Ashes into the Ocean

I flew to Boston for a visit. And to drive to Ogunquit (Maine) to add Rob’s ashes to the ocean as he requested. He was very specific about where, a special cove off Marginal Way, a path we had walked numerous times from Ogunquit Beach to Perkins Cove. Apparently the timing was right for me as I felt purposeful and calm. 

It was low tide and there were people at the water’s edge. I waded into the water and walked around some large rocks so I would not be in sight of the people. Opened the bag and poured the ashes into the ocean. They swirled around me in the water as the gentle waves came and went. And finally dispersed. Peaceful.

I then drove with my friend to the main beach, parked and walked the beach for a while. As Rob and I had done so many times. Ate lunch at one of “our” places and then drove over to Perkins Cove and wandered in and out of shops for a while before heading home. 

I remember thinking about doing this for a long time. Never before felt I could. Now I have. It will be 6 years this September. No tears. Maybe later but I don’t think so. Been saying Kaddish (the Jewish prayer for the dead) every Friday night at services, and thru the High Holidays last year. It changed things. I’ve changed things. I’ve changed. 

The next day I went into Boston to meet an old friend at the MFA. Drive in was a familiar one. And then I was rerouted due to construction through our first neighborhood. And found myself noting places as I drove by: the Theatre Rob studied at, the neighborhood restaurant we ate at (amazingly still there), the T, the colleges. 

On the way back to my friend's house (just around the corner from "our" house) traffic was intense so I exited and took local roads. And where did these roads lead me? Past The Hospital! Then onto the route we took oh so many times to and from said hospital. Again I noted all the associations and memories along the way. Places we liked, places we stopped at, places where the Great Blue Herons rousted. 

All these places no longer had emotional attachments. No overwhelming grief. I could be detached and go through a check list of memories. Like the ashes swirling around my feet in the ocean, observing beautiful patterns. 

Bringing stuff back into my life

When I set out on this journey, thinking that I was going to be traveling every six months I sorted my possessions into two piles. What I was going to be carrying around "on my back" back and forth; and stuff that would someday be reunited with me. This last category got put into a storage facility and has been there for more than two years.

I moved into a furnished apartment here in Florida. It has everything. And I brought all my office/work stuff with me so I was able to set up my businesses. Over the last two years as I've settled in, I found myself purchasing things that filled the need to have my own stuff.

Continually I thought of what I had stored back in Massachusetts. Of course I did, I was writing a check each and every month to the storage facility! As time has passed, even with feeling settled here, I also felt that I had possessions scattered at the ends of the East Coast. And finally decided it was time to bring everything home.

I worked hard to get the stuff here. And its been exhausting both physically and emotionally to once again go through it all and fit it into my living space. Some things like books and art and pottery and toys and baskets and decorative art items have a new home on book shelves, table tops and window sills. I've removed some furniture from the furnished apartment and replaced them with the few items I had kept. I stripped the kitchen of all that was here and eagerly put my kitchen back together.

However even with the joy of welcoming some objects, there are emotional surprises with others. I cried and sobbed as I sat and rocked in a golden oak rocking chair I lovingly placed in my bedroom. The memories of rocking in it while we talked were overwhelming.

Some of what I've unpacked belonged to Robert. Small objects that he treasured. I could not let go of them before and I look at them now and struggle to figure out what to do with them. They meant a lot to him. But not necessarily to me. But the fact that they did to him creates a quandary within me. I think I get caught up in an intellectual mind debate. A very effective way to avoid the emotional impact of each piece. So I've put them aside, away, out of sight to be dealt with at some later time.

Everything has its new place, either on display or put away. I feel a sense of accomplishment and completion—all my possessions are with me. And I also am engulfed in grief and tears.

Watching TV I am crying. Sitting at my computer I'm crying. Going out into the field to play with my horse I am crying. My universe has been disrupted. There is a tear in the space time continuum. The physical objects that were stored have a different energy from whom I am now. They still vibrate with Robert. They still vibrate with us.

