Christmas

I have survived the first Christmas without David and my father. The children and I made it through and even managed to have some fun and laughter in the process. I had never imagined that the holiday could be so difficult. I certainly didn't think that I would struggle so much. The most difficult part was our Christmas Eve service at church. If I had to pick the most important part of Christmas-the activity that makes Christmas for me- it would be our Christmas Eve candlelight service. Family, stockings, music, gifts, and food are all fun, but it is this service that makes this season different from any other day for me. I felt David's absence in this service more than I have felt it anywhere else. Thankfully we had four of our college students lead the service in a reader's theater. I had a small part at the beginning and at the end, which I managed to get through. After the service the kids and I found a rare open restaurant. It was an easy way to get our evening meal and allowed us to delay going home a little longer.

We placed gifts on the dining room table. Cooper the puppy made it impossible to put anything under the tree. I filled all our stockings and went to bed. Judson and Sophia had expressed concern about me filling my own stocking. I told them that I had bought things for my stocking the past two years because their Dad had not had the energy to spend much time shopping. "But you always looked so surprised and happy about everything you got!" All a part of protecting the image of Santa for the children and protecting David, who wanted to always give his wife wonderful surprises. Besides, I did like everything! Last Christmas David had been able to do a little shopping. I treasure the handcrafted necklace and earrings he gave me, but shopping for small things for a stocking was tedious. I took care of that for him. So while I didn't wrap presents for myself this year, I did fill a stocking. Part of the fun is not only seeing what is in your own, but seeing what is in everyone elses. Even our dogs get stockings.

Alex came over to spend part of the day with us. We ate, exchanged gifts, and watched the Vicar of Dibley DVD he had gotten for me. He left to go to St. Louis to spend the night with Lisa and her family before heading to see family in North Carolina. Judson, Sophia and I spent time in the basement playing their rock star game. It's a video game where you sing and pretend to play guitar and drums. I think I would have hated it in high school. I was such music snob. I didn't like any type of electronically reproduced instrument sound- not even on a synthesizer. I had spent years learning to play various instruments and didn't like the idea of getting the sound of an orchestra from a keyboard. Now I am celebrating the birthday of Christ pretending to be in a band. Oh, how the mighty have fallen! It turned out to be our favorite part of the day. It was fun to focus our energy in one place and work toward unlocking more songs.

Christmas has passed and now it is David's birthday. It seems that somehow we should still celebrate the day of his birth even if he is not here to be celebrated. I will ask the kids if they want to do anything special to recognize the day. I will set a time aside for us to give thanks together that David was born and for the years of his life that we got to share with him. Otherwise I will finish the sermon for Sunday and put away the Christmas decorations. I realize it is still Christmastide, but I've been a good sport and have participated in all the holiday activities. I will continue to celebrate Christmas with my congregation, but the kids and I are ready put Christmas away in our home until next year.

Pace on the Earth

We are well into the holiday season. On Saturday Alex, Lisa, Judson, Sophia and I went to a tree farm to cut trees for our home and Alex's home. This is Alex's first tree on his own. I started buying an ornament for him each year since his first Christmas, so he has several to start his tree. I still need to buy ornaments for the kids for this year. Each year an ornament is chosen depicting an interest or event to represent the year.

David and I bought stocking holders that spell out PEACE. They have sat above our fire place for many years, reminding us of the proclamation of the angels to the shepherds. This year we will hang only four stockings. I've been toying with the letters in my mind in attempt to come up with a good four letter word. (this is reflective of my favorite way to waste time on facebook-word games) I've decided PACE works best for us. We are having to pace our way through this holiday season. I briefly considered CAPE. Any single parent of busy kids needs a cape to get through life!

This has been a very difficult week. The weekend was fine. We got our tree without too much emotional difficulty. Going to the farm was a first for our family, so this made it easier. We had a busy weekend with music and drama rehearsals at church, Sophia's orchestra concert, and a night on the town for Alex, Lisa, and myself. We didn't begin decorating until Monday.

