Old Codger....

......or do you deliver?

Dismantling the house is tough.
All I wanted to do after David died was run. Run away. Go somewhere, anywhere. Keep busy. Frantic pace. Go, go, go. Anything to get away from the awful truth. That which I could not change.

And so I cleaned, I sorted, gave away, threw away and held a garage sale. My kids brought up all the junk from the basement and settled it into the garage.

One nice Saturday morning, in August, I got up at 5:00 a.m. and hauled all of the stuff out in the driveway. I did not think. I could not think. So I priced everything at $5.00. Tables, a television, old VCR, dressers, lazy-boy-chair, old tools (well they went for a dollar), electric leaf blower, weed trimmer, my old wood-working projects, bunches of knick-knacks, and old garden rakes, shovels and whatever else was down there. Most of it was sold. The rest I donated.

Then I looked around the living areas. What do I want to get rid of? What do I not want to drag to a new house? One of the first things I decided to let go of was the old stereo system. It still worked (somewhat), so I put ads up at my local grocery store.

A young music student wanted the ancient turntable and speakers. I sold them to her for $20.00. She did not want the rest of the unit. Hmmmm. Now what to do? The tuner and radio were alright, and the CD player was still decent, but without speakers.....
Then there was the stand. Even though it was made of pressed wood, it was still pretty good. I re-posted the ad, asking $15.00 for the stand. The rest I would figure out what to do with later on.

The telephone rang early in the evening.
"Hello? Is this the stereo stand?"
"Um, yes." I answered.
"Well, is it still available?"
"Yes, it is."
"What?"
"Yes!" This guy sounded really really old. I don't think he could hear very well.
"Oh good."
Silence.
"Yes..." I encouraged.
He coughed once or twice. Said something to somebody else who must have been in the same room. It sounded like "what do I tell her?"

"Ah, lady?"
"Yes, I'm still here"
"Could I come and look at it."
Gee, that's a tough one (LOL).
"Sure, when would you like to come over?"
This old codger mumbled something to his roommate. I guess they were conferring.
"Is it still $15.00?"
I hesitated. Actually, I'd forgotten what price I'd asked, since I'd priced and repriced so many items.
"That's what the ad says!" he sounded indignant and grumpy yet I hadn't answered his question.
"Then that's what the price is." I confirmed. "When would you like to come by?"
"O.K. I'll call you later." Click.

Two minutes later the phone rang again.
"Hello? Is this the stereo stand?"
"Um, yes."
"Ah...um...ah, I don't have a car. Do you deliver?"
I nearly dropped the phone. Do I deliver? Am I a store? A delivery service? For a fifteen dollar cabinet? Well, I couldn't help myself. I had to laugh. Told him I couldn't lift it into my car. He said he'd try to get somebody to help him.

No, this is not the end. There's more.
A few mornings later, I opened the door to see a very old man on my doorstep. He'd come by bicycle.
I just stared at him. I knew who he was because he had called earlier.
"You can't take this home by bicycle!"
"Oh, I know that, lady. I just came to look at it."
I was impressed. He had ridden his ancient bicycle about two miles to get to me and all the roads were uphill. Talk about perseverance and stamina! And he looked about 85 years old!

"Well, come in." I felt bad. I should have just lugged it into my car and delivered the dang thing. "Would you like some tea?" I asked him. It was a cool morning and I felt sorry for the old guy.
"Oh, no thanks, I have the flu."
Oh..... I took 2 steps away from him, as he coughed and blew his nose.

Long story short, he paid me the money, told me I'd miss this really good cabinet (gee, I don't think so) and arranged to pick it up later. Still feeling a little guilty at the old guy coming out when he was sick and on his bike too, I gave him the CD player and radio that went with it. He didn't want it, so gave it to his daughter-in-law, who was driving the pick-up truck.

Hope they enjoyed their treasures.

Where are you?

I'm in the wind, I'm in the breeze
I'm in the flowers and in the trees
I'm all around; though you cannot see
Please don't weep. I'm still me.

I'm energy now, a beam of light
I watch over you day and night
I'm in your heart; can you not feel?
The depth of our love, does it not heal?

I scattered you at water's edge
Mindful of the rocky ledge
The lake was calm, the sky was blue
I saw a butterfly; then there were two
Please tell me that was you.