My thoughts are filled with Rob and our life together. The memories are overwhelming at times. I struggle to hold on to the me that I have become. The one who packed up all that stuff and drove 1500 miles to a place I had only visited briefly.

Seeking dating advice....really?!?!?!

I am in uncharted territory. I found myself asking my thirty something hair stylist (heaven forbid I call him a hair dresser) dating advice. What is going on here?!?!? He is married and has two kids. But hey he's a guy. And I'm looking for a male perspective.

I had debated about even bringing up the subject. Thought what the hell. Chickened out while he was coloring my hair. Decided what did I have to lose? Felt it was such a cliche. Back to oh what the hell. Took a deep breath and asked. And surprise surprise his advice turned out to be very insightful.

What did I learn? To trust myself. I never know who is going to be my teacher, my guide. To stay in the moment. They will turn up in the least likely places. To be open. Life is full of surprises.

Another Milestone Another Wedding Anniversary

Last week was another of those milestones. Wedding Anniversary. Can't figure out how to look at it. Do I still count how many years it would have been? Or do I just look at the date and say we had 42 years and the counting ends. Of course that approach reinforces the finality of death.

Why am I babbling about this? Comes back to what I have written before. Why are there these Anniversaries and what do I do with them? Are they emotional mind-fields? Or with the passage of time have they become non-events?

I watched the marked date loom on my calendar. Saw it get closer. Wondered if I needed to plan something to distract myself as I had done in the earlier years. This is the 4th Wedding Anniversary without Rob. No wait, I think my counting is off. Is it the 5th?!?! Is this a good thing that I can't remember or figure it out? Do I want/need to really definitely know?

I remember when numbers were all I had. And I held so tightly to them. They have floated away, something I did not think was possible. And here I find that I can't and don't want to nail down this number.

The Anniversary passed uneventfully. Not even a blimp...that day. The following weekend I went to an exhibit at a local art museum on the History of the Guitar—a fabulous exhibit of ancient and modern guitars. Acoustic and electric. They even showcased an "Air Guitar" (the curator has a sense of humor). I wandered thru the galleries thinking how much Robert would have enjoyed this exhibit.

Afterwards I attended a lecture and performance that complemented the exhibit. They were given by a professor who is also a classical guitarist. When he sat down and started to play his guitar tears flowed down my face. The music was indeed heavenly but it invoked my loss and yearning. I went to the lecture alone. I now do lots of things on my own. But I wanted to be sharing this moment with Robert. He played the guitar and I believe he would have loved hearing this music.

I realized as the tears were running down my face I could have stopped them. The emotions were not overpowering, they just were. I could have shifted my feelings and thoughts. But I remembered something I recently told a new widow—"Defend your grief. Embrace it." So I took my own advice to heart and let the tears flow.

Friday Night Services

Been going to Friday night services at a local Synagogue. For maybe something like 6 weeks or so. Not every Friday night but more than not. Found myself searching for a community. Rob was my Jewish community and I needed to reconnect. And I heard about a Wednesday night adult ed/talk series that I have also been going to.

Welcomed very warmly by various women the first time. Learning people's names. Its a small congregation. Have even had a talk with the Rabbi. And now I am finding that I am being introduced. Or finding that the people I have exchanged names with are telling others about me. Have achieved critical mass.

On Wednesday I was introduced to one of the men in the Congregation. "Jamie lives in Williston and has horses". He used to live in Williston and had horses. Horses were his ex's but he also had his own. He showed me pictures of him driving one of his horses. I had left my phone in the car and said on Friday I'd bring it to show him my horses.

When I go to Friday night services I sit on the isle. First it on the left. After several week made the huge move across the isle and sat on the right. But I sit alone. On the isle. Have the whole row to myself.

So Friday comes and he is there and invites me to sit with him. And I show him my photos and he shows me more of his - fish - he photographs fish.