Monday was a much needed snow day. I love snow days when the kids are home from school. It is a much slower pace than we are used to and we savor those days. I can't plan that type of day. I inevitably add activities and tasks to any day that we know is open. An unplanned day due to weather means I can work at home and there is a little more free time- time to decorate a tree.

We got the lights on the tree and then began to place strings of wooden cranberry beads. This is usually David's job. He was able to drape them and criss cross them in the way one sees on Christmas cards. I tried several times, but it never looked right. I invited Sophia, who inherited her father's artistic eye, to give it a try. It still wasn't right. We tried several more times and finally went with "good enough." I tried to hide my tears from the kids. I didn't want them to think I was stressing over having perfect beads on the tree. As we hung individual ornaments I just went with the tears. They hung their ornaments that David and I had chosen together. I hung ornaments that David had for many years before he ever met me. I tried to tell the stories that went with some of the ornaments. It seems every ornament stirs up a specific memory. We were careful to avoid hanging anything breakable. This is Cooper's first Christmas and we knew it would be difficult to keep her out of the tree.

Once the tree was done I worked on cleaning my closet. I had stuffed my closet full when I had had to empty my bedroom, living room and dining room to have the floors redone. Once I put furniture back in place many things stayed packed in the closet because I didn't want to deal with them at the time. David and I did the closet floors ourselves, thinking we would start with the smallest room possible, then work our way up to the larger rooms. The Overshiners were scheduled to come and finish my bathroom tile (another project David and I started) and I had all the supplies stored deep in my closet. I had gotten rid of many of David's clothing, but his suits were still hanging. As I went through various items of our lives I found myself pressed into the corner where his suits were, clinging to them and sobbing. Now I realize this is a pitiful image. It is not an image of myself that I share easily. I enjoy letting people know how well I am doing and how strong I am. But part of the purpose of my writing this is to be real and to share openly what it is like to have a spouse die. It isn't fair if I start sharing only the positive upbeat angle of life.

I realized how much I hate pity when I ran into David's nurse at Flat Branch on Sunday night. Alex, Lisa and I had finished supper and were on our way to see "Ain't Misbehavin'" when I saw Mary. She is one of those people I love to be around-very positive and caring. She said something along the lines of wanting to see me sometime and I responded without much thought "I don't want to be that pitiful widow that keeps returning to the hospital." As soon as I said it I became aware of how hard I have been working to avoid anyone's pity. I want to convince everyone, including myself that everything is swell. While there is nothing wrong with making the best out of a bad situation (I recommend it), one must live life truthfully.

David's father's birthday was this week. I am ashamed to say that I have not telephoned him since David's death. I've started many times, but would always think I could do it without tears if I waited another day. We have kept in touch in other ways. I have great love and admiration for him. There was no way I was going to miss calling him on his birthday. I made the call and talked with David's sister. We worked on some of the details of an after Christmas visit to West Virginia. It was so good and so hard to hear my father-in-law's voice. I know David's death has been painful for him. He is caring for David's mother who doesn't always remember that David died. I passed the phone to the children to have their turn and went in the backyard with the dogs and had a good hard cry; the nasty snotty, sobbing, can't catch your breath kind.

Earlier this morning Cooper got tangled in those cranberry beads. She panicked and ran from the tree, still entangled in the beads. I watched thinking how this little event seemed to sum up the past year. As I yelled out "Cooper NO!" I could see what was going to happen. The tree was going to fall and there was nothing I could do but watch it fall. She couldn't see how to get out of it and I wasn't going to be able to cross the room to get to her in time. I turned off the lights, sat the tree upright, scooped up the pup and went to back to bed. With all the melodrama of Scarlett O'Hara I decided I would deal the water and ornaments on the floor later. I've had a short nap, checked e-mail, and blogged, so now it is time to make myself get up, clean the mess up, and get on with the many errands I had on my list for the day.

