A Sociologist's View of Inverness

I am a sociology major college graduate.  I am fascinated by human beings and how we interact with one another.  If there is one thing that consumes my thoughts more than anything else, it is self-reflection.  In the last five years I have lived in 4 cities, and 3 states. Santa Clara, San Jose, Vancouver, Washington, and Inverness, Florida.  Every place was different, every city/town was different, as was every state.  But the move to Inverness has set everything on its head.  

I don’t really recall how I reacted to people who were unknown to me as a child.  Being the 3rd of 4 kids, I tended to follow the crowd.  I did whatever I was told or simply followed the lead of my siblings.  When I went to college, I hung with my group - my roommates, my classmates.  Colleges can be very closed societies so I never thought much about it.  After that I was off to Santa Clara and began the work of creating a new home.  I attributed so much of the challenge of building relationships in this new phase of my life to a west coast/California phenomena.  Now I’m not so sure.  Santa Clara is a bedroom town to San Jose and San Jose is a very large city.  I made friends, never easily, but I had a group to which I clung.  Many times I felt alone, without my family nearby but I carried on.  I made friends as a young mother, as a returning college student, as a teacher and co-worker.  I collected my people along the way and rarely let go of them.  We got together for coffee, for lunch, for dinner, or social events.  But the idea of making friends with strangers that you might meet along your meanderings was foreign to me.  I was fascinated by people who could pull this off.  

Californians, at least in the San Jose area, did not make eye contact and there was no idle conversation in the grocery line, so how was it that you start up that initial interchange?  As the years went by, I stopped assessing and evaluating this oddity because it never seems to change.  When I traveled back to Iowa or Florida, I was always struck by the “friendliness” of other locales. 

As I made the move to Vancouver, I experienced much of the same social atmosphere as I had in Santa Clara.  People were a little more friendly but there was always something that was held back.  It seemed that you were granted access to the inner circle with someone else’s membership.  I was freely accepted at my sister’s church because I was with my sister.  But the experience was the same in grocery stores in my neighborhood as it had been in California.  In my reflection at the time, I chalked it up to “west coast” behavior.  

Fast forward to Inverness, Florida, a town of 7,000 people.  Compare that to 200,000 in Vancouver and well over a million in San Jose.  The first thing I was struck with during my first visit was how friendly the people were.  People gain and hold eye contact, they smile, they talk to one another  There is an openness that I have never experienced before.  There is also less attachment to individuals.  You no longer need to cling to your friends to feel accepted so there are fewer coffee and lunch dates.  I have met people in the grocery stores (especially at the deli counter), at festivals, and in churches.  We tell each other our stories; where are you from, what brought you here, how did you find Inverness?  I no longer worry about going anywhere alone and having to introduce myself because I know there is a friend waiting for me there.  I have never felt so welcomed or embraced by a town before.  I bring my eye contact and smile wherever I go and in return I am gifted with friendship, camaraderie, and conversation.  Is it small town/big city or east coast/west coast?  The sociologist in me says it’s the small town experience.  It is the necessary dependence on one another to get your needs met.  In the big city you simply buy whatever you need.  But in a smaller community, everything is not available and at your fingertips.  You have to ask for help or recommendations from those who have been around before you got here.  You learn to appreciate the Inverness that is and was and work to keep pieces of it intact before it is also lost to increased population and indifference.

As I reflect on this, I feel walls around me crumbling.  I see and hear myself starting conversations with strangers and it amazes me.  Who is this woman that now, after all these years, has the courage and comfort to say hello and trust that a return hello and a story will come back to me.  I am still me at my core but this is a better, nicer, more welcoming me.  I no longer have the need to protect myself with my family or friends around me.  I am enough.  I am welcome, appreciated, and making a difference in the lives of even strangers in this, my new community.    

Learning to Talk About Death

Kobe Bryant's death has been an incomprehensible tragedy.  I am deeply sorry for his wife and children who have been left behind and will have to forge a new way of living as a family.  He was larger than life and I can't imagine what it is like to take that first step into life after Kobe.  But Kobe was not perfect.  He was accused of rape and it has left an ugly shadow on the legacy that many do not care to remember.  Kobe was not perfect.  No one is perfect.  We all have our shadows. 

In our pain, we want so badly to remember our loved ones as whole, complete, and perfect.  Somehow we have to learn how to incorporate the whole person into our memory of them after they pass.  I have recently said my final good-bye to my ex-husband, my lifelong friend.  There have been and continue to be some tricky moments for me, both public and private where the shadows have appeared.  There were some very real reasons why we divorced after 23 years of marriage.  In my grief, they are often the reality check for me and the reminder that how America mourns is sorely lacking.  He wasn't perfect.  We weren't perfect.  Yet I remember him as my great love.  But I also remember the pain.

