“My mother’s love is with me always.”

I went to the farm yesterday. I wanted to spend some time in my mother’s childhood home…the home of my heart. I miss my mom and I feel closer to her when I’m in the house she loved so much. Grandma’s house was the epicenter of our universe. She was happiest when she had all her kids and grandkids surrounding her. I can relate to that.

“Keep walking, dear one.”

I have several people in my life who are walking a challenging path right now. From my cousin with mesothelioma to a friend’s first grandchild being born with physical challenges. From my friend who is selling the home she and her late husband raised their family in to the beautiful women in my small group from church who are facing some pretty big things right now. There are new widows and new moms and new grandmas out there who need extra love and support today. To all of you who are facing challenges…let me say this.

“Beautiful hibiscus in the West Virginia sunshine.”

In 1986, Hubby #2 joined a medical practice in a small mountain town in Colorado. My daughter was just turning 12 and about to start junior high. I had worked to provide for the family while my husband went through medical school, internship, and residency so when he started his practice, I stayed home to be a full time mom.

Having grown up in West Virginia and spending a good portion of my childhood on my grandparents’ farm, I longed to have a farm of my own. I traveled ahead of my husband to find a place to live. Rentals were few and far between, and when the realtor showed me a five bedroom log house on two acres just outside of town, I was smitten. It had everything I was looking for, except…it was for sale. We had absolutely no money nor did we have any way to get some. The realtor threw out an idea…rent to own. I knew I could get enough money out of my beloved VW Westfalia camper to put down as earnest money. I returned to Denver and told my husband we had a house.

“Be prepared when you speak to a mechanic. Do your homework and walk in like a boss.”

When you are on your own, you need to be proactive and assertive when you are dealing with people in service related businesses. I recently had to have brakes and rotors on all four wheels. While I did get advice from my trusted inner circle, I always do these things on my own. When Mr. FixIt wants to help me do things like this, I gently remind him that…while I appreciate it tremendously…I need to do these things because he may not be around someday when I need something done. This has been quite an adjustment for him, but I love when he brags on my capabilities to his guy friends.

It’s a toss-up...trillium or Jack-in-the-Pulpit. I love them both, but since Jack-in-the-Pulpit doesn’t grow on the farm (at least, not that I have found) I’ll have to go with trillium. The pristine white, three-petalled blossoms come out in early May every year. The dogwood have bloomed, finally. Mayapple is up, but no blooms yet. I still haven’t ventured over to the ditch by the old garden to see if I can catch some sprigs of asparagus. The redbud is just about gone. It was amazing to watch trees leaf out in a matter of a couple of days this last week.

This is by far my favorite time of the year here in West Virginia. The world is coming back to life after a long, dull-grey winter with a vibrant spring-green not easily duplicated. The temps have dropped quite a bit from last week’s. I took the electric blanket off the bed last week when the night time temperatures weren’t going below the low 70’s. So, last night I had to dig around in the guest bedroom for something extra to throw on the bed. I came across an old “Bow Tie” quilt I bought at an antique store years ago. Some of the fabrics have become quite fragile, but these things are meant to be uses as far as I’m concerned. I love old quilts. I can always figure out a way to justify the expense.

“My messy garage as I was downsizing.”

My friend Deneene has been widowed three years now. Shortly after her husband died, she became friends with a fellow who lived near her kids. They were “just friends” and she was absolutely certain she would never fall in love with anyone. But, as soon as I saw her friend’s picture, I knew in my heart this is who she was destined to be with, but I didn’t say anything. They supported each other as they were both going through a rough patch in their lives. A couple of years after that, they ran into each other again. This time, something clicked and long story short…they fell in love. Like many of us, love after loss is magical and she has decided to sell her home here in West Virginia and move to the south to be with her love.

“Mat boards form a bridge to carry pipeline equipment across creeks and up steep slopes.”

On September 13, 2000, David Case wrote an article in Mother Jones Magazine about West Virginia’s Mountain (Party) Mama…Denise Giardina. Ms. Giardina is an author and was sick of seeing the politicians of West Virginia selling off the soul of this beautiful land. She even tried to run for governor by forming her own political party…the Mountain Party. She was born in West Virginia, raised in a coal camp, and has written books on the failing coal industry.

Mr. Virgo has been gone over five years now. In those five years, I have had two or three dreams of him. I’ve wanted more. I begged God for more back in the first couple of years. Just one more conversation. One more hug. Hear his voice one last time. Unfortunately, I had erased all of his voicemails just three days before he died. I had a couple of messages on the answering machine at home, but he didn’t sound happy because he was trying to reach me and kept getting the machine instead. Those just make me sad because he really left great voicemails. I hadn’t heard his voice in so long. I wasn’t sure what he sounded like anymore. Then...he came to me in a dream a couple of nights ago.

In the dream, Mr. FixIt and I were in Florida at a flea market. You know, the kind with the roof but the sides are all open to allow air flow? It was really crowded but no one was looking at each other. We were all busy looking at merchandise. I walked around a small group of women. I was looking down and I saw a pair of familiar men’s shoes. Rockports. With the man in them. I slowly raised my eyes and saw the gray dress pants, the black leather belt, the crisply ironed long sleeved shirt. It was a pale blue. The tie a stylish navy with slight flecks of red. I was so taken by the familiarity of the clothing that it took me a moment to comprehend what was happening. Suddenly, I jerked my eyes upward and there he was! That shock of meticulously groomed silver hair, wire-rimmed glasses. Curiously…he didn’t have a beard. He was clean-shaven when he died. I assumed that must carry over into the afterlife.

“Mosaic of Starry Night by VanGogh”

Every day since Mr. Virgo died, God has handed me a small tile and asked me to put it on a wall in my mind. At first, they were all shades of gray…darkness…shadows…swirls of inky blackness. I dutifully placed each one on the wall as He gave them to me. They made no sense. It was sheer chaos…day after day after day.

“National Widows Day - May 3rd”

National Widows Day sprung from Widow Wednesday…a grassroots program designed to assist widows and widowers in the community with small tasks normally completed by the late spouse. Widow Wednesday was originally founded by Jimmy Chouteau, a Kansas City insurance agent. Part of his job was working with retirees, many of whom were left on their own and were struggling to do things around the house while also dealing with grief. Sometimes it was as easy as screwing in a lightbulb or helping write checks. And sometimes it was just spending some time in conversation. Jimmy and his family took time form is busy insurance agency to devote Wednesdays to assisting widows and widowers in need.