Our daughter and her partner came for a visit on their way back from a seminar in Indianapolis. Please direct your thoughts and prayers for Greg’s daughter, Val, as she fights a medical battle!
Knowing of this visit in advance, Kelley and Greg brought a covered pickup truck to take the last of the boxes filled with Pam’s stamping materials and a bunch of holiday decorations I no longer want, but may have sentimental value to other family members. I prepared a spread of smoked brisket, pulled pork, and baby back ribs, with sides of beans, corn, and Texas toast. Way more than we could eat, but they took home the leftovers. I had the rare pleasure of preparing the meal and having people visit!
Just a few days prior, I considered they might be able to use some of the extra furniture, specifically, Pam’s office chair and her recliner. The ones matching mine. I’ve been looking at it with trepidation for over seventeen months now (more on that a bit later). As Kelley and Greg hauled boxes from downstairs, I dismantled the recliner. A wave of sadness gripped me (and still does as I write this), realizing another loss related to losing my dear Pam. I broke down crying even before we had a chance to get the chair out the door! So hard to let go, but I knew I had to.
Then, off they went. And, due to my nature, I could not let things remain in disarray. Get out the vacuum. Rearrange. Tidy up. Good for my psyche. More crying. I found myself saying, “I’m not getting rid of ‘you’, I’m just getting rid of stuff.” And don’t worry. There are many reminders of Pam still here. Many things we bought or created together. Things that meant a lot to her. Things I still use and enjoy every day.
Having completed my rearranged “therapy”, I took a picture and sent it to Kelley so she could see the change. I also sent it to my sister by text, knowing she would like to visualize the new configuration. She replied, “All yours now.” I must admit that it stung to read those words. But I know she meant well and, reflecting later, I realized that it is true. The transformation of this house, from ours to mine, is pretty much complete. Basically, every room now has my personality stamped on it. I know not what additional changes I will make. Hopefully, I won’t add too much “stuff!”
I took a walk around the neighborhood on that sunny, cool, autumn Sunday afternoon after all of the commotion. It dawned on me that last Thursday was October 12th, seventeen months since Pam died. For the first time, a monthly anniversary passed without my acknowledgement. Another milestone – one that passed without notice!
The evening was filled with sorrow for missing Pam! I sat in my chair and cried. I may be further along some continuum of recovery, but the pain is still sharp when it rears up. I miss her nearly every hour of every day. Yet I go on with my rearranged life alone in my rearranged house. Again I say, Pam wanted it this way. Every time I notice something of hers, something of ours that we acquired and enjoyed together, when I do things around the house the way she would (and obviously “trained” me), I have to say, “I love you, Pam.” Rearranged life or not.
Updating the Instruments on Wutjavia is overdue. Allow me to show you new members of my musical tool box here, as I have added them to the Instruments page.
I have always wanted a Taylor Guitar! I’ve played them several times at music stores and have a couple family members who own them. I have played those as well. I love the sound. They have great action, and are beautiful as well.
Unfortunately, my Gibson B-45 12-string no longer functions even close to performance level. At least 20 years ago the neck began to detach from the body. I had a luthier who was able to restore its function, but I could no longer keep it at the normal E tuning. I stepped it down to D, attempting to lengthen its usable life, but not a complete fix.
Late last year I became aware of Taylor running a year-end sale; buy a qualifying guitar and get a choice from another list for up to 70% off list price. I’d had my eye on a 12-string for months, having played it at a guitar store in Minnesota. This might be the time to jump in. I selected Model 352ce to replace the Gibson.
Taylor 352ce 12-String – Double Stitch
For the “sale” guitar, I selected a Taylor GS Mini-e Koa, sight and sound unseen or heard. What a pleasant surprise! Its beautiful Koa wood body only enhances the overall quality and sound of this smaller-body instrument. With the included custom gig bag, it travels easily in the back seat or cargo area of my vehicle and produces bright, yet deep sound. It is versatile enough that I can play any song, either native to six or twelve strings.
GS Mini-e Koa – Stitch
I picked up these two beauties in early January of this year. Having not seen nor heard either guitar prior to purchase, I can say that I am thrilled with their workmanship, sound, look, feel, and playability.
Playing at Galilean in June confirmed my concern with my Alvarez Yairi. You can read about it, and how I selected it, on the Instruments page of this site. I love this guitar and have created and played numerous songs with it since purchasing it in 1997. Wow! That’s 26 years ago. Recently, though, it has been misbehaving. Adjusting the neck/action, and keeping it in tune – especially during performances – has become a frustrating distraction.
