Could it really be 10 years?

Mark. Has it really been ten years since you passed away? It often seems like yesterday. Other times, it feels like decades ago. They say that life goes on, and it’s true. I’ve gone on for ten years without you.

So much has changed in the past ten years. Some bad. But mostly it’s been good. Even great at times.

Do I miss you? Of course I do. I still think about you almost every day. I wonder if you are watching over me like you promised that you would. Or is that just something people say to make each other feel good? I never did get the pennies from Heaven like you promised. Oh well. It doesn’t really change things, now does it?

I wonder what our life would have been like if you hadn’t died at the age of 50? I wonder if you would have gotten the kidney transplant that we awaited patiently. I wonder if we would be retired and living in South Carolina like we planned.

I don’t miss the constant trips to the Emergency Room. Or all the times we had to get your graft cleaned out because it stopped working. I miss your cooking. I don’t think I haven’t had a good Southern home cooked meal since you cooked it. I miss the happy times we had. I miss the precious moments that cannot be put into words

There have been so many things that I have had to deal with on my own, but you know what? I did it. I am so much stronger than you or anyone EVER gave me credit for being. I didn’t know that I had it in me, but when you are faced with challenges, you either rise to the occasion or you don’t. I chose to rise.

Even though I miss you something fierce, I would not trade my “todays” for my “yesterdays”. I have worked too hard to get where I am today. There has been a lot of loss, but so many positive and good things outweigh all the bad. I wish that you could have been here for me to share them with, but it was not meant to be.

I will always miss you and love you. Yet life has gone on. Every once in a while, I catch a glimpse of our past together. But I can’t look back. I’m not going that way. I hope you’re flying with the angels. You deserve that.

On another note, I want to remember my friend Linda, who passed away on this date in 2017. Dance with the Stars, my friend.

People who volunteer are special, right?

In years past, I have always thought that people who volunteer are the most selfless people in the world. I mean, you give up your own limited free time to help an organization do its work, and you do it for free! How amazing is that?

There are so many organizations that need help, so you can literally find one that supports your passion. The possibilities are endless. You could volunteer to the sectors of health and medicine, working with seniors, education and literacy, arts and culture, animals, advocacy and human rights, your local community, veterans and military families, legal and justice issues, and the list goes on and on.

When my husband died, I thought it was time that I volunteer. My reasoning was that I could help ease the load of another organization and put my skills to work. I also thought that it would help me heal from my husband’s death.

I did a lot of research. That could also be taken as procrastinating. It took me nearly three years to decide to that I wanted to volunteer with an animal rescue, more specifically a dog rescue. I took the plunge, and sent off my application to become and official volunteer.

I didn’t know what to expect and after my first couple of interactions with the group, I was not sure it was what I expected. However, I hung in there, and five years later, I realized that this organization is a good fit. I have met some nice people. I have had the opportunity to foster dogs. I have taken on more responsibility and stepped up to do more things.

My participation, I like to believe, has helped the dog rescue. But more so, it has helped me in a variety of ways.

But to every happy story, there is some negativity.

I see the same people volunteering all of the time. Some people do transports. Some do fundraising. Some are behind the scenes doing mailings, working on social media, updating the website, shuffling (important) papers, etc.

Then there are the people who do nothing. No participation. No interaction. Never ever seen or heard from.

Here’s my question: Why are you a volunteer if you have no intention/desire to do anything?

We’re all broken…

That’s how the light gets in. (Thanks Ernest Hemingway)

Life is not easy. Sometimes it is not fun. And sometimes it is just fucking painful. But for the most part, life is filled with joy, happiness, good times and people who care about you. I know that pain often shadows over everything. We have all been there. I have been there more times than I care to even mention.

I wish life could be all puppies and rainbows, but it’s not. It never will be. Life is what you make it to be. There is no one in the world that can put you back together again when you break. Only YOU can do that. Yes, it is hard. Yes, it sucks. Yes, giving up seems so easy.

But there are people out there that REALLY do care about you. I REALLY CARE ABOUT YOU! People will help you. I will help, but you have to reach out to me. You have to want my help. I know that it is SO DAMN hard to ask someone for help. It’s hard because the broken often feel like they don’t deserve help.

I am saddened that life is so difficult for you. I won’t pretend to understand what you struggle with every single day of your life. I have not been in your shoes, but I have walked with people who share your path. We all have our crosses to bear. However, no one has to fight a battle alone; unless they choose to do so.

