Note to Self re Chocolate Pudding

Do not substitute chocolate pudding (even if it is made with skim milk) for a Slim Fast Shake.

Congratulate yourself for only eating 5 spoonfuls of chocolate pudding before opting for a container of mixed berry Activia yogurt and a bottle of water.

Buy more Slim Fast.

C

“Find Me” by Rosie O’Donnell (Copyright 2002)

It is no secret that I enjoy Rosie O’Donnell. I love how outspoken she is, whether I agree with her or not. I miss my daily shot of her on the “View.” I am well aware that there are people in the world that hate her because of her lifestyle, her mouth, and even her money, and I find all of that very sad.

I was not aware of the book “Find Me” until I noticed it in Rosie’s store by accident one day while exploring her blog. I immediately checked to see if my local library had a copy and put it on hold when I saw it in the library catalog. I picked “Find Me’ up the next day and started on it immediately. It turned out to be a real “page-turner” book.

The book is described as “part memoir, part mystery” and that is an apt description. I found it completely fascinating. It is the story of Rosie and a long distance relationship with a stranger that comes into her life through her work with an adoption agency. I will give a hint that will not spoil the book, the person she forms a relationship is not the mother or father of one of her adopted children.

This book really allowed me to look at some situations in my life. I found myself drawing parallels between some situations I have found myself in and what Rosie had going on in her life at that time. It has been a week since I read the book, and I still find myself thinking about certain phrases. The phrases are not necessarily new and earth shattering, but they did make me think as I related them to the book and to my life.

Here are some of the phrases that haunt me.

“Saving the world is a lofty goal and an impossible feat.”

“Swimming in others’ pain only delays the journey through your own.”

“I have many parts but only one self.”

“Nothing happens by chance.”

Yes, these phrases haunt me, but even with the words in my head I have managed to get involved with others and their pain or problems this week. The only difference now is that I seem to be a little more aware and I have managed to make a few more compartments in my brain to turn off the issues of others at night, which has led to better sleep.

Now I just need to “find me.”

Clang, Clang, Clang, Clang

I have a outdoor "wind" bell that I love.

I found the bell one year when Raymond and I were vacationing at my parents' house. It was at a little shop on the square and I loved how it looked. We had not been in this house very long and I thought it would be a great addition to hang in my breezeway (another word for constant wind tunnel). After deciding that it cost too much, I left it hanging in the store. Raymond and I talked about the bell all evening, and I told him I hoped it would be there our next visit as we were leaving in the morning before the shop would open. My parents heard us talking about the bell and the next thing I knew arrangements were made for my parents to go get the bell and ship it to us. I was so excited when it arrived in the mail. I went right out and hung it up.

The bell did not ring all day. I figured it was so heavy that I would only hear it when I rang it myself, but it didn't matter because I loved how it looked with its beautiful patina and the copper foil clapper.

That night as we were sleeping the sound of a train clanging very nearby caused me to shoot up in bed. I remember thinking how odd to hear a train clanging so close. I had never heard a train from this house before except for when I was outside, and even then it was very faint. Why was this one barreling through my bedroom? I sat in bed and listened. I did not hear anything else, so I went back to sleep. I might have been asleep for about fifteen minutes when the train sounded again, this time waking Raymond. I asked him why we could hear a train and he informed me that it was not a train, it was the new bell. Well, I knew that couldn't be good since the bell was hung at the opposite side of the house from the bedrooms. If I could hear it in my bedroom, what were the neighbors hearing since their bedrooms were on the side of their house closest to the bell. Even with 250 feet between the houses, I figured they could probably hear the repeated clangs of my beautiful bell now that the wind was picking up. After a brief discussion, we decided to worry about it in the morning and went back to sleep without incident.

The next morning I decided to leave the bell up because I thought it might have been a fluke of the wind direction that kept me from getting sleep the night before. However, that thought turned out to be untrue as I had yet another night of little sleep and lots of clanging. I could not understand why the bell clanged at night and not during the day. The good news was the neighbors said they had not heard the bell at all.

After several night time incidents, I finally took my bell down and put it in the closet until I could decide its place. I tried to hang it several times after that, but it would still clang too much, so with great sadness I retired the bell to a hook in our foyer. When we had the house remodeled to make it handicapped accessible, I wrapped the bell in tissue paper and placed it in a closet.

Several years passed and I decided that I wanted to get my bell out of the closet and hang outside again. I also wanted to hang some wind chimes I had inherited along with some I had been given. Raymond did not mind the wind chimes, but he still hated the bell, but I wanted the bell up. One day when Raymond was gone I decided to hang the bell far inside a tree where he couldn't see it. It would only ring when the wind was wild. It took a few days, but sure enough Raymond was sitting outside and heard the bell. He looked, but could not find the bell until one of the boys located it for him. It soon became a game between us with me hiding the bell and him wanting to know where it was located. Both boys soon became involved and it got to be a little joke between all of us.

