A Passing Grief

 

This afternoon we were coming home from errands and passed a familiar landmark.  John commented that something there had changed. We discussed that change briefly.   As we spoke, I recalled how often we formerly drove out that way.   I asked why it had been that we used to drive by there so frequently and John told me. 

 It was a different season of life for us.  It had been part of an evening routine to take an evening drive, turn around and come home.  Just a small thing but deeply important to a very anxious little boy who needed routines to ground him.  That late afternoon/early evening drive was part of his evening routine, part of getting him ready to settle down each night.

I looked out across a field, one that was as familiar to me as my own landscape here on this property because I'd viewed it so often.  I said softly, "Oh yes...that season felt like it would last forever, but it didn't, did it?"  

John said in a choked voice, "It was long and hard at times...but I missed it when it ended."  

"Yes, I lost my way during that part of our lives, but even more when it was done. and I was no longer needed." 

 "I was trying hard to be a father to that boy even though I knew it wasn't my role to play.  I felt lost, too, after they left.   But he has a good man to be his father now.  His mama has a good man in her life.  It's an answered prayer, but I still miss that season at times." 

It was one of those bittersweet moments that we often experience when our past steps up and gently reminds of us where we were once, of who we used to be and are no longer.

That was the long season when Katie was struggling with her bipolar disorder.  It seemed she'd make two steps forward and then fall three steps back.  And Caleb was caught in the fall out of it as Katie wrestled with crippling depression, with decision making, with controlling impulsive behavior, with functioning in a world that made no sense to her mind at all.  We were caught too, trying to desperately catch every ball as it tumbled back down from the air above as Katie juggled mental health issues, a full-time job, motherhood, depression, life, but most especially trying to keep a stable portion of earth under a weary stumbling daughter and a very little boy.

But this is not about Katie, who through therapy and medication and pure bull-headed determination has gained control of her mental health.  Nor is it about Caleb who has settled peacefully into his roles as a brother, a son, a student.   

This is about grief. 

Grief.  That sense of loss so often associated with missing someone, isn't always about losing people.  It's sometimes about losing our sense of self, or a role in life.  It can be a job.  A home we loved.  A dream.

When a season of life comes to an end, we are left reeling and fighting with emotions, one of which is grief.  While we'd longed for 'normal' to return, the stress and angst of the season left behind had become the normal and now we have no idea what to feel.  There is no new normal to automatically replace that which we'd grown used to.  As grateful as we were to see that season end, as hopeful as we were for Katie and Caleb's future, our own future loomed ahead as a gaping hole of unknowns. 

If John was no longer the substitute dad, then what was he?  It had filled a role, a need left when he retired.  Now he had neither the career nor the fatherly role.  If I was no longer needed as a caregiver and a support, then what was I?  If there were no more juggled balls to be kept in the air, why were my eyes and hands constantly focused on the now empty space above me?  What were we meant to become now?

Lost.  That's what we both were.  Lost.  We had no idea, no clue what we were meant to do next.  We were dazed.  Our schedule had changed, our roles no longer existed, all of life changed.  The focus of our days was gone.  And the seemingly empty days ahead loomed like vast dark spaces before us, not as the sunny, giddily free days they should have been.

We grieved the roles and life we'd been living for five years or so.  We functioned but we struggled hard in many ways.  We didn't see any sliver of light to guide us into the next place.  We had to sit with grief for a while.

Grief keeps its own pace.  It determines how long it's season may last.    

It looked like sadness at times, but it also looked like a lack of purpose. It looked like boredom with the life I was in.  Occasionally it looked like impatience, and it looked like anger.  It looked like frustration with myself, with John.  It looked like writer's block. 

But eventually it began to look like acceptance, and then faint glimmers of independence and then a rediscovering of who I am.  It began to look like a newfound purpose.  

And then grief was gone.  

What I experienced today, that bittersweet feeling, wasn't grief.  It was a recollection of a hard season that passed and sweet memories of what made that season bearable. But it was also gratitude that we had found our way once more.  

I Forgive Her

 

Mirror, mirror on the wall...

Last night I dreamed of something hard.  I woke tense with a heavy cloud hanging over me that had nothing at all to do with the rainy wintry day outside.  I carried the heaviness with me into the kitchen to get coffee. I sat with it as I sipped from my cup and made our breakfast.  I walked with it as I did the few chores I needed to do.

Warning: Labels

 

In life we are tagged with various labels.  And many of them are untrue, falsely applied.  

As a child I heard frequently that I was 'selfish', 'lazy', 'irresponsible', 'stupid', 'dramatic', 'hateful', 'a liar'.  If I worked physically hard, I was called, 'Smart.'  

When I married and left home, I was told I was lazy and slovenly. Told that I formed acquaintances to earn favors, was a 'user' in the sense that it was supposed I used people to get what I wanted.  I was called 'careless' with money, even though I always managed very well on the limited amount of money I had.  I was told I was a bad mother.  Not a 'real' woman.  