The service starts and he had saved seats for his friends. Now I am sitting 3 seats off the isle. Between people, a couple on my left and he is on my right. And during the service I find reading from the prayer book and listening to him recite the prayers in Hebrew oddly very intimate. Guess how much more intimate can you be with someone than praying to God?

I see in my mind's eye how I have moved "up" in seating. Alone on the isle. Alone first one side then the other. Now sitting next to a man from the congregation. Wonder what the Rabbi thinks! "This one works fast"

At the end of the service we all get up and he goes to talk with his other friends and I am greeted by some of the women I have become friendly with. I wonder what the hell the protocol is. Is this it? Do I talk with him again? And while standing around talking with one of the women he comes over with a plate from the Oneg table and while eating from it offers me my pick from his plate.

My mind's eye is quite busy tonight as I now see the female Cardinal at the bird feeder and the male flying to the ground to select a morsel and flying up to offer it to the female.

My woman friend got lost quickly. He and I talked some more, I'm nibbling from his plate (am I a female Cardinal?) and he introduces me to his friends.

This is all so confusing. I have no point of reference. Unless you count Cardinals and seating plans.

4 Years and Counting....Happy New Year?

The 4th Anniversary of Rob's death has come and gone. And now it is New Year's Day 2018. A time to look back and remember the good times, the fun times. Focus on the times of joy and laughter and let go of the questionable ones. The sadness is dropping away. Not saying I do not still miss him, but much as I absolutely hate to admit it time has helped quell the intensity.

I sailed through the Anniversary, and thought I was home free. Ha! I was sick one night with a stomach bug. Up all night and railed against being alone, with no one to hold my hand, to talk to. Cried at the injustice of it. How could Robert have left me?

The Holidays also hit harder than I anticipated. Okay how can one anticipate grief? And it was not the holidays per se that caught me unawares. It is always the little things. Things I don't even give a second thought to. Wondering what? How about the taste of turkey? Someone handing me a glass of cheer? Pulling the Scotch tape to wrap a present? Hearing a piece of music? The weather turning cold?

I was recently contacted by a very very newly minted widow. I could acutely feel her pain and instantly remember what it was like. I also recognize how far I've come. That my life has indeed gone on and I am still standing. Not something I thought possible 4 years ago.

So since it is New Year's day and "we" are supposed to look back, as well as forward, I continue the wonder of finding myself in a new state—my body (as in now living in Florida) and my psyche. As far as looking forward, I will stay with one moment at a time.

I Survived Hurrican Irma

It's a couple of days after Hurricane Irma. It's a quiet evening. From the sunlight angling over the trees, the blue sky and white clouds that are just starting to blush, it is hard to even consider the devastation that surrounds. Took a drive today and found trees down over the power lines in numerous places, telephone poles snapped and fields that make me think I am living in the lake district. Road closings due to water. Forget Lake District, am I living in the Everglades?

It is quiet. Bill & Claudia have gone off to spend the night at a friend who has electricity and running water. Guess you can figure that we don't have those here. There is a generator but it is only run occasionally each day with time to take a cold water shower. Boy am I getting fast in those showers.

I can hear crickets chipping, birds singing and not much else. I am alone on a farm of 50 acres. Looking out the windows I can see my horses, along with the rest of the herd. My cat is curled up asleep in the bed. It is peaceful and I realize that so am I. Still surprised when I stop to think for a moment that alone is fine.

The quiet is after the last two days of chain saws and dragging branches to burn piles. Huge bonfires consuming all that is offered. Feeding the fire—as I offered each branch or log or pile of Spanish Moss I felt that I was making an offering to a hungry beast who consumed all.

After days of hype and hysteria of the weather forecasters. Discussing what track the Hurricane would take. East? West? Up the middle? Waiting its arrival. The day of calm before the storm. Intensifying rain and winds. And then it struck at midnight. Howling winds and pelting rain. My horses were out in the field. I could not see them in the dark. Hoped their instincts would keep them safe.

In the morning the Hurricane was still waging its battle. When it was light enough to look I saw they were in their normal morning position, by the feed pens! They made it! I made it!

