Breathe In, Breathe Out...And So It Goes

What a weird and wonderful world we live in. It knocks you down, drags you around and sometimes even leaves you for dead. But just then as you’re lying there broken beyond belief you see it. It might be there in the words of another, it might be there in a glimpse of nature or it might be there when you close your eyes. But it’s there. A glimmer, a light and slowly a force. That force that moves us along and brings us back to life.

2011 was somewhat of a reflective year for me. After shuttering up the windows to ME in 2010 I opened them wide in 2011 and allowed myself to experience the grief and loss, usually privately but on occasion much more publicly. I’d like to say I’m done with it but I know that it’s become a part of who I am and makes me the person I am today. I wouldn’t wish this loss on anyone but I have learned to embrace every moment in my life and learn from it, if not grow from it.

I’m excited for what this new year will bring. My family will grow with the birth of my third grandchild, the first boy. Each year, each moment and each experience in my own children’s lives change them forever and a certain acceptance of that change has formed within us all. We’re all older and wiser but still full of life with so much ahead of us. I can’t wait to see how I change and grow this coming year.

Yep, the shutters came off and the windows went wide in 2011. Pardon the metaphor but the screens are up now for 2012. The screens let out the old and stale but gently filter in the fresh and new. I’m ready for it. I’m ready for the next chapter of my life. Bring it on 2012!!!

A Big Bear Hug

Not trying to be Debbie Downer or anything but it’s still hard. I put up the indoor Christmas decorations yesterday. He loved when I’d decorate “his room”, running garland with white lights and little red ornaments all around the wall unit. As I wound it around the side and near the shelf that holds his urn & keepsake from the memorial service I laughed as I remembered his smile as the decorations slowly went up. Doing this yesterday felt good and familiar.

I’ve had four days off from work and have accomplished very little. I think when I have a little too much down time, I get to feeling a bit melancholy. I guess that’s normal though. I should be relishing this rare weekend with little to no commitments and accomplishing so much here at home but it’s not happening. Instead of doing the cleaning and yard work that needs to be done, I find myself sitting around, reading, watching TV and feeling a tiny bit lonely. I think up to this point I haven’t really felt lonely, just alone. It has nothing to do with my kids or my friends, it’s deeper than that. I love my family dearly and am so lucky to have them but thankfully they all have independent and happy lives. We did something right with them, didn’t we?

I don’t think I’m quite ready to let go of him and may not be for a long time. For the most part I live a happy, positive and busy life and I appreciate all that I have. But I’m feeling a little dark right now. It’ll pass. It always does.

He seems to know when I need him most. We had a recent medical scare where for no apparent reason my pregnant daughter suddenly had some stroke-like (TIA) memory problems that were alarming enough to have her go to the local emergency room to get checked out neurologically. When she told me what was going on with her it felt like I was kicked in the chest. I was scared and worried. I went to her house to watch my granddaughter so she and her husband could go to the hospital. It was late and after a full day of work so I ended up falling asleep on their couch. Something woke me and I picked up my phone to check the time and it was 11:11pm. I smiled because I knew in that moment that she was fine. He was letting me know. And she is fine. They got home around 2AM and reported that the neurologist and tests revealed no medical issues.

Then on Friday after an exhausting Thanksgiving at my house, I was vegging out. I had gotten up early thanks to my dogs and was dozing off while watching TV. I decided to take a rare nap and headed to my bed. Just as I was climbing in I glanced at the bedside clock and it was 11:11am. I silently acknowledged him and lied down to sleep. When I woke up just about an hour and a half later it was from a beautiful dream. I was home and felt so much excitement because Al was coming home! In my dream I opened the front door and there he was walking up the driveway. He was wearing a white chef’s uniform, clean and sharp but over his left breast was a quilt of medals and ribbons. He looked so happy and he reached out to hug me. It was one of those hugs where you feel enveloped in love. He kissed my head and said, “Oh, how I’ve missed traveling with you!” And just like that, the dream ended as I opened my eyes.

I miss those big bear hugs but for just a moment I was lost in one and it felt real and it felt good.

All Souls Procession ~ For All the Souls Here and Beyond

As much as I love everything about Summer from an average daily temperature of 105 degrees or more to the sound of cicadas buzzing in the trees to that feeling when you lay your arm on the leather console in your car and see how long you can keep it there (I know, weird huh?) I’m starting to appreciate Fall and Winter. As the season changes there are things that make me miss him all the more. I listen to friends and family talk about deer or elk hunting and I feel a little pang of sadness when I remember how excited he would be to go on his hunts. When I make a pot of fideo or albondigas I remember those evenings when I’d walk through the door to the wonderful aroma of his split pea & ham soup or his famous Texas chili. I’d smile and give him a kiss as I looked at the mess in my kitchen that he’d leave for me. And then there were the holidays….oh how he loved the holidays. Thanksgiving, eh. It was nice having the family together and eating all the food but Al lived for Christmas! Last Christmas was tough as it was our first one without him. I don’t imagine it will be as difficult this year but I think I’ll still be hiding a tear or two from my family.

Another thing I’ve come to appreciate at this time of year is something that has become deeply personal to me. The All Souls Procession. I’ve had a strange love affair with Mexico and the beautiful culture and started going to the procession a few years ago. But after Al passed, it took on a whole new meaning to me.

I feel a kinship with my fellow Tucsonans as we walk the downtown streets in celebration and love for our family and friends who have passed on. It’s deeply steeped in the Mexican culture but it’s gone beyond being something that only Latinos celebrate. Mexican, Asian, Black, Native American, White, you name it…we’re all there doing the same thing. Honoring those we love and have lost.

What’s amazing is that each of us in some way has had our hearts broken through loss but not our spirit. I can look at someone carrying a picture of their lost loved one and they can look at mine and we know. We know that the love is still there and that it still hurts at times. And we’re there because we want others to know. To know that this person was special and truly meant something in our lives. This person was a living, breathing person and now they’re gone. And we will honor and remember them. And of course there are people who have not experienced such loss and participating in the All Souls Procession proves to be a reminder to many of them of just how precious life and love is.

When I first started attending, I was a spectator but after Al passed I felt compelled to do more. My family & I join the procession and walk the route. We wear buttons and small sandwich boards that are adorned with Al’s picture. I paint my face and join the thousands who are there to celebrate….celebrate life and love and beyond.

1st shot is me in the 2010 procession, 2nd shot is me in the 2011 procession

This is such a happy and joyful event, a true expression of love and culture. I wish you all could experience it.

Loud & Clear

Today would have been my husband’s 63rd birthday. Well, actually it’s not “would have been”, it is his 63rd birthday. Because regardless of the fact that he’s no longer on this earth as a living, breathing human being – October 11 is and always will be the date on which he was born.

I’m still not sure what I’m supposed to feel and do on this date. Birthdays in our house are always celebrated so it feels odd here tonight. Maybe I should have made chile rellenos. Maybe I should have made a cake.

I took the day off today and did something I’ve wanted to do for a very long time but was afraid to do until recently and that is to see a psychic medium. I guess I was always afraid of someone telling me what my future holds but that fear no longer exists. I want to know what path my life will follow or perhaps get a little glimpse in to what awaits me.

For the most part today’s experience was good. I went with my two daughters and the connection was there for me. Al came through. It’s still a little bit of a blur and I know that as these next few days unfold and I am able to go through everything she said, I’ll remember more of those connections but right now, this is what I remember. She told us that Al is with us every day but we don’t get the signs we used to get as frequently. She said he is in a different place than he was one year ago and different than he was three months ago. As they move through their journey, they get “cleaner” and the need to show the signs lessens.

She ("A"….much easier than typing out her unusual name) first told me that he felt no pain with his passing. That towards the end he stood outside of his body as he was slowly slipping away during those last few hours. A said he was showing her how he pulled himself out of his mortal body and his foot got stuck in his body’s armpit and that he was tethered by something not unlike an umbilical cord and was tugging at it and joking around with it. She laughed and said he was a great sense of humor and likes to laugh. Al was known for his sick sense of humor and dumb jokes. I worried that he was in pain during that last 24 hours and felt the ache of regret that there were no real words or jokes between us at the end. But now I see, now I know….they were there, I just didn’t hear or see them.

She then said that he’s with Christ. But then she said Al wanted me to know that he’s also with Buddha…and Ghandi…and others. That it’s a spiritual world but not defined by one faith. He wanted me to know that he is in a good place and there is nothing to fear. Al and I had many talks about faith and spirituality and he knew my beliefs. He threw in the Buddha/Ghandi/and others for me because he knew I needed to hear something other than Christ.

