Now. This moment.

Now. What are you feeling and experiencing right now? This moment.

Yes, Now. Where are you? What do see? Sunlight through the window or leaves on the tree. Your hands with a callous or a broken nail. The laundry to be folded or the inbox to be perused.

Now. Close your eyes. Feel the ground, the air, your body, each muscle, each movement, your breath, your breath… your breath.

Now. what do you smell? The bread on the counter, the plant in the earth, the soil, the wood on the floor where the sun excites the molecules. The potatoes in the bubbling pot or the fresh, soft linen on your bed. Sunlight like the warm rind of a lemon or rain like ozone and earth. Good. You are centering. Keep going. 

Now. What do you hear? Silence? No. Listen closer. Breeze in the trees, waves lap-lap-lapping, children laughing in the distance, insects buzzing around flowers, your air conditioner hum, the bird outside your window singing a familiar song.

Now. Go deeper. Within. What emotion are you experiencing at this moment? Pain is the past… let it go. Fear is the future… let it go. Now. Right there. Now. At the centre of it all. Gratitude. Gratefulness for the here, for now, for sight, for hearing, for touch, for breath, for sparkling sunlight and living soil, for bright birdsong and buzzy pollinators, for happy children and cooling rain. Breath deep. Sigh. Gratitude.

Now, did you find it, the gratefulness? Consider it, form it, feel it. And what is inside your rich, joyful gratitude? Yes. Now. Love.

Now… Love.

The Courage to Risk Anew

As a widow, when I mention that I want someone to share my life with, to have passion in my life, it is often assumed that I am panicking about being lonely. I don’t need to be in a panic state to want passion, to want to feel that someone wants to be with me – not just anyone – but with ME. I want to be needed in someone’s life, to find someone that is open to receiving what I have to give, what I want to share. I am seeking a partner, a lifemate because I plan on sticking around this beautiful, amazing world for a while.

I want someone in my life who enjoys spending time with me and I enjoy being with them, who will join me in growing and learning. I want someone around to watch each other’s backs, witnesses to each other’s life with an intimacy that is at a higher level than sexual.

I miss the gentle touch on the way by as we pass each other in the kitchen or hallway, the quiet hand on my lower back that says so much. “I am here. I’ve got your six.” I miss having the type of intimacy where you can place tired feet and legs on someone’s lap and they place a warm hand on your skin, an electricity of wordless oneness circulates between two. Your lips can’t help but smile, your heart to sigh.

I am alone, yes, and, sure, on occasion lonely. I don’t dwell on the constant absence of a significant other in my life; however, I certainly miss having an Other. There is something in this kind of relationship that is different than a friendship, something that touches deeper. There is something that awakens your soul in a new way to make you stronger and more, well, You than you have ever been.

I am still who I became through love. The love has not gone away, so why would who I have grown into from that love? I have; however, grown even farther beyond that after a loss. Love has given me confidence. I know that I am capable of such loyal, giving, soul-changing love for another. I went well beyond my comfort zone through love and I continue to seek new boundaries. On the flip side, the loss has made me less quick to anger, more forgiving of others and myself. I am more adaptable to change, to make space for new people. Yet, I can also more easily let them go if it is time for us to part ways if we have learned all we need to learn from each other.

People usually assume that I am missing my husband, that I just want him back. Would I prefer that he didn’t die? Of course I do! That’s just a ridiculous question (and I have actually been asked that question!). But do I wish him back? No. How would focusing on what cannot happen help in my situation? He is not coming back and that is okay. It is alright to move forward in my life. Catherine Tidd of her blog says it best: “If that person was your soulmate then and now you’re a different person…who’s to say you won’t find the soulmate for the person you’ve become?” – Catherine Tidd, Widow Chick

So, when I say that I am ready to move forward, don’t you dare question my decision. We have had many private, deep, late-night discussions, my heart and I. My logical head and my passionate heart are aligned with peace, clarity and purpose. We do not fear the pain of heartbreak and loss, for we have not just survived but returned stronger than before! Once more unto the breach, dear heart!

 

“To have your heart ripped out and to then find the courage to risk it anew is to teach a powerful lesson about how we should live.” – Will Kearney, Marking Our Territory

 

Undone by a breeze

I can sometimes go a few days to a week with smiles and a few responses of, “Oh, yes, I’m fine.” Then, unexpectedly, I can be undone by a breeze.

Tonight, as I was walking to my car after work, a gentle breeze caused me to slow my step. The breeze smelled of the sea, of hope and a promise. It was a quiet sigh against the back of my neck and raised small, damp hairs on this muggy, summer’s day.

