It’s not necessarily that I’m a procrastinator so much as it’s being a Gemini. I have to be in the mood to do something or I really don’t do it well. Or I don’t stick to it. The last couple of days, I decided I felt like diving back in and working on copying the Facebook content of Marshmallow Ranch over to the website blog. It is a HUGE undertaking and sometimes it can send me down a rabbit hole. Not this time. I read and corrected any grammar errors and, even though I was terribly tempted on a few of those posts, I left everything as it was. I look at some of the posts and wonder what on EARTH I was thinking! Remember that “bandaid relationship” when I “dated” that guy from my high school class? Not a bad man, really….but certainly not MY man and certainly WAY too early.
I don’t know if it’s because every time I turn around, I read about someone I know dying or not, but the last few weeks have been making me dig deep. I hate that people I know are dying…some all too soon. I know…I’ll soon be 65. I’m getting to the age where we lose more of our contemporaries. I get that. Doesn’t make it any easier. What it HAS done is made me work harder. I’m researching more. I networking more. I’m writing more. Still building a foundation…a platform…a community. Of grievers. FOR grievers.
Who kept a scrapbook growing up? My mom had oodles of them. She had page after page of obituaries, memorial cards from funerals, pictures of people she knew who were in the paper, articles of interest to her. She had book after book of pictures she cut out of magazines. There must have been twenty books of postage stamps. Nothing valuable, mind you. And nothing mounted or preserved in the way of a philatelist. These were just stamps she thought were pretty or interesting that she saw on the letters she sorted over the years of working in offices. She would tear the envelope around the stamps and stick them six to a page in those photo albums with the clear plastic that covered whatever you stuck to that sticky paper. You know, the kind you could never remove anything from 50 years later.
Ever since Mr. Virgo died, I see birds in unexpected places…bluebirds in particular. They came to me when I sat crying at his grave many times. Once, three bluebirds actually came and sat on the open truck door as I rested my boots on the armrest. It was so comforting to me. People give me feathers. I find beautiful feathers everywhere. If they aren’t actually FROM him, they certainly make me think of him and smile.
I woke up yesterday after a fitful night. I didn’t close my eyes till 3:30 in the morning…ruminating. That’s what my brain does WAY too often. Good reason this time, though. I awoke and the first thought was…this is the day. It’s here. How do I feel?
I felt…ok. Not up, but not down. Just…there.
I did my devotional. I read your kind and supportive comments. And I started my day. Mr. FixIt asked if I wanted to go to town with him, but I told him I really just wanted to stay home. A little self care was in order. I spoke with people yesterday I hadn’t talked to in years. People reached out to me. I got a ton of virtual hugs. And a bunch of real live ones. It was good.
The pain of new grief is nearly indescribable. It takes physical form in your body keeping you from drawing a deep breath or sleeping or eating. Like an amputee, you have had half of your heart removed and you don’t know how to live like that. It was brutal. Wave after wave of grief crashed over me with no time for a breath in between. I felt I would surely drown. I was numb. I couldn’t retain information. I couldn’t watch a movie or read a book.
As I’m sure you can tell, I’ve been dreading the fifth angelversary of Mr. Virgo’s death tomorrow. I’ve been really struggling the last week…to the point one of my dear friends contacted me yesterday to see how I was doing. Actually, by yesterday morning I was feeling much better, but I still felt something was missing. I couldn’t put my finger on it. Then a chain of events happened that directed my day and by last night I was lifted back up and set on solid ground. Here’s how it went down.
When I was writing yesterday’s post, I was feeling so overwhelmed. I have the usual stresses of everyday life…dental work that needs to be done, taxes that need to be filed, new brakes and inspection on the truck. Then there are the dead and dying…of which there are far too many. I hadn’t been sleeping well. Mr. FixIt has been busy and tired. I had that all too familiar feeling in the pit of my stomach that I was one crisis away from losing it altogether and I hate that. So I did what needed to be done…I had a good cry and went to church.
I love the way my life has begun to set into a rhythm. Not predictable, exactly. But life…you know, cooking, cleaning, caring, sharing. It’s a sweet life. Mr. FixIt has been going to Physical Therapy three times a week since the beginning of the year and I don’t usually tag along. I stay at home and snuggle up on the couch with my lap desk and my iPad and I write. I try to imagine a life without writing every day and I simply can’t. What did I DO with all that time before I started writing? Besides working. And making jewelry in my art studio. And being a wife to Mr. Virgo. When he died, I filled in the void with words. I polished and tweaked my craft till it became an integral part of my DNA. It’s like breathing and eating. It’s something I do.
I want to thank all of you for your prayers yesterday. I felt wrapped in love and light when it was time for the phone call with the acquisitions editor. I was well prepared beforehand. I had carefully researched the publisher. I had reviewed the two books they sent ahead of time. I spent some time in quiet meditation beforehand. And then I asked God to give me any last words before I “headed into the interview”. I believe the Bible is a living word and I often ask God to speak to me through it. I opened my Bible app and picked a “totally random” verse. This is what I got.
“Copying content to the website.”
“Own Your Experiences”
“Scrapbook”
“Matching Feather Tattoos”
“Psalm 107:29 …the waves of the sea were hushed”
“Peace Be Still - The Belonging Co”
“Lewis Cemetery”
“Let Go of Fear”
“Old friends”
“My charm blessed by Pope John Paul”