About strength and death....

Sharran · Joined: 07 Jan 2009 Posts: 50

[b]About Strength and Death....

The weather, of course, keeps me inside and away from my gardens this week, so I found myself thinking of the quandary in which I find myself and some of my friends.

One sunny April day in '07, I lost my husband and found myself unexpectedly alone for the first time in more than 40 years. The week before that, my life was normal and I was lending support to my friend who had just lost her husband.

I thought of both of us this week. My friend mourned in anguish for several months, with the cries and the wails of a lost child. Now, more than a year later, she has sold everything and has settled in Florida, enjoying the warmer climate and working to create a greenhouse, something she has wanted for a long time. She no longer wails like a lost child.

I have another friend who more recently lost her husband. She is now very involved in Master Gardener classes, she has a new puppy companion, and she can smile a little; the sun is peeping through her fog.

And there is my friend in Canada. She lost her husband many years ago, and thought at the time she could not face another day. She picked herself up and leaning on her God given strengths, started a new career, a new life, adding new friends as she made her way through each new day.

All of us, widows.....I despise that word, but that is a part of who we are, who we became in the blink of an eye.......we would all gladly turn back time, to a day when we were walking happily in the sunshine. Neither of us goes through a day without remembering that companionship with longing. Time cannot rewind, though....we can't go back, and our only two choices are stopping right now, or making the most of the talents we have been given.

My friends did not stop, they moved on. And so did I. Reluctantly, but I did move on.

I had retired from teaching, you see, and my husband had been retired from his career for a few years, so we had many plans. I had only been retired for a short while when he passed away, and our plans and dreams were shattered. I was faced with those two choices, and my decision making skills had gone awry. I didn't know what to do, or where to turn.

But I had been presented with an idea, just at a time when I needed it most. Our county did not have an art gallery, and we had many talented people who had no place to display their work. A county executive had approached me with the idea of turning the second floor courtroom in our historic courthouse into an art gallery. I took the idea and ran with it. I had been an art teacher for many many years, maintaining and directing an art gallery was something that I could do, and would enjoy doing. But even that did not make a dent in the hours of those lonely days and nights.

One day just out of the blue, a friend mentioned to me that a gardening website we both enjoyed was looking for writers. She thought I might enjoy writing about one of my favorite subjects, I checked into it, and was accepted as a writer. Another niche was filled in, my lonely days were beginning to to take on a new look. I could write during those hours when I could neither eat nor sleep. And so I have been writing for that site for a little more than a year now. Slowly the shadows are beginning to lighten.

A few months ago, I was approached by another friend about possibly painting a large landscape for a couple who had just purchased a new home. I took that offer, and as a result, after finishing the painting, I was asked to do another, and then another.

Now I have deadlines, I have things to do in those hours that I had once come to dread. I can write, I can paint, and I can fill the gallery with lovely works of art from all over our community. And my life is smiling now, not laughing out loud, but smiling. And the fog is lifting, I can see the sun.

So I found myself thinking of my friends, those I have already mentioned. We each mourned, we cried, we wailed, but we also learned to lean on those gifts that God had given us in the first place, our abilities.

Death is not easy to accept. If we could, we would turn back time. If we could, we would rewrite the script of our daily lives. If we could, we would go back to yesterday. But we can't.

We can be patient, and take a look through the fog to see what lies before us. We can look at our strengths, and know that they were given to us for a reason.

I have no doubt in my strength anymore. I have survived the very worst pain, the death of a loved one. Oh, the grief is still there, and in the middle of the night the tears might flow. Grief does that, popping unbidden, totally unexpected, and completely unwelcome.

My cat, Daisy, belonged to my husband. When he died, she was so grief stricken, I thought I might lose her too. Days would go by and she sat watching out the window for him to come home. Nothing would console her. Eight weeks after his death, when she was nothing more than skin and bones, a little yellow kitten popped into our lives. Fourteen ounces, the vet said. Daisy perked up, started grooming the baby kitten and began to eat. The kitten grew, and now a year and a half later, Jazz is no longer a kitten. He is a long, sleek, long haired 8 pounds of gentle. He chases Daisy and she chases him. She makes him groom her ears, and comes to get me when he is in trouble. At night when a tear might fall, Jazz listens, and if I am restless, if I sniffle, or if I cry, Jazz springs into action and lands flat on my back, on my pillow, or anywhere near my head. He covers me with his gentleness and purrs in my ear.

I am so blessed.

©Sharon Brown 1/09

CajuninKy · Joined: 24 May 2006 Posts: 554 Location: Kentucky

This was a very touching post and I had to think about it and reread it before I could respond.