Such is life. People die, trees fall, and we manage to get through it in some way. Just don't pity me- feel sad with me, but I don't want pity. People avoid being around those that they pity. Pity causes us to feel uncomfortable. Pity is for people who have no hope. I am not without hope. It is advent. I wait with the rest of the world.

Filling in the Chinks

I now have been a widow for four months. Life has fallen into a daily rhythm which allows me to see the gaps that David's death has left. Some holes appeared slowly over the years of his illness. As they happened I could make the needed adjustments for our family. Others arrived after his death. Those are the ones I am learning to manage.

Alex missed church on Sunday. He wasn't there for Sunday School and he did not show for worship, nor the business meeting that followed worship. A friend asked me about him. The irritation was clear in my voice. I wasn't sure where he was and I was disappointed. He is part of the choir and needs to be responsible in his attendance. He is also serving on the nominating committee and should have been there for that. Blah Blah responsibility, grouch grouch, dependability, yada yada trust. My friend responded that Alex had been very responsible for years. He even brought his siblings to worship the day after David died. "He's responsible all the time. Let him have one Sunday morning off!" She was right. Alex is one of the most responsible teenagers I know. He keeps his commitments and respects people. All I want from my children is perfection! Her wise counsel was filling in a gap that David had left. As we parented together David would often suggest that I offer grace to our children. It is a gift I give freely to most people. I can hold back judgment with the best. I hold my children to the same ridiculous standards that I usually have for myself. I will need people gently reminding me that I have good kids and that sometimes I just need to back off and let them be who they are. Later Alex told me he set his alarm, but failed to turn it on. I overheard him apologize to the committee chair. I was glad I had not called him to remind him of his responsibilities. He knew and responded appropriately.

I am learning to let friends fill in some of those gaps. I could never find one person to replace David, and I don't want to try. That would be unhealthy for me and not to good for anyone I tried to get to fill my dead husband's shoes. I also realize that I cannot step in and fill all the gaps that David left. So I collect a large community around me. I talk with friends about parenting issues. I gather with pastors for brainstorming and accountability. My friend who writes news stories keeps me up to date on important events in the world. Another friend still checks in from time to time to see if I am eating and sleeping. I have teens at church who love to discuss theology, peace and justice. As I see an opening I try to find a positive way to fill it.

I am very aware of the ways I shouldn't fill in the gaps: another man, alcohol, focusing too intently on my children, or becoming obsessive over any one aspect of life. Through the years I have watched many people try to compensate for the loneliness in life by grabbing on to people and things, only to find that themselves unhappier. I am grateful for so many people in my life that help me stay grounded.

Concerns for a Grandmother

I learned a few days ago that my grandmother has been hospitalized with pneumonia. She had gone in to have a basal cell carcinoma and a melanoma removed. The nursing staff gave her breakfast that morning, which led to aspiration during surgery. It took me over twenty four hours to be able to tell anyone. Speaking it aloud was too difficult. I couldn't even call family to ask how she was doing. Though it has not been easy, I have dealt well with the deaths of my husband and father-- but that's enough!! I have no interest in learning my limits.

My grandmother has not been well for many years. She had head injury from a fall several years ago and never completely recovered. She went from being vibrant and independent to living with ongoing pain and confusion. When I have visited her I've often felt like she knew me, but it isn't always clear. I recognized years ago that I had lost the grandmother that I had always known and only part of her remains. I was surprised by my response. I realize that her quality of life is not what she would want. I've been aware that with her age and health she could die at any time. I thought I had a sense of peace about facing her mortality. I had determined that her death would be sad, but she would get a wonderful relief from the last difficult years. I've asked friends to pray for her before. This time I couldn't find my voice. Emotions are not always rational.

I have now shared with my church board and I am able to write about it. My father had been my primary link between me and my grandmother. Each time I talked with him he would give me an update on her. My cousin Teresa and her mother have kept me informed, as well as my sisters. I am grateful for the links, but I miss hearing my father's updates. I know Teresa has read some of my blog to her and she seemed to hear and understand.