Consequently, I made a trip to a guitar store that I knew had several Taylor guitars of varying price levels, in stock. A funny side story developed as I began trying to test some of the options. Most of the Taylor guitars were on locked wall brackets. The salesperson was only allowed to unlock one at a time, making it difficult to compare sound and action between models. I finally complained and ended up being assisted by the store manager who had the authority to unlock multiple guitars for me to test.
I spent between two and three hours playing the same songs on various models, winnowing the field, eventually down to two models with one being significantly more expensive. Ultimately, there was no doubt that the Taylor 724ce LTD, priced literally thousands of dollars less than the competition, exhibited higher sound quality and playability. It produced sound similar to that of my Yairi, an important consideration when trying to marry its sound with my playing style. Not to mention the beauty of its solid Walnut body! The store manager was in total agreement, saying that the sound from each string rang true and clear.
Taylor 724ce LTD – Anchor
Meet my Taylor Guitars, Stitch, Double-Stitch, and Anchor (stitch).
My Taylor Stitches
There is yet another addition to my toolbox, a Breedlove Pursuit Concert CE NY. Purchased prior to Anchor, I was looking for an option specifically to address my finger-picked songs. I hoped to gain a different sound for softer songs, while providing increased playability with a wider neck and more flexible, nylon strings. This is a Classical style guitar that I use to develop sound and practice with less left-hand stress. I have not used it in performance, but I don’t rule out that option. I also anticipate new music emanating from its use.
So here they are; my updated musical toolbox contents. Those who have heard them played have commented on my sound, a sound that I greatly attribute to the tools I use to create it. I am composing, practicing, and playing with a renewed zeal. And I look forward to performing, with eyes on various venues in 2024.
New Tools!
Thanks for allowing me to introduce you to the new members of my musical family.
It takes so many forms, and affects so many aspects of learning to live with major loss.
Written in the journal I keep by my living room recliner on September 29th, the statement continues to resonate as the days have passed since then. The journal itself is a gift from my son and is from his trip to Machu Picchu. It is a wonderfully hand-made leather book of empty white pages bound by a leather tie, that I, being left-handed, turn upside down to write on the pages from right to left. I’ve been adding entries periodically since last October.
At times I’ve thought that being in this house exacerbates the ongoing reminders of Pam missing out on our retirement years, of the emptiness I feel as the months go by without her, of the forfeiture of my hopes and dreams of our future together – of my future alone. I constantly change things around, rearrange the bedroom furniture, new linen and quilt, some of the wall hangings. I have changed the towels, mats, and shower curtain more than once in the last year, trying to change what was ours into what is now only mine. But I still get into an empty bed and wake up in the same. Getting into the shower, grab bars still in place, reminds me of Pam’s last year when she needed help with her intimate needs. The grab bars remain as an admission that I, too, am aging and admit the potential need for assistance, another reminder of having to make do on my own.
But it’s not the house, now my home. Reminders are everywhere. Go to a restaurant, a park, visit a friend, go bowling – which we enjoyed so much together. As I found out many years ago during my rebellious time as a youth, being happy, being “good” or “bad”, loving and hating , etc. are not dependent on location or one’s lot in life. Extricating myself from everything I know and have in life does not eliminate what is going on inside my head and heart.
Nearly seventeen months after Pam’s passing, I continue to live hour by hour, day by day. Some are better than others. And though I have few elated moments, I can still slip into despair that I cannot live up to what I think is worthy of Pam’s love and faith in me.
As she and I discussed, and I have mentioned before, I knew, and it has come to pass, that I am not the same person without her, not as “good” as I felt when bolstered by her love and presence in my life. Just this week my sister reminded me that Pam knew me, knew my weaknesses, knew my strengths, and loved me for who I am. Those things she saw in me are still part of me.
I believe this is why I am able to continue to get into an empty bed and wake up in the same. It is why I continue to reshape my surroundings to reflect who I am without her, still not understanding who that is. Yes. Grief is my relentless companion. But Pam’s love, the love and support of my family and friends, and my own will to live keep grief from having complete dominion over me.
On a lighter tack, as part of my process of carving out a new life without Pam, I recently attended a 55+ luncheon at the rec center. I’m pretty sure that at age 69, I was the youngest attendee. Lunch was catered and, I still can hardly believe it, I played Bingo after lunch and even won a round!