I mourned his passing with my family and friends with out hesitation.  It broke me completely to know that he and I would never enjoy one another's company again.  Day after day, I had to tell myself that he was gone.  No more talks, no more dinners, no more laughs together.  But as you continue the journey of reliving that live that is no more, the shadows slowly appear.  The photos bring it all back into focus.  In a picture is everything; the people, the place, how you got there.  You remember it all; the fight you had just before the photo was snapped, the smile that you pasted on your face trying desperately to cover the pain for the benefit of others, or the emptiness when he didn't even show up.  But mourning in America has no place for that, even if you're the ex-wife.  There is no opportunity to say that he wasn't perfect, that I had wanted more.  I wanted to grow old together even if that was only to 2019.  I wanted him to still be here, I wanted to still have our family home filled with kids and grandkids in the backyard and gathered around the table.  No, he wasn't perfect, we weren't perfect.  And now I want us, as a society, to get better at this grieving thing.  I want so badly to be remembered whole.  I want my kids to tell the stupid stories of my life.  Do not sugar coat me .  Keep me human with all my frailties and weaknesses.  Remember me as I am.  Don't leave any of it out.  I have light and I have shadows.  We all do.

Writing!

I am writing.  I haven't done much writing here but I am writing.  Following Ralph's passing I was overcome with the need to be certain that he and his stories live on in the hearts and minds of his grandchildren.  I know in my own life I have had to rehear the stories of my grandparents who passed on during my childhood.  I would prefer that Ralph's stories come to life now rather than 50 years from now when the little ones start asking about him and the things he cared about.  I got started on this project with a general idea in mind of just jotting down a few memories that defined Ralph as a person but then discovered a book to help me through the process; Life's Workbook; How to Write Your Autobiography Through Memoir Writing.  It has been the perfect fit for this project.  The first step was to complete a life chronological calendar.  It is quite a thing to see your entire life in a notebook - where you have lived, the big events, vacations, how your work and educational life supported each other.   It is the perfect starting point Not having many social contacts in town has also helped me immensely as I dive into this full force.  I try to write almost every day like everyone says you should.  I write the draft and then go back to it later to beef it up or smooth out the rough edges.  The writing stays with me.  I think about it before I write, during the process and afterward - what I left out, how to be sure that his being comes through the words in the love and humor that he exuded.  It is an awesome responsibility; to create this person who you loved with only words and to know that he will live on because of this work. 

Things that keep coming up for me:

• I tend to feel emotionally stuck in the event or time period that I'm writing about.  That can be a joyful thing or painful depending on the topic and how much I decide to include for my audience.  Writing about the baby years was definitely exhausting and I had to push myself to get through it quickly.  I smelled those diapers and felt the sleepless nights in my entire body.  The brain is a fascinating thing!
• Save your letters; hearing the voice of your younger self is exactly the voice you want to come through in your memoirs.  I'm not a saver but I was never able to throw away my parents or Ralph's letters from my college years.  My parents also gave me a couple letters that I had written to them during the same time frame.  Those were fascinating!  I told them a lot more than I thought I would have.  
• Reliving the life of our marital relationship through this writing is cathartic.  While it does not help the grieving process at all it does confirm that we were happy together for many many years.  It is the reminder that my grieving is real; I lost a good friend and someone who knew me better than anyone else in the world.  I miss him.
• While my intention was to write Ralph's story, I can already see how this is going to spread into another story; mine.  

And so I am writing.  I am a writer.  It has always been a thing to which I have aspired.  And it's happening.   It was always there waiting to come out; I only needed a purpose, an opportunity and and audience.    

Putting 2019 to Bed

2019 is done.  Just as with any other year, it was filled with highs and lows.  But this year was different.  God/fate/destiny took hold of my hand and didn't let go.  By the time June rolled around, I had left my sweet home in Vancouver where I had been surrounded with the love of a new family branch led by my sister, new friends, the beauty of Mt. St. Helens and a short flight back to my loved ones in San Jose.  It seemed perfect.  And then it wasn't.  By mid-year I was 3,000 miles away and living in central Florida and in only 2 more months my ex-husband and lifelong friend had taken ill and passed away.  It all felt like one shock after another.  They just seemed to keep coming.