For The Woman I'll Become

 

This morning, I waited in the car at the Dermatologist's office where John had an appointment.  It was a lovely and revelatory hour spent writing.  

At first, I was thinking about my 'retirement' which honestly wasn't much of a retirement.  It hardly felt like retirement. I rather resented anyone saying I was 'retired' since I was, at that time, working harder than I'd worked in years and years. But in September of this past year, I came to the conclusion that indeed it was time to retire.  

Things I wished I'd learned sooner

 

I was standing before the mirror the other morning, washing my face and brushing my hair.  I was thinking of the past and I found myself saying to the mirror, "I wish I'd learned that earlier."  I'd have saved myself a lot of tears and heartache had I realized they were lessons I needed to learn and not tests to fail repeatedly as I did.

1.  Being alone and being lonely are two very different things.   I learned to be alone in my childhood for many reasons, which had to do with the era and place in which I lived, and some to do with family dynamics.  I got on for the most part. Though I had brothers, we didn't often play together.  I was blessed in that I could always find something to do to pass away the hours.

Making Promises to Myself...and Keeping Them

 

• "Keeping promises isn’t just about the external benefits; it’s also deeply personal. Each time you follow through on a commitment, you’re sending yourself a powerful message: “I am capable and trustworthy.” This boosts your self-esteem significantly. It’s like building a bridge of confidence from within."  ~Leah Bayubay

When I was growing up, I'd often ask for things, as children are wont to do.  Mama didn't always say 'No' but occasionally she would say, "I'll try."  If I asked for a promise, she'd always tell me the same thing.  "I can't make a promise, Terri.  Things come up sometimes that won't allow me to keep my word.  But I will try."  Often enough, Mama provided what I'd asked for, but there were times when it simply didn't work out and I was never as disappointed as I might have been had she told she absolutely promised and then failed me.

My New Junk Journal: January So Far

 

I had such a lovely walk on January 1st.  It was cold and frosty and quiet.  As I walked on the upper part of the back yard path towards the old field road, I heard a branch or leaf in the woods next to me.  Two does emerged and ran across Sam's field across the fence.  

I walked down the field road towards my brother's drive, then turned into the wide-open field that is Sam's.  I heard something north/huff behind me.  I turned and looked and saw nothing.  Started back uphill and again heard the north/huff sound.  Again, I turned and saw nothing.  Then it happened a third time.  I realized it was a buck trying to scare me off.  "Oh, go away!  You've got hundreds of acres you can roam; you don't need this little space!"  The buck took off through the woods. 

My Room

 

I am sitting in the midst of a mess.  Open bottle of glue, scissors, paper scraps, pen, water, an open rolling cart of art supplies, printer pulled near so that I might print off pages, a ruler, a pile of trash (paper), open journals, open notebooks, my Bible...I've completely claimed one half of the dining table.

I am irritable as can be.  John is in the music room calling out to talk to me about sundry thing.  My computer is slower than molasses.  And the printer is temperamental at best.  I would like to cry, yell, fuss.  

Random Thoughts

I've been seriously lacking in the ability to take any inspired thought and write it out but I do have quite a lot of thoughts shoved in my head at the moment and so I thought I'd do what I occasionally have done over at BHJ and write a post with those random thoughts.  Perhaps once I unpack what is cluttering up my brain, I can get back to the business of actually writing cohesive posts.

In the meantime, here we go:

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I Am A Writer

 

In October, I had an idea for a book I wanted to write and self-publish, based on my experience, and I want it to be listed as Penny Ann Poundwise.  I knew it would be unlikely to turn into a best seller, but I thought it might be a help (which was always my initial reason for writing as Penny Ann) and I felt it would be a good way to get my toes wet in the self-publishing field.  

I thought about it all of November and into December as the thing I was going to start in the New Year.  I was excited about it and spent time outlining it in my head and making lists of various things I will need to learn to carry it through.  It looked daunting, true, and I knew it would require a great deal of patience with myself and the processes I would need to go through, but I was certain this was my direction for 2026.

Keeping Time

There's an island in Norway, Sommaroy, where there is no time.  No clocks. No schedules.  Just people. People who move there hang their watches on the bridge going onto the island and there they stay.  School doesn't sound starting bells.  No one lives by any schedule.  If one were up at 3am, you might well find a football game being played on the field. Life is lived as is natural to each individual.  You sleep when you are tired.  You wake when you naturally awaken.  You eat meals at whatever hour you feel hungry...

Honestly at the moment I heard about this island, I was in a great hurry to get ready to take the grandchildren out for a special day.  I was running a little later than I'd planned...It was ironic that I heard of the place when I did.  I stopped what I was doing for a moment and seriously contemplated a life in which time had no presence.