So…. let’s get to the crux of the reason I am writing this. I will never pretend to understand your addiction or what it is like for you. I don’t understand what it is like to be in your shoes. But I have been exposed to addiction in my “circle of family and friends”. I have felt total helplessness as I have watched from the outside. I feel way too much so I understand what you are feeling (except for the physical addiction).

I know you have battled this for SO many years. I know that it is a daily struggle for you. I know you have hit rock bottom – many times. But I also know that you have pulled yourself out of the muck and risen above it all.

I don’t know where you stand now, but I am afraid for you. Why am I afraid? Because I care about you. I care because I am your friend. I only want you to be safe and happy.

I can only help you if you will allow me to do so. I am willing to go the extra mile for you. If you need to go to a meeting but are hesitant to go alone, I will go with you. I will talk with you all night if that will help you. We can just sit in silence. We can go for a drive and just act silly. You can come to my house, and I will feed you a good meal. We can sit on my deck and watch the sunset (or rise if that suits you).

Whatever it is that you need, I will try to give it to you. But I can’t do that if you don’t reach out to me. You know that I “get you”. You just have to contact me, and I will do what I can to get you back on your feet.

Don’t fuck this up by pushing me away. You REALLY do have a lot to live for even if you don’t believe it. Reach out. I will help.

The World is a Total Mess….

When I was younger, all I wanted to do was be an adult. I saw endless possibilities in the world. I wanted to go out and conquer it. I wanted to make it better.

When I would tell my mother about the trials and tribulations that I faced in my teens and 20s, she would tell me to enjoy life because these were “the best days of my life”. I didn’t believe her. Now years later, I realize that my mom was right. She was always right, but I didn’t realize it back then.

At 57, I have experienced a “been there, done that” kind of life. I feel like I have been through so much and seen so many things that I can relate to and understand most situations.

Of course, being an introvert, I keep most things to myself. It is better to not share too many details with the world. To just answer with a “fine” is much easier than having to explain everything to people.

I have two high school friends that no longer speak to each other because they disagreed about politics. I have a cousin who wants to marry her long-time boyfriend but she can’t because they are different religions.

I respect the decisions that people make, and I respect what they believe in. I have definite opinions on politics and religion. But I would rather not voice them because I would rather keep the peace with those people that matter to me.

I have lost several people to COVID-19. One was a man who showed great respect when he did work at the synagogue, knew his trade backwards and forwards, and was quiet, kind and unassuming. He told his boss that he was afraid of COVID and would stay home as he knew he would die if he contracted it. He contracted the virus, and he died.

Another person who lost a battle with the virus was someone that I dated for several years WAY back in the 80s. We didn’t stay in touch, but his older brother told me the news. Who would expect that a healthy 57 year old runner would die?? Not me, but then again this virus does not discriminate.

A friend of mine in England had the virus back in March. She thankfully survived, but she was very sick. This virus has changed her life in many ways.

The world has gone mad. Riots. Protests. Racism. A Presidential election that has completely divided the country. Hate. Pettiness. A virus some fear yet others believe is a hoax. Murder. Fires that are raging out of control.

And you all wonder why I always say I am not a fan of people! I like my bubble. I take comfort in my little section of the world that is filled with my closest friends and family.

Every day it gets easier for me to introvert. I keep myself occupied by doing things that make me happy. In a way, I miss the “lockdown” that we had earlier in the year. I had an excuse for not going out in this crazy world. No one thought twice when I didn’t attend an event or when I had groceries delivered. Honestly I do not care what others think. If you like me, that is great. If you don’t like me, that’s fine too.

I am happy. My small spot in the world is my safe place. My boyfriend makes me happy. My dogs make me happy. Life is good. Now go away!

Does Heaven have an area code?

I feel like having lunch with my Mom today. Sadly that is not possible since she left this earth on this day in 2000. So much has happened in those 19 years, and today I just want to talk to her. About my life, the things I learned from her. Everything.

My mom was the perfect example of a strong woman. She grew up in an orphanage with her sisters and she was a three time cancer survivor. She was not a complainer, and she always took the good with the bad. She endured a lot in her 74 years. The last 10 years of her life were definitely difficult, but she endured it with grace and dignity. She was lucky that she had a wonderful and loving husband to support her for 49 1/2 years.

I think of mom often. I am reminded of the things that she taught me, and I remember the wise things she said. One thing always sticks in my mind when I am fraught with difficulties. Mom told me that you have to accept and embrace your life as it is instead of how you wish it to be. She said that the secret to life is to want the life that you have not wishing for what I do not have. I suppose that there is a lot of truth to that although it is not always easy.