My mother and grandmother both gave me a great love for life stories. I came to know both of these women and other family members through their oral accounts of life. I have images of people that died long before I was born because of their stories.

When I would spend the night with my grandmother we would climb into her bed, then she would always say, "Let me tell you a story about your daddy when he was little." She would talk long after I fell asleep. I would sometimes awaken to realize I had missed part of a tale. She had a large collection of stories about growing up on a hillside that became part of the Blue Ridge Parkway. Her husband died young leaving her with four children. I always felt like I was her favorite because we shared the same name. We are both Bonnie Cassida, so I have felt a strong connection. Yet she had a way of making each grandchild feel like a favorite and I know my siblings and cousins feel a similar bond for a number of reasons.

Tonight I miss my grandmother. If I could, I would sit by her bed and tell her stories of my childhood. I would tell her how special she has been. I would even share those stories of teenage adventure that I have never wanted her to know at the time for fear of disappointing her (oh, the grace of unconditional love and the wisdom of maturity) I would tell her stories about my children and my career. I would tell her how David and I fell in love and the love story we shared over the years. I would talk into the night long after she was asleep, knowing that her heart would hear. Teresa, give her a kiss and remind her that I love her.

It's a Small Town After All

Sophia recently told me she wished we lived in a small town where everyone knew each other. I was amused because the longer I live in Columbia the smaller it feels. It seems that when I meet someone they know many of the same people that I know. Recently I was writing on the wall of a friend on facebook (it is not only acceptable, but good to write on these cyber walls) and realized that the person who had written before me had the same picture that was on the desk of the guy who sold me my car. I'm now "facebook friends" with Ana, who is a friend of my friend Karen and who is the wife of Raphael the Scion dealer. Facebook does a cool graphic of friends, visually connecting those who know each other.

Within Columbia there are those I know from church, clergy groups, religious groups, peace groups, volunteering at the hospitals, and local continuing education opportunities. Then there are the people I know through my children's schools and activities. I have met many people through cancer connections, including patients, families and people in the medical community. I have groups of cycling friends, theater friends, friends, that are artists, musicians and/or writers. Several years ago these groups never seemed to cross. Now, if I go to a party or an event I almost always run into people from the various groups.

The lines of these friendships are not as visually clear. It takes communication to be able to make these connections known. I suspect that if a visual graphic of the commonalities we hold with each other were drawn we would be amazed at the many colors and lines. The lines and colors increase as we include not only who we know, but what we know.

Last night we had our grief service. There were several people from various walks of life, but all gathered around a common theme. Some were there for their own grief, while others came to offer a presence of support. Everyone there had a story of a grief they had experienced in their lives. Only a few shared a part of their story, but as pastor I get the privilege of hearing more of the stories that people have experienced, but choose not to share.

These experiences shape us into who we are. Often there are several people with similar experiences, needs, and thoughts, but they are unaware that they have a common bond. Some go through life with the belief that nobody understands them or that they are alone in their experiences. However, I realize that there is nothing in my life that hasn't been experienced by someone else. It is the cumulative makes us unique.

It feels risky to open up the stories of our lives to others. It is hard to be vulnerable. Yet, vulnerability can often lead to intimacy and trust. By being vulnerable we allow others to see who we truly are. We gain opportunity to learn and share knowledge. It is only when we are truly known that we can be truly loved for who we are.

May your life circle be full and colorful and may your world grow smaller as it broadens each day.

general update

I've been asked by several for follow up information to previous posts.

My blood pressure is in a healthier range. I do not have to go on medication.

The appliance for TMJ disorder is working. I no longer wake up in pain. My jaws do not lock. Headaches are gone. In exchange I now talk with a bit of a lisp. I don't think about it until someone asks me if I've had dental work or to repeat my words several times, or when I try to say something with several S's. In three weeks I hope to wear the appliance less during the day and speak more clearly again.

