Going Home

Going Home

I travelled  to our hometowns to visit siblings last week.  I was not sure how I would feel about leaving my dogs and children, but I needed to see my sister, brother and sister in law, plus I needed to select cemetery plots in our hometown’s cemetery.  My husband chose cremation, but when I discussed the possibility that I did not want that and would like to be buried, I asked him where he would like his ashes to be buried.  He chose my hometown’s cemetery which surprised since he did not grow up there but in a neighboring town.  Our cemetery is admittedly a very country cemetery, but it is tended to by volunteers which makes it special to me.  My great grandmother, grandmother, grandfather, mother and father are all buried there, so that was my choice.  I know my children will never make the trek to west Texas to visit our graves, but it leaves me with peace.

As I approached the cap rock, the shaken bottle feelings emerged.  A sandstorm painted the blue sky red, and there were parts of my journey that I could not see two car lengths in front of me.  Nostalgia and raw emotions erupted as I drove the long expanse of highway between Snyder and Lamesa.  The expanse is inhabited only by a few ranchers and the community of Gail.  It is not a road my husband and I travelled, but it is an area with many memories from high school for me, some after I met my husband, but most before we met.  I cried the 60+ miles, and when the red dirt ceased to blow in Seminole, my crying ceased as well.  I drove on to Hobbs, NM and spent several fun-filled days with my husband’s sister and her family.

I left Hobbs Friday morning, so I could meet my brother for lunch.  My route traversed through a town, my husband and I lived for twelve years.  I had decided early to take a by-pass route, so I did not have to drive through town because I knew that would be difficult, but I was so overwhelmed with memories that it did not matter that I chose this way.  I remembered our homes and our friends and how John worked tirelessly to give us a good life, a beautiful home, and seasonal yard.  My jaw began to hurt from tension, and my rib cage was aching, but that didn’t even begin to prepare me for the next 20+ miles.  How many times had we made that journey between our home and our parents?  Nothing changes much in the south plains region of Texas, so all of the old landmarks that I used to time our journeys were there as ghosts haunting me.  The fields were bare from autumn’s harvest, and only a few tractors could be seen dotting the landscape.  The fields mirrored my thoughts, bare and vulnerable.  Upon arriving in Levelland, TX, my husband’s hometown, and our home for two years, I began to think about when we met, and how handsome I thought he was, but more important to me was his intelligence and sense of humor.  And his beautiful blue eyes didn’t hurt either.  He had  been a part of my life since I was seventeen years old.  Sadly, I thought, I would have to spend the next years alone.  

I visited my in-law’s graves and told them to watch after my husband.  I know they are not there but voicing my thoughts helps cleanse them from my mind.  My tears continued to flow like the red sand through the window screens and invisible cracks in walls.  I could not hold them back.  I am sure I looked like I had been on a three day drunk, but I trudged on, met my brother and drove to the cemetery.  I was prepared again for the tears, but strangely, they did not come.  Maybe it was because I had a mission and we were busy measuring and making plans, or because my mother’s grave is there and I have always felt peace when visiting it.  The day was cold and crisp, but the sky was cerulean blue, and I could not help but have good thoughts and memories.  Finally, I left my hometown and drove onto Littlefield to meet my new great niece and visit with my brother’s family.  I began the last leg of my trip to my sister’s home early evening crying the 60+ miles to her home.  It was an exhausting day.  I did sleep through the night for the first time in about two years.

My sister and I spent the day junktiquing in Lubbock, found a new Mexican food restaurant , but both decided we needed a nap, so we headed to her house where we met up with my niece.  We never got our naps as we reminisced about the past and dreamt about the future.  I drove home the next day a bit apprehensive about returning because of the emptiness.  The emptiness greeted me at the door, and I had little desire to do anything except mope.  Tomorrow will be a much better day.  The sun will be shining.