Today would be a perfect day to enjoy Tuna Melts with mom. When we went out together, that is what she and I always seemed to get. Oh, and a large iced tea! All the places that she and I went together are long gone. Just memories of times gone by.

I wish I could call my mom and talk to her. I wish heaven had an area code.

RIP Mommy: January 23, 1926 – January 22, 2000.

 

 

 

And today makes six…

Yes, that’s right folks. Six years have passed since Mark Clark died at the age of 50.

At times it seems like it happened yesterday and other times it seems like the actual years that it has been. Last year was the five year mark, and I wasn’t really affected. For some reason this six year anniversary is a tough one. Go figure. Grief has never been something easy to understand.

Today I just kept wondering where Mark and I would be if he had not died. He wanted to retire in June 2018. We talked about moving to South Carolina. We wanted a small home that was close to the water. Life was supposed to get better for us.

But it didn’t get better because he died. He died because his health failed and he didn’t take care of himself. Although technically he died of a massive heart attack, he really died a slow painful death as a dialysis patient. It was one health crisis after another. We would be in the emergency room at least two or three times a year for some malady or another. When we weren’t in the ER, we were at the vein specialist getting his dialysis graft cleaned out after it clogged. Or getting his blood drawn because his potassium levels were off. Or at the nephrologist because his blood pressure was sky high or bottoming out.

I give him so much credit for living with his health issues like he did. He was brave. He never complained. He went to work every day that he could. He kept every dialysis appointment. If he was worn out, frustrated, disgusted, or tired, he kept it to himself.

I was the exact opposite. I spent my days worrying if he was going to die, catch some bug that would land him in the hospital or if he would actually get on the active transplant list. I was frazzled and anxious. I was angry at God and the world. I resented his family who took no action to help me with his care (although they all accused me of handling everything wrong after his death).

On the night of his passing, I realized I was completely not ready for him to die. For weeks after, I fumbled through life trying to sort through the paperwork, the memories and the fact that I was a widow at 49 years old. But after some time (the amount doesn’t matter because everyone deals with grief in their own way), I realized that I am so much stronger than I ever thought I could be. I stepped out of my comfort zone sooo many times in that first year. I faced many challenges. I learned things about my life and marriage that shocked the shit out of me. I dealt with situations I had never faced before. I learned who my real friends are. And I was constantly reminded that I have the most awesome brother that anyone could ask for.

In the past six years, I’ve picked up the pieces of my shattered life. I found love again. I bought a house. I’ve gone on vacation. I’ve forgiven those who have wronged me. I’ve found a job that I actually enjoy. I’ve crossed many things off my bucket list including volunteering with an animal rescue.

It hasn’t always been easy, but all of it has been worth it. I think if Mark could see me now, he’d be proud of me.

Although I love my new life with George, a part of me will always love Mark. The memories of those 13 years together won’t fade anytime soon nor will the pain of his death. But the deep pain that used to consume me and take my breath away has become a dull ache that rears its ugly head a couple times a year.

I would not trade my “today” for my “yesterdays” so I have to say that I’m healing and I’ve headed in the right direction.

Mark, I hope you and your mom are cooking up a storm! I miss you.

On a different note, today I found out that my friend Linda died. After Mark died, I moved from my “too big and too expensive” townhouse into a small condo in Matawan. Linda was the first friend that I made there. She had had a tough life, but she was a funny and outgoing person. She didn’t have a lot, but she was always generous with what she had. She had a rough exterior but on the inside she was kind and thoughtful.

I moved out of Matawan, but Linda and I kept in touch by text and phone. She told me a couple of months ago that she didn’t have much time as cancer was throughout her body.

Today God took her home. She can finally rest in peace. Until we meet again, fly with the angels, my friend.

Everything happens for a reason? Actually… it does.

This morning I heard that a friend of mine lost her husband yesterday in a tragic accident. I don’t know the details, but they do not really matter. The bottom line is that a 40 year old woman with a young child is now a widow. Ironically his death happened on her 40th birthday.

Life sucks for her right now. I understand her pain all too well. As you all know, I lost my husband Mark nearly five years ago when he very suddenly suffered a massive heart attack.

My friend’s tragedy brings back all kinds of feelings and emotions for me. I know what she will go through. I know how tough this is going to be for her and her son.