A went on to say that he sees me struggling and doesn’t want me to hurt any more and to find happiness with another man. In fact, there has been interest from a man but I’m not open to that at this point in time. Al said he wants me to find happiness and love again. The love that awaits me will be different than what we shared but it will be just as special. A said Al says to find someone to love but then joked that he should have money this time. Al knows I have a huge heart and that there is room for another love and that I shouldn’t feel guilty or that I’m betraying him. A went on to say that someone here on earth isn’t ready for me to date but she sees it happening. In fact she said I’d marry again and it would only be a few years down the road. Again he joked that when I find someone, I shouldn’t get down to business on the couch because he’ll be sitting in there. This has been an internal struggle for me lately. I won't say I'm ready to start dating but I've been worrying about what Al will think when I do start. I've been feeling guilty for even thinking about it. It's almost been feeling like a betrayal. To be very honest, I had hoped to get some kind of message from Al about moving forward and how to know when the time would be right to even take my wedding ring off. This has been something that keeps me awake at night, makes me sick to my stomach and makes me cry. I've lived a faithful life and was a dutiful, loving wife so how on earth could I possibly think about meeting another man, much less getting married again. I was sure that Al would be watching me and feel crushed that I've moved on and was forgetting him. And now I know that it's what he wants.

Finally Al said to her that I was his angel, his angel on earth. A mentioned his sense of humor again and that he really liked to joke. She then said Al was telling her he was an asshole too. A said she doesn’t ever cuss but Al was very strong with the need to say that he was an asshole. A few years ago when Al was struggling with some issues and was in the depths of depression he told me in those exact words that I was his angel, his angel on earth. He not only told me but he told anyone who would listen. And he used those words. And then there’s the asshole part. My husband…either you loved him or you hated him. And he was an asshole like no other. He actually took pride in the fact that he was an ass. I told him on a million different occasions that he was an asshole but he was my asshole. He loved that I would say that and used to tell his friends and coworkers that I would say that.

She asked if his death was sudden or a result of an illness and I told her it was an illness. She sensed a smell and said we may smell it at times too. It’s that smell when people drink too much. Not a clear “alcohol” smell but rather the smell that comes from inside when someone drinks too much. She told us he was an alcoholic and she sensed that he died of cirrhosis of the liver. She said something about his insides being mushy. It took a while after Al’s death for me to admit even to myself that my husband was an alcoholic. I never saw it during his life, I just knew him as the guy who always had a beer in his hand. He didn’t drink hard alcohol and he wasn’t a drunk. But I see now that he was a functioning alcoholic. Something I remember vividly is when he was admitted to the hospital the last time and they were wheeling him out of the ER to have some tests done, a foul smell like I’d never smelled before was coming from deep within him. With each breath he exhaled I could smell it. It was almost like a rotting smell, like his insides were decaying. Deep down within me I knew there was something terribly wrong from that smell. He did in fact die from cirrhosis.

Al told A that I should go to school but not for “serious” classes. Maybe photography or writing. Then Al told her I like to write and should go to Pima and take a creative writing class. Well, damn. Look at me. I write this blog as a tool to help me clear my head but the truth is I love writing. I like to chronicle things in words and pictures. Uh, hello? Facebook much? I have never given any thought to taking a class but now I will consider it. Writing makes me happy and maybe taking a class will put me on a path I didn’t expect until today. After all, Al sees it. He told A about it. My life will go on and there is someone out there for me. I just need to open myself to it.

So no cake, no special meal. Tonight I poured a shot of our favorite tequila, I sang Happy Birthday out loud and I toasted you. Thank you for everything you ever gave me, thank you for our children, thank you for my life. I will honor you and watch for you in little ways no one else might see and I know you’ll always be with me. And I’ll open my heart just a little wider to let possibility in but never let you slip from it.

Salud!

Right Message, Right Time

So a trip to Sedona for Al’s birthday isn’t in the cards after all. The decision was made to stay in Tucson and instead of seeing the psychic who proved her abilities with Alison, we will see someone in Tucson that a friend had a positive experience with.

I made the call today to set up the appointment. I asked for her by name and told her that a friend had enjoyed her experience with her. I told the woman that there would be three of us (Marshall’s not buyin’ the black magic so it’ll just be me, Alison & Lesley). She set the appointment and then proceeded to give me an extremely brief “reading” over the phone. Because I was not expecting anything like this, I didn’t quite make out what she was saying until she said , “and you have an angel with you and her name is ___ (didn’t catch it) and she wants me to tell you to just stop worrying so much.”

I thanked her and said good bye. Okay, okay, okay. I know what most of you are saying. It doesn’t mean anything. She could be pulling from her years of experience in knowing why people go see psychics and mediums. But it was the right thing for me at that particular moment. Right message, right time. I said it in my last post. I’m NOT a worrier. My philosophy is what good will it do to worry? It can’t change the outcome of anything. It’s a hakuna matata life, baby. But the last few days? All I’ve done is worry. Worry myself in to insomnia, worry myself in to adolescent break outs, just WORRY.

I think this woman just may be the right one for us. Thanks Mo!

I keep forgetting to write about the good things. The things that make me laugh and the everyday weird encounters. I need to start doing that. But right now my head is full of random stuff because for the past week I’ve been filled with incredible stress and I don’t know why I’m letting so many things bother me. Even more so the past couple of days to the point where I’m actually breaking out. I’m fucking 51 years old and I’m breaking out. Nice.

Some of my stressors are ridiculous and minute. Some are real and a great internal struggle is going on deep within me. My daughter Lesley made a suggestion to help me with my stressors that in another life would be insignificant but in this life right now, right here – they are enough to cause me some grief.

(I can’t tell you how foreign it is for me to be saying these things when my motto has always been more along the lines of Hakuna Matata. In other words, why worry? What good does it do in the long run?) She wants me to write down the things that are stressing me out and post them where I can see them. Then as they come to me, write down under each one little things I can do to change what is stressing me out. So simple!

So here goes. I share this beginning list with you so that I may see how ridiculous it is that I am stressing over these things. Then I’m going to go out and buy a white board and start my “in your face” list.
I’m stressed over:
My front yard. The weeds are ridiculous. Monsoon rains bring with it an incredible amount of weeds if you don’t nip them in the bud. This was something Al always took care of. If he didn’t do it himself, he’d hire someone to do it. Well….he’s not here anymore and the truth is I just don’t have the money to hire someone to clean up my yard. I get home from work late in the evening and am typically busy/gone a good portion of my weekends so it doesn’t get done. I wasn’t feeling too terrible about it when I left my house last Saturday since my next door neighbor’s yard looked similar. I was gone all day and night. When I woke up on Sunday morning and walked outside to get the paper I noticed that my neighbor had done his whole yard on Saturday. Great. Now the pressure is on, at least in my own mind because it looks like my house is abandoned!
My fix? Go out every day that I have a few minutes of daylight and pull a few weeds. Even if I only tackle a 1 foot square patch at a time. It’s something!
My electric bill. I signed up for a budget plan where the electric company looks at my usage from a year ago and bills me the same amount every month based on my overall year’s usage. Fine and dandy. I pay a little over my monthly bill every month. Well I just happened to really review my bill the other day and realized that I have a deficit balance. A $580 deficit!!! What the hell. My trouble is that I turn the A/C off when I leave the house in the morning and leave the dogs with access to go in and out all day. When I get home the house is about 95 degrees so I close the house up and turn the A/C on. The system works hard to get my house to a comfortable temperature, usually around 10:30 or 11PM at night. Then it runs all night and I start the same process over the next day.
My fix? I need to realize that my deficit balance will slowly decrease as the weather cools down and I no longer use my A/C. I also need to find a way to get a dog door installed in my sliding glass door panel. Then I can leave the A/C on at 80 or so during the day and the dogs will still have access to go outside but my system won’t work as hard to cool down at night.

So those are just two little stressors. I need to get that white board and start working on changing things or at least showing myself a way to slowly change things.

Now those deep, dark internal struggles I spoke of? I don’t even know where to start with those. I’m so conflicted and confused. My exterior self appears happy and upbeat and for the most part, it’s a true reflection of myself. But then there are those days when it’s all a lie. And that lie is keeping me awake at night. I need some answers and guidance from afar. I know he hears me. I just need to hear him. And I’m not talking about the spiritual “him.” You know who I mean.

