thankful

I Peter 3:12 quotes Psalm 34:15:  "The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous, and His ears are open to their prayers;"

This reminds me of God's protection through John's illness.  His being able to find my number in his phone even when he wasn't aware of what he was doing. When he'd stumble along in the house or even fall: the left side of his head never hit anything.  Getting him in and out of the tub, and I'm not that strong. Working long days, determined to uphold promises made to customers.   

How many thousand prayers did I, and others, offer up for John's protection as he moved about in constant decline?  The Lord's eyes really are on those who belong to Him.   Thank you, Lord.

lost and found

A couple of years ago, on my last trip to Kiev, I picked up John a pair of hand-knitted wool socks.  He liked wearing them in the winter because they were so warm, especially since he'd been sick.  This winter, I sewed a fleece sole to each of them because a couple of small holes were beginning.  When John's parents visited us in December, the socks disappeared.  I was so afraid they had accidentally carried them to Daytona, then thrown them out not knowing how special they were.

John and I searched for those socks, high and low, under and behind furniture, between cushions.  A couple of days after John died, I glanced up into his cubby in the top of our closet, and there the socks sat.  Right on top of everything.  In plain sight. 

If John found them, it would have had to be while he was still mobile, which would have been at least a week before he died, and you'd think I would've seen the socks in the closet I use every day.  Or that he would have told me where he found them.

To me, this is a wonderful mystery I will ask him to explain one day.  If you know the answer to the mystery, don't tell me.  They are warm.

drugs

My "procedure" yesterday went well.  Apparently I was a constant source of entertainment for my sister and mother. 

Mama and I went to the wash house this morning to get blankets and quilts ready to put away until next fall.  This meant I needed to clean out a closet that holds blankets, my scarves and gloves, and our jackets.  I keep one of John's work shirts in that closet that I wore when I worked with him.  I'm learning to check all pockets in any piece of his clothing before washing or giving it away.  In the pocket of my work shirt, he left a note to me.  A little sticky note this time.  "love ya"
I also found two melted Jolly Ranchers.  He got them at Dr. Chemo's office one of the last times we went.  And I found $5 in another jacket. 

Got a few more thank you cards written while we were at the wash house this morning.  Every time I do a few, I think of someone else to thank.  Not complaining.  Just amazed.

Emailed my principals, bookkeeper, secretary, and sub to let them know I'm planning to come back the week after spring break.  March 28.  Also told them I will need days off when Mr. John passes.  The bookkeeper already granted me the 3 days the county gives for bereavement, so I have 3 more leave days than I would have had. 

This time off is going really fast now.  But it will soon be summer.

whelmed

After Marshall's game yesterday, he came home with me and we worked in the yard.  Got a lot done.  Neither of us had seen 'Shrek the Final Chapter' so we redboxed it.  We agreed it was good, but the second Shrek was the best.

I dropped him at church this morning, then went to Wildwood.  I was quite late and went to the balcony.  Marty and I met up after the service and ate at Cracker Barrel.  It was overwhelming  to be in a crowd at church.  Not many people talked to me, so it wasn't interactions that exhausted me.  It was the amount of people.  Lunch wasn't as bad because we sat in one place, I guess. 

This afternoon I cleaned out the bathroom.  I threw out partially used shampoo samples, old razors; etc.  Set up three boxes:  Lighthouse Children's Home donation, garage sale, Sharon.
I think I'll try to do the bedroom next, later in the week, although it has John's clothes, so I'll see.  Cleaning the bathroom was overwhelming.  This is just weird.

Talked to my "old lady friend" Margaret and her son, and she isn't doing well.  Broken, replaced hip, broken back/discs, can't see well, can't walk.  She is ready to go, can't do anything.  Reminds me of John.  She'll probably join him soon.

Planning to go to Daytona with Georgena and Dana Saturday for the day.  Leave early, get home late.  Gloria told Georgena she'd like me to stay for a few days but I'm not up to it.  Not even close. 

