

 

A couple of weeks ago we had a terrific storm.  Maybe I wrote about it already.  We had had one storm already that morning.  Around 4 it began to storm again and it didn't quit for the next 4-5 hours.  Torrential rains. 

 

It just wouldn't quit.  I remember debating because I really needed to get out and feed David's rabbit as well as go up to City Hall and do the water.  But when I weighed those responsibilities against the potential of being electrocuted, I decided to stay indoors!  Around 10 that night I spied some water on the basement floor, which concerned me.  I called Will at camp and we eventually determined that the sump pump just needed to be jiggled (and replaced soon).  Once I did that, it drained and further inspection revealed that no water was seeping in anywhere down there.  It helps that I live on a hill and have a new basement.  Plus, I think Paul did a really good job of sealing it up.  I remember he put layer after layer of tar on the outside of the bricks which I assume is for wetness protection.

 

I heard later that we got over 8" of water that night.  Some people in our church had some really significant basement flooding.  I heard stories of it coming through the walls itself and bubbling up through the floor.  I'm so thankful I was spared that kind of mess!  The Checkerboard restaurant in Pville, which was always where Paul and I went, and where the kids and I went this summer to commemorate his death was so affected that they were closed for awhile and lost a number of the antiques they had in their basement store.  The school's baseball team was preparing to go to the state meet and had to practice elsewhere because the field was too flooded.

 

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Every week I get a poorly written paper from Pleasantville.  They always have a little paragraph highlighting old paper news from 25 and 50 years ago.  This week they had a story that happened 50 years ago this same week.  A couple in Swan (in town or out on the highway, I don't know) had a water heater that wasn't working.  So they both went down into their basement and lit a match to see what was going on - and blew up their house.  They were seriously burned and taken to a "Collins Hospital" which I have never heard of.  I wonder if they recovered?  I'm curious, too, if it was a house here in town.  I've heard numerous stories of houses that used to be here but burned  down at one time or another.  I suppose that used to be more common when people relied more on wood heat and especially in  pre-electricity days.  Still, regarding this news story I read - I'm sure they had flashlights back in 1965.  Although, maybe their house was like mine, where they actually own roughly 13 flashlights but only 2 can be found when the need arises and those two always have dead batteries and of course, the battery box has   0 of the needed replacement batteries.  Maybe that's why they lit a match instead.

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I finished watching that movie this week that I mentioned in my last post.  It kind of fizzled out the more it went on.  But for awhile there it was making me so sad to watch it.  I finally realized why it was.  The female lead - the ex-wife - was getting all this attention from her ex-husband, who has decided he is, once-again, in love with her and they rekindle their romance for a short time - which was not a good idea since the ex-husband has moved on and remarried.  He had traded in his first wife for a younger, firmer model and he's struck with the stupidity of that decision and finally appreciating the beauty of his ex-wife even though, physically, she can't compare to his current wife. 

 

I don't think it was just the looks thing, either.  He and his ex had a history and when you have a long history with someone you love them more and they are more attractive to you because your lives have been so interwoven for so long.  I was beginning to discover that after only 20 years of marriage.  What would it have been like after 30 or 40?

 

I'll never know.  That's what makes me sad.

 

It occurred to me the other day that I have had the last name of, "Heywood" longer now than I ever did my maiden name.

 

After Paul  had been dead for about a year I found myself ready to seek out some on-line widows groups.  I joined three and unjoined one this week.  I haven't been overly active in any of them, other than to offer the occasional word of comfort or encouragement to someone not as far along this path as I am.  I have a couple of new, Christian friends that were widowed around the same time as me and we chat pretty regulary on FB, so that has probably been my biggest source of personal encouragement, rather than these groups.  Sometimes in these groups a new widow(er) joins and they are in the early stages of grief, completely overwhelmed by loss and emotion.  They pour it out into posts and a lot of the times I don't even say anything in response.  I suppose it cuts a little too close to what I've been through and I also know that not a whole lot can be said in the early days that's going to make a long-term difference.  I know this is a time when they need to hear from people like me, but there are days I just can't give it.

 

Anyway, one thing I have been bothered by since joining these groups is the number of widows that seem anxious to jump into the dating game.  I mean, I totally understand that on one hand.  Widowhood is lonely and scary.  It's not fun to be a single in a world of couples.  I have a lot of little kids who are anxious to hang all over  me at times but it's not the same as the  loving touch of a man.   I understand, completely, that marriage is familiar and when we've had what's most familiar to us ripped away, we're anxious to regain at least some semblance of that again.

 

I get it.

 

A few months ago I read, "Confessions of a Mediocre Widow" by Catherine Tidd and absolutely loved the book.  I now follow her blog and and on Facebook.  But even she relates in her book how she ran off to the Caribbean with another guy just  4 months after her husband was killed in a motorcycle accident.  Ugh.  I can't do it.  Not that I've had suitors banging on my door in any way (other than that one pesky neighbor, who, unfortunately, is up to his old tricks again, as of  this week) wanting to transport me to an island paradise.  I'm pretty sure the fact that I'm middle aged and come loaded with small children might be a bit of a turn-off.