It felt like you were touching my forearm like you often did at night before taking me in your embrace, my back against your chest. As you took me into the enveloping warmth and safety of your trust and love, I would close my eyes, complete and content. I would drift off to sleep as you whispered, “I’ll never leave you.” Your breath on my neck was a gentle exhale that smelled of mint, of hope and a promise.

Another breeze and flashes of every time I was in your arms – the night we met and danced, our first kiss, our wedding as we danced to Feels Like Home, our last (and last) anniversary spooning in your hospital bed. “I’ll never leave you.”

Tonight, I was undone by a breeze. It was all I could do to get to my car before the first tear fell.

Soul-Oh: A journey of discovery

I’ve been spending quite a bit of time soul-oh since my spouse passed away in January. I do not mean solo or so-low, although I have done my share of these as well. As an introvert, I often spend time alone recharging my social batteries. Since my spouse passed, it has taken on a new aspect. I am discovering me, the me-after-him.

I have always told anyone who is just getting out of a relationship to make sure to take time alone, figure out who they are before getting into a new relationship. Any relationship, whether good or bad, changes us, teaches us. It may add a new layer of personality or peel another away. Perhaps, we discovered something that we do or do not like while with that other person and can apply it to another relationship. Take the time to adapt to that new aspect of you even if it is something small.

I spent eleven wonderful years with the man I love, seven of them very happily married. I am not the same woman I was when I met him. I am not the same woman I was when I was with him.

Before I met James, I had pretty much given up on finding love. All the men I came in contact with were interested in my friends. I was the side-kick and wing-man (wing-person?). I had finally accepted the fact that it just wasn’t meant to be for me. My prince charming wasn’t coming.  He was stuck in a tree. James changed that in a huge way. The night we met, he made a beeline across the dance floor and walked right up to me and asked me to dance. I’m not sure he even saw my friend. That was it. Simple as that. We danced the rest of the night. Even after the lights came up and the music stopped, we kept dancing. It happens in real life folks. I can attest to that. Lightning bolt.

James seemed oblivious to other women flirting with him. It just didn’t occur to him that they would. He only had eyes for me. And, believe me, the feeling was mutual. Mind you, we are not perfect physical specimens by any means. I’m overweight and have an old injury from a broken leg that didn’t quite heal right. He had bad teeth until a dentist fixed them up for him and one eye that sat a little lower than the other. I was ten years older than him. No, we weren’t perfect. We were perfect for each other.

I was told by the boys I dated (and I will say “boys,” not “men,” here) and society – through magazines, TV ads, and movies – that someone my size could never get the guy. I could aim for being the goofy, funny friend of the girl who gets the guy. Over the years that we had together – as I lost and gained weight, changed my hairstyle and hair colour, experienced loss of and starting new jobs – James never wavered from the way he saw me. The look in his eyes assured me he was not going anywhere. He stood firm and taught me that I am worthy of love. No one had been able to teach me that before. I’m not sure it had occurred to anyone to try.

So, now, he is gone but the love remains, the lessons remain. And I must take all that he taught me, all he changed in my heart, to move forward and build on who I am.

When I say that I went to a movie, took a drive, went on a hike or spent the weekend alone at home, do not feel sorry for the widow. I am on a journey of self-discovery. I am going to unearth the parts of my soul that were buried after others threw dirt on them because it offended them or did not suit their purpose. Each treasure I excavate will bring an exclamation of “Oh!”

If you happen to see me on the street, feel free to wave and cheer me on. I’m not alone; I’m travelling soul-oh!

Blissful Ignorance

On August 1, 2016, my husband and I were at a family reunion on his grandfather’s side, the Cummings’ side. We stayed at the Inverary Resort in Baddeck. It was a lovely weekend in Cape Breton just getting to know new-to-us cousins, visiting the Alexander Graham Bell Museum and quiet moments to ourselves walking along the shore of the Bras d’Or Lakes at sunset. On the last day, before we headed back to the city and our work, we took a hike to a Uisge Bàn Falls.

The hike to the falls was an easy 1.5 km with our crew composed of various ages. The youngest of the group was three years old and the oldest cousin is in her early sixties. We took our time walking, chatting, discussing this tree formation or that flower. The brook beside the path babbled to itself, ignoring our chatter. It was a lazy hike on a hot summer’s day in the cool shade of the woods to an even cooler canyon at the bottom of the falls.

This was the last good day before James’ headaches started to hint at what was to come. It was a great weekend! I’m sharing pictures from that weekend in remembrance of the joy, the fun, the peace, and the love.

 

 

 

 

James had always wanted a pocket watch. This weekend I found the perfect one. I had meant to get it engraved but didn’t get a chance until after he passed away. “Through all time”