I don’t understand why these tragedies happen. What is the reason that a young woman with a small child would lose her husband who was the sole provider for the family? This friend is one of the nicest and sweetest people I have ever met. I have never heard her utter a cruel thing from her mouth. She is always so cheerful and makes everyone smile. This just seems like a really cruel joke that life has pulled.

I don’t really have any terrific words of wisdom for my friend. My best advice would be to allow yourself to grieve at your own pace. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. We all mourn in our own way, and grief has no timeline. Let others be there for you. The people in your life really do want to help you to get through the pain, but they are hurting too. Let them bring you food, make phone calls, watch your son or your pets. It’s okay if your house needs vacuuming or the furniture is dusty or the garbage needs to be taken out. Trust me, no one will notice…. and no one will care.

Allow yourself to cry whenever and where ever you choose. You just suffered a huge loss, and your life will be forever altered by it. Take time for yourself, but do not push away the ones who are close to you. Try to maintain some semblance of normalcy. It’s not easy because nothing is normal, but keeping to a former routine can do wonders. It’s okay to talk about your pain, but it is also okay not to talk. It’s your life, and you need to do what is comfortable for you. Take time to remember the good times no matter how painful it is. Remembering will get easier with time.

In the beginning the shock and pain will be overwhelming. It will take your breath away. It will hurt to move, breath, or do anything. This is completely normal. It gets better. It takes time. Lots of time. Give yourself a break. Take it one day at a time…. or even one hour at a time. If necessary, do it a minute at a time. It’s going to get better. It won’t happen today. Or tomorrow. Or next week. It could take months and months. But eventually the sun will peak out and you will realize that the pain is no longer crushing you. You will realize that you made it. It will happen. Time does heal, but sadly the scars do remain. But the scars are simply proof of the battles we have WON!!

When things like this happen to me or those around me, I question everything that I was told to believe. I was always told to have faith. I was told that God had a plan. I was told that God never gave us more than we could handle. I was told that everything happens for a reason. Yea right. How much of this is really true, and how much is just smoke being blown up my ass??

Faith gets shaken when bad things happen. I don’t know about you, but when bad things happen, I start with the “WHY!!!???”.

Does everything REALLY happen for a reason? If you look deep enough into the situation, it really does. You may not know the reason right away, but eventually I have always been able to see some sort of reason. When Mark first passed away, I saw zero reasons for his passing. It was like a punishment, and I just saw no reason and no purpose for why he was taken from me, and my faith in everything was severely shaken. As time went on, I started to see the reasons for his passing. Now I realize that there were a lot of reasons that his life was cut short. But are those reasons just my justification for why it happened or is there some validity to it all?

I guess that can be debated by everyone, but in my eyes. there is a reason. Actually many reasons. What are those reasons you ask? Well, I think it was to tell me that I was actually much stronger than I ever gave myself credit for. I learned a lot about myself in the months following Mark’s death. I learned to step way out of my comfort zone and do things that were uncomfortable for me. I was forced to face things that I should have known about my life but I didn’t because 1) I chose to ignore it, 2) it was hidden from me, and 3) I just could not be bothered with the details. When life is thrown in your face, the only choices you have are to quit or face it head on and just deal.

Years later, I realized that you CAN start your life over, you can find love again after a loss, and you really do get another chance. You just need to push forward and try. Life can be really good the second (and probably the third) time around IF you allow it to happen.

I hope that my friend is able to find her inner strength and put all the shattered pieces back together and start again. If any of those pieces are left over, she needs to just set fire to them and watch them burn. Life is short; way too damn short. Tragedy happens every day. People are born and die every day. But every day is truly a blessing. Live your life like it’s your very last day!!

 

 

Summer time and the living is easy, but…

The breathing is hard.

Those of you who know me know that I love summer! I love the hot weather, the long sunny days that don’t end until 9 PM, the awesomely fresh summer fruits including HUGE Jersey tomatoes and blueberries, cooking all kinds of foods on the grill, fresh and juicy Jersey Corn on the Cob, outdoor farmer’s markets, the Jersey shore, and most of all flip flops!

However, in the past 5 or 6 years,  I’ve noticed an increase in my asthma and allergy symptoms starting in late June and not ending until mid-August.

At the end of June, I went to my doctor. Her diagnosis was “Upper Airway Cough Syndrome and Asthmatic Bronchitis” brought on by allergens and environment.

What does that actually mean? It means that I have Post Nasal Drip with a nasty, hacking cough that sounds like the plague.