The highs were high.  I am living within 90 minutes of my parents and am able to visit frequently.  This time together is precious.  My parents are able to share the stories that they want to live on when they are gone.  I am able to ask anything and I get answers that go deep.  I am living drenched in sunshine - December in the 70s is an amazing thing.  I can grow all kinds of plants and vegetables.  I watch the sun rise and set and am in awe of the simplest things that happen every day if I only take the time to notice.  I can travel the east coast and see things that were never on my list - Savannah, Charleston, day trips around my new home that leave me breathless.  I am only minutes away from clear blue spring water that bubbles up from the underground; vibrant tropical flowers are everywhere - even in my own backyard.  Some days feel like I'm in a dream.

And the lows have been low.  I am 3,000 miles/6 hour flight away from my children and grandchildren.  It breaks my heart on a daily basis.  And there's nothing that can be done to change it.  I said and continue to say good-bye to Ralph.  I am struck motionless by the times that I feel his absence in the world.  I miss him.  I miss his heart.  I miss our conversations about education, the kids, and the future.  I hold onto the notion that we lived in the moment every time we were together.  We did  not hold anything back - the love was always there and I left nothing unsaid.  I'm just sad, incredibly sad that I have the lost the man I once loved with my whole heart but more than that, respected always.

So this year has been a year of tears.  I have cried in joy and in sorrow.  I have cried witnessing my children's reconciliation.  I have cried leaving my parents on Christmas Day as they held on to my hand after I had let go.  I have cried watching my grandchildren succeed in gymnastics, swimming, and jujitsu, knowing that the moments we have together are gone in an instant. 

So I say good-bye to you, 2019.  I have learned and loved from everything you gave me.  I step forward into 2020 a stronger but sadder woman.  I am slowly learning to accept what can and cannot be changed.  As I continue forth into these golden years, loss becomes a bigger part of the picture.  I hold on tightly to the moments I have with my loved ones knowing that we all have an expiration date.  May 2020 help me continue to understand that life is short and all that matters in the end is the love that was shared. 

One Word

In the past few years I have given up on New Year's Resolutions.  I made them every year and they were meaningful.  They were never about losing weight or exercising more.  I spent time in reflection; what would I like to change, how can I be a better person/teacher/mom, etc; what are my goals and how can I meet them?  Sometimes I was successful and sometimes at the end of the year I was sadly lacking in progress on my goal.  Then a couple years ago I discovered a thing called One Word.  At its core, it is taking the idea of your resolutions and putting them into one word.  So after reflection of where I'm going and how I think that I can get there, what is the one word that describes that process?  Two years ago it was gratitude.  That was an easy one.  I could think and write about it every day, and I did.  The thing about the One Word is finding ways to keep it uppermost in your mind so that you can continue to work on it throughout the year - just like a resolution.  Last year my word was enough.  Not what you might think - not that I have enough but I AM enough.  It was the reminder that I have everything I need and that whatever I bring to the world and my relationships was enough.  It was a way for me to do away with my personal judgments.  My trick last year was to buy an Etsy bracelet with the one word etched on it.  It worked.  Every morning in the beginning and then later, when I needed the reminder, I would pop on the simple bracelet and it was like magic.  Just like that, I was enough.  So now it's time for a new word.  As I reflect on the year ahead, I know that I will be called to a new level of strength.  As I watch my dad's health sag, it is clear that I've been drawn here to be one that stands up and takes over when needed or called upon.  I also know that my spiritual life has had a bit of its own sagging going on.  I'm working on that...  My word for 2020 is steadfast.

steadfast
adjective
resolutely or dutifully firm and unwavering; steadfast loyalty

synonyms:  loyal, faithful, committed, devoted, dedicated, dependable, reliable, steady, true, constant, staunch, trusty, firm, determined, resolute, stalwart, stout, relentless, implacable, singleminded, unchanging, unwavering, unhesitating, unfaltering, unswerving, unyielding, unflinching, inflexible, uncompromising

2. 
   
3. Now there are a lot of un- and in- words there which are not my favorites but the synonyms that are resinating with me are faithful, reliable, steady, and constant.  I'm searching for that in my relationships.  I want to be that stalwart presence for both my parents and my children.  I want to be the one that during the hard conversations, I can be reassuring, patient, and the shoulder to lean on.  Lately, I haven't felt very dependable in that department.  Tears are flowing way too often for me to be determined or resolute.  I cry when I leave my parents house knowing that every time I'm there could be the last.  I cry when I even think about being away from my kids and grandchildren at Christmas or birthdays or anything.  This has always been true.  Wherever I am, I think about being somewhere else.  I know that all will be well in the end.  And this is not the end.  So for now, I will work on my steadfastness.  And gratitude. And enough.  That's the other thing I like about the One Word.  It is simple enough that I can remember it over the years and I continue to work on all of them.  That was only true of my resolutions because I was making the same ones over and over again.  
4. 
   
