I worked all day again, copying old posts, pasting them into the website blog. I watched the snowfall outside my window on the first day of spring, filling me with a mix of warm memories and melancholy. I wrote an outline for a project I’m working on. I caught up with old friends. Mr. FixIt brought home my favorite salad from Chik-fil-A. We watched the recording of the new season of American Idol. Then I retreated to the back of the house to write my post. It’s our routine now. One we are both comfortable with.
I quickly scanned my Facebook feed, stopping to read one that spoke to my heart. One of the most humbling experiences I have in doing this grief work is mentoring other widows. A couple of years ago, I met Deneene. She was referred to me by a friend of mine because she was approaching the first “angelversary” of her husband’s death. She was struggling, as we all do with such monumental firsts. When someone tells me they were referred by someone I know, I take a peek at their profile to see if, by chance, they live near me. Sure enough, Deneene lived in my little town in West Virginia. I sent her a private message and invited her to coffee.
We met at Panera on a cold, late winter day and our one hour coffee meeting turned into a four hour gab fest and a life long friendship. I have watched Deneene grow and heal and change and stretch. I’ve watched her be surprised by a new, great love who came into her life. I’ve watched her basically move away to the south with her new love, building a new life. I am so proud of her…so happy for her. And, I miss my coffee buddy, my movie partner, my Girl Camper queen. But such is life…it twists and turns and changes and it’s beautiful.
Monday is the third “angelversary” of her loss. She’s chosen how she will honor that and her beau, like Mr. FixIt, has a big enough heart for her AND her late husband. I was reading her Facebook post tonight and she mentioned something I told her that very first day we met. We were talking about how much our lives have changed…change we certainly did not want…change we didn’t see coming and weren’t prepared for. I told her we were pickles now. She looked at me, puzzled.
“You see, we were cucumbers all our lives. And now, we’re pickles. Once you’re a pickle, you don’t get to go back and be a fresh, green cucumber. Now you get to choose…are you sour? Or are you sweet?”
My heart is with you in the coming days, D. And let me tell you…you’re the sweetest little pickle there ever was! ❤
“I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you…”
Ezekiel 36:26 NIV
I am a pickle. Sometimes sour but more often sweet. Some days are better than others but always an adventure!
❤️
Ginny, I love this post but I ESPECIALLY love the pickle idea. I think it needs to be a meme with the Marshmallow Ranch logo before someone makes one without it. I would post it and pray it goes viral. It’s good to remember that we get to choose our pickle status! Love you. ❤️?
Done! ?
I love that part about the pickle. I choose to be a sweet pickle!
❤️
I’m also coming up on an angelversery—passing the year two mark; and I do believe I’m a bread and butter pickle!
❤️
I’m so fortunate to have D as my grief mentor. My journey began almost nine months ago. I am inching forward and hoping to be a bread and butter pickle or maybe even a sweet pickle. Bless you for sharing your story. Very inspirational. I read a quote by Eleanor Roosevelt yesterday. She says, ” You must do the things you think you cannot do.” How very true that is.
❤️
Came across your site trying to locate that beautiful painting. Your writings are very inspiring…a talent I so admire! I will definitely be following your blog.
Can’t wait to obtain a “legitimate “ print of “Your First Day in Heaven”
Thank you
Sue
Thank you, Sue! If you sign up on my website where it asks if you “want to be a rancher”, I can send you an email and let you know when they are available. ❤️
Came across your site trying to locate that beautiful painting. Your writings are very inspiring…a talent I so admire! I will definitely be following your blog.
Can’t wait to obtain a “legitimate “ print of “Your First Day in Heaven”
Thank you
❤️
I still don’t know what kind of a pickle I am. Apparently ,I’m still in the brine. Does grief effect you health ? , im wondering, does it effect your immune system. Before Kens passing, I’ve really never been sick, but over the last seven months, I’ve had everything. From colds , the flu, strep throat, stomach viruses twice, something called cellulitis ,and two months of reactions to chemicals used to kill spiders on my bus. So far March ,except for bad pollen , has been ok. Have you ever heard this before ? Mentally ,the time of grief is not as bad as it has been when it hits. I really enjoy your posts and it shows that we are not in this journey alone.
Oh, grief absolutely plays havoc with your immune system! I depeloped plantar-palmar psoriasis, and autoimmune disorder as a direct result of losing my husband. Of psoriasis sufferers, only 1-3% get plantar-palmar and it is extremely difficult to treat. I suffered with it for three years and used everything I could possibly think of. I finally got it under control with a combination of doTerra LifePak vitamins and cannabis ointment, believe it or not. Good self care is imperative. Rest when you can. Eat good, clean food, cut out sugar and fast food, drink lots of water, and exercise thirty minutes every day. In time, things should improve, but grief changes everything about you, and that includes your health. My heart is with you in your loss. ❤️
Thank you so much Ginny, I thought I was going crazy ! I have been keeping busy in the yard . replacing fence posts and clearing an acre lot of land. I find I can work out my anger of Kens passing and bad behaviors of the children on the bus. That is coming to an end though, too warn for long pants and long sleeves. I’ve got poison ivy .
There is a soap you can buy and wash with right after being out in the weeds. It’s supposed to neutralize poison ivy and keep you from breaking out but I have never used it so I have no idea if it works or not. Happy to be of service. ❤️
Oh. My. Word. My dear momma (who died along with 5 other of my loved ones within as many weeks this past winter and just about leveled me with grief) asked to be buried in a pickle jar!!!!! She loved gardening. And she especially loved making her trademark dill pickles! December 16, 2017, we lowered her into the soil she loved so much in her “Ball” wide mouth jar (she liked those best so she could get her little hands in them to position the cukes just perfectly). It was painted with ivory chalk paint (because, ash in a clear jar might be a bit too much for anyone) and tied with a big twine bow that wound tightly around a lock of her still beautiful pale red hair (at 87 she never grayed).
Awwwww, Ronna. I’m so sorry for all your losses, but isn’t this the sweetest story ever? I’ll never look at a pickle jar the same again! Thank you for sharing. ❤️