Two positive outcomes emerged as a result of my attending. A nice man named Frank took the initiative to sit with me during the luncheon. He recognized that I was new and graciously helped me feel less alone. He is twice widowed! Frank invited me to join a seniors bowling league, either bowling for at team, or as a sub. Three weeks ago I did just that, substituted for someone who could not bowl for their team. I bowled poorly, but I have always enjoyed bowling, and the challenge of being better at it than I am. I’ve now been there three weeks in a row and am known as a “regular” substitute available to anyone who cannot attend. My bowling has improved significantly since the first week and I look forward to subbing again next week. I’m getting familiar with some of the people there, have heard a few stories about their losses, and I am becoming familiar to them.
But this positive aspect of my new life is still tainted by my relentless companion. Pam and I used to enjoy bowling together with family and as members of church leagues. She was quite the bowler with the straightest delivery I have ever seen. Starting down the middle and barely wavering by a board! It is hard to avoid the guilt of enjoying bowling without her. An example of how life is changed and grief lingers.
In addition to my new social interactions, I received an email, through this web site address, wutjavia@gmail.com, from the 55+ luncheon coordinator, the only person attending who was clearly younger than I! I had given her my Wutjavia card after the event. It turns out that Bingo is not the only weekly luncheon entertainment. Guest speakers are invited to present, I suppose, just about anything, to the luncheon audience. She perused this site, read about my Glacier travels, and has asked me to present a travel log of my choosing to the group, inclusive of narrative and pictures. And though it won’t be delivered until sometime early next year, I enthusiastically agreed to do it.
One of the blessings of being with Pam was our mutual respect for the things we loved as individuals. She had her stamping and greeting cards. They were amazing outpourings of her love of people and of life. She attended conferences with her stamping friends, conducted online research, bought incredible tools, paper, and stencils, and created phenomenal works of art that she gave freely to others to honor special occasions, or just “thinking about you.” Sometimes she even asked for my advice on a design, or to hold paper or ribbon while she attached them to a card.
I had my travels (and my music), mostly to mountainous regions, camping and backpacking. With camera attached at the ready, I hoped to capture, as much as a picture can, amazing landscapes, vistas, and animals experienced along the way. And though she hated me being gone, and in potential danger, Pam encouraged me and supported me each year as I planned, either on my own or with my son, then departed on another adventure. She used to make “car treat” bags with anything from Pez candy to mini tissue packs, games and booklets. Anything she thought we might enjoy and laugh at as we drove many hours to our mountain destinations.
Now, though I am constantly reminded of what I have lost, I also remember what I/we had and can at least get a glimpse of a life that continues to evolve, with grief as my relentless companion.
The heat has broken. It finally feels like autumn, though still no rain here. It’s been two weeks since returning from Atlanta. Home alone reality is setting in. Pam passed away nearly sixteen months ago. Apparently, life goes on.
If there is a new normal, hopefully this isn’t it. To do lists have many checked boxes. Though there is more to be done before winter sets in. Daily routines are established, varying slightly from week to week for appointments and brief getaways. But the familiarity and comfort of established norms do not stave off the sadness and ache of missing Pam, nor the sorrow of her missing out on life. In some way, it seems the intensity has grown.
So much has been written describing grief, many pictures and animations. One such depiction arrived this week in a text message.
What to make of this? Where’s the fit? If the graphic is accurate, the message true, then some point along a continuum should be recognizable. But not. Life apparently goes on, but has yet to grow big enough to assuage the pain of loss. Conversely, if grief diminishes over time, apparently life must go on a long time before it begins to smother the grief. Either way, it’s a struggle to relate.
Sometimes anger wells up amidst the sadness and sorrow. How could she be taken away?! Were we not all the better for her presence in this life? Yes, we were! Yes, we are!
On the Other Hand
Better memories of Pam are emerging as time passes. Earlier pictures are reminders of happier times. Every one depicting the beautiful person she was, a beacon of kindness and compassion. One should hope to be such a person. Though she was so loving, and so loved, she was so much better than she ever thought she was. That, too, is part of her beauty.
So all is not just gloom and doom. Life cannot be all bad (though the news sources seem to differ) when such amazing people sojourn among us. We just have to recognize their positive contributions to our lives; enjoy their nature. Live to honor their lives. Live in hope that the circle will somehow, some day, grow to comfort us, to buffer us from the pain and sorrow of our grief.
Further Reflection
All of the above was written earlier in the week. Consideration was given to tossing it all out as being too depressing. But no. It stands as is. But said again, all is not just gloom and doom! Much enjoyment comes from the home we shared, now home alone. Much joy is felt when talking to and being with family and friends. Neighbors are friendly and encouraging. Autumn is a beautiful time of year in Iowa. And though it foreshadows winter, it also holds its own beauty for us to enjoy.