Be Kind Whenever Possible. It Is Always Possible. ~ The Dalai Lama

I mentioned it on Facebook that I was rear-ended while driving to work on Wednesday. It was around 7:45 and I was at an intersection close to work and I was sitting at a red light thinking about the day ahead when all of a sudden – BOOM. I looked up and in to my rear view mirror and saw a gold SUV pretty much on top of me. I motioned for the driver to pull in to the church parking lot next to us. When I got out I pretty much expected to see a crumpled bumper on my car but there was nothing. Just a couple of black marks from where her bumper hit mine. As soon as the other driver exited her vehicle she was so apologetic and concerned. I told her it was fine, neither of us was hurt and I didn’t see any real damage. I quickly opened and closed my trunk to make sure there wasn’t a problem and turned to her. I said, “There’s no damage to speak of, just a few little rubber marks so let’s not worry about it. Have a nice day!” She thanked me, apologized once more and we got in our cars and left.

It wasn’t a big deal and my reaction was completely natural. But it got me thinking much later that evening – How often do you think about how your actions and reactions can make or break someone else’s day? Probably not too often, I know I don’t. But when something happens, you become aware. Do you smile at people when you are passing each other on the sidewalk or in a hallway? Do you hold the door open for someone not caring if they’re male, female, young or old? Do you take a moment to pay a compliment or make someone feel good about themselves if only for that moment? Do you let a driver in to busy traffic in front of you? Do you ever think that the person you smile at and say hello to might be having one of the worst days ever and your simple act might be the only bright spot in their day?

It really is just that simple. It doesn’t take much effort, is no financial burden and will make you smile inside. I know, this is a corny post but it’s something I believe in wholeheartedly. Just be nice.

You don’t have to let people push you around and you don’t have to like everyone. But it’s pretty easy to give everyone a chance. It takes a lot of effort to be spiteful, prejudiced and completely caught up in your self. And really no effort to be nice. You’d be surprised.

Molecules and Particles

Throughout my life, I’ve never been a saver. I hate clutter and have never held much sentimental value in “things.” I don’t have any toys from my childhood, handed down china or heirloom jewelry. Hell, I threw away Al’s trophies not long after we were first married. What? They were old! They weren’t exactly Olympic medals. It must have something to do with the way I was raised because my parents were the same; they didn’t hang on to “things” either. That’s not to say “things” are bad. It’s just for me, the memory is in my heart and mind not in the object. I don’t need to look at an object to remember, it’s all kept within me.

So I actually find it a little puzzling that I find it hard to let go of Al’s things. Not the large, tangible things like his golf clubs, guns, etc. It’s more like his clothes, his shoes, his stupid little diabetes testing kit, multiple pairs of eyeglasses and his cell phone. It’s not the memories these items hold either because like I said, the memories are within me, not in those “things.”

I figured it out last night when I was turning off the light switch on the wall of my bedroom. As my hand came in contact with the surface my mind was flooded with a sudden thought and feeling of Al. As I got comfortable in bed I thought about touching that light switch plate and how Al had touched that same light switch plate every day for 25 years and then it hit me.

Molecules and particles! I know it sounds crazy and unsentimental but it’s not. His molecules and his particles are all over the items I can’t seem to get rid of. Three different pair of eyeglasses all with the molecules and particles of his face, his skin and his oils. The cell phone that has his molecules and particles of his fingers, his ears, the side of his face and his mouth. Pieces of him, parts of his body that I’ll never hold again….they surround me. And those are “things” I can understand.

Time Is My Friend

For whatever reason, Al’s back. Well, I know he never really left. I think that he comes and goes. He seems to come when I need him. When I’m feeling insecure and need a reminder that he’ll help me along. When I’m feeling alone in the world and need a reminder that he’ll always be here with me. When things are going well and I need to share things with him. But then he goes for periods of time giving me the independence I need to move forward in my life and allowing me to “forget” a little. Not really forget but not to think about him so much.

But over the past week he’s made his presence known to me. A lot. And I’m trying to figure out why. I have to take it for what it is. I haven’t been feeling insecure or sad. I am alone but I’m not lonely. I think he’s letting me know that he’s proud of me, that the decisions I’ve made lately are good ones and he’s encouraging me to keep it up, to fight and succeed and keep moving forward.

It’s always the same sign and there is no coincidence involved. It’s that 11:11 thing that has been happening since just after Al passed. It’s been pretty much daily for the past week, week and a half. I’m not a clock watcher and tend to get lost in things, forgetting about time altogether. I’ll be at work and not look at the clock all day but something compels me to look at the time on either my phone or computer and it’s 11:11. At home late in the evening I get caught up in what I’m doing and don’t pay attention to the time. I don’t go to bed at a set time so it’s not like when a certain show ends, then I go to bed. The TV is just background for me. It’s odd because I’ll go to bed and more often than not lately I’ll reach for my alarm clock to set it and I’m staring at those same numbers. Or if I end up going to bed a little earlier, I'll wake up and roll over to have 11:11 staring back at me in bright green numbers.

It’s hard to express what I feel when I get that sign. I feel warmth and happiness. If I’m home I’ll talk out loud to Al and thank him for showing me that he’s here. I tell him I love him and miss him and that I’m doing OK. I let him know that I’d give anything to have him back lying in bed beside me. I tell him that I’d do it all over again and take care of him and love him exactly as I did all over again. And I thank him. When it happens at work, I pause for the full minute until the clock turns to 11:12 and silently tell him all the same things.

A digital clock…my best friend of late.

Go Fish

Many of you…..well hell, most of you….know that I’ve started something new in my life. New things are fun, new things are exciting and new things keep YOU new. Well, you know what I mean.

I’ve really stepped outside of myself these past couple of months and it feels good. I’m looking at life in a whole new way, a way I’ve never really experienced before. I’ve said it before and it does bear repeating….I’ve never lived my life just for me. I didn’t have a crazy period in my life (teenage years don’t count!) where I did selfish, ridiculous things. I’ve never made decisions that didn’t affect an entire family.

Well life dealt me a hand I wasn’t expecting and I’m turning what I thought was a crappy Poker hand in to a winning Go Fish hand.

I’m not just making lemons in to lemonade; I’m making The Cup Café’s fucking Mexican Ice Water! Total sidebar but this drink is one of my favorites: Don Julio Silver, muddled lemons and fresh squeezed lemon juice poured over a glass of ice. Dare I say it? I think I’ve moved past my grief and have arrived at this next stage in my life.

This new thing is something I’m truly excited about. Never in a million years did I see myself doing anything like this. Ever. But the truth is, I’m loving it! I fell in love with Scentsy products about two years ago and was buying the products from a couple of different consultants….one consultant (director) in particular. She told me I should be selling it and I of course thought, “No way in hell.” I kept on watching her and saw an excitement that I was craving, a passion to succeed for myself, to do things my way. Although my financial situation scared me, it wasn’t what completely fueled my decision to take the plunge. It was the thought of doing something so completely outside of myself.

And I like it! Granted I’ve only been doing this for less than 45 days but I’m having FUN. Without giving a total sales pitch I just have to say that Scentsy is amazing and if you haven’t tried the products, you’re really missing out. Ha! Contact me; let me tell you about Scentsy! Crap….there I go.

So there you have it. My first step on a new path. I’m walking this path alone but that’s OK. It really, really is.

Living For Myself. It's The Next Thing On My List.

I feel like it’s time to turn this blog in a different direction but I’m not sure how to make that happen. I’ve been avoiding posting because for the most part, I’m not sad and looking to heal by expressing myself here.

That’s not to say I don’t GET sad. I got sad tonight…just for a moment. I had emailed the management team that handles Rickie Lee Jones to ask when she might reschedule her cancelled Tucson performance. It was a short email asking the question and also letting the team know how special she was to my family. I simply told them that her music meant a lot and that I’d often come home from work to find Al sitting on the porch in the summer waiting for me and blaring music from inside…always Rickie. I said that her music filled the hospice room for the two days he was there and that her music ushered him in to the next world. The reply I got moved me. The manager who wrote it is entering his 32nd year of marriage and expressed his sympathy and said he couldn’t even imagine experiencing such a loss. It touched me because he got personal. He didn’t have to but he related to me and let me know it. And it made me cry. Just enough where I had to wipe the tears away for a moment and then they were gone.