Her treatment was a new antihistamine, cough medication (the GOOD kind) and an additional bronchodilator. I’m always told, “This will clear up with these medications in a couple of weeks.” Realistically, it’s going to be a solid 6-8 weeks of hacking up a lung and avoiding (quiet) public places.

Last summer, the ENT specialist told me that this environment is not good for asthmatics. My pulmonologist told me that very same thing for a good 15 years. He actually went as far as saying that much cooler, dryer air would be a better environment for me.

Well, here’s the conundrum: I don’t like cooler air. And I definitely don’t like cold weather. Things associated with cold weather like snow, ice, sleet, snow shovels, etc. make me downright depressed and lethargic.

So according the those in the medical profession, I should NOT be living in NJ. I already knew that. Besides, it’s way too damn expensive to live here. Every winter I want to fly south with the birds. Yet, moving to a place like the Carolinas or Florida would not be great for me either because of the environment: ie: humidity and allergens.

Here’s Culprit #1: Unhealthy Air quality Index

Here’s Culprit #2: High Concentration of Mold Spores

Above are the reasons that I suffer every year. I am allergic to Earth. Maybe I am really an alien, and I somehow got transported here. It’s apparent that my lungs can’t handle our air. Sigh. I need to move. I’m thinking Mercury or Venus.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bye January and good riddance!

January is not my best month. Never has been.  I’ve always felt that it was a gloomy month.  It’s cold and wintery.  The days are still short and spring is still weeks and weeks away. The holidays are over.

Then in 2000, my mom passed away.  That just added to the gloom of the month. A sadness that has not gone away in 16 years.

January was also the month that my divorce from Bob was finalized. And the month that I sold my first home. 

Then in 2013, Mark passed away.  Didn’t that just add more gloom to an already long month?

So many people I know like January for the new beginnings and the resolutions.  Not me.  Spring is for new beginnings.  Buds on trees,  flowers popping out of the grass,  the birds and small wildlife procreate and little birds and animals brighten the world.

I think I was supposed to be a hibernating creature.  Winter and cold is so not for me.  Wake me in April when the days are longer, the world has woken and the nights are just chilly (and not frigid).

I’d  even be willing to skip Valentine’s Day and my Birthday.  Wake me in time for Easter.  I could use a REALLY long slumber. 

And this year we were lucky enough to get a blizzard in January. Two feet of white shit dumped on us in 24 hours. Friggin’ yay.

But January is now over. Not a moment too soon. A month closer to spring! And the month of sadness behind me.

February is not the greatest month but at least it’s short, it has Valentine’s Day and my birthday!

Woo hoo! Let’s hope for a good month!

Three years.

That’s how long it’s been since Mark passed away. 1095 days.

So much has happened since that night. Nothing ever prepares you for the death of a spouse. Nothing. Even though he was sick for years before he passed, it didn’t make it easier.

And now it’s three years later. So much has changed. I look around my home, and realize that time has kept marching on. Gone is the color brown. A lighter and brighter me has emerged.

Gone is the deep pain, but what remains are the memories of the 13 years we were together. Some bad. Some indifferent. But mostly good. I used to remember and it cut like a knife. Now I remember and I smile. Yes, sometimes I still cry, but it’s not like it was the first year after Mark passed.

I didn’t think life could or would go on. But it did, and I can honestly say I’m happy. Sure, there is always room for improvement, but on a personal level, life is good.

I don’t think this date will EVER be a happy one for me, but it will hopefully never be one of doom and gloom.

I made it through these three years because of the love of friends and family, but also because I found strength that I never knew that I possessed. I always considered myself a weeny. I never thought I was equipped to handle the cruel world we live in. Mark used to tell me that I was too sensitive and emotional. He said I needed to be tougher and more assertive. That’s never worked for me. It’s not who I am. I haven’t changed in three years. I still possess my “weeny tendencies” but who I am is what made me the person I am today.

I have learned a lot since Mark passed away. I now know that I can function quite well on my own. I admit that I prefer not to because I love having someone around to share life with on a daily basis. I learned that life is short, and money is not everything. It definitely makes life easier when you have it. But it won’t buy you love. That comes from within.

A lot of the things that I learned are deep and very personal. Even I won’t share them with anyone, but the important thing is that I learned.

As I start my fourth year without Mark, I am grateful for our years together. I think about him often. I miss him more than I admit. And a part of me will always love him.

Having said that, I know that he’d be proud of me, and I know that he’s glad that I listened to him. He always told me if he should pass away, I should find love and happiness again. I can be stubborn, but I took his advice and honored his wishes.

I know he’s looking down on me, and I know he approves.