I take each challenge and examine how I handle it. Acknowledge my personal growth. Admit to noting how strange it is to feel so comfortable with myself. I am getting acquainted as I was never really "on my own" before. Left home for college, and then quickly moved in with Robert, who became my husband for the next 42 years. Then he died, leaving on my own. So through no choice of mine I found myself needing to get to know myself. No buffers, no companions, no options.

x

I have completed my latest transformation

August 2nd was a BIG day. I am officially a Floridian now! Got my drivers license, both Bobbie and Huey are registered, and I am now on the voting roles. Gathered up all the documentation required - birth certificate, marriage license, social security card, proof of residency, titles on both cars. Yikes. Especially with the move—now where are those pieces of paper? And getting my birth certificate—an official stamped one from New York took almost 2 months as they require official mail with my name and new address and how does one get official mail?

As I’ve spent my entire driving life in Massachusetts and am intimately familiar with the DMV I went prepared—brought a book and planned on waiting for hours before I would present all my carefully gathered documentation. First I had to find the local DMV which is held only on Wed and Thus in this town. As I drove around following Goggle Map instructions I began to wonder if the local DMV was a version of Brigadoon? Does it actually exist? I was lead on a wild goose chase. Maybe it was a treasure hunt. Or a scavenger hunt. Or a test of my navigational skills. After driving around and not finding the building I admitted defeat and went to the town hall for directions—where I was told “Bless you heart” for my perseverance.

When I finally found the DMV I was greeted with one of those deli take a number machines. The place was empty but the sign said take a number. I did. There was a long white counter with three women sitting behind. There was no one else in the room. Did I really need to take a number? And what am I doing to do with my book? No waiting?!?! Now how is THAT possible?

Worked my way thru all the documentation, got my photo taken, had an eye examine, and left registered to vote as well as with two shiny Sunshine State license plates! And yes I do have to go back for Lilly (trailer). She has special requirements I have not yet dealt with. 

Later in the afternoon Carrie mentioned she was going to be burning her paper trash pile and asked if I wanted to burn the documents I had thought I’d take to a shredder. Old financial records, mortgages, stuff that I didn’t want to just throw in trash, but wanted to be completely rid of. So around the bonfire we stood and slowly added the papers. Felt very fitting to burn them (Rob loved fires) and watch the flames consume them and charred pieces of paper floating up up up into the air. Another vestige of the past I am letting go of.

And finally that night, and no I had not planned this to be such a full day, I went to the Tai Chi school I found in Gainesville that does the form I learned all those years ago. They offer a practice session on Wednesday nights where there is no teaching, just doing the form. I had called to ask if it was alright to just come. No response so I went. Didn’t initially get a very warm welcome. Well not from the guy leading the practice. The women were welcoming. Did the form over and over and over. Of course it is slightly different. I’d say mostly the same but transitions being different. Okay that is the physical part of the form. I found I had to think and not just be while doing. That was exhausting. 

But the energetic aspect was different as well. Much more contained, closed in. More yin than yang if that makes sense. And of course I realize how the form I have been doing for the past 30+ years has become my own. Influenced by other teachers. Martial artists who express the purpose of the moves. And I laugh at that comment because my horsemanship is about the purpose of what “we” (Cici and I) are doing. 

And I also laugh as I realize that I went looking for the "form" of tai chi. Not the energy or the feeling but the physical form, order of moves, sequence of positions. And yes I found that. And found that it was not be what I was really looking for. My motivation with finding this school was that the form would be basically the same and I would not have to “learn” a new form. But that is not the case. I have learned that the physical is only one aspect of my form. And not such an important part I now understand. 

Well I have time. I don’t have to rush into a decision about continuing with there or not.  I need to figure out what works for me. OMG such a idea - for me. Now that I am a Floridian!