That’s pretty much the extent of my sadness these days. The moments are brief and they are fewer and farther between. I still plan to use this blog for memories and to help me through those times but I feel it’s time. It’s time to examine what I’m going to do with the rest of my life. Am I ready to be alone for the rest of my life? Am I ready to find a new partner to share my life with? Those are questions I need to explore. Right now I’m perfectly content with being on my own. Hell, I’ve never been on my own. I went from my parents’ house to a short couple of months living with roommates and then living and marrying Al. I kind of like having this freedom and the ability to do what I want when I want. But that’s in the here and now. I don’t know where my head will be next month or next year.

In the mean time I may experiment with what I post. I’ve been very honest with my posts up to this point but they were immersed in grief and now I’m not sure how to be so honest in my every day life. Bear with me.

Dessert First!

I reconnected with some old friends the other day over lunch. I used to talk to these ladies frequently over an eight year period when my boss served two terms on the Arizona Board of Regents. It was an interesting time in my life and while the work was very serious and important, we all knew how to laugh to ease some of the tension along the way.

The assistants from ABOR (Arizona Board of Regents, UofA (University of Arizona), ASU (Arizona State University) and the various Regents’ assistants (including me) would gather for lunch on occasion, usually meeting half way between Tucson and Phoenix in Casa Grande. When my boss had finally finished out his service he encouraged me to keep my relationship with these women active. Even when he left his position for greener grass in California, he felt it was important to stay connected with this group not only for my self but he felt they were important ties for our hospital.

Well, things don’t always go as planned and I ended up in a position where traveling for these lunches would not be tolerated in the least. I told my friends it was time for me to bow out and that someday I hoped to sit down with them again.

Well about three years later, that day arrived last Friday and it was great! I think I was a little too anxious about meeting up with everyone again and I thought we were to meet at the restaurant at 11:30AM instead of 12:00pm. About a minute or two behind me were four of the girls from the ABOR office. They had also arrived early but not by mistake, they wanted to be sure to get there with time to spare since they had encountered an accident last time that shut the freeway down. So we sat together at our table to wait (and gossip) until the other seven women arrived. Then they did the best thing ever…..they ordered dessert! BEFORE lunch. A couple of decadent, gooey, chocolaty things arrived on our table and were shared between the five of us. The attitude was “Why the hell not?” and it was so refreshing.

I had a takeaway from this that I hope stays with me for a very long time. Do what you enjoy, be willing to break the rules, do what feels right for you and you’ll be a happier, more satisfied person in the end. And as I think about it, I’ve gained a lot during the past 17 months; wisdom, confidence and attitude. (and weight…which I’ve managed to take off!) For over 30 years I lived my life for everyone else always making sure everyone else was taken care of. But I realize that I’ve found a new confidence, my sense of humor is back, I’ll do things my way if it feels right to me and I won’t back down on what is important and makes my heart whole.

So I say, “Dessert first!”

A Quiet Day of Celebration

For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer; in sickness and in health; to love, to honor, and to cherish, for all the days of our lives.

We took those vows thirty-three years ago today and we honored them to the fullest. Like most marriages, there was plenty of “better” and our fair share of “worse”, too many of the “poorer” and not enough of the “richer.” Thankfully more of the “in health” than of the “in sickness” and despite all of life’s complications we truly did love, honor and cherish for all the days of our lives.

Even though Al is gone I still choose to recognize my anniversary. Technically WE were married for 31 years, 8 months and 12 days. But I have been married for 33 years. I don’t know when that mind set is going to change but for now, I’m embracing it. He’ll be on my mind all day, that much I’m certain of. I’ll keep my emotions in check for the most part as I go about my normal work day.




I’m trying hard to learn to celebrate the life and love we shared and not mourn the loss quite so much. Some days it works, some days it doesn’t. Not so sure about this day.

On this Father's Day...

What I know for certain:
• Becoming a father changed Al’s life completely and fully.
• He could gut and field dress a deer yet faint at the site of a removed mole on a sterile tray. But he was there in the room at my side when each of our children were born. No fainting, just tears of joy.
• He enjoyed the times when it was just him and the kids but what he really loved were those one on one times when it was just him and one of the three. Some very special memories were formed during those times.
• He loved that Marshall was a true boy…playing golf, hunting and playing sports.
• He beamed with pride as he attended Marshall’s soccer, baseball, basketball and football games through youth leagues and high school.
• That same pride was there as he watched his girls perform in their cheerleading squads.
• Watching little miss independent Alison tool around in the backyard oblivious to anything else going on around her made him laugh out loud.
• When Lesley was just a toddler with glasses, he made sure to show her that he wore glasses too and told her that it was cool to wear glasses like him.
• His face actually hurt after a trip to Disneyland because he smiled so much as he watched the kids’ reaction to everything Disney.
• He was so proud that his kids could hold their own and would never back down from a fight.
• His opinionated and “asshole-ish” ways are ingrained in and a part of our children and he LOVED that they are their father’s children so to speak.
• He loved the fact that all three of his kids have a healthy respect for firearms but still feel the rush and joy when shooting.
• Sports were a huge part of who he was and all three of them have that same love for those same teams and are die-hard fans for life.
• He always wanted to do more for his family and it was heartbreaking for him when he felt he couldn’t provide everything that the kids’ friends had and he thought he was letting them down.
• He stood up for his kids no matter what just as they stood up for him.
• Through all the trials and tribulations of life, he knew how much he was loved.
• During the last 7 or 8 years of his life, he worked harder and longer than his body would allow but he did it anyway.
• His body let him down in many ways but his heart never did…..nor did his children.

Happy Father’s Day to the father of my children.

"Sometimes the poorest man leaves his children the richest inheritance."
~ Ruth E. Renkel

The Butcher

Tucson had quickly become our home and neither one of us really wanted to go back to California but we both knew that in order to have a stable future, we had to make the sacrifice. Al had tried to get on with the US Postal Service in Tucson but there were little to no opportunities. He went to Los Angeles and tested there and before we knew it, Al was hired in South Gate, CA. We packed up our little family and made the move. Thankfully Al’s parents offered their guest room to us. This was a really gracious and generous offer since we would obviously disrupt their lives quite significantly. We stayed with them just a couple of months but were anxious to get our own place.

We found a great house on Bowman Ave in South Gate. It had hard wood floors, a little phone nook built in to the wall in the hall and lots of fruit trees in the backyard. We had an abundance of plums, apricots, peaches, oranges, lemons and avocados. (The avocado tree was actually next door but hung over our back wall.) We’d order pizza from Cousimano’s down the street on Tweedy Boulevard and we’d pick up great cuts of meat at the little local market on Otis. They even had their own packaged ice cream that was to die for!

Al worked hard at the post office and played just as hard on a local softball team and improving his golf game. I worked for Mechanics National Bank and before we knew it a baby was on the way. I worked up until the weekend before Alison was born. While Marshall went fishing with his grandparents, Alison Lacey Navarro came in to the world. Al was so excited to welcome his little girl. She was amazing and everything felt just perfect!

Well, perfect was hardly the case. You see our landlords lived next door. And these weren’t just ANY landlords; they were an older couple that didn’t seem to know their boundaries….the McQuiddys. They stored furniture (mostly antiques that attracted rats!) in our garage, actually utilizing MORE than half the garage space, they’d come in to our backyard and pick fruit and we had a feeling they were even going inside the house on occasion when we weren’t home. They were terribly meddlesome and it didn’t sit well with Al. They christened Al with a new nickname towards the end of our time there.

Al enjoyed doing yardwork…mowing the lawn, pruning the trees, etc. He was trimming the trees once and the McQuiddys came over in a huff, screaming at him and then Old Man McQuiddy said it....THE BUTCHER!! Oh we thought it was hilarious and we’d purposely annoy the McQuiddys by tossing around that title. If the McQuiddys were in their backyard and we in ours, we'd make jokes about Al being a butcher not a mailman and laugh loudly making sure they heard. (I know, we were really mature about it all) Oh, how they hated us and after one particularly heated argument Al had with them, we found an eviction notice on our front door. It was a blessing in disguise and led us to a much happier place.

Self Pity

Yep, I'll own this one. It doesn't happen very often but tonight I feel sorry for myself. I'm not a fan of self pity and I'm embarrassed to admit that I've gone there tonight.