Now. Here’s the test. Can you figure out the missing word in this week’s post? You may post a comment in response. Or, if you would like to submit your guess privately, send a message at wutjavia@gmail.com.
Have a great week!!! Here’s hoping for happier topics as life go on.
From my reading, it appears that the differences between a caregiver and a caretaker are subtle. Two significant differences are that a caretaker’s charge might be an animal or a building rather than a person, and that the caretaker expects to be compensated for their efforts.
Both caregivers and caretakers aid people needing assistance with daily tasks, from doing laundry and preparing meals, to personal hygiene and grooming needs. But the caregiver is typically more emotionally invested, expecting no reward, than the caretaker who’s primary motivation is their own need, i.e. monetary compensation. This is not to say that caretakers are not caring or empathetic, nor emotionally attached to their charges. Nor is it true that caregivers are never compensated. Thus continue the subtle differences between the two. In fact, the two terms are often used interchangeably.
Distinguishing between the two became a topic of conversation for my sister and me during my recent visit to Atlanta. She IS my Mother’s caregiver, having taken her into her home over four years ago. My sister needed a medical procedure that required a recuperation period in which she could not lift or twist her upper body. And though her husband often assists with daily responsibilities, and our sister provides weekly respite relief, they also work and are unable to be “on call” for daily tasks.
And so I offered to help out. Shortly after my arrival, I began relearning the routine implemented to provide for my Mother’s needs. I would execute it while my sister and her husband were away. So when the day arrived I got up early to ensure that breakfast was on the table just so, and I was ready to help with her inhaler.
As the day progressed, I realized I had transitioned seamlessly and nearly effortlessly back into the caregiver role I learned while caring for my late wife, Pam. Seamless because I only realized it later in the day. Nearly effortless in that Mom’s needs are different than Pam’s, and my sister’s home is laid out differently and the kitchen configured differently than my home. Otherwise, my demeanor, and the methods I employed to care for my Mother, came back naturally.
Reflecting, later, on this transformation, I made two observations. First, I learned valuable skills while caring for Pam that I could use to assist others as a part-time caregiver/caretaker if I so choose. Second, I have neither the desire nor will to be a full-time caregiver again.
As I revisit the caregiver role, and observe and talk with my sister, I am reminded of the emotional and physical toll being a 24/7 caregiver takes. One truly has to put another’s needs about one’s own, even potentially at physical and emotional detriment.
My sister’s procedure was successful and without incident. I continue to assist with Mom’s care, and also with helping my sister do those tasks she should not be performing while recuperating.
I am thankful that my sister’s procedure went well. I am thankful to have the opportunity to step in when her physical need could not be delayed – could not be ranked below Mom’s care. I am thankful for the knowledge, wisdom, and compassion I learned while caring for Pam, though I wish it had not been necessary! But I also realize that if someone close to me has need, I could and would transition back into a caregiver role with little or no hesitation.
Much as I want to share my experiences on other subjects, like Windmill Choreography, I cannot escape my feelings of emptiness and loss. Today they spilled out in some poetic form. I’ll work on travels and windmills, family and friends, beauty in life (and death), and other such things. But today I woke to a description of my current reality. And thus I share.
She Won't Be Back AgainFrom dreamless sleep I waken
But the nightmare continues
She won't be back again
The sun is shining
The breeze is blowing
But the nightmare continues
She won't be back again
I see her in her children
Grandchildren carry on
And the nightmare continues
She won't be back again
Talking to an empty room
The pain of her absence lingers
And the nightmare continues
She won't be back again
Looking at pictures of her
She smiling back at me
But the nightmare continues
She won't be back again
Laying down to slumber
Dim the lights, mute the sound
Dreamless sleep a solace
In the morning the nightmare resumes
She will never be back again
I continue to cry. So many reminders do me in. The world continues to turn. Its inhabitants go on with their lives. So many seemingly impactful events unfold every day. I am aware of them but they seem less important than my grieving. And though I still wear the grease-paint, “I hurt all the time deep inside.”
Next week I’ll have another opportunity to be more cheerful in my musings. One can hope! Until then, know that I continue to ride the wakeful waves of dreams and nightmares. I hope for good dreams and wakeful states for all of you this week and beyond.
If retailers can create sales called “Christmas in July”, I can call for “Thanksgiving in July?” Though it should probably be in June. I’ll chalk that up to artistic license.