5. So 2020, I am ready to begin.  I am ready to become more steadfast in this new journey around the sun.  

Things I'm Learning About Inverness

The leaves do change color but it happens in December.  This is a good fit for me as the light reduces, at least I have something to distract me.

The town is filled with lovers holding hands.  I don't know if these elderly are newlyweds or in it for the long haul but it warms my heart.  You will also see one holding the other one up which is also endearing.  But I prefer the hand holding.

While the general population is fairly red, there is a pocket of democrats who are happy to find one another. 

Some of the crime reports still make me chuckle (the guy arrested for beating on a stop sign) but there is real crime.  It is just on a smaller scale.

There is a gentle joy in being in a place where when you are out  walking, everyone, I mean everyone waves as they drive by.  Eye contact is a thing here.  The waves make up for the rarity of sidewalks.

Parades are big.  Veteran's Day, Christmas, Boats. 

I am finding my rhythm and feeling connections to this sense of place.  I often feel this glow of happiness and realize that I am just happy to be here.  Yes, I still miss my west coast people but there is a rooting that is taking place. 

My Favorite Holiday

From my earliest memories, Thanksgiving has been my favorite holiday.  Not Halloween with it's free candy and glowing jack-o-lanterns, not even Christmas where anything you asked for you might get.  My favorite was the one that centered on food and family and giving thanks.  Growing up in the frigid midwest, I loved everything about it - the strong smells of autumnal spices, the warmth of the house from an oven working in overdrive, the flavors that combined to create its own little celebration on my tongue.  My childhood Thanksgivings were spent at my grandparents' house.  Now my grandmother was an amazing cook but still, it was like a magic trick to see all the pots and pans and casseroles dishes that came out of her oven.  It was like a comic clown car where people just kept coming.  She thought nothing of cooking multiples of every food group.  Salads, vegetables, desserts, breads; no one would leave hungry no matter your taste preferences.  The door was open to anyone who needed a place to be - family, friends, it didn't matter.  There was always room for one more at the table.  We added chairs or cobbled together benches made from planks and blocks.  If we didn't fit in the dining or living room, we ate in the garage.  Everyone was there and everyone brought something.  The arrival of each family was like a party and the volume increased with each addition.  The kids would play football outside when the weather was good or there would be a game on TV to watch.  When it was time to eat, we would gather in gratitude and give thanks to God for the food and one another.  It was loud and joyous.   Dinner seemed to be endless.  The moms would clean up a bit and then came the desserts.  But it wasn't over yet.  The kids would go back outside or hangout in the living room.  And within a few hours someone would suggest making a turkey sandwich.  Yes, the Allen Thanksgiving was an all day event.  It was a simpler time.  It was pre-dishwasher so everybody pitched in to help  It was also pre-Black Friday.  No one was thinking of shopping or seeing a holiday movie.  It was a day devoted to thankfulness and enjoying one another.  These are still very strong and loving memories.  Once I had a family of my own, I tried hard to recreate these days.  It wasn't the same but when I could negotiate my way into Thanksgiving dinner at our house, I was the happiest.  Thanksgiving is still the day I need to be with those I hold the dearest.  This year will be the farthest I've ever had to go to make that happen.  Thanksgiving 2019 is a 3,000 mile plane ride a rental car, and a 5 hour drive.  And at the end, I will be surrounded by loved ones, although not all of them.  Some are far away and some have passed but my heart will fill with the memories of all the Thanksgivings past; those at Grandma and Grandpa's, those on College Ave or Circle Drive and even a few on Fremont Street.  What remains is my love of the food and family and most of all giving thanks. 

Home

Moving always involves a deep and profound creation of home.  You buy a house, you fill it with furniture and surround yourself with "your things."  But there is an unfilled space that can't be named.  It is what's been left behind.  The last home.  The house, the yard, the colors that were the used to be home.  So you set about remaking what was.  You plant, you paint, you remodel and build the new home.  And slowly, ever so slowly it takes shape.  You are making home.  Eventually, with time you adjust to the views out of your windows and start to feel a sense of comfort with them.  One day you drive into the driveway and sense the "ahh" of being home.  It takes so long and happens incrementally so that it is hard to notice.  Then one day you have the thought that I like it here.  I like this rug and those cabinets and this view of the world.  This isn't that home but it is this home.  And I like it. 