I'm getting ready to head out the door in the early morning hours to California to attend my nephew's wedding. I needed to wash clothes, wash dishes, take a shower, etc before I go. I did some cooking first and made kind of a mess. Threw some clothes in the washer and went in the computer room to download a couple of pictures. (Pics of my cooking experiment - fried green tomatoes, blech!) When I walked down the hall I thought my kitchen floor looked a little odd. WTF. My kitchen was flooded. Both sinks were full of crap and my washing machine backed up, draining all over the floor. Lovely. I used every towel in my house to sop up the water but now what? I have to leave this mess and come home to it on Monday night.

So yes, a stupid household mishap and I'm pissed as hell that I have to deal with it. By myself. With no money to pay a plumber. This sucks. And I'm mad. I'm mad that I have to deal with shit like this. I'm mad that I'm struggling financially. I'm mad that Al isn't here. I'm mad that I'm alone. I'm mad that life dealt me this blow. I'm mad that I'll never talk to him again. I'm mad that things are "easy" for other people and I've lived a life of struggle. I'm mad that I'm feeling sorry for myself. I'm just mad.

But through the anger I have to laugh. You see this is the way things go for us**. If something can go wrong, it will. Especially with the plumbing in my house. I can pretty much predict when I'm gonna have plumbing issues based on history...Thanksgiving Day when cleaning up after dinner.....ANY frickin' holiday when plumbers charge double....the morning we are leaving for California when my dad died....and of course when I'm leaving for a few days to see family.

**Wow, I still say us. That's pretty messed up and that makes me mad too.

What kind of sign am I being sent?

A House is Made of Walls and Beams; A Home is Built With Love and Dreams

An anxious man, a pregnant woman, a crazy dog and a strangely fat cat. It was all going well as we traveled across the desert from California to Arizona and then we made a stop mid way and discovered we also had kittens! Al had found our home on his previous trip to Tucson as he ironed out job details. It was a little duplex in mid-town. 3518 E Presidio to be exact. Perfect little place for us. It was close to the restaurant Al was opening with his friend and Al worked a LOT of hours. A young high school kid (3 years my junior – ha!) came in looking for a job and was hired. He and his crazy friends became a fixture around our place. That high school kid was Brian and a life-long friendship began.

I tried to find a job but quickly found out no one was interested in hiring a pregnant woman. So I set about making our house a home and getting prepared for the baby.

We found a great obstetrician with a midwife in his practice. Finally the time came and we went to the hospital. It’s funny that Al and I walked those halls late at night trying to work through my early labor and now I walk those same halls as part of the labor force at Tucson Medical Center. We brought our beautiful son Marshall home and Al was so incredibly proud. He was such a doting father and would spend his evenings after work cradling his son and just staring at him.

Our German Shepherd Hagar and once pregnant, okay twice pregnant, cat Chablis flourished and were great pets and companions. But Hagar was teased unmercifully by a kid in the little duplex complex and one day justice was served when Hagar jumped the fence and bit this kid. No break in the skin, just mental trauma for the kid (hopefully he learned a lesson) but Hagar had to be impounded at Animal Control for a bit. When he came back home we got another dog to keep him company and hopefully calm him down. A fat little lab mix we named Micah. We soon found out that Micah was an escape artist and thief. We’d find chewed up shoes (not ours!), toys (again not ours!) and other things in our fenced yard and the neighbors started complaining. We found another home for Micah and kept a closer eye on Hagar.

I went back to work a couple of months after Marshall was born. I did some waitressing at a locally owned restaurant on Country Club. Another funny little thing….that restaurant was located in the exact same spot as the ad agency my employer uses. I just realized that. I was soon hired to be a teller at Valley National Bank – the University branch. There began my “career” in banking.

We had a lot of fun at that house. One time we had a big, crazy party at the Presidio duplex after a javelina hunt. There was a band, a bunch of very potent jungle juice and a javelina wrapped in burlap buried in the ground slowly cooking on hot coals. A little too slowly though since everyone kept drinking waiting for the meat to be done, eventually passing out and waking up the next morning to falling off the bone javelina.

Restaurant business is a funny thing and Al knew he needed more stability for his family and an opportunity to get on with the US Postal Service came up……in southern California!! Ready, set, go!

Home Is Where the Heart Is

I can still remember the address. 13609 ½ Weimer Ave in Paramount, California. I don’t know what qualified it as a “1/2” because it was the only house on the lot but that’s where we started our lives together. Al already lived there and I moved in after a few months of dating and as soon as my lease was up at the little duplex I shared with friends in Monrovia, California.

We had a lot of fun in that house and even held our wedding reception there. Family prepared most of the food and a party to remember ensued!

We got our first dog when we lived in that house. A cute, funny little German Shephard pup we named Hagar the Horrible.

We had some crazy neighbors back in the day. On one side was a large Samoan family who would have great gatherings where the center of the party was a massive pig roasting on a pit just beyond the little picket fence that separated our back yards. On the other side was a crazy Greek who every once in a while would get drunk on Ouzo and light up the night sky with his homemade “fireworks” – burning magnesium!

I remember going with Al to a friend of a friend's house in East LA to look at an old gas stove stored away in a garage. I think we paid $10 for it. We got it home and I spent the next week cleaning the dirt, grease, grime and rat poop out of it. We put a new thermostat in it and that gorgeous 1950s white Kenmore gas stove was BEAUTIFUL! I loved that thing and wish I had kept it to this day.

We had a great going away party when we decided to move to Tucson. Move to Tucson!? Al had gone to Tucson to line up a job with an old friend to help open a restaurant. He came back and we packed up everything we owned in to a U-Haul truck and hit the road. I was 4 months pregnant and ready to start our Arizona adventure.

Family Ties are Precious Threads

When I was a young bride the thought of fitting in to a whole new family was a little daunting. I was used to MY family. MY mom, MY dad, MY sisters. It was very strange, very strange indeed. I liked the way MY family was, the way WE communicated, the feelings and thoughts WE shared. Yet I was expected to make myself fit in with all these new people, to find common interests, to learn to communicate their way, to form a bond with them, to make sure I became a part of their family. It’s what you do when you become part of another family. You adapt, you learn a whole new way to communicate, you learn a different set of values, and you accept these people with all their faults, warts and all. You understand that while these people are completely different from you, they deserve kindness, love and the utmost respect.

And you know what happens? THOSE people become YOUR people. You open your heart and you love THOSE people with everything you’ve got. Not just because they are a part of your husband but because they are now a part of YOU.

I could not imagine, even for a minute how awful my life would be had I not made THEM a part of ME. My father-in-law Al….the stern patriarch who loves his family deeply and has learned over the years to outwardly show that love. My mother-in-law Corky….she was fun, funny and definitely her own person. She let her husband think he ran the show but it was all her. My sister-in-law Mona….the one who wears her heart on her sleeve, so loving, so wacky! My sister-in-law Alicia….the one I spent the most time with, so accepting, so crazy & fun yet so responsible. My sister-in-law Cecilia….closest to me in age, the baby of her family, so funny & opinionated, so full of love for her family. Every uncle, aunt, cousin, niece and nephew….each so different, each so willing to accept and love me. I am part of their family and they are part of mine. Even without Al. They are still my family and always will be.

It had been a while since I’d seen them. But the time and miles disappeared when I walked through Alicia’s door last weekend.

I felt at home and closer to Al than I’d felt in a few months. I saw him in each and every one of their faces. I know how lucky I am. This is MY family.

Cinderella Knew......It's All in How the Shoe Fits

As much as I don’t want to, I’m getting used to this new way of life. It’s becoming less and less foreign and more and more familiar. It’s kind of like putting on a new pair of shoes. At first they’re tight and kind of painful to wear. But as time goes on and you wear them a little more, they’re less uncomfortable. At some point you ease in to them without a second thought.

And with that familiarity comes a new confidence. The confidence to make my own decisions and do what feels right for ME.

I went down to Rocky Point on Thursday morning and purposely didn’t divulge to many people that I was traveling alone. My plan was to meet up with Alison & Brad on Friday and tag along on the tail end of their week long vacation. Had I told people what I was doing, I would have had a ton of concerned warnings from friends and coworkers. Warnings that I know would have been full of care and concern for my safety amidst state department travel warnings and scary stories of violence in other parts of Mexico. While I am certainly no ostrich with its head buried in the sand, completely oblivious to what’s going on around me, I take precautions and travel safely. Going down there for some rest and relaxation was what felt right for ME.