A couple of years ago I moved the bell closer to the house in a pine tree off the patio. You can see it, but seldom hear it clanging. Even when the wind is chiming all the other wind chimes I have throughout the yard and breezeway, the bell is almost always silent. The silence of the bell does not bother me because I know it is there reminding me of inside jokes, a long ago vacation, and love.

I came home the other day from a day out with the boys. It had not been a bad day, but I was feeling a little beaten down and low. As I was walking up the ramp to the door, I heard my bell. It clanged four times. That was all. In a quiet yard, with no noticeable wind and no other wind chime sounding my bell had clanged, loud clear, and beautiful. I stopped, turned around, looked to the sky and said "I love you too, honey."

I always knew that bell was special.

Still Trying to Understand

Oldest told me on the way to the doctor's office that the reason he was so worried was because of all the stuff his dad went through. We talked about my way of thinking with regard to his attitude. All is good. Oral surgery went well. He was very funny coming out of the "sleep."

We made an agreement that he would not complain of trivial matters, and I would not take his picture. (I'll get the youngest to take his picture.)

I am still trying to understand his way of thinking, but he is a child and I am an adult. I am aware of a lot more in this world than he is at this time. May he stay unaware of the horrors in this world just a little while longer.

Someone Who Knows

I have a new friend. She has a nursing background. She is the first person, besides Raymond's doctors and nurses, I've met that really reacted when I told her what kind of cancer Raymond had. Most people do not understand what I mean when I say "osteosarcoma." She got it. I really can't explain how that made me feel. The closest I can come is comforting.

I am someone that knows, and my children should be aware that their dad suffered. I know we sheltered the boys from some of the most extreme days Raymond had, but they were here for many of the days. It is because of this I am aggravated with my oldest.

My oldest is having his wisdom teeth extracted this morning. He is 17 years old and, in my opinion, acting like a baby. He is upset because he can't have anything to drink and he is thirsty. He is upset he can't have breakfast. To me these are just little inconveniences.

I know that part of this is because he is scared. He has not had as much as a filling since he had surgery at 3. I know that surgery was traumatic for a little boy in the way it was handled by a mean nurse, but he is old enough to buck up and not whine about this.

I guess I am aggravated because I think that after all he has witnessed with his father he should know not to complain about not being able to drink water or have breakfast.

It is going to take a lot of patience for me to get through today with him. Hopefully, he will be better after it is all over and he realizes it wasn't as bad as he has built it up in his mind. If not, there will be problems in this house. I am willing to baby him for a few days, and carry out all his wishes, because that is my job as his mother and I love him. I will even listen to complaints about pain and sympathize. However, if he whines about the inconveniences of not being able to eat what he wants or brush his teeth, he will probably not like my response.

Raymond once went 28 days without food because he was too sick from the chemo to eat. Raymond often couldn't brush his teeth because of the mouth sores caused by chemo. There are millions of people in the world with no dental care. There are millions of people in the world suffering in ways we cannot even begin to comprehend. No, I won't put up with a lot from him during his recovery.

I will give him full warning on the way home as to what complaints I will accept and what complaints he better swallow. Harsh, maybe, but my boys are used to that. I am a mother with high expectations when it comes to how my children behave, and I am proud of that. Hopefully, his resentment won't last long. If it does, I'll ask my youngest to take care of me in my old age.

Ignore

Ignore that last post - Ick.

I was feeling sorry for myself. That is a bad habit to get into.

I could delete that post, but I will leave it to remind me.

There are so many people worse off than I am. I am blessed.

Wonderful children, great friends, nice home (even with its problems), eyesight to read all the books I want. What more do I need.

Ick is ebbing away.

I need to remember to count my blessings before complaining.

Ick

Ick

If someone asks me how I feel today I am going to say like "ick." Not icky, but like "ick." I couldn't find a good definition of ick in the dictionary, unless I was a tropical fish, but the word sounds right to me for today.

I'm in pain. I'm bloated from the pain. I'm hot. I'm aggravated. I'm depressed. I'm obese and feel it. Yes. I feel like ick.

I know several people that would look at my list of complaints and say "what else is new," and that would make me mad. Very few people know about my aches and pains. I'm more active than most of my friends, and I don't complain to just anyone.

Despite my pain today, I did walk 3 miles this morning. I'm paying for it now, but I did get out and move.