Days Remembered

October 28th is Ralph's birthday.  Whether he is on this earth or not, this day will always be his.  Birthdays were always one of those things that he didn't care that much about.  Through the years we learned to find a balance between the Allen celebration and the Giannini lack thereof.  It took me a long time to figure it out.  But he grew up working in his mom's restaurant so there were no real holidays or birthdays.  Life revolved around the family work schedule.  And then the same thing happened when he was running the liquor store.  In contrast, the Allens had all kinds of rites and rituals that revolved around your birthday.  In a family of 6, it was the only day of the year that was yours and everyone else had to acknowledge it.  So, for Ralph a birthday dinner was the celebration.  He got to pick the restaurant and more times than I care to remember he would try to pawn that decision off on me or the kids.  As the years went by, he came to enjoy those dinners and they took on more meaning.  He was a pretty simple guy and all he ever really wanted was to have his family around him for his birthday.  So now on this his first "heavenly" birthday, I hope that he is able to feel the love that is still so deeply felt from his family.  These anniversary days are especially hard in the grieving process.  It is the concrete reminder of the finality of death, that he is gone and it's forever.  Nothing in life is ever over or done except for death.  Grieving for me is mostly coming to terms with that.  It is the reminder that all we have is today, this moment.  So make it count.  Say I love you.  Spend time with those you care about.  Live life fully.  But when those you love have passed, remember.  Hold fast to the memories.  Go through old photographs, tell the old stories; it's up to you to make sure that they live on in the hearts of their children and grandchildren.

The Good-byes are SO Hard

It feels like all of my life I have been saying good-bye to people I love.  It's always been hard but not like this.  I left home after college and Florida to California was so far away.  I cried because of the distance and the feeling of helplessness if "anything happened."  The unnamed anything was always lurking about.  And it involved everyone - my parents, my friends, my siblings, even my grandfather.  I cried every time, every time I left.  Then the kids came and the business of them enveloped me and the sad good-byes found their place in the mess.  There was so little time to think about where I was in the world or where everyone else was.  Time marched on.  Once the generational aging began the sadness returned.  I returned to Florida or Iowa and said my good-byes but something new took the place of the sadness.  It was gratitude and what if.  Thank you for this time together.  If it's the last time I see these loved ones, I will hold it in my heart forever.  What if I never see them again?  Life carried on.  The kids grew up.  Grandchildren came.  The grandparents passed on as they are expected to and things seemed right.  I had adjusted to leaving Florida and returning and leaving again.  My parents were healthy and everything seemed fine.  Now I find myself back in Florida which feels right in part of my life but now the California piece of my life is floating about and I can't seem to grasp it.  And that California piece is huge - both wide and deep.  It is friends, it is my children, it is my grandchildren, it is the feeling of home. These are big chunks of my heart - the kinds of chunks that if they were removed, I would die.  I have left California 4 times in the last 2 months and each time got harder.  I can barely speak the day of my departure for fear that I will melt into tears.  And one thing that my family did not need lately is one more person falling apart.  So my feelings are left unsaid.  I leave with a smile so that those left behind will know that I love them and that I'm OK.  But I'm not OK.  I am sad.  I am sad for days.  I am left with an emptiness because all this love is left inside of me instead of inside of my children and grandchildren.  Everyone says, "Oh I know.  The good-byes are hard."  But I don't think they do.  I'm not sure about the value of saying "I know.."  No one can know this pain, this feeling of dis-ease.  What you can know is how deeply I love these people in my life and that maybe, just maybe the sadness will find its place and that it will start to get easier one day. 

On This Day

On this day 43 years ago I married a man that I fully intended to spend the rest of my life with.  That didn't happen but I did find a friend for life.  With divorce came  a different awareness of this date and I began to dread it.  And then I met people who also married their best friend on September 25th.  I could then anticipate it with a lightness in my heart.  Now with the passing of my lifelong friend I can recall all the happiness that this day held for us 43 years ago.  I remember the joy, the good times, the babies that came and added to our family.  I remember the smiles, the laughter, the trips together, the journey.  That is all that this life is, a journey.  Along the way we are confronted with challenges and joys alike.  And hopefully in the end we can look back and say, "That was good."

Once Again Brought to Tears

I had gone a few days and was feeling like I was doing OK with the loss of Ralph and what it means going forward.  It turns out that maybe I was just distracted.  As I read a quote of Cokie Roberts today, the tears immediately flooded every thought from my head.  When it happens, I can't seem to process where they come from or what they mean.  I'm not much of a cryer so this has shook me to my core. 