I started my adventure Thursday morning after I picked up my rental car. See? My car is old and has almost 200,000 miles on it (Rock on Toyota!!) so I took appropriate precautions and rented a car. I love to drive on road trips and don’t mind driving alone. I’ve driven to the LA area alone, a one-day turnaround to Flagstaff alone…just turn the radio up, sing along and enjoy the scenery. Got to Lukeville and as the US Customs officer asked me a few questions, joked about taking a rental car through Mexican officials, searched my car, opened my ice chest and rummaged around finally telling me to have fun, I cross the border and get the green light from Mexican officials. Drove through the town of Sonoyta and then come to a road block.

Crap. The streets are closed and traffic is diverted due to a parade going through town. Another of my precautions: NO detours. But in this case there was no choice. I managed to get around the parade and take a minor detour without any incidents. I actually love the drive to Rocky Point. I like to drive fast and once you’re out of town and on the open road, 90 mph is a breeze!

I had originally planned to stay somewhere really cheap like Rosa del Desierto or Playa Azul on Calle 13 but intelligent, precautionary thinking prevailed and instead I stayed at Las Palomas.

A huge condominium resort with lots of security. Checked in, got situated and headed down to catch some sun. After a while I hear a familiar voice calling me….Alison! She and Brad were walking the expanse of the resort beach looking for me after they finished their fishing trip. We hung out for a while, hit the local grocery store together and then parted ways. I checked out the next morning, made a stop or two and then drove the 30 minutes out of town to the Mayan Palace where they were using their time share points. I settled in to their suite and then it was all about the beach, the pool and having fun. Lots of laughing, drinking, eating and good times.

They took me out for a Mother’s Day brunch on Sunday morning and then we headed home – caravan style (See? More precautions.) We parted ways when we hit Tucson; them to their house, me to return the rental.

It feels good to be confident enough in what I want and to be willing and able to take the steps to get it. So that shoe? The one that was once squeaky and stiff? It’s not quite soft and worn but it’s definitely getting more comfortable and I can pull the band-aids off that once prevented the pain. I’m getting there.

And this past weekend, that shoe was a Mexican huarache.

Beauty in the Small Things

It’s hard to appreciate the dark moments, those times when we feel most vulnerable, when we wonder how we’re going to pull ourselves out of the abyss we’ve fallen into.

I felt myself falling the other night and all I found at the bottom was a quagmire of sorrow, fear and self-pity. I allowed myself to wallow in it for a little while since there was no escaping it.

But you know what I found in the morning when I opened my eyes? Well, besides a big yellow lab snoring next to me and a big black lab dancing on his feet by the side of my bed waiting to be fed. I found that what comes with a new day is a new perspective. And then you appreciate the little things, no matter how minute they may seem on a grander scale.

So on that Sunday morning, that one beautiful Sunday morning at 6:20AM (Thank you sooooo much for letting me sleep in Sylus), I found beauty:
• I opened my eyes and was greeted by two extremely happy dogs.
• I made them even happier by feeding them.
• I went out in my backyard and heard birds singing and watched the dogs chase a lizard.
• The giant saguaro cactus in my backyard has been a host for countless cactus wren families and I’m pretty sure I heard the screeching of babies inside my cactus.
• Ahhh, I live in Tucson!
• Coffee. What a sad place the world would be without it. The aroma alone is sent from the gods.
• My morning newspaper. It’s a ritual and the day doesn’t feel right if I don’t start it by reading the paper.
• My home. I love my house. Not for the physicality of it but because it’s a home. It’s where my family grew up.
• My pictures. While just the night before, those pictures threw me in to that abyss, this morning they lift me up and put a smile on my face.
• The painting in my hall that was given to me by a friend. The first time Al and I saw a copy in some little store we laughed and said that it totally represents us.

• Picking up dog poop. That’s right, I said it. I have a backyard, I have dogs and that means I have happiness only brought to a person by a dog.
• My children – they’re grown with lives of their own but they bring me such joy and happiness. Seeing their faces can completely make my day.
• The laughter of the kids next door. There’s nothing like a child’s honest and heartfelt laugh.
• I’m alive. I’m here to live another day. To have a future, to have meaning. To make others happy.

When It’s Darkest, Men See the Stars.
- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Only when life is difficult, are we challenged to become our greatest selves.

I Want My Fucking Mulligan

Granted, a lot of this is the wine and the Sudafed talking but DAMN, I miss him. How am I supposed to get through the rest of my life? I am so incredibly sad. I know I hide it well. It’s been a fucking year. On the surface everyone thinks I’m sooooo strong and have it sooooo together. And I think on a day to day basis and for the most part, I am and I do. Al would be proud of me.

But what people don’t see is the real me, the me that feels so abandoned. So incredibly alone. I let you think I’m good and that I’ve got a handle on this. Sure, I’m ready to move forward. But what you don’t know is that it’s all a façade. I know, a year. I should be in a different place now. But I have weak moments like you have weak moments. Except my weak moments can’t be fixed with a kind word and a gentle touch. Because you see…there is no one there to offer that kind word and gentle touch. It's probably a good thing I don't believe in God & Jesus (don't judge until you've walked a mile in my shoes) because this whole experience would surely turn me away from that blind faith.

I feel angry. Angry that this is who I’ve become. This is NOT supposed to be the way my life plays out. I’m not angry at Al. He pushed beyond what any normal man would have done to live his last years with me. He was in constant pain and he pushed past it as best he could to give us some semblance of a normal life. He worked, standing on legs that wanted nothing more than to crumble under the weight of his body. He withstood long, painful hours working at a job he didn’t enjoy just to pay the bills.

Now he’s gone and I struggle. I’m barely paying the bills. I’m barely getting through this. It would be so easy to give up and give in. But that’s not what my husband did. He persevered. And so will I.

I look at his picture and I can’t quite believe that’s all I have left of his face. Pictures. What should I do? Put away all the pictures so it doesn’t hurt so much?

I don’t know how much longer I can do this. Yeah, no. I’m not thinking THAT way. I just feel so empty. You know how they say there’s no handbook on raising your children. You just do it and you learn as you go. Much like that, there’s no handbook on learning to live your life after your love dies. What do I do now? I hate this. It’s not fair. It’s not right. I want a do-over. A mulligan. Where’s my mulligan?

Arrrrrr!

So many similarities in our lives yet worlds apart. On the surface it would appear that there is only one reason we’ve become friends. Plain and simple, we’re both recent widows. After all, she still has a child living at home. She is way younger than me. She has lived a different life than me.

But a friendship has definitely developed. We’ve helped each other in ways that are hard to describe. We can both say things out loud to each other that we wouldn’t say to anyone else and we know there is no judgment. I think we both feel that our husbands brought us together as if they knew we could help one another.

We met for dinner last night and then went to see a ridiculous, fun musical theatre show. We laughed a lot and forgot the troubles of the day. The Curse of the Pirate's Gold….perfect. It sure felt like Al was there with me last night as the corny jokes flew left and right and all those salty “Arrrr”s from the pirates made me smile from within. Yep, my pirate was there sitting by my side.

Not too long ago my friend and I thought we’d try something different and went to see a screening of West Side Story. We discovered it was a “sing-a-long” and figured what the hell, let’s just go. We realized we were in trouble when they handed out glow sticks at the door. When the first bars of music played as the lights went down, there was a sea of different colored glow sticks waving in the air! We tried hard to hold our laughter in as those seated around us sang their hearts out to all the numbers. It felt like some kind of rave in a parallel universe of dorky, “interesting” people!

As we left that night and laughed about the crazy people we had just escaped from, we talked about how neither of our husbands would EVER have been dragged to something like that, we both felt it. Al and her James sitting together, side by side, looking down at us as they nudged each other, both laughingly saying “Get a load of that crap!” “No way in hell would we have gone to that!”

We both left the parking lot to go our separate ways, both of us smiling and feeling the love those men still surround us with.

It's a Shame About the Weather

It’s been a good couple of weeks and I’ve been feeling better than ever. I’m taking care of myself and staying super busy. Busy not just in a purposeful effort to push away the sadness and loneliness though I will admit that is part of it. But it’s also part of the natural evolution of my life. I won’t say I prefer this life but I am learning to enjoy it.

Thoughts and memories of Al don’t consume me any more. I actually go days without tears welling up in my eyes when I think of him. In fact, I feel guilty when I realize that I actually go days without thinking of him at all. Well, that’s not actually true. I live in our home, I touch everything he touched daily, I sleep in our bed, I sit in his chair, I wear his robe every morning so I think of him every day but I don’t THINK of him.