Cooper the pup is doing well. She is gaining weight nicely and has a sleek beautiful coat. She is a religious dog, having chewed a Bible and a New Testament Greek textbook. She has a fetish for shoes, which means the entry of my home no longer has a pile of shoes at the front door. Carmen and Cooper get along well most of the time. Cooper has learned many commands and walks well on a leash when it is just the two of us. When I walk both dogs together she gets a little excited and it is probably comical for my neighbors to watch.

Judson now loves middle school and is glad that he is at Gentry. Sophia is also doing well in school. Alex is doing well enough for me to get a discount with my auto insurance!

I am running the Jingle Bell Run with a group of girlfriends tomorrow- although there has been talk that we might actually do the Jingle Bell waddle or Jingle Bell mosey.

I have made it back to the gym and returned to my weight training. Surprisingly I had not lost much ground. I've started with less weight than I was lifting before, but it was too easy, so I will be back where I was next week.

The work on the house is coming along slowly. One must be home to get work completed! The Overshiners will be coming in soon to do the jobs that are too big for me to do.

I am happy. Life continues and God is faithful.

Worship and Grief

This Sunday evening we have our annual Christmas Service for the Grieving. It is one of our most poorly attended services and is often one where the most ministry happens. A couple of years ago when we didn't expect David to live past Christmas we had our area minister lead the service. I thought about getting someone else to lead it this year as well. I've decided that I really want to lead this particular service. First, because I don't want it to turn into a service for those who grieve the death of David Casto. That is a part of my grief and the grief of the congregation, but so much has happened for many people this year. There have been other deaths, both this year and years past, people who have lost jobs, marriages, relationships. There are other losses and griefs that are difficult to put into words- such as a loss of innocence and a way of thinking. All these things rise to the surface during the holidays and need to be addressed in some way. This is also a service that usually has as many guests as Bethel members. Some of the attendees may have never known David. I also want to do the service, because this is something I do well. Part of my calling is to walk with people through their griefs and losses. I did it as a counselor and I do it as a minister.

I attended my first holiday grief service about fifteen years ago after my first husband moved out of our home. The divorce wasn't final on paper, but a marriage was dead. More than the loss of a marriage I suffered from a loss of dreams and plans. I needed a new way to experience the Christmas season and a new way to see life. I had also experienced harsh judgement from some friends and family. Those experiences brought another type of grief. A friend invited me to go to the service and I begrudgingly went. I felt like an impostor among people who had experienced deaths of friends and family. I was grieving an intangible death. There was an opportunity for people to speak, but I kept my silence. Still, it allowed me to name the elephant next to my Christmas tree to myself. The service gave me a time and place to deal with what most people want to avoid- especially during a "happy" time like Christmas. Ceremony and ritual have always been healing for me. The service gave me a ritual, as well as a time and place to deal with the sadness of Christmas.

Many of you who read this blog are dealing with griefs in your own life. I do not know how many readers I have, but I know that you are spread across the country and that I only know about half of you personally. I encourage each of you to find a way to address your own loss and griefs this season. For those of you who are religious, find a service that you can attend (ours is at 5:00 pm). You can anonymously slip in and out of most grief services. Most ministers recognize that is a real need for many. If you are not religious then you can create your own memorial service with close friends. Include songs, poenms, prose, light candles-whatever feels right. The rituals and services will not erase or heal the grief you feel, but they can free you to move forward into the season.

Breaking Rules

Once again I have broken one of the grieving rules; make no major financial decisions, purchases, or changes for at least one year. I have been toying with the idea for a while. I had googled, checked out consumerreports.org, and edmonds.com. I went to their website to create my own. Yet, while I wanted to do it, I put it off. I thought perhaps after the first of the year or spring. After all, if so many people have mentioned the rule to me, there must be some wisdom in it.

