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.