Nearly two weeks past my gig in Clear Lake, I am still reeling from emptiness, sadness, and guilt. It is common for me to have a letdown after completing a challenging goal; that, combined with the spiral grieving process (though at times it feels more like a roller coaster!). Nor surprise that I am off.
I miss Pam intensely. I am sad that she is unable to watch her grandchildren grow into adulthood, she cannot watch Adalynn, our next door neighbor child, frolic on her new swing set, or to share times with family and friends, or go on the road with me. I feel guilty for moving forward with my life without her, even though I know in my mind that she would want me to.
Adalynn with BlueAdalynn the Princess
In the midst of this despair I found myself giving thanks for many of the same things I rue during loss. You may thank God, the universe, even your lucky stars. Regardless of attribute, it is enlightening and healthy to be thankful.
First and foremost, I am thankful for my family. Just being able to have relationships with siblings, daughters, sons, grandchildren, in-laws is worth many thanks. And thanks to them for – being. Each person is a gift full of gifts! I am thankful for their support, for believing in me, for their compassionate ears and encouraging words.
Pam and I were happily married for over 25 years, for which I am truly thankful. Being with Pam taught me about unconditional love, deep love, letting go love. I cannot imagine a better mate. I am forever changed for the better because of her.
I am thankful for my health. Sure. I have a few “getting older” issues, but how can I complain when I know so many with far worse ailments. So far, I am still able to do the things I love, like play guitar and sing, and walk and hike. I can drive my car (which I also enjoy), and eat and drink “normally.” Health is at the heart of maintaining good quality of life, for which we all strive.
A modest home in a friendly Iowa town. Living across the street from a park and a pond – with trout! Good neighbors. So much more to be thankful for.
Which leads to how I live. Always striving to live within my means. Thankful that I can afford the things I have and am able to share my gifts with others.
My music continues to be a sustaining force in my life. I am thankful for the gift of music, my ability to play, and create music and lyrics that are cathartic for me and convey messages that others can relate to. I am thankful for the people I’m meeting as I play. From those who pass on the streets and walks as I practice in my garage, to those who patiently listen at more formal venues. I am grateful to be able to share myself, as representing thoughts and emotions of others.
So much to be thankful for! Whether it’s June, July, or any other time of the year. When I’m feeling down and out, It’s good to recognize and articulate what I am thankful for. How about you?
P. S.
OMG Look what came in the mail this morning. Guess I’m not the only one. 😉 They say they can provide six meals for every dollar donated. North Liberty Community Pantry is a cause I contribute to often.
Bucket list item? Goal? Dream? Commitment? Yep. All of those. My gig at Galilean Lutheran Church in Clear Lake was a success. I played one song during the service and 21 during the performance. Many stayed to listen. And while a few left after the first set, several friends, and family who all drove in for the event, thank you very much, stayed for the entire time.
A surreal perspective engulfed me as I played. It was hard to believe I was actually there performing. Fortunately, I enjoy playing my music and sharing my life with others through song. I got into it easily and made relatively few, minor mistakes, probably even fewer that were noticeable. Feedback was positive, with several people expressing their like for the songwriting. Overall, the consensus was that I should go forth and do more.
There were several stress indicators in the weeks leading up to the event. A gout flareup, trouble sleeping, and sadness for missing Pam. I know she would have been happy, and would have enjoyed the experience. I know I would not be who I am, doing what I am, without her love and encouragement. Last Tuesday was Pam’s birthday. Two days after the show. That, too, was looming in my heart and mind as the day approached.
Reflecting on my experience and feelings in the days after the show, extreme sorrow, and some guilt, overtook me. I realized that, though Pam shared it, this was my dream. My fulfillment. I felt that I hadn’t listened well enough to Pam expressing her dreams, that I didn’t do enough to make them come true.
Of course we had common dreams that we hoped would become real during our years of retirement. I like to think we would have made those, and Pam’s come true. Unfortunately, we have little control over the universe, the world, our lives. I would trade, in a heartbeat, all of who and what I am now to be with Pam again.
As I pondered these shortcomings, I found myself saying:
“I could have loved her better, but I could not have loved her more.”
I’m not sure that makes sense, but it sounds good and might even make good song lyrics. I love Pam deeply. I know that. But I certainly could have done it better, listened better, given more of myself to her.
Other lyrics I’ve written express Pam’s beautiful being that I aspire to, but will probably never achieve:
“You treat others better than yourself. Thinking more of them than you.”