Cokie Roberts hit me in the heart today.  At first I thought the tears were because she had also just passed away but it was much more than that.  She was speaking of the loss of her sister.  I have often thought that the loss of an ex-spouse who has remained a friend is similar to the loss of a sibling.  You have lost the only person who shared that part of your life.  The person who was there in those decades is now gone and there is no one who can truly understand the you who you were.  Nobody "gets" the jokes or the struggles.  Only you.  And you are left in the silence.  Here are her words:   "The main impact is just the loss, the incredible loss.  The expectations just were gone.  The old age that I expected is different.  It never occurred to me that she wouldn't be in the next rocker..." 
She nailed it.  It's the loss, the incredible loss.  I never expected that Ralph would be gone so soon.  That we would never go to dinner again or laugh together at the kids or grandkids again. That never again would he be with us at Thanksgiving dinner or Easter brunch.  Over.  Done.  Just like that.  There would be no retirement bridge games or trips or volunteer work for him.  There would be no "Isn't retirement great?" lunches.  No anything. 

My heart rips open and when I analyze it, it is just this immense void; a void that I always feel like I'm teetering on.  The void that he fell into and I fear  that it will also swallow me.  Not that I will die but that I will choose the darkness, the sadness over what remains in life.  The tears come and I feel paralyzed.  The step that I was in the midst of falls back to the floor.  And in that moment, I feel nothing but regret.  What would I have done if I'd known?  But I didn't.  We can only live life based on what we know, what we feel, and what we think.  We all did what we thought was right.  In the end no one had the power to avert the events that were unfolding before us.  I know that.  But it doesn't change the sadness that is always a step away.  It's the loss, the incredible loss. 

Just Show Up

This past weekend my children said their final good-byes to their father.  It was both beautiful and awful.  But through it all, there was a phrase that I repeated over and over again to myself and to anyone who would listen.  Just show up!

Grief leaves a gigantic hole in your heart and your life.  It cannot be filled and all you know for sure is that your life, as you knew it, no longer exists.  There are no words or cards or flowers that will ease the suffering.  What matters is that someone came and sat with you in your pain, they stood beside you so you could remain upright and then held out their arms to hold you up as they whispered in your ear, "I've got you," when you could no longer do it yourself.

I was deeply touched by all the people who just showed up to stand beside this family in pain.  They came from his early years, from the liquor store era and of course from his life as an educator.  I saw people who  crossed our paths 30 and 40 years ago and I saw people who entered his life only months ago.  And they all came for the right reason; to say thank you to a man who changed the course of their life, to sit beside those he left behind, and to find solace in the fact that they were not alone in their grief.  But I was most moved by those who came from southern California or Sacramento not to mourn Ralph but to support us so that we could, surrounded by their loving arms  Others came from south San Jose and the central valley to attest to a shared life raising kids and trying to get it right.  They came from long ago memories of babies and schedules and work.  Together, we laughed, we cried, we celebrated this man who touched so many.  And when it was over, my children somehow had the strength to take the next step forward into this unknown existence of life after death,  But it was only because they were righted by those who took the time to just show up.

These three words have become my mantra.  It is a rule to live by not only at funerals but in life.  It takes courage but it is all that can ever be asked of us.  For in the end, that is the greatest act of love.  Showing up, being present, saying I choose to be here beside you.

Leaving Nothing Undone

If there is anything that helps you realize that you as a grandmother are now the supposed wise one and approaching matriarch status, it is being involved in the final repose of the grandfather.  Although Ralph and I were divorced, we remained friends, so it was only natural that my children call upon me to assist in any way I could.  My big take away was, and if I hadn't gotten it myself, my kids repeated it over and over again, do whatever you can NOW to make this process easier on us when you pass.  I took their words to heart.  I am now the proud owner of not only a prepaid cremation - I actually did that last year - but an "In the Event of my Death" document that contains a list of contacts, account numbers with user names and passwords, the obituary, my wishes for cremation, memorial service, including readings and songs as well as a memorial slideshow.  It was not difficult but it did take some time.  Now looking back on it, I would recommend it for everyone, especially those of us who like to plan out minute details of our life.  It was important to me that the words I leave behind in poetry and song be authentic to how I lived my life and how I want them to send me forth.  Likewise the photos I selected were of me and people that have mattered, not just today, but at the time the photo was taken.  So people who are no longer part of my being are represented as well.  I chose  pictures that not only show the posed shots but also the "what is that face."  Those are actually some of my favorites.  My favorite part of the process was looking at pictures side by side of the 10 year-old Tere and 65 year-old me.  What would the me today say to that young girl who was so worried about life and where it was taking her?  She would say exactly what will go on her prayer card at her death:

Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined.