Loss and Love

I came to a stop at the four way stop sign.  For whatever reason, I looked at the cars, and I began wondering "What is the purpose?".  I have asked this question before, but I am a religious person, so I let my teachings answer; however, in that moment, when I felt all alone in my earthly presence, I questioned my purpose. We are born, we love and then we die. What IS the point to all of that?  I know I am a servant of God, but until I felt this heartache, this complete loneliness and longing for my husband, I went about my life as a servant, to God, to my family and to others when I could.  I felt incredibly small in that moment as awareness of the others here, there and around the world infiltrated my thoughts.  I have had moments like this in the past, but not this intense.  I could not have been at the stop sign for more than 15 seconds, but those 15 seconds were powerful.

It is the little things that I miss most about my husband.  You all have heard that a million times as I have, but the little things become magnified.  My husband was so good to call me on his way home from work everyday to ask if I needed or wanted anything.  I always asked for a Diet Coke from my favorite place, and sometimes I would include a request for ice cream, his favorite, so we could have a bowl in the evenings.  It makes me cry now thinking about it.  My husband was not necessarily demonstrative in his affections, but these small everyday things showed so much of his love.  I feel guilty that I didn't thank him enough.  His death has created much guilt for me when I try to remember if I told him along the way, how much those things meant to me.  He went to work everyday to take care of us and he never complained.  He came home to us and then me alone everyday never wanting to be anywhere else. And we may not have had major conversations everyday, but his mere presence was enough.  When he was first diagnosed, I would swing in my backyard during the day and try to imagine my life alone, but the reality is so much more cruel than the pretend.  I cannot not stress enough how unprepared I really was for his absence.

I feel as though I float through the days.  I have moments of joy.  I am busy with the daily things of life.  But I continue to have those times when I miss him more than I can bear.  I search through my house for reminders.  Not pictures as they are sometimes too painful to view, but a pen he wrote with, or a recording in a message or a smell on his clothes.  I found it difficult to remove Christmas decorations from his office, but I finally just made myself do it as the tears came wave upon wave upon wave.  I developed shingles about a week before my husband died, and during such emotional moments, they flare, so I have physical reminders of it all.  The light in those moments, is exhaustion usually follows and I can collapse to take a much needed nap, or I can go to bed and actually sleep through the night.

So much of who I am was wound with who he was.  How do I begin to unwind?  I had a career and it was fulfilling, but I have not worked in five years.  How do I find a new life at this age?  He was my confidence.  He was my sounding board.  He didn't laugh at some of my ideas like my children do sometimes.  He knew me.  He knew to be quiet for a time, and then he would ask questions that would help me see reason or give me the purpose to explore.  I no longer have that and must rely solely on myself.  This is frightening to me as I tend to either act too quickly, almost on impulse, or I take forever to decide what to do next.  I am crippled sometimes by fear of making a wrong decision that will cost me time or money or both.  I try now to think about what he would say or do, but then I remember once again he is gone.  I get emotional and I shut down.  I am struggling with how to even prepare for my life a month from now much less a year from now. Where do I begin?

I have a group of friends who are widowed or have been single most of their lives.  The widows understand completely, and I do appreciate what they have to share, but it does not take my husband's place at the end of day.  I must come home to an empty house.  I take care of the pets and household alone and my sorrows are mine alone.  My happiness is sometimes riddled with guilt or maybe just sadness that he is no longer here to share in the same happiness. My daughter includes me in much of their daily lives, and I don't turn any offer down, but sometimes it just makes me sad as I see families-whole families with children, parents and grandparents-enjoying the same outing.  My mind drifts to the times we had like that but will never have again.  I try to focus on the moment.  It is very difficult to do so.  It's like telling a sick person to live in the moment. What does that really mean?  When someone is facing death because of their illness, life is waking everyday with that knowledge.  It cannot be erased.  Sure, we tried to live a normal life, but for my husband it was all he could do to get up every morning, go to work so he could provide for me, come home and pretend to feel ok, go to bed and get up and start again. Can you imagine the energy it took for him to do that?  I know how much energy it took for me to make life comfortable for us without dwelling on the inevitable.  

Today is a new day.  Sunday's seem to be my worst days emotionally.  I am not sure why.  I will be busy today with more financial matters, probate and such, and the mundane little things I do around my house that for whatever reason gives me comfort.  I will get through this as others have. Time is my enemy.  One day it will be my friend again.