The “others” and “them” include me. Now I can only try to do better. I cannot change the past. But I can impact my future. And in doing so, positively impact other’s lives as well. I hope!
“What’s next?” You might ask. After a few days of relative rest (that means playing only occasionally instead of for hours each day), I will start working on new material that I’ve already been writing and plucking, along with polishing several songs that have been sitting for months and years. I hope to record the remainder of my current play list so that I can share the newer songs that are not yet posted. I’ll be looking for open mics around the area to gain confidence and exposure. No, Linda, I’m not headed to Nashville yet. 😉
Tomorrow, I will fulfill a commitment I made a year ago to prepare my music and play in public, when I perform up to 24 original songs at the church where Pam and I met and married. I didn’t realize at the time, about a month after she died, that following through on a dream of performing publicly while traveling around Iowa and beyond, would become such an important part of my grief journey.
Pam and I loved to drive the back roads to towns and eating establishments. We hoped it would be a significant aspect of our retirement. Fun travels. And I would ask hosts and barkeeps if I might sit in a corner and play. With Pam’s passing, I decided to keep the dream alive.
I’ve been working/playing nearly every day for a year leading up to this point. Tomorrow is my debut. I’m not sure where I go from here, but I’m working on new goals like recording the rest of my current play list, as well as polishing another group of songs that have been on a back burner for years. Playing at open mics will help keep sharp what I have been working so hard to develop.
Attempting to share more of me through my music, I have updated my Songs page to include all of the songs from Catching Up on Life, recorded in 2013. Hopefully, that page will grow significantly over the next few weeks/months as I record more of my current repertoire.
This is a bittersweet occasion. So many memories, hopes, emotions, challenges, and now, fulfilment. My love, Pam, made this all possible. She listened (probably more than she wanted). She encouraged. She dreamed along with me. She allowed me to be me. Even in death Pam’s love for me, and mine for her, helped me get through the roughest times and begin to create a future for me, without her. A future that still includes her through memories and songs. Songs of love and affection about and to her.
I will play on. For Pam. For me. To share with all of you who might listen. I am humbled and hopeful.
Today, July 27th, is the 365th day of reading Healing After Loss by Martha W. Hickman. It is the “last” page for me since one can begin any day and continue for a year. I have been partaking of this ritual faithfully for the past year, even before my first cup of coffee, as I have wanted to get my head and heart around my feelings and the challenges of each day of grief and rebuilding my life.
Before opening the book today, I suggested to myself that it will be interesting to find out if it would contain something profoundly pertinent to this day, or only another encouraging message to help me get through the day, and the year. I am quoting the page in its entirety below:
The quote
Since her grief had brought her fully to birth and wakefulness in this world, an unstinting passion had moved in her, like a live stream flowing deep underground, by which she knew herself and others and the world.
Wendell Berry
The Message
It is a difficult birth – this coming into full wakefulness through grief – and not everyone comes out ennobled. But since the rewards of doing it well are as multitudinous as the stars in the sky, it behooves us to do whatever we can to come through well.
What may it take? Attention to our own needs, our state of mind. Reading. Rest. A willingness to be vulnerable again. Counseling, maybe. Talking with understanding friends. For some, prayer, meditation, participation in a healing community.
What we can be sure of is that we will be different. Whether we will be embittered and sad or compassionate and, in a deep sense, happy is not totally within our power to decide. But the outcome may be more within our power than we think. Like any birth, it has its pains and dangers. But it is new life at stake here – new life!
Marth W. Hickman
The Thought
I will use all the power I possess to come through this well.
Martha W. Hickman
This message encapsulates how I have spent all of my energy this past year (plus). These things I have done, in one form or another. I am confident that I will not be embittered but rather I feel renewed compassion for people, all of whom have their griefs and challenges to bear and come through. And though the pains and dangers still arise, I look forward to my new life, though a life without Pam, knowing she is always with me in my heart and that this is what she would want for me.
Thank you Martha Hickman (now deceased), for grounding me with your daily messages, walking with me along this arduous path through loss and grief. I am putting your book aside for now, knowing that it will be there any day of the year I need it as an anchor for my soul.
Pam’s 72nd Birthday is Tuesday, July 11th (I used to call it lucky 7/11). I am celebrating by playing my first “concert” at our home church in Northern Iowa on Sunday the 9th, a milestone in my commitment to Pam and me. It will be followed by a celebration for Pam’s Birthday with family. A celebration of Pam’s life. A celebration also of survival, of coming through.
