504.

The one-year anniversary of my beloved's departure was Easter Sunday. It was a difficult day for me emotionally, but not extremely so.

I decided it would be a good day for another visit to the hospice where he died. (I went on Christmas day too.)

Remembering how we always had enough to eat and drink while we were at hospice, I stopped on my way to do a little shopping. It wasn't much but I knew it would all be accepted and useful.

I took my time getting there, crying during the drive.

And when I got there, I cried more, in the car before getting out.

The front door was locked. Not sure why. It wasn't terribly early. (I arrived around noon.)

The back door (which is really the side door, in its proximity to the main entrance) is where you have to be buzzed in.

Then you walk down the corridor, past patient rooms, to sign in. I did, jostling bags and all.

A woman I used to volunteer with has volunteered at hospice for many years. She was working the desk when I arrived. She also worked shifts when my husband was there. We exchanged pleasantries and I gave her a thank-you card for the staff and volunteers.

A guy who was cleaning helped me find a place to put the items I'd brought there for the families and anyone else who wanted or needed them.

There was already a lot of food sitting out on the table in the small dining area.

I sat to eat a slice of carrot cake, read the paper, attempt the crossword puzzle. I couldn't help but overhear the crying and conversation on the other side of the dividing fireplace. It made me feel sad as I remembered our family's similar circumstance a year earlier.

It was still early in the day so at that time last year, my husband would have still been breathing. Not so much in this world but still breathing.

When I was done eating, I went into the chapel, signed the guest book, sat down to write and cry.

The stained glass window in the chapel is beautiful. Although it was overcast when I arrived, the sun began to peek and God transformed the window into a marvelous vision for me.

I stayed as long as I could.

The next day (Monday) was very sad. I'm not sure why. My nerves were on edge and I cried almost all day. I felt very tired and useless, like I didn't want to be here any more.

Thanks to a friend who came over to spend time and talk with me, I was able to return safely from that dark place.


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503.

Written in my journal today:

mar 25
12:13 pm


i've never feared death because as long as i remember, i've felt like death is part of life.

but i've always feared having a painful death. i've always feared suffering. and i was brought face to face with suffering in a way i could not have imagined, as i watched my husband dying this time last year.

so i've seen it first hand, in all its nastiness. it only reinforced my feelings that i don't want to die a slow lingering death.

yet every day we live brings us closer to death. we think it's a slow progression but for those of us who will die in accidents and such, we really don't know how much time we have left.

how much time we have left to enjoy our families, our friends, the sunshine, the rain, laughter, our favorite foods, our favorite activities, to tick off the items on our personal bucket lists...

we make plans and to-do lists, thinking we have more time than we do, sometimes.

we put off the fun things because we have serious stuff that needs to be done.

we don't take time to enjoy the delightful song of a robin or a blue jay or a sparrow because we have to eat a rushed lunch at our desks in order to get out a report that's already overdue.

we miss out on so many beautiful things because we believe the mundane and stressful and necessary should take precedence.

i have done and continue to do these things and more.

but the closer it gets to one year since Mr. Bliss's departure, the more i re-evaluate my life.

it's still not as simple as i'd like (taxes, taxes, taxes!) but it's getting there.

recently i keep finding myself in the mood to purge: papers, clothing, books (yes, books), and other stuff. (not my paper or pens. i'm not there yet. maybe i'll never get there.)

still, i'm tired of looking at things that don't have a place in my life any more.

and i feel the need to finish the book i started for my daughter. it's to help her live life without mommy.

not that i plan to go anywhere any time soon.

but we don't know when, do we?

and if i keep WAITING for the right time to finish it, one day the time will be up because i won't be here.

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502.

Life moves ever forward.

In gratitude I continue to move with it, not wanting to stagnate in any way. Certainly not in any moments of heartache or distress. Those moments come almost daily, as the one-year anniversary of Mr. Bliss's death gets closer.

One year... It feels like one day or one week. Not in its newness, because I certainly don't feel like I did back then, missing him so much that I wanted to die to be with him.

Although I have had many happier moments since then, the time that has passed has had no meaning in terms of minutes, hours, days, weeks, months... Except when I've actually looked at a calendar or a clock because I had to do something or be somewhere at a specified time, time hasn't meant much.

Mr. Bliss still visits me in my dreams but not as much as I would like. Is it because he knows how very much I still miss him and he knows I would sleep more often if he visited more often, hoping to spend more time with him?

This year would have been our 10th wedding anniversary. Which leads me to wonder how many years I have left here without him.

So strange to be "widowed" yet I'll be a "Mrs." for the rest of my life, even if I never re-marry.

501.

Sometimes we learn that the people we trust are not as honest as they would have us believe.

This was my recent experience.

My emotions ran the gamut: disbelief, anger, sadness, realization, acceptance...

 But the emotions are fleeting, as is life.

I send them on their way with prayers, that they find Truth along their journey to find what is missing in their life. Also a wish that one day they might know the power of dreams and intuition...

Thank you God for your continued assistance in my forward momentum.

Amen.

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