Henry David Thoreau

It is Finished

The day is gray and rainy here in sunny Florida and that is as it should be.  Ralph Victor Giannini has passed on.  The race is done.  Ralph is gone much too soon but he did it on his terms.  Even when he couldn't speak the words he did it his way.  He had no greater fear than doing nothing, and worse yet not being able to do anything.  And that is exactly the situation he found himself in 10 days ago.  I am blessed that I was able to see him before he left the earth.  I will honor what we shared in our final visits as long as I live.  It is the ever present reminder of all the ways we can communicate love and caring - not in words but in looks, held eye contact, the touch of a hand on your arm or your cheek, the nod of your head that says you understand even when you can't communicate. Despite the legalities, we were tethered.  As I look back on our life together, it is clear that our love was deep and true.  It wasn't enough to sustain the daily rigors of marriage but we gave it our best shot.  I don't regret anything about our relationship - the love, the laughter, the kids, the chaos, not even the decline of what was left.  It is in the loving and the losing that we learn what life is really about.  Wisdom comes from loss.  And so today, as the rain comes so do the tears, the tears that would have been there no matter what.  I cry for him, for us, for our kids and our grandkids, and for all his students who have lost their mentor and greatest cheerleader they will ever know. 

Saying So Long

Yesterday I saw my friend, Ralph.  Ever since our divorce, I have referred to him as my friend rather than my ex-husband.  But I was in a situation yesterday where I tried to explain that I was Maria's mom and when confusion remained, I had to say I'm the ex-wife.  Yes, I went to see my dying ex-husband yesterday.  I am adjusting to that phrase.  We never had a typical divorce and were able to remain friends.  Despite the current fog that he is experiencing, he knew who I was and remembered afterwards that I had been there to visit him.  That's a huge thing.  But we have always gone back to to the fact that we know each other better than almost anyone in the world.  We lived together for 23 years.  I was married longer than I was with my parents or have been divorced.  We shared our lives together and still have a very strong connection.  I am extremely sad to be in a situation where I am saying good-bye or see you later or so long to this man.  I will see him again today and tomorrow and swallow up all the moments that I can with him.  In the end, he will know that what we had was good and true and something that some people never experience.  Speaking only for myself,  I loved him with everything in me.  So saying good-bye is something that I HAVE to do not want to do.  It is heart breaking and memories of this week will remain that way for the rest of my life.  His future remains uncertain but I leave him with my prayers of gratitude and thanksgiving for being such a loving and molding presence in my life.  Thank you Ralph.  Let God now wrap you in his loving embrace.  Peace.

Days with Mom and Dad

After only a couple months, we have fallen into a comfortable rhythm.  It is wonderful to be close enough to my parents just to be able get to them.  We've never had that before.  The 3,000 miles between us meant weeks of planning,  packing, and planning again - where and what to eat, what to do, where to go.  Time together was much more of an event than time together.  Now that I am within driving distance, we still plan our time together but it has this feeling of comfort and ease that has never been there before.  There are two versions.  When they come to see me, it means there is a project afoot.  It is a time for us to accomplish or create something together.  I get to see them at their strongest, their smartest, and their best selves.  But it is also the awareness of the remaining muscle and oxygen that is left in these two aging souls.  It is my honor to witness it and to step in when they need me or will let me.  I continue to learn ways to maintain my home without the experts from both of them in very different ways.  This version usually involves dirt and sweat so lunch is ham sandwiches, chips, and maybe cookies.  After clean up is happy hour and dinner out.  Version #2 is my favorite.  I drive down to see them.  If there is a project, it is usually packing it into my car.  But usually it is more, Hey, I want to show you this...  "This" could be a plan for an upcoming project, something on the computer or printer that has baffled them, or plants to be weeded or propagated.  It is slow and casual.  This day could be lunch at home or out but always ends with happy hour and dinner out.  The moments we have together I savor.  They are filled with stories, stories of work, stories of their youth or mine, and stories of struggle and achievement.  Some I have heard before but many are new.  But no matter which version, I listen.  I listen to remember.  I know the time we have together is limited and one day I will ache to hear their voices again, to see the fire in their eyes and I will want desperately to just once more, laugh together while we share a gin and tonic or just tonic for Mom.  I am blessed to have these days together.  I give thanks for the journey that brought me here to be in this place together. 