And just when I acknowledge to myself how well I’m doing something hits me. And it hits me hard. I had drinks with two of my friends from work tonight and we had fun just hanging out and letting loose over half price martinis. Listening to the radio on my drive home, the new Zac Brown Band song Colder Weather came on the radio. I’ve heard it so many times before and sang along like the fool I can be when alone in my car with the windows rolled up. While the last few lyrics are certainly familiar, tonight they knocked the wind from my lungs and brought an unexpected mournful sob from my mouth instead of words.

And when I close my eyes I see you
No matter where I am
I can smell your perfume through these whispering pines
I’m with your ghost again
It’s a shame about the weather
I know soon we’ll be together
And I can’t wait till then
I can’t wait till then.

And the colored girls go doo, do doo, do doo, do do doo...

There we all were, enjoying a hot, sunny day on the beach in Cholla Bay in Puerto Peñasco, Mexico. Al, me, Alison & Brad. It was really hot, just the way we like it. We were doing what you do when you’re on the beach in Mexico. We girls sat on our camp chairs in the water as we drank Oso Negro Vodka and Squirt. The boys were sitting under the canopy just relaxing and drinking cold Pacificos. The blistering sun steadily made its way across the sky and the ice chest slowly emptied. Drinking all day and sitting in the heat, Al told us he was ready to go. Brad had joined us to cool off. Just a little bit longer we called from the water. A little bit longer turned in to an hour and when we grabbed our chairs to come up the beach Al’s camp chair under the canopy was empty. We figured he had walked down the beach to JJ’s to have a beer while he waited for us. Brad said he’d go get him but came back alone.

We got in the car and drove on the dirt road in Cholla to look for him. Nothing. Back to our spot on the beach. Nothing. Panic started to set in as we wondered where he could possibly be. Hours of sitting in the sun drinking too much beer and he’s gone? In Mexico? More searching. Alison went to the little policía station at the entrance of Cholla Bay to see if they’d seen him or worse….picked him up for something. Crap, we’ve got a bit of a language barrier here. The policía there didn’t speak Inglés and Alison spoke very little Español. “ Mi padre….muy borracho.” Oh, this wasn’t going well. “Mi padre, muy grande, muy alto, ummm, walking…..mi padre, muy borracho.” Then she took her two fingers and made them walk. Finally they understood and told her no, they hadn’t seen him.

By this time it was starting to get dark and my mind was racing. I just knew we’d find my husband dead in a ditch somewhere and I was pretty upset. This was several years ago and anyone who knows the way the road to Cholla used to be, it wandered through the barren desert once outside of Cholla and made its way to “Rodeo Drive.” The resort road wasn’t an option when going to or from Cholla since the resorts were under construction; the road was dirt and blocked from through traffic. We got back to our little hotel, Rosa del Desierto and noticed the light was on in our room. We peeked in through the opening in the curtains and there he was….laying in bed watching TV!! We opened the door with the only key issued and Brad jumped on the bed and started bouncing up and down…. Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. “Where were you? We were searching all over. How did you get here?” he sang. Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. All the tension and anger I felt dissolved as Brad kept jumping on the bed, lightening the mood.

Turns out when Al has had enough, Al has had enough. As Alison, Brad and I were hanging out in the water, Al got up and walked up the hill to the road and made his way through Cholla (obviously past the policía station) and then took the road towards the resort where vehicles can’t go, hit the beach in front of the resort construction, got IN the water to cool off and swam along the shoreline for quite a while, got out and walked some more where he hitched a ride in the back of a pick up truck with a bunch of Mexican construction workers where they took him straight to our hotel and he somehow communicated to the Spanish speaking front office staff that he needed a key or to be let in to the room. Un-freakin-believable.

Later back at home in Tucson as we talked about this he started singing, “Hey Babe, take a walk on the wild side. Said hey honey, take a walk on the wild side.”

I miss that crazy man.

Sing it Sister Sledge ~ We Are Family...

I’ve been thinking about this for the past couple of weeks and have more or less made the decision not to keep going to my grief support group. It was helpful for a while and I’m truly grateful that I spent two months attending weekly group sessions. I may attend on occasion when I’m having a difficult week or even to report back to everyone when things are going exceptionally well.

The experience showed me something very valuable. I am not going crazy and I am normal. Because believe me, there were times before this group when I thought I was in serious need of behavioral health professionals. Crying at the drop of a hat, talking to him as if he was still here, smelling his clothes and keeping his things in the same place in our closet, seeing and believing the signs he sends me, and worst of all - the physical ache. The ache where it feels like your chest is ready to rip open, where you actually feel paralyzed and weak and your body deceives you. When you judge yourself and you feel like you can’t tell anyone what you’re feeling and how terribly it hurts because you don’t want to burden them. But from that very first night when I joined my fellow mourners, as I listened to them say out loud what I was holding inside, I felt relief.

But as much as I admire and respect every single person in that group, I feel that I’ve gotten what I’m going to get out of it for now. I’m trying to move forward and I fear that I’m spending too much time focusing on my sadness each week. I’ve always been an extremely positive person (at times much to my husband’s dismay) and someone who chooses to move forward in all situations. And for that very thing and to stay true to who I am, I need to let the group go.

That doesn’t mean I won’t have bad days or days when moving forward in my life feels like I’m swimming in quicksand. With that said, I’ll need the support of my family more than ever. I need to know that while they love and miss Al, that I’m important to them too.

Sometimes my grief swallows me whole and what saves me is knowing that my family is there to pull me from the mouth of that monster. I need the love and support of each and every one of them and am dependent on them to love me when I’m sad, mad, happy, goofy, blasé, pitiful, angry or joyful. They are my family after all. And isn’t that what family does?

365 Days of Firsts

The year of firsts is done and gone. This first year without Al at times felt like a decade. It’s been a year filled with so many emotions ranging from pain, fear and hopeLESSness to wonder, confidence and hopeFULness.

I made it through this year of firsts. The first night sleeping in our bed without him, the first Father’s Day king crab leg dinner without him, hearing the first sound of the summer cicadas without him, taking the first trip to Hatch for green chiles without him, picking out the first Christmas tree without him, sitting down for a family dinner for the first time without him….

As those firsts have all ticked down I feel him slowly slipping away from me. I know this is normal and the way it’s supposed to be but it doesn’t make it any easier. Sometimes I look at the pictures on my dresser and see his smiling face and think to myself that he’s just on vacation. He went to see his dad in California, he’s on his annual golf trip with his high school buddies, he went on a Toyota trip with Brian. It gives me an instant of happiness that feels warm in my heart before the reality hits and I remind myself that he’s never coming back.

I observed the passing of this first year with a trip to the beach in Mexico. It’s the place we relaxed and enjoyed together and one of the places I feel closest to him. I really wanted the trip to be with me and my kids. My son Marshall couldn’t make it since he had just gone back to work after a three month paternity leave so it was just me and my two daughters, Alison & Lesley. It was a beautiful weekend filled with warmth, sunshine and relaxation. That’s not to say there wasn’t some sadness too. The toughest time for me was watching a couple that reminded me of Al & I as they enjoyed a meal at Flavio’s, affectionately touching each other as they laughed and joked on the patio with the sun setting behind them. That 50-something couple should have been me and Al and the sadness rose up within me. But I tried hard not to let those kinds of feelings mar the weekend and really tried to enjoy the time with my daughters. We spent Sunday, March 13 in a way Al would have liked. We started off by going to Cholla Bay, we then hit JJs, spent the day on the beach and ended with a great dinner up on the hill overlooking the town on one side and the malecon/playa on the other. It was there that the three of us toasted him and told him we loved him.

I know I have to start rebuilding, adjusting and spend time figuring out what my new normal is. And I am. I have my setbacks but for the most part I am starting to move on. Time goes on, life is forever changing and the pain is slowly lessening. They say time heals all wounds but I don’t think that’s true. Time doesn’t HEAL the wound, it gives us an opportunity to experience things that help us learn how to live with the ache in our hearts that never really goes away. The ache isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It reminds us of how deeply we loved.

Diminished Capacity

Funny how people who haven’t experienced it have a specific timeframe in mind when talking about grief; typically one year. Like there is some magical number of days or months that you’re given to go through your grieving period and then you should be done. Yeah, if it was only that easy.

The one-year anniversary of Al’s passing is coming on March 13. Someone actually said something to me along the lines of the year being up and that it's time to basically, move on. I can’t remember the exact words right now because to be honest I was dumbstruck when they came out of this person’s mouth. That feeling quickly turned to anger but anger isn’t an emotion I choose to hang on to so I had to think about what I knew or didn’t know about death and grief before I lost Al.