I do not deal well with death. In fact, I just don't deal with death. I put it out of my mind and refuse to aknowledge it. I know this is not healthy. You can only bury something for so long before it makes it's way to the surface and many times it has mutated. This is a defense I adopted as an 8 year old child when my father died. I was actualy in shock for a while and had to be medicated. My Dad was my life. He knew for several years that he would not live to see me grow up so he wanted to fill my life with as much of him as possible so I would never forget him. When he was no longer there I was completely lost. So I refused to face it, to think about it, to deal with it. I simply turned off my emotions, painted on a smile and went through the motions. I grew up doing this and to some degree I still do it. Through the grace of God I have gotten much better, much less detatched from life, but I still have to make an effort to be involved with living. I am sure this shocks and suprises anyone who knows me as a pastor's wife. But I am just as human as any other person and deal with just as many problems. Only God's grace gets any of us through life each day. If we lose sight of that fact we are in deep trouble. I rely on God for everything and I thank Him for all my blessings. He has been gracious to me and patient with me. I think He has given me such a love for animals to fill that void created in my life so long ago. I have been able to connect with people again because of the animals. Many might have sent such a child to a therapist. God's ways are not our ways but His timing is always perfect and I am a work in progress. Your post has given me pause to think on this and I thank you. I thank God He has been gracious to you and to your friends in your times of need. I am thankful you are doing well and that you have your animals to help you heal and deal. Mayhap that is why they were created first. God knew we would need them. May He bless and keep you always.

Sharran · Joined: 07 Jan 2009 Posts: 50

Cajun,
You know I have been through a horrific ice storm, and during the first two nights when I was alone and I thought the world was crashing down on my head, I was thrown back many years to March 1950. Another snow storm had blanketed the mountains where I grew up, those same mountains where you now live.
My dad was serving our military in the Philippines during WWII when I was born, and I did not see him until I was 3. He was not ready for a spoiled, precocious, blue eyed curly haired 3 year old daughter and I was not ready for a gaunt, gray soldier with shadows in his eyes and dark circles under them. I had already bonded with my grandfather, and he was the only man in my life.
My grandfather was a Baptist minister, though he had been trained as an attorney, and he did have a law practice as well. He was the greatest man, and such an important part of my life.
So in March, 1950, on a cold snowy day, I was just seven, and had been left with a great aunt while my paternal grandmother (it is my maternal grandfather of whom I speak) had walked down the one lane road to find news of the health of my favorite grandfather. He had been taken to Lexington the week before to see a specialist for some health problems he was having. My parents were in Lexington with him, and I was staying with my Granny Ninna. I watched her walk down the road, and waited till I saw her returning in the snow and cold wind. I ran outside to meet her, no coat and only socks on my feet. Her head was bowed and as I came to her I did not have to ask, I already knew by the tears frozen on her cheeks. I had lost my grandfather. I ran from her and kept on running down the narrow road, I didn't even know where I was going. They caught me just as I rounded the first bend, and carried me back while the scream that was mine bounced off the mountains.
I thought I would never get over that death, and last week when the storm hit, and I was alone here...with my cats, and I thought for sure the trees were falling right into my house. It sounded much like I think gunshots would sound, and then there would be a crack, and the limbs would come crashing down, bounce off my ice covered roof, and on to the ground. The cats and I jumped every time.
It was dark, and getting cold since there was no electricity, and I decided I was ready for death, and I was not afraid of dying...but.....I just really didn't want it to hurt.
And somehow that night in 1950 came to mind. My grandfather died peacefully though suddenly, and it didn't hurt. They told me he was smiling, as if he were having a good dream, and continued to smile after he was gone. So I told that story to the cats, and told them to fix a smile on their faces, as I would do, just in case we did not make it through the night.
So now, a week or so later, I can smile even remembering that night. I am not afraid of dying, I just don't want it to hurt. And I think God is very aware of that. When you said you turn to God for every little thing, I can relate, 'cause so do I. And then I can smile.
I think ultimately that is so important. It sure calmed the kitties down, and me too. God made the animals first, He sure knew what He was doing. And He sure knew what He was doing when He sent me mine, and you yours. It all makes me smile.

It takes time for us to understand a lot of things....and so He gives us time, and ultimately understanding. We cannot change the past, but we can learn from it, even small lessons.

You are living in my beautiful mountains, where my heart surely lives. I live vicariously through your pictures that you so graciously share with me, and I remember all the times when I ran crying up and down those mountains for one thing or another. It soothed my soul to be there, and I know that God gave me that, too.
I hope the mountains do the same for you, soothe you, and if you listen closely, God will talk with you as you ride your horses through them. I think that is why I hold the mountains so dear, it's where I first did all my talking with God. And your pictures that you share with me, help soothe as I do all my remembering. And I can always find a smile.
Thank you, dear Cajun.....you didn't know you were doing that for me, did you? You didn't even know you were such a blessing, but now you do.
Sorry it took me so long to tell you.
Sharon