A pair of dragonflies, glistening wings
Dipping, dancing, shining things
Great heron swooped in to view
I saw another, making two
Once again - was that you?

Just close your eyes my love and feel
I'm not gone, I'm real as real
I've only changed, transformed as they say
I'll never leave you, I won't go away

I am the light that flickers in the hall
I am the shadow you see on the wall
I'm all around, though you cannot see
I'm not gone.
I am still me.

What does the sky look like?

"What does the sky look like?" he asked as I walked into the kitchen.
I gave him a smile and turned around to plop our coffee down on the counter.

"Oh, a little cloudy, some patches of blue."

I was glad that my back was turned, as in truth I hadn't really noticed. Why did he ask me this question?

Logically it was probably because he hadn't ventured out of the house in the past 2 or 3 years. Or maybe he just wanted to know if we would be able to enjoy our morning coffee on the deck, soaking up the early summer sunshine. Some days even in summer, it might be too cool, especially if the sky was overcast. Or too windy and he'd have trouble catching his breath.

More than likely, he just wanted to have some sense of the outside world. A world he had almost left behind.
Now, I'll never know.

Every day after that, however, I made sure to look up at the sky as I was running errands, so I could tell him what it looked like. And as I became more aware of the sky, I also became more aware of our environment.

Over the years David would make a comment like: "There's an east wind blowing." And I would look at him as if to say, "Who cares?"
Now I take more notice.


I think that being aware of the ebb and flow of one's natural environment is to feel connected, and David must have needed the strength of that connection.

Sand pictures

Does anybody know what this is? Let's ask Mr. Bunny.... too late, he's hopped away.

Well then, let's ask Jazzy. Oh, she's taking a nap.

How about Nathan? Do you know what that thing in the sand is?

Nope, he's too busy playing with trucks.

Let's ask the horseshoe crab.

Or Mistress Seaweed...

How about the little girl who made the sand picture?

Why it's a Sand Angel, of course.

Monster for supper?

Ewwww - what's that, Mommy?
Lobster, Jasmine.
Monster?
No, lobster!

What are we going to do with it?
Eat it - it's for supper.
Nooooooooo!

What's wrong? Lobster is good. We only have this when we go to the ocean. It's a treat.

But... but....is the monster o.k., Mommy?

"Yes," said Mommy with a straight face. I couldn't help laughing out loud. How on earth could a cooked lobster be o.k., sitting on a dinner table in a pool of garlic butter, about to be devoured by a hungry family? Oh, the innocence of little ones.....

Dreams and pens..

Night times are hard. The house is so quiet, so dark and still as I lie alone in bed trying to go to sleep. Before long, the inevitable tears flow, soaking my pillow. It's incredible how much I miss David's warm body next to mine. I still reach out to touch his pillow in the night.

"Please send me a dream," I entreat him, "so I know you are o.k. So I know you are not gone, not passed away, but passed within". This is an expression I heard from my on-line widows support group. Our loved ones have not passed away, they've passed within. I like that.

I did manage to fall asleep,and when I awoke in the early hours, a vague sense of having dreamed of David splashed across my brain. What was it? Ah, then I saw a picture of me in a boat. I don't know where I was going. I had a small child by the hand. Try as I would, I could not remember who this child was. I think it was a little boy. A grandchild? Nephew? One of my own boys? My husband as a child? Dreams are funny. Time does not run like it does here on earth. My children are grown now, but when I dream of them, often they are still toddlers, or teens. And I am the same age. A grandmother. So I don't know who this child was.

There was a stethoscope around my neck - David's. As most of you know, he had been a doctor in this life. A gentle and respected physician, who loved his work. Somebody on the boat addressed me as doctor. I was too weary to correct him (or her, I forget). Upon awakening, the message was clear. David was within. We are one.

It must seem a strange way to think, for someone who has not experienced the loss of a spouse, a partner, a lover. This "passing within" rather than "passing away." It's a deep feeling of love, centered in the heart. Both of my parents and my brother have passed away. I still feel a connection to them and dream about them from time to time, but there is a detachment, a feeling of letting them go. It's just not the same.