My fish are all dying. It is not from ick, the fish disease. We don't know why. It is depressing. I'm not even going to bother taking them back for replacements. I have already replaced 4 out of the 6. The gas is starting to cost more than the fish.

Maybe I feel like ick because I am going shopping. I hate to shop. I hate to spend money, but there is a 50% off sale, and I have a coupon for an extra 30%. I need a few things. Now is the time to get them. I went yesterday for my youngest and saved $22.00 on what he needed, and that did not count the 50% off.

I hope I don't feel like ick tomorrow. Maybe it is the heat. Maybe it is the heat in the house. I keep the a/c on 80. It is hot, sticky, and miserable, but it is the only way I can afford the bill, and even then it is high.

Ick that is what I feel like.

Great Name

I was watching the Tony Awards last night, June 10, 2007 because the brother of my life rock was up for an award, which he won, and totally deserved.

While I was watching they showed a guy in the audience named Stark Sands. Now if I have ever seen Stark Sands in any of his many roles, I am not aware of it, but I love his name.

Isn't that the greatest name - Stark Sands. I love it! I get great brain images when I say "Stark Sands."

Howling Turtle

We have a howling musk turtle. At times he makes a sound like an owl hooting, and at other times he makes a sound like you would hear in a movie about werewolves.

He makes the howling sound so infrequently that I forget he can make that noise. This morning I was up early by myself and reading the paper when he started howling, very creepy. Chills started running up and down my spine and I was starting to get spooked. It wasn't until another turtle started slapping the water that I realized the turtles were up and active.

Now that we are all up and moving around he is howling again. I don't know what sets him off, but I hope it stops soon, or he goes back to making owl sounds. Owl sounds are are very pleasant, a howling turtle ... not so pleasant.

What to Say?

It has been over a year, and I still cannot figure out what to say when people ask me about my husband. I hate saying he is dead. He is not dead. He is every where I look. He is in the face and actions of my oldest. He is in the laugh of my youngest. He is in the trees in my yard. He is in my mind and my heart. He is not dead.

I hate saying he has passed on. That sounds weird to me.

Deceased works in certain circumstances, like when talking to a government official or a credit card company. Gone – sounds like he ran away.

No longer with us – who is he with?

If I say “He died,” I always end up thinking did he?

I’m still working on finding the right thing to say. I should have asked Raymond what he wanted me to say, I am sure he would have had a funny answer.

Do You Hear the Voices?

It is no secret that I love to read. When I read, I am in the book. I hear the voices of the characters and I know exactly how they should sound. In fact, it is because of the voices that I usually only read books that take place in the United States, and prefer books about the Appalachian region. The characters can take trips outside the U.S., but they must come back before the story ends. A book does not flow for me if I cannot hear the “right” voice. Reading becomes a chore if I know the voice is out of character because I do not have a resource for the proper accent. If the author is good, you will know if the voice is wrong.

My reading habits were often a subject of conversation between Raymond and me because of the voices. Raymond did not understand the “voices.” He did not hear voices, and he was fascinated that I could. He would ask me all the time to explain it to him, but I didn’t know how to explain it. I thought everyone heard voices when they read.

I was reading a book the other night with four main characters with each chapter highlighting one of the four. Each of these women had a different voice and a different feel to me. I was so disappointed when the book ended and my friends went away until the next time. But then I got to thinking that maybe it is because of the voices and my making friends with the characters and my being use to those “friends” going away until the next book, or maybe permanently, that I don’t’ keep up with my real friends as I should.

I am not really a phone caller. I have two friends I speak to on a regular basis on the phone, and several that I email short notes to several times a week, other than that, I have little contact with people except for meetings I attend. During the day if I feel lonely, I often take a ten minute break and catch up with whatever “new” friend is in my book instead of reaching out to a friend in the community.

It was this realization and the fact that I discovered that I have a friend who is suffering from a deep depression that made me decide that I need to reach out more. I need to contact the friends that I love but only see when I am dropping the kids off, shopping at Kroger’s, or attending a meeting. Reaching out to people is definitely out of my comfort zone, but it might be time for me to listen to some real voices for a change.

Healing Signs

Yesterday, I believe Raymond sent me two signs to send me forth. He has sent me signs before, but one of yesterday’s signs was glorious in its beauty compared to others I have received in the past.

We have always had hawks on our property, but they have stayed out in the back field. We would watch them soar over the field and catch mice and snakes. They were just there. One day while Raymond and I were sitting in the living room all of our birds at the feeders started squawking and then became silent. We looked out and there was a hawk on the bushes outside our window looking at us. He was a beautiful specimen with pure white leggings. Raymond and I were amazed. We took pictures and could not wait for the boys to come home so we could tell them. After the hawk looked at us for a while he went hunting and then came back to eat a rat as he sat on top the swing set. My youngest and I went out and looked at the bones that night. We talked about that hawk for weeks. Raymond and I were always hoping he would come back that close, but he didn’t, at least not when we could see him.