Then the moment of truth hit me- not as hard as it could have, but enough to slide me forward. As I was driving Judson to school I slowed down to stop for a stop sign and realized that my van was not stopping, but fish tailing through the stop sign. I looked to the left and right and saw that there was no traffic coming, so all I had to do was avoid hitting inanimate objects. As I regained control of the car I rather irritably thought to myself, "This would have never happened when I was driving my CRV or Subaru!" I drove Judson to school, passing a car that slid into a light post. The driver was a wide eyed young teen, who was probably on ice for the first time. I felt bad about not stopping. I remembered my first time on ice.

I was driving my mother's 'vette (it was a chevette, not a corvette) to a concert. I played guitar and stand up bass for a folk group and my friend Cynthia was one of the vocalists. There was the neck of the huge bass between me and Cynthia, with the bottom of it in the back hatch. My mother was riding with Cynthia's parents. I hit ice and the car spun around so that I was facing the opposite direction. I was terrified. Some nice guy stopped and turned the car in the right direction for me and we continued on our journey. I lost control again and the car headed toward the edge of the bridge. I was certain we would land in the road beneath the bridge. We stopped in the grass and remained there until Cynthia's father came back for us (I think by that time we were crying a lot and making all sorts of promises to Jesus). I was glad, thinking he would take us in his car and I would never get behind the wheel during a snow storm again. Cynthia's father was not going to let me off that easily. He insisted that I drive the car to the auditorium where our mothers were waiting. He gave a few helpful tips and we drove off into the snowy night without further incident. He was not my favorite person at that time. Now I am glad that there have been many people in my life that have expected more out of me than I expected myself. So, this little aside is to let you know that I've come a long way to be able to slide around on the ice and just feel irritated instead of scared. I also remember that fear and feel compassion when I see it in someone else. After I dropped Judson off I did stop for the teen to see if he needed any help. He was talking at adrenaline speed, but was not harmed and had help coming. I checked on another teen that had slid into a fence, then went home ready to trade in my van.

During my lunch hour I went to the Scion dealership and told them I wanted to test drive an xB. The sales person asked me if I wanted automatic or five speed (five speed, of course) and what color I wanted! The color of a car has never been an issue for me. I've always bought used cars, so the focus was always the model, mileage, year and price. Once that criteria was met, then there were no color choices. We took the car out on the interstate and he went over all the features and possibilities. I did follow my 24 hour rule-always wait 24 hours before making a major purchase. I had already decided through my research that if I liked the drive then this was the car I wanted. He let me take the car overnight so I could see how it worked for the kids and told me that they would go ahead and value my van for trade in. That was new too. I've never bought a car when I already had a decent car. David and I drove our vehicles until they screamed mercy or just died. We did pass the CRV on to Alex, but otherwise we have pretty much been a one car, drive it to the ground family. Here I was trading in a perfectly good vehicle- well almost perfect except for the gas mileage, the poor performance on ice, the guilt I felt driving a vehicle for seven with only one person in the car...

As I drove down our curvy road (each Midwestern town gets one curvy road) I was ecstatic! The car hugged the curves as I sped along. I realized that I could get a speeding ticket, but I didn't care, it felt good to really drive.

As I was making the purchase I thought how David would love that I am doing this. I also thought my father would have asked a lot of questions and would have wanted to give me a lot of advice- especially since I didn't have a man there to help me make the deal. So, yes Daddy, I did my research. It's really a Toyota in disguise, they only do pure pricing with Scions, so there are no negotiations- I knew the price before I went to the dealership, the price was lower than many used cars, the resale value is good, I got a fair trade on the van ( I checked Edmonds and Blue book) and I will get the oil changed, tire rotated, and fill up when I get to a half tank of gas. Now my dad can say, "that's my girl!" Oh yeah, and I will slow down on those curves. Still, I can't wait to drive it through the Great Smokies or on the Blue Ridge Parkway- I will always be a mountain girl, no matter how long I live in the Midwest!