Biopsy of my cervix Tuesday.  twilight
always something, huh

plodding on

Got a job offer at Prudential yesterday.  I met with my financial guys, who I've worked with for several years, who know my 'financial' story.  They told me about a meeting with young business women the night before, advising them on investing early and consistently.  I said if they ever needed a live testimonial, let me know because I'm passionate about 'what not to do.'  That's when he said he'd like to hire me to talk to women especially, and would I like to see the desk I would have if I took the job.  Part time while I continued teaching; etc.
food for thought

My first grief counseling session came next.  What is it that as soon as she starts talking, I melt?  In a puddle?  But in a very good, needed way.  There are things I'm already doing well.  I need to stay open to the idea that if I go back to school and then decide I can't finish, it's ok.  She said I'm not ready for group counseling because at group, you hear others' stories and problems, and right now, I need to focus on mine.  She's right.  When people I don't know very well start in on their experiences, I glaze over. 
The reason I slept SO well the first week or so was from exhaustion, but now the major exhaustion is over and my body still thinks it needs to wake up every hour or so to give medicine, which is why I wake up a lot in the night.  This, too, shall pass.  I do need to get on a sleep pattern close to what I have when I work.  As it is now, I can hardly stay up until 11 p.m. because of not getting good sleep the night before.  When I try to nap during the day, I usually can't.  I rest but not sleep.
It's good I blog at night to empty my mind before sleeping.
While I'm out of school, I'm going to counseling every week.  It was very good.

Georgena and Dana want to go to Daytona next weekend. 

Worked in the yard three days this week and it felt wonderful.  The bradford pears, camilias, fuscia, and spirea are blooming spectacularly. 

checklist

Thank you notes are like rabbits.  They multiply uncontrollably.  As soon as I think I've made a dent in them, the list mocks me. 

Got the ten copies of John's death certificate. 



Called my roofer to make an appointment for an estimate on getting the roof redone.  First time since the original.  Almost 60 years is a great record.  And I need them to patch the gunshot puncture in the flat roof they redid a couple of years ago.  Yea, a bullet was there when I went up to take pictures of the beautifully blooming tree tops.  A 308.  My favorite caliber.  Who knows.......................................Yes, it's been fired, probably into the air and happened to land on my roof.

A person's handwriting is so important, especially after they're gone.  It is the essence of them left behind.  Like a piece of clothing still holding their smell.  It makes it seem as though they're still around.  Like they haven't left.  Their mark on the world.  Proof of their existence.  

A couple of days ago, while getting the riding mower ready for another season, I remembered last summer.  John was working, slowly, but regularly.  When I would mow, even if I had my cell with me in my pocket, I couldn't feel it vibrating because of the mower's motion, nor could I hear it because of the noise.  To be able to get John's call should he need me, I taped a ziplok bag to the steering wheel and put my cell in it to be able to see the face light up.   There was a little lurch of the heart when I realized I didn't need to do that anymore.

One night during the time John used the shower chair to bathe, I set it by the tub while I took a bubble bath.  He came in and sat on it, wiggled his fingers in the water looking for the wash cloth.  I handed it to him and he washed my back like I did his.  When he started to put the rag back in the water, I stuck my foot up for him to wash, too.  And the other one.  He got a kick out of it.  He didn't have a lot of words that night, but I knew he was "paying me back" for all the times I'd bathed him. 
It's little happenings such as this that I'm remembering lately.  Something I do or see in the house brings back memories of goofy things we did together while I've been off work, or as the seasons change now, I think of how it was a year ago.

Starting grief counseling with Hospice this Friday. 

Friends are still coming to visit. 
great friends
  

it's not about me; it's not about you

John's memorial was absolutely perfect.  The soundman was able to get the videos to work, everyone who spoke honored John's humor, zest for life, and love of Christ.  There were so many people from each aspect of his life: childhood, school, business colleagues and property owners, church.  It was a great tribute to a great life.  The message resounded:  it's not about John or his illness or even his life.  It's about God and Christ's redemption available to us as fallen, sinful creatures.  Therein lies our hope.

The other night I stared at the stars and wondered where heaven really is.  Having seen the documentary on the Hubble Space Telescope and the eons of universes out there, it makes heaven seem almost impossible to find.  How can a person take one breath on earth and their next be in heaven?  These are questions I've pondered before, but now that John is there it is more urgent to me to find answers.  Of course there is a whole lot of trust needed in these concepts.  After the memorial service I voiced my 'where is heaven' question to a very good friend with whom John enjoyed talking about God.  My friend thinks heaven is another dimension.  I can wrap my mind around that.  good answer

The Whataburgers at the reception were a hit, especially with the guys.  And talk about grown men crying.....it was touching to see the expression of emotion for how deeply John touched others.  My school went above and wayyyyyyy beyond in supplying food for the reception.  Even the church ladies were surprised.

I'm sure I'll be processing the memorial for a while.  It was amazing once again how God orchestrates events to perfection.

remembrance table