It is my birthday - Number 4 after the death of my husband

I had one of the best Birthday's today in a long long time. Started out with Bill singing Happy Birthday to me in the barn. And progressed with lots more singing, and laughter, and sharing. Thank you Claudia for insisting and planning this special occasion with three other new girl friends.

An adventure—to explore a wonderful small town along the coast of the Gulf of Mexico. Lunch at a restaurant on the water with a very narrow deck jutting out over the water with gulls and pelicans and I think skimmers flying under, over and around us. The water stretched out flat, no waves, to the horizon. The sun was shining. We sat in the shade of an umbrella on this deck and ate steamed clams. And these new friends insisted the waitress put a candle in one of the grilled shrimp topping my salad.

After lunch a leisurely stroll through the town's history museum and then in and out of small quaint shops. This was totally unlike any Birthday I've ever had. I chose to stay in the moment, in the here and now, and take in all the wonder and friendship and love. And not dwell in the past and what was. This Birthday's differences serves as a vivid reminder of how far I have come.

There is no question—I have arrived

I am home. Being in the place where my horses are just outside my windows has brought a feeling of peace and completion. This is where I am meant to be. Right here. The fields wrap around the house so no matter where I am inside I look outside and see my horses, hear my horses; and I drop everything and go outside and play with my horses.

Through my horses new friendships abound, as it is the horses that brought me to this place of wonder. And these new connections are leading to new business opportunities. Thank you Robert for insisting we shift our marketing business to serve the needs of the horse and equestrian community.

I have always known of the healing powers of horses. After Rob died it was my mare Cici who kept me going and saw me through the darkest times. And my mini Casey kept up his antics to keep me laughing. As the healing progressed and I could begin to look forward I realized I wanted to focus on my horsemanship in a way that had not been possible before. And once again through horse connections, I found my way here.

My days and nights are spent playing with my horses, promoting horse businesses, visiting with horsey friends. We go to horse events, watch horse movies. It is "All about the horse, the horse, the horse" (with apologies to Megan Trainor).

Uncle Walt (Disney) was right

I am finding Florida to be a totally new state of mind. I was here less than two weeks and got a new client—the former Cavalia star and trainer who has a farm nearby and was in need of marketing. Through her I met a new friend who introduced to another friend who invited me to a barn opening party. This other new friend just finished building her dream barn and was throwing a party. Think big barn raising. And she was flying in a country band from Las Vegas she knew from her corporate travels.

Even though the party was over an hour away, in a place I had to trust Celeste, my GPS, to get me to, at night in the dark, I was up for it. Once at this new amazing Florida style barn as I was looking over the people there, I noticed a man dressed in black with black cowboy hat. Rolling my eyes I thought really? a Tim McGraw wannabe!

The band started playing and new friend of friend rushed through the crowd to announce that Tim McGraw was going to sing. Surprise guest! I mean where else does this happen?!?!?!

Yet another new friend invited a couple of us to his house to hear and hopefully see Barn Owls and Great Horned Owls that hangout in the trees around his house. Saw a pair of Great Horned Owls sitting in the tree. Then one flew on top of the other and mated. Really?

I have been working hard for my new client, and my existing ones. I have been making new friends and seeing new things. I took a riding lesson something I have not done in years. And have schedule weekly ones for the foreseeable future. I trailered my horse and a friend's horse to said riding lesson. And didn't hyperventilate when friend was late, or when my horse did not immediately load. I am beyond learning how to just be. I am. Who knew?

Color is seeping back into my life.

Years ago Rob shared with me a cartoon of a woman dressed in yellow jumping over a fire. The caption was about burning her black clothes. I chuckled at it but thought that would never be me. I loved my black-wear. I had/have black jeans, Ts, turtlenecks, sweaters, coats, scarfs, blouses, pants, jackets, purses, shoes, boots, gloves, hats. I mean with black you are always fashionable, chic, look slimmer, everything matches. Was I mourning and didn't know it? And the black-wear certainly got me through the real mourning, not that anyone noticed any difference in my wardrobe.