And The Tears Came

My life as I know it is no more.  Most of my writing has been about pleasant memories and the wonderful events in my life.  These memories and events are not without struggles and often strife, but these past two years have been a series of struggle and strife.  My husband of 38 years at the time was diagnosed with adenocarcinoma of the esophagus in January 2015 after recovering from early stage bladder cancer.  We entered the cancer world of doctors, and tests, and drugs and all of the what ifs.  Our lives evolved around my husband's illness although like the trooper he always was, he never complained.  He continued working although he curtailed international travel, but he came home more exhausted each day.  He tried to do things I wanted to, and we talked about his bucket list, but advanced stage cancer doesn't afford the opportunity to do much as the body is already in a major state of decline.  He would summon the energy to take a few short trips to our lake house, and we took a car trip to Florida to visit my sister, but it took its toll on him.  After two different chemo regimes and radiation, cancer returned with a vengence, so off to MD Anderson for a trial.  He only completed one week of the drug and was too week to continue.  I honestly thought at one point he would die in the hotel room.  We returned home, and he tried one more treatment, but he knew his time was at an end.  Hospice was called.  On November 28, 2016, he died at home surrounded by his children and me.

While I may eventually write about those two years, what I must write now is the emotional upheaval his death created.  I thought after nearly two years of knowing the possibilities of his death and preparing in some small way for it,  I would be ready to take on this role.  Nothing, and I mean nothing, could have prepared me.  My role as care giver required 24/7 care, so after he passed my body and mind continued that role.  I awoke for almost a week every two hours thinking I needed to check him and give him his medications.  Several times I panicked because I did not hear him breathing. and then I would remember that he was gone.  The days following his death blurred into a whirl of business to attend to with little sleep at night.  I had no appetite, but I had tons of energy which I imagine was stress adrenaline.  I finished preparing the house (although a very simplified version of past years) for Christmas because we have grandchildren and they loved seeing the tree.  I had little focus for major decisions, and I think I must have rambled from one topic to another with my children who were helping me.  I felt as though I was floating above myself watching the actions but not really feeling.  Physicians would say I was in shock most likely, but I felt it was a coping mechanism.  Logically I knew my husband was gone, but the heart does not know yet, and parts of the brain have to be retrained to know.

Finally the service was over, family and friends returned home to their lives, and I entered a period in my life that I could not fathom.  My daughter stayed some nights with me, but she too had to return home to her husband and two year old and life.  I did not want to burden my children anymore.  They had already given so much.  My family lives away, so I could not visit them, but I was connected by phone and they were of great help as were friends.  But no one or thing can take the place of someone else, someone who had been a part of my life since I was seventeen years old.  He was my history, my now, but my future no more.

A widower described the heartache as a hurricane.  The waves come crashing down one after another relentlessly, and you feel as if you are drowning.  The waves pound and pound until you can no longer get up.  I felt the pounding, but I will have to say it was more like someone had shaken a soda bottle, and  as the cap is slowly twisted bubbles began to push out of the bottle.  My core began to feel the bubbles.  And I knew the lid of the soda bottle was about to explode with carbonation spewing like a volcanic eruption.  When that feeling began, I would cry and howl and cry some more.  It was good no one was home, and I have space between my house and my neighbors.  I can only use other author's words and describe it as the howl of a wounded animal.  Somewhere deep inside this sound emerges.  It builds and builds.  I cried so hard that my body ached afterwards.  I would collapse on the bed or sofa-a respite from the crying.  I would go several hours before the tiny bubbles would begin again.

Every little thing reminded me that he was gone.  I went to the store and my first thought was "I wonder what John would like today?" and of course the tears came.  I had to run errands in a neighboring city, and I picked up my phone to text him to let him know I was headed home and ask if   he needed anything.  And of course the tears came.  We celebrated Christmas at our lake home because I could not bear having Christmas in our home.  Like always, I left at the crack of dawn, and when I arrived I again was about to text him to tell him I made it.  And of course the tears came.  But what hit me harder in that moment was the understanding that no one checked to see if I had made it.  There would not be anyone to check again.  I was completely alone.  Nothing could prepare me for that realization.  And of course the bottle shook.  The bubbles came.  The lid exploded and the contents erupted.  And the tears, oh the tears, so many tears came.