The fall after Raymond died was hard. The oldest had moved away to school, the youngest was back in school, my mom had been scammed and I was trying to figure out how to get her money back, I missed Raymond, and it felt as if I was drowning. Every day was bleak. One day I was sitting on my couch by the window crying when I heard an odd rustling sound. I looked up and there sat a young hawk right on the window sill staring at me. He sat there for a minute before moving on to my crepe myrtle tree. I decided to open my back door to see if he would fly off. He didn’t. In fact he came back every day for about a week and sat in that tree. I felt so much better when the hawk was there in that tree. I felt as if it was a sign from Raymond telling me that it was okay. The fact that it was a young hawk made me think that Raymond was telling me that my grief was still young and fresh in my heart, but I could be strong. Seeing the hawk brought me such great comfort. I truly felt as if Raymond was reaching out and pushing me forward.

I have often thought of that hawk during the really bad times this past year. There have been days that I questioned whether or not I was really going to be able to do what my boys needed me to do, and I would think of the hawk and pull out the strength to be the person they needed me to be.

A friend sent me an email of support to get me through the one year mark. She has also felt that Raymond has sent her signs to help her through some difficult times this past year, one of them being a hawk overhead. My friend wrote:

“I don't think it was a coincidence that Pappy Hawk was the first responder on your blog. I have often thought of the hawk connection, but I think the Pappy is symbolic of Raymond looking after the boys, and perhaps your Dad looking after you as well. I don't know if Howard will come back to the blog or not, but he was there at the perfect time with the perfect response and I think it was for confirmation for your growth and progress.”

I don’t know why Pappy Hawk found my blog when he did, but I have often found comfort in his comments. Since most of the time I am in a certain mindset when I’m writing or reading my blog, I had not thought about the Hawk connection, but now that it has been pointed out to me, I love that Pappy Hawk posted the first comment on this blog.

I planned for yesterday, the one year mark. I wrote out my anguish and questions over whether or not Raymond suffered during the dying process. I filled my day with so much activity, that I did not have time to sit and think about how lonely I am without him. I basked in the love set forth by friends that sent their support. I did not take time to think.

It was because I was not taking time to think, that I almost missed the signs yesterday.

The first of the signs came to all of us. A family friend came to spend the afternoon and evening with us and part of our afternoon was a planned trip to Half Price Books. The boys and I had spent hours at two different Half Price Books earlier in the week, and even though we found some great stuff, it was nothing spectacular. Yesterday, each of us found something that was special to us individually. The youngest found a turtle book that he had been looking at purchasing for quite a while; it is quite extraordinary that it was in a Half Price Book store. It is more of a book for turtle scholars than the average pet turtle owner. He was thrilled. My oldest found two metal signs for his dorm room, a Three Stooges and a Monty Python sign, both favorites of Raymond and the boys. My find was extra special because it was on the clearance rack. I found “Foxfire 2.” Raymond and I have used Foxfire books in the past to look up things we wanted to know. I felt this one was a sign from Raymond because of two particular chapters, “Old Time Burials, “and “Boogers, Witches, and Haints.” These two chapters relate directly to some long standing “inside” jokes between Raymond and me. I felt blessed when I found the book. I may never even get around to reading it, but I will know I own it, and that knowledge will offer up comfort.

I almost missed the second healing sign. This was an amazing sign in its purity and grace. We were driving back, almost home, and engaged in a fairly lively discussion. I glanced over at our friend in the passenger seat and saw a Great White Heron take off out of the muddy field right next to our car. It was flying even with our van windows and seemed to be keeping pace with us. I thought what a glorious site, and watched the bird for a couple of seconds marveling at how white and pure it looked even though it had been in a field that was nothing but mud after the recent downpours we had received. I was thinking that I could watch the bird forever, but then because I knew curves were coming up, I put all my thoughts back into driving, and let the bird leave my mind. Then, as we turned onto the next road, the road behind our property, and traveled a while, a Great White Heron (the same one?) went across the road, and was so low I actually felt as if it might land on the hood of my van. My passenger’s head was turned talking to the boys, so I don’t know if she saw it or not, but I did, and I got it. It was a sign from Raymond.

It is a sign I am still thinking about as there are so many messages that can be received from that beautiful white flying bird. However, I am not going to worry about trying to figure out the “right” message as there is no “one right” message, there is just the knowledge that Raymond loves us, and would be with us if he could.

Today was the first day of my second year as a widow. I think Raymond wants me to try and soar this year.