What this person doesn’t know and I didn’t know until now is that there is no timeline for grief. Through grief counseling I've learned that while many think the “five stages of grief” is gospel, it isn’t. People often skip steps or never experience some of them. One person’s experience is 180 degrees from another person’s. Many, if not most of us, operate at diminished capacity for the first two years. Our brains simply don’t function in the same way. We’re going to have bad days, it’s a given. I myself typically hold it all together almost every single day. It’s not that I want to appear strong, it’s that if I let go for a minute I’m scared I won’t get it back.

I’m thankful for my support system and those that are helping me through this from my children, extended family, friends and coworkers. I’m glad they all seem to understand that this process takes its own sweet time and that they are patient with me.

So to that person who naively and I hope innocently decided that enough time had lapsed, that I should be done with this process, I can only say that I hope you never have to experience the ache I feel in my heart.

Beisbol has bean berry, berry goood to me

Sports were always a part of Al's life. From playing baseball as a kid, football during college, golf, bowling, basketball, hunting, softball and volleyball throughout his adulthood and finally armchair quarterback.

When Al & I were first married and I moved in to his house I decided to clean out one of the closets while he was at work. On one of the shelves was a collection of dusty trophies. They were several years old and obviously hadn't been displayed in a long time so I threw them away. (!) It was probably six months later that he noticed and was quite upset about it. You see in my mind, they were just old, dusty tokens but in his mind they represented something. He would joke over the years about me tossing them out but I wish I could have gone back in time and had a "do over."

When Marshall was a baby, Al convined me to join a co-ed volleyball league. I tried, I really did but I sucked. I was scared of the ball and the players were vicious with their spikes. One day while off court a ball came flying my direction like a streaming comet and smacked me on the side of the face. I never saw it coming and that was it for me. I told him I didn't want to play anymore. I think our team was secretly cheering about that decision.

Hunting became a family event in Tucson. We'd all camp out in the desert for the occasional quail hunt, Marshall and Al would go deer and elk hunting but it was the annual dove hunt that we all enjoyed. It was back when NW Tucson wasn't as inhabited and we could drive to any spot off Silverbell and hunt. Afternoon hunts were always the most fun. After the birds made their way to their evening roost, we'd all hang out on the edge of the riverbed - the adults drinking beer and shooting the breeze and the kids running around, playing in the mud of the Santa Cruz or as we called it "the poo and pee river."

Al always played golf and was really good. During his Post Office days he joined the Tucson Postal Golf Group and served on their board in various positions including president. He started Marshall off with a set of plastic baby golf clubs and was so excited to set Marsh up with his first set of real clubs. All the kids would take turns going with Al on the occasional golf outing. It was a real treat for them to hang out with their dad and drive the golf cart.

Softball played a big role in our lives for a number of years. He'd play in leagues around town and then Sportspark opened and all games were played there which was great for us since it's close to home. Al would play, I'd watch and cheer him on and the kids would play on the playground and run around the park all evening. We'd eat dinner at the snack bar and chow down on the best pizza around.

After the games the guys and the wives would all hang out on the upper deck and have a beer or two sitting around the tables watching the next game. When the hydrotubes were built the kids would spend time on the tubes while Al played. Good times.

My son-in-law Trevor is now playing softball on a league that plays at Sportspark. My daughter Lesley thought I'd enjoy going and spending some time there with them. She and I watched and cheered Trevor on and let Isla play in the stands. We went upstairs to the snackbar and in to the game room to let Isla run around in a safer, enclosed environment for a while. It brought back such good memories to be there at Sportspark. Sure it brought a tear to my eye as I silently reminisced a bit but I think I felt Al smile down on us too as he watched history repeating itself with this beautiful young family.

The really sad part of the whole evening? The pizza sucks now!

Groundhog Day

Waking up to the same thing every day; the same bed, the same song playing on the same clock radio at the same time. Every day. And the next day. And the day after that. Bill Murray’s hell.

Right now that would be my heaven. The familiar, the sameness, the knowing what comes next. This single day today, this 21st of February brought with it a sad realization that it was one year ago that my sweet husband went in the hospital. He never got to come home after that. This day brought up difficult emotions that I didn't expect to feel. This anniversary was harder than experiencing things over the past year like births, holidays and special family time. This day was the anniversary of the beginning of the end. What I would give to have a day of sameness and familiarity.

What day would I choose to be my Groundhog Day? The day when we where camping out in the desert quail hunting? The day when just the two of us went to Mexico in the winter and sat on the beach all day watching the dolphins play? The day we smiled so hard our faces hurt as we watched our kids’ wide eyed amazement at Disneyland? The day we walked down the aisle to begin our life together? The day we spent sunning ourselves on the beach in the Mexican Riviera? The day we became parents and realized this was what life was all about for us? Each of the days we spent watching our children walk down the aisle to begin their futures? No, none of those days would be my Groundhog Day.

It would be a regular old Sunday spent doing what we did best. Just being us in the familiarity that makes a long time couple comfortable. I’d get up early to feed the dogs, make coffee and read the paper. Al would get up an hour or so after me and settle in to his recliner where I’d bring him a big, hot cup of coffee and the newspaper. He’d get annoyed when I brought him the paper and it was all mixed up; the Business section before the Sports section or some other nonsense so I’d fix the paper the way he liked it before bringing it to him. While a breakfast of potatoes, bacon and eggs were appreciated what he really enjoyed was when I’d make blueberry muffins. Golf on the big TV for Al, reality TV or some chick flick on the TV in the family room for me. We’d each come check on each other and talk a bit, me checking on him more that him checking on me. There’d be some afternoon snacks, something simple like salami, crackers and cheese and me doing laundry throughout the afternoon. I’d start making dinner in the evening, his favorite chile rellenos and the refried beans he taught me to make when we were first married. Then we’d spend the evening watching TV together, laughing and making fun of the contestants on The Amazing Race. Bedtime would eventually come and we’d kiss goodnight and snuggle for a bit before each turning to get comfortable, me placing my cold feet against his warm calves and we’d fall asleep.

That simple day. That’s the day I would repeat for eternity. But instead I keep waking up to realize he’s gone and I have to do this by myself. My Groundhog Day.

The Navarros represent!

I still had Al a year ago. A year ago I would have been bringing Al a few shrimp and maybe a deviled egg or two, trying to get rid of a few of the Super Bowl leftovers. A year and a day. That’s the last time my family was together outside of the hospital.

Al loved sports and Super Bowl Sunday? Well, that’s a sports lover’s perfect Sunday. For about as long as I can remember we’ve had Super Bowl watching parties. As the years have gone by and people tend to branch off and do their own thing, our party became more about family with a couple of friends dropping in for a bit to hang out for a while.

Al was diagnosed shortly before Super Bowl last year and we all thought there was lots of time. Time for more parties, more vacations, more Christmases, just more. As families do, we all get busy and our lives get complicated. It was unclear whether all my kids would be able to come to the house for the game. But it was my youngest, my Lesley, who said what none of us wanted to think. That this might be the last time we are able to watch the Super Bowl with Al. I don’t know why she said that. After all, he had just barely been diagnosed and we were told his disease was at a mid-level severity. Perhaps something deep inside of Lesley was telling her that we only had a little time left.

So we spent that Sunday together here at the house. There was too much food, lots of yelling and cheering, lots of laughter; all the signs of a family enjoying a favorite pastime together. And that little voice Lesley heard was right. It was the last Super Bowl we’d ever enjoy together as a complete family.

This year game day was a little bittersweet. Super Bowl Sunday has always been a day of fun, food and football but we’d be doing it without Al. I kept busy in the morning by cleaning and cooking and tried not to let myself get down. My daughter Alison on the other hand, was having a difficult time at her house. She was missing her dad and trying to change her mood while she prepared the snacks she’d be bringing to the potluck. She put on her iPod and hit shuffle. A wide variety of songs played when suddenly her iPod changed, seemingly on its own. It went from Shuffle to Dad’s Playlist, a collection of Al’s favorites and songs that reminded Alison of her dad. That can only be looked at as a message from Al to Alison. A message to enjoy the day that has always represented a good time for the Navarros and a message that he’s still with us. And well, to enjoy a bowl of his special recipe Texas Chili that Marshall had perfected and prepared for game day.

And true to form, every single one of us gathered in his living room, watching his big TV and every single one of us were wearing Raiders jerseys & t-shirts. Funny how that just happens.....the Navarros represent!