My Favorite Bluebonnet

Texas is known for its bluebonnets, and this year the weather cooperated making it a Bluebonnet year.  My daughter and son-in-law asked me to accompany them on a bluebonnet scouting trip to Ennis.  Since I hadn't been to Ennis in years, I said yes, and off we go.  We drive around a bit to look at historic homes (they live in an historic home in an historic Ft. Worth neighborhood), and then found the cutest park for pictures.

I must say that she loved the bluebonnets so much that it made it almost impossible to capture an image of her looking up, but I managed to get several shots of her and the bluebonnets in the field.  She is, of course the cutest bluebonnet in the picture!

May your spring be filled with such sweetness and beauty,

Lana

Enjoy!  

Oh Baby!

My sisters and sister in law helped me host a baby shower for our daughter in our home recently.  The weather cooperated as if we had ordered it special for the garden brunch.  Beautiful bright blue skies and a cool breeze accented the shower theme perfectly.  The guests enjoyed a brunch on the patio and then visited with each other before the gift opening began.  It was such a fun day, and I talked with old friends and made new friends.  Now we can relax (ha ha) until baby Beth arrives.

The inspiration for the party came from these adorable invitations I found on Etsy at The Find Sac.  The design and papers were perfect for the event.  The Find Sac team was also one of the easiest groups I have ever worked with through Etsy.  (A few vendors are great at creating, but not so good at business and service.)  Look at their creations next time you are in the market for printing.

I used the invitation to select the flowers for our center piece.  The Gerbera daisies brightly dressed the main serving table.  Flowers were purchased at Fort Worth Flower market.  I ordered baby's breath in advance but took a risk and waited until the day I needed flowers to venture into the market and make my selections.  Glad I went early that morning because the daisy selection was minimal.  I was lucky to get enough in the different shades to make an impact in this vase.

The entry table greeted guest with a baby book custom made by Way Cool Designs.  Again the quality and service from this vendor were impeccable.  I have covered binders before but I will tell you that never again will I attempt to do it after seeing this product.  The attention to detail is obvious, and my very particular daughter was elated with the gift. Check out this vendor for all of your custom embroidery occasion books.

Because the August summer morning was so calm and cool, I could open the french doors to the patio and leave them open for the entire morning-a rarity in Texas as the heat is oppressive, but more invasive is the wind.

Brunch menu selections included foods selected by my daughter.  Her special request was for her Aunt Beverly's fruit salad.  We make the same one, but my sister must add a bit of magic to hers. Also  requested by her were Angel biscuits served with ham and Jezabel sauce.  The biscuit and sauce recipes were old family recipes, but they can be found on Southern Living's web site.  French Toast Muffins with warm maple syrup (Pinterest) and Paula Deen's Hashbrown breakfast casserole were also served.  Additionally a spinach and strawberry salad topped with almonds and dressed with a poppyseed dressing (Pinterest),  and mini cupcakes from Leah's Sweet Treats in Fort Worth were served.

Two drink stations, one with non alcoholic beverages and one with Peach Sangria made with peaches from our trees, and a classic Martha Stewart sangria complimented the tasty foods.  My sister in law whipped together the sangrias while my sister Vickie made sure the tea with peach and raspberry syrups, lemon water and coffee were ice cold or piping hot.

I made the banner from wooden letters and complimentary papers and ribbon.  The sangria station was highlighted with more Gerbera daisies, a framed copy of the quote I wrote for the invitations and a painting I did of our daughter.  The shoes were the shoes she wore in the painting complete with scuff marks.

 Just a few more shots from the backyard.  Baby's breath filled several containers on the back patio as well as the entry.  The fragrance wafted across the yard adding just one more special touch to the day.

