Lonesome Dove

Miss me yet? Sorry, couldn't resist a little political humor.....lord knows we need some with the mess we are in now.

Anyway, if there is anyone who wondered if I fell off the face of the earth, I can assure you that it didn't happen. Not that I wasn't really wanting it to happen at moments, nor was there a lack of certainty it was indeed going to happen. I often wonder if others think like me, that they are just waiting....waiting....waiting....for what? The end? The realization that continually waiting for the end that will come someday is reinforced by awakening to a new day. Some days that reality is aggravating. Other days are ho-hum. Never (yet) has it been welcomed with anticipation, eagerness or energy for that matter.

However, taking on new activities has brought some pleasure (dare I say joy?) into an otherwise flatness of existence. One step at a time, right?

The new floors were put in and they look great! It became too overwhelming to tackle on my own, so the option of hiring a crew was taken and it was well worth it.

My will has been done which provides a smidge of relief that the loose end has now been tied up. And who knew that finding a notary for a will would be such a challenge? The bank won't do it, another lawyer's office said no as well. My lawyer is on the other side of town and thinking that getting a notary would be no problem, finding someone close became an intense focus. I like to think of it as my Widow Warrior coming out (remember Towanda* from Fried Green Tomatoes?). Like Kathy Bates character, I'm older and I have more fire in me. OK, I changed that up to suit the story.

I have discovered that my tolerance....no, let me rephrase that.....my intolerance has spilled from my usual diplomatic approach to most situations. Holding my tongue is somehow not in my bag of tricks anymore. Not mean, not hateful, but certainly if I have an opinion, it feels right (dare I say liberating?) to speak my mind. For example, last night my daughter and I went to Wal-Mart and a peeve of mine is people leaving the shopping carts in the parking spaces. Really irritates me. No, I mean REALLY irritates me! Especially when the corral is one or two parking spaces over. The impulse to make a comment to anyone within earshot overwhelms me and it rolls off my tongue so naturally. And it feels good! It feels damn good!

Another thing discovered on this crazy journey is remembering the joy of a lifestyle I always wanted, as in when I was a new young adult dreaming about the future. Who I was then, the things that I enjoyed, the pace of life I wanted....those are the things that are helping me climb out of the deep pit. Music has helped, and it has hurt, too. I find it terribly difficult to listen to country music now. So much of it we shared through the years and many songs had deep meanings for us and listening to them rips at my heart. One song that was released after Wade died is Cryin' For Me (Wayman's Song) and guarantees an uncontrollable blubber fest for me. The review pretty much says it all: “Can you write a song that’s too depressing even for country music?” It speaks directly to the pain of grief.

So I turned to classic rock and it became a great retreat for a while. But then began searching out live music, partly because it is one of those rediscoveries and also because Wade and I both enjoyed it together. Going it alone gives me some level of apprehension.....or is it pitifulness? There have been some great shows I have seen recently (Pssst! I went to Willie's Picnic) and uncovering a jewel of a radio station has centered me to some degree.

Looking for a job still. That's a lie. I did look and I do want to work, but saying I am "looking" would imply some activity of some sort, no? Everything is done online and no one responds or even acknowledges receipt of resume submissions. What happened to one-on-one interaction for a job? It's been so long since I had to find a job. I seek the opinion of other (younger) folks on how best to maneuver through the new world order of job searching. So far all I have been successful in attracting is a butt load of spam email and two hack attempts on my computer. Well, there was that tremendously lucrative and appealing offer from the widow of the President of Benin that I failed to respond to. Procrastination does have it's benefits after all.

A little soul searching revealed I do not want to work for anyone. There is an opportunity to work as an independent agent in a very familiar industry that I am seriously considering. All I need is someone to kick the procrastination right out of me.

Even though I have mostly been a slug over the last year.....Shit! Has it been that long?......there have been moments of forward motion. Well, any motion I view as forward cuz you can't go backward. Anything that involves getting up from the couch (that I still sleep on 6 days a week) is a move in the right direction. There are those two quilts completed for Downy Quilts For Kids. Taxes for 2008 have been filed; I will have to put the IRS in my will as an heir to get them paid off. Sold Wade's pickup truck (to his brother in another city). Planning a tree planting in Wade's memory on the land we were going to build upon. That's another subject for another day. Attended a medal ceremony for the families of donors. The event was incredibly touching, sorrowful, joyous, heartbreaking and rewarding all at once.

Some closets have been cleaned, some organization has happened, the house is on the market and I'm dreaming of a future. Dreaming? Really? Maybe fantasizing would be more correct. My daughter introduced me to The Secret and although the essence of it I believe to be innate, bringing it to the forefront of thought is very beneficial in my healing. So yeah, thinking about the future whether it's called dreaming or whatever....been doing that.

A special note to those bloggers out there who are so gifted in their writing abilities, I applaud you. This is so very difficult for me to put into writing what I am thinking and feeling. My brain seems to work at warp speed and my fingers can only type so fast. I wish there was a USB port in my head that would capture those flashes of thoughts and feelings and then I could plug it in and download it here.

Tomorrow, I package up some denim squares to send to another widow who will embroider a design for the memory quilts I am making for my daughters, myself and my mother-in-law. And go see David Allen Coe. And Saturday will be spent in Galveston hanging out with my sister and brother-in-law. Can't see much past that. But it's motion.

*Wade would call me Towanda at those times when I would pull out my bitch card.