PEN STORY, PART II
Earlier in the month, I was back at the notary's office as there were more legalities to be sorted out. This time, I checked my purse at least 3 times to make sure I'd brought a good pen. I had. But just to be on the safe side, I reminded everyone right before the meeting began, to make sure they had their pens handy. The notary looked at me as if I had 5 heads. She had obviously forgotten our last meeting where nobody could find a pen (I was sure David had hidden them all). The financial advisor, who was sitting on my right side must have remembered, for he gave me a self-conscious smile.

The meeting began. A document was produced for me to sign. With a flourish I whipped out my pen, placed it on the paper and.....
nothing....but a scratch.
I could not believe it. David up to his tricks once again! If he couldn't hide the pens, then he'd just make sure mine didn't work! Ha! And I thought I'd been so smart, so prepared this time.

Good old Financial Advisor leaned forward and lent me his pen. It worked and I signed what was to become the first of quite a few documents that morning.

"You can keep it," he said with a smile.

A little birdie told me..

Monday afternoon.

I had had a particularly lonely and grief-stricken weekend.
It seems I can go for a few days feeling fine and then - Wham! Out of nowhere I am overwhelmed with feelings of pain and loss.

Monday afternoon, I was babysitting my two grandchildren. Little Nathan was down for his nap. I had given him his bottle upstairs and gently placed him in his crib, sound asleep. His sister was sitting in the living room watching a childrens' program on television. Otherwise, I would be hearing "Grandma - where are you?" "Grandma - I have to go potty!" "Grandma - is Nathan sleeping yet?" So with the TV as distraction, Nathan could be put to sleep undisturbed.

Quietly, I closed the bedroom door. Made sure the baby monitor was turned on. Tiptoed downstairs. Peeked into the living room. Jasmine was totally absorbed in her show. Good. Went to the kitchen to heat up my coffee in the microwave. Just then the dog barked to go out. O.K., so I took my coffee to the patio door and let Whiskey out.

It was a beautiful day. Sun shining brightly. Sky a clear blue. Too nice to be sitting inside. So, I took a couple of minutes to walk barefoot in the backyard grass (no I did not step in dog poop). I just enjoyed the feel of grass on my bare toes, and talked to David as I always do. "Why are you gone? Why don't you come back? Where are you?" Silly questions, but I ask anyway.

Heard a chirping. Ignored it. The chirping did not go away. In fact it became louder and more persistent. So I looked around. A bright red cardinal sat chirping for all he was worth on a telephone wire. I watched him for a while. Looked for the female. Could not find her. Just him. Sitting chirping as if trying to tell me something.

Walked back in the house. Left the dog outside lying on the grass, chewing on a plastic dog toy. Peeked into the living room. Jazzy was just fine.

"Would you like some juice?"

"Yes, grandma."
"Yes, please," I instructed.
"Yes, please," she repeated.

Poured her some juice. Re-heated my coffee (I like it hot, even on a hot summer's day).

Finally ambled into the living room to sit on the sofa beside Jazzy, snuggling up to enjoy the closeness of her three-year-old body; but still conscious of the sharp pain of loss - knowing David and I will never snuggle up together again.

Enough focusing on the pain! (I admonished myself). Looked up at the TV screen to see what Jazzy was watching. Childrens shows are short, usually lasting 10 or 15 minutes, so I thought we'd watch one last one and then turn off the set. As it happened, a new show was just beginning.

It was about a little robin who was sad. He was looking out of the window in a child's room. The robin had been injured and the child had brought him home. But now he was well and longed to be outside.

The mother of the child walked into the room, sized up the situation, and told the little boy to let the robin fly free. He obediently opened the window and the robin flew out. But a few minutes later, the bird was back. He perched on the child's finger, told him thank you for your care, I'm sorry I have to leave, but I must fly free now. I love you.
"I love you too," replied the child.

The mother explained to the child that the robin was happy now. It had to feel the wind on its wings, join the other birds, build a nest and go on to a brand-new life.

Nice little story.

And then it hit me.

That story was meant for me. It was a message from David saying he was well and happy - flying free now. Thank you for helping me heal, but I must go on to a new life.

No, no, no, I argued with myself. I must be going nuts. How can that be?

It's the timing. The precision of the timing. I had just sat down at that precise moment to cuddle with Jasmine and look up at the television. Had I not let the dog out, heated my coffee, watched that bird, put Nathan down earlier or later, etc. etc., I would have missed that show.

It's always the timing that brings home the message.

Oh, and I wonder what the cardinal had been trying to tell me?