 The beauty of this event was that I purchased very little for decor.  Instead of trying to match my daughter's nursery color scheme (although she is using navy, tangerine, and fuschia), I stayed with my own thus many of the vases, napkins, ribbons were items I owned.  I can also use the table cloth I made for this event and reuse ribbon and papers.

I hope all who attended had a good time.  I know I did.  And I appreciate all of the help with the event.  Thanks to Vickie, Beverly, Belinda, Stephanie and Mackenzie.

Enjoy!

Lana
Country Fare

The Bard, High Tea and Bristol

"But I bethink me what a weary way From Ravenspurgh to Cotswold will be found In Ross and Willoughby, wanting your company, Which, I protest, hath very much beguil'd The tediousness and process of my travel."
Source: KING RICHARD THE SECOND

This is the England of my books.  I was so glad to see the actual places I read about and used pictures and descriptions in my classroom.  Below is the Anne Hathaway cottage with a thatch roof. Next is Shakespeare's family home in Stratford.  I can visualize the family as they prepared their meals and sat in the dining room to eat and talk of the day.  

Look at the is beautiful wallpaper.  An original piece in the chair was used to recreate the design on the wall.  I learned that the print was actually on a canvas like fabric and then applied to the walls.

And we think our kitchens are small!  Of course the dishes are housed in the dining room while only the necessary cooking utensils reside in the work kitchen.

After our time in Stratford we journeyed through the Cotswalds to have high tea at a 16th century pub The College of Arms in Lower Quinton, Worickshire.  We learned that Oxford and Cambridge Universities owned much of this land thus providing substantial monetary support for many years which is why, at one time, students who were accepted into the schools did not have to pay.  Forward thinking for sure!

I never knew what clotted cream was but we sampled it with fresh scones.  It was like a combination of whipped cream (unsweetened) and butter.  High tea means sandwiches are also served.  I found the fox on the roof entertaining as were the quacking ducks on the serene pond.  The church, prepared for a wedding, towered above with its noble spires.  All was quiet and restful.

We board our bus and journey slowly through the hills and dales winding our way across a one way lane spotted with various fields of activities as this was a bank holiday and families were out enjoying the countryside as we were.  We passed an authentic Gypsy camp with their elaborate wagons parked on the side of the lane.  Off to Bristol and the western side of England.

Enjoy!

Lana

Past and Present: England Part Two

 

Day 2 of our trip began with a bus ride north to Cambridge, England.  The country side was pristine and picturesque.  Yellow fields of rapeseed dotted the landscape.  The oil is used for various purposes including pharmaceuticals.  We turned off of the major highway and were driving along a country road to Cambridge.  We departed the bus and walked into town.  Our first stop was the River Cam.

We were delighted to see the open market in the city square.  

I learned that Cambridge University is made up of "colleges", but they are not like our universities.  Each college is more like a "home" for the student while they attend the university.  Trinity College as noted in the sign below is one such college as is The King's College in the pictures below. 

                       

A typical village street in Cambridge.  We had great fun walking through the village.    

We left Cambridge and continued our journey north through Sherwood Forest and on to York, England.  When approaching the walled city one of the first gates is pictured below.  As we crossed the river, we were greeted by rowing teams on the River Ouse.

York dates back to 71 A.D.  It was filled with so many buildings dating back to to the 600's including the first minster.  York Minster is a medieval building where remains of the Roman Basilica have been discovered. We used the York Minster as a meeting spot and heard the beautiful chimes.  The pictures do not begin to depict the size of this cathedral.

Below is one of the oldest buildings in York.  When being refurbished, the carpenter who worked on the project carved mice into the door frame.  It was believed that touching the ear or tail of a mouse brought good luck.  

We strolled the "Shambles" and ate a traditional steak and ale pie at The Black Swan Inn.

After our meal and a quick look around this 15th century home turned pub, we were on our way to the quaint village of Harrogate for the night.  I was astounded by the number of green spaces reserved for community residents, and it seemed that many had dogs who played in the fields of these preserves.  Harrogate was no exception.  Driving into the village and seeing people out walking and playing with the children and pets was relaxing, and after such a busy day, we were both ready for bed.

Enjoy!

Lana