Facing Loss

Babies are born and the elderly pass on.  It is the way of the world; the cycle of life.  We learn to accept that.  We are overwhelmed with joy with new babies and paralyzed with grief when we actually have to say that final good-bye to those who pass on before us.  As we age, we come to terms with our generation moving to the front of that line.  We lose our grandparents, parents, and then we begin to lose our siblings' peers and then finally our own friends.  Saying good-bye is the natural order of things.  But how do we say good-bye to those to whom we've already said good-bye.  How do we deal with the failing and eventual loss of our ex-spouse?  Yes, this is happening.  My ex-husband is dying.  Every time I say it, I shudder just a bit.  It is foreign to me.  He was that person who knew me better than anyone else for more than 20 years.  But as the hard times became unbearable, together, we came to the realization that we could no longer stay together.  We traversed the bumpy roads and found a place where we could be coexist in the world as friends and co-parents and grandparents.  Finding that neutral ground was my good-bye.  I didn't think about the second and final good-bye that would be further down the road.  When you marry someone that is 11 years your elder, you know that chances are, he will pass on before you.  But not at 75.  Then as the ex-spouse you go deeper and you go to that ugly place.  You fall into the "what ifs."  What if I hadn't walked away from him and our relationship?  What if we had stayed together and I served as a witness to his developing weaknesses?  What if I nagged him into the doctor's office?  I don't shoulder the blame or any guilt but I do think about other endings to this story.  I think about twists and turns of my own life journey constantly and this was a big one.  Leaving my marriage was well thought out in terms of when and how.  And when I passed through that labyrinth, my sigh of relief was audible.  So these tears are tears of loss AGAIN.  I am mourning the broken promises again, the broken family again, the what could have been again.  Then as I come out of the maze once more, I mourn the loss of my friend, my peer, my children's father.  I am saying good-bye AGAIN. 

First Day of School

Here in central Florida, a new school year begins tomorrow.  I take a moment to remember my own first days as a kid, nervous of what might lie ahead.  I was never a great student so those nights before the first day were sleepless ones.  The same words were used decades later when I took charge of my own classroom, nervous of what might lie ahead.  I give thanks for my teachers, those who mentored me into my first classroom, those who I continued learning from until the day I retired.  I loved the camaraderie of teaching and learning together.  I was one of those that looked forward to professional development and thinking deeply about my craft of teaching.  I am grateful for all of those who continue to come into this beloved profession, knowing the ups and downs that come with the job.  But most of all, now, just as then, I consider the children.  I pray that they are ready and excited to learn and trust that their teachers will become their greatest cheerleaders  May they know that each is on his/her own journey and timeframe. There is no one size fits all or a day on the calendar that is preordained when s/he will learn to read, or write a 5-paragraph essay of find the value of x.  It is step-by-step, one day at a time, always moving forward.  Siempre Adelante!  So tonight, when your mom and dad are begging you to get to bed because tomorrow is a "big day," rest assured that your teacher will love you, you will have friends, and you will learn big things.  And tomorrow, as I see the buses back on the streets, there will be a smile on my face and in my heart for students, for teachers, and for administrators.  Thank you for taking on the most important job and most rewarding work there is on the planet.  May this year be your best!

First-year teacher

Welcoming my granddaughter to kindergarten

A Spring to Remember

2019 has been a year of change and it all came to a head in March.  The final decision to move to Florida was made.  It has not been an easy one or one that I have taken lightly.  I look forward to being closer to my parents and learning as much as I can from them.  Our time together is limited.  I'm well aware of that and so are they.  I also look forward to light and warmth.  I have missed that while I've been in Washington. Knowing that the chances of me moving back west are limited, I decided to take advantage of my place and do what I could that has been left undone. 

Before things got going on the moving procedure I took a quick weekend trip to Bandon for a meditative walk with Circles in the Sand.  Fabulous.

April was a spring break trip with Callie and Luica to see their other set of grandparents.  It was great fun.  There is nothing better than spending time alone with them.  We went to the zoo, hung out at the pool and had a party for 5 every single day. 

Then it was back to Florida to do the final steps of buying a house.

May was a trip to California for Mother's Day.  Another fabulous weekend.  Then it was off to Arches and Canyonland Nathional Parks - two of the national parks that had been on my agenda for decades.  And they did  not disappoint. 

And by the end of May, I had closed on two houses.  I had sold my house in Vancouver to my sister and bought a house in Inverness, Florida.  And within 3 days I would be on the road to moving in.

Never have I had a 2-month period in my life where so much had happened and so many of those things were such huge events.  I knew and even felt for the first time in my life that I was not at the helm.  I was not steering this ship.  God had taken the reins and for the first time I had allowed it to happen.  We were co-creating a life that would be completely different.  I was allowing myself to be led back "home" back to where I went to college, back to before Ralph.  Back to heat and humidity and bugs and gators. I knew where the path led but before I chose to follow along I made sure that I tied up all the loose ends.  I fulfilled many of my life dreams - beaches, time with my grandchildren, national parks.  My heart is full of gratitude for time, time with those I love.