 

Sometimes I do think ahead to the day when the time is right.  I'd like to think God would just drop someone on my doorstep (but NOT the neighbor) or at least have him be a mutual friend of someone trustworthy or something like that.  Which could happen.  But, the truth is, the vast majority of dating situations anymore begin on-line.  I'm not against meeting people that way, but what happens when you decide to meet for the first time?  How do you know that the person you've just connected with doesn't kidnap women and torture them in his garage?  I think I would be such a nervous wreck that I'd accidentally  mace my date or at least come off looking like a complete ninny because of obvious nervousness.

 

Thinking ahead, I guess the common sense thing to do is to google somebody before you actually meet them.  Then, drive yourself the first few times and meet in a public place.  I'm not even so sure I'd be against hiring someone to do a background check on them before I got too involved.

 

Maybe the problem is that I think too much?  Especially when this isn't even a real concern at the moment? 

 

I've been bothered in one group when these lonely widows brag about doing "sleepovers" with their new men and of course, they're nervous and looking for validation that what they are about to do is ok.  I've just frowned and continued to scroll down my page.  But then this week one member of the secular group got the "cute" idea to declare Wednesdays as "Wicked Wednesdays" and soon everyone was posting dirty memes.  I didn't have to view too many of those to decide that it was time for me to beat a hasty retreat out of this group  altogether.  While I was at it I quit unfollowing Paul's uncle because he, too, has been broadcasting his dirty mind quite publicly lately.  I don't have to look at that stuff.  I shouldn't be looking at that stuff.

 

I read a great little book this spring when Will was writing a paper on the Christian and hardships.  Actually, what happened was he brought home a small stack of books he had checked out of Faith's library and said, "Here - you might want to read these before starting my paper."  Uh, huh.  I did read one, though,  entitled, "When a Father Dies" by a Gladys Somebody or other.  This little gem was written 50 years ago and I loved, loved, loved that she addressed the subject of the widow and sex.  I have an entire shelf of new widow books and do you know not ONE of them brings up this all-important subject? And we live in the modern age when anyone and everyone chatters about it!   Anyway, her basic premise was that sex is NOT a requirement to living a full life and that yes, these desires aren't going to magically die with our husbands.  But God's grace is sufficient to carry us through the loss of that part of the relationship as well.  If we profess Christianity, then we have to accept what the Bible says on this subject,  which is, sex is for marriage.  If you're not married, then you don't get to have it.  Widows aren't married.  This is going in my book, by the way.  I hope I don't embarrass everyone I know by writing it.  But it's important.

 

This all brings me back, in a very convoluted way,  to my original point of loneliness and how we deal with it.  I have more sympathy for the unsaved.  They don't know any better.  But I've observed several Christian (men) in recent years, widowed, who sure didn't let the grass even grow in over their wives' graves before prancing down the aisle again.  I don't know that what they did was wrong, but I do question it.  Perhaps one of the biggest lessons of widowhood is realizing that

We are not in control.

 

We couldn't control the deaths of our spouses, but yet the temptation seems to be to control what happens next.  Being alone is too difficult so we attempt to try to control that by jumping into the arms of the first person who will have us.  And maybe what God wants us to learn is to find our satisfaction, strength, companionship, and contentment in Him alone.  Maybe losing our spouse is only the first stage of this entire new lesson He wants to teach us - that of complete dependence and trust in God.  And part of that dependence and trust is waiting on God's timing before seeking a new romantic relationship.

 

I'm not even sure where I was really going with this now - just some thoughts I guess. 

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David is home and full of stories. I think he grew taller while he was gone and I am sure I heard tones of newfound maturity in his words.  And most of all, I am struck by how much this boy is like me in his outlook and perspective on so many things.   David  even allowed that "got a little homesick" towards the end of this week.  I don't know why that makes me feel good, but it does.  And when I picked him up today he let me hug him for a long time, which is unusual, although not unexpected (I've had other teenage boys before him).  Eight more days and they will all be home for good!  For a couple of years, anyway.

 

I'll soak it up while I can!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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What I have learned in two years of widowhood:

• God is good - so, so good
• I am loved far more than I ever knew
• I have amazing, resilient children (I am reaping what Paul sowed into their lives)
• Darkness eventually gives way to light
• Strength and wisdom are mine for the asking
• I don't have to have all the answers
• God delights in carefully and tenderly mending torn-apart hearts

Psalm 73:26: My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

ow with a certain amount of anticipation, although there are still moments when I am sick at heart to think that that future will never again include him, other than the quick glimpses I sometimes see in my sons. As much as hope is beginning to seep back into our lives, I am also accepting that, for the rest of our lives, we will be among the walking wounded, forever hurt and altered by Paul's early death. As sad as that sounds, it really isn't, though. Even scarred, life is still pretty beautiful.

What I have learned in two years of widowhood:

• God is good - so, so good
• I am loved far more than I ever knew
• I have amazing, resilient children (I am reaping what Paul sowed into their lives)
• Darkness eventually gives way to light
• Strength and wisdom are mine for the asking
• I don't have to have all the answers
• God delights in carefully and tenderly mending torn-apart hearts

Psalm 73:26: My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 




 

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