Maybe black-wear is a northern latitude clothing attitude. Because here in Florida I feel very different about my black-wear. Oh I still wear it—because it is what I have—but it doesn't feel right any longer. In my first act of jumping over that fire I purchased a RED purse. And I now am the proud owner of a pair of multicolored stripped ribbon shoes. The metamorphosis is certainly manifesting itself in very colorful surprising ways.

I am here in Florida - how is that possible?

I am now in Florida. Can't help but laugh and think "How did that happen?" I drove over a thousand miles in Huey (SUV) with my horse trailer filled with all my possessions. My cat in the back seat, a new BFF sharing the driving,. Took three days with two overnights to complete the journey. I shipped the horses—knowing my limitations.

I am happy. I am having fun. I sleep through the night. My life is unlike anything I imagined. Okay I'll admit that it was a fantasy of mine to live on a farm with my horses. But the fantasy didn't look like this—this is way better. I don't know who I am and refuse to look too closely as I am feeling very present—in the moment—here. The new normal is no matter where here is I am home. A startling and poignant concept.

As we crossed into Florida my friend asked me if I had butterflies. And I realized no. And no for the entire journey. This totally continues to confound—that I have metamorphosized into one for whom home is me. Don't seem to need a physical location any longer.

Moving toward move to Florida

The preparation for the move to Florida is progressing. I drove Bobbie (Z3) to New Hampshire a few weeks ago where he will be spending the winter in a friend's barn. With my friend's M6 for company. It was an emotional experience as I drove—top down of course—into the White Mountains that Rob loved so much. Spectacular fall foliage. A fitting place for Bobbie to spend the winter.

I loaded the inside of the car up with my house plants, as the trunk was filled with car cover and battery tender. Slowly divesting myself of possessions, even if it is only for six months. Still a further stripping away of stuff. Feels strange to think of Huey (SUV) as my "only" car.

I am once again reexamining all the physical objects in my life. What do I really need? What do I really want to keep close to me? Sorting through clothes, books, papers, toys, supplies. What do I continue to carry on my back and what to I leave behind?

Have had that imagery of a turtle going on since I cleaned out the house. What I was taking with me then I thought I would be traveling with from place to place. But I have the option to leave some things behind for now. To come back and reintegrate them into my life later.

I am finding the sorting cathartic in some ways. A chance to stop and look around and behind and forward. Things that were so important do not seem so right now. And other things have taken on a renewed intensity.

While not quite the same, the horses loaded up in an huge transport and are on their way to Florida right now. So I am here and they are in transit. Their leaving has created a huge hole that I know will be filled in a few days when we all gather together again. But it does feel strange as slowly things, animals, possessions are stripped away or left behind or sent ahead. I struggle to understand the attachment to inanimate objects while I all to well understand the attachment to living things. My cat Leon is here with me. He is my constant.

There is a closing of my life here, and a beckoning of a new life in Florida. I will be packing up the trailer tomorrow with my stuff, and Leon and I will venture off in Huey on a grand adventure. A friend described it as "an adventure Jamie has been waiting all her whole life for." Wow.

Third Anniversary of Robert's Death

Here I am. And to be honest at this moment I am wondering what all the fuss is about. I am. Fine. Right now. Who knows about later, but in this moment I am fine. I am thinking about my impending move to Florida for the winter. I am not caught up in waves of grief. I am caught up in my future.

Make that MY future. I do not know what it holds but I am clearly moving forward. Making plans and appointments and thinking about what to pack and how. A myriad of things that need to be done before I pack the last bag and close the doors and head out. Trailer needs to be checked out. Bobbie (the Z3) has to get serviced and prepped for his winter storage. Huey (SUV) has to go get an oil change. My cat to the vet, the vet to the horses. Me to the doctor and dentist. Find an accountant, vote, get my will finalized.

I am experiencing a renewed sense of oneness. Of being on my own and feeling comfortable here. Standing on my own two feet - and feeling the earth beneath them - grounded.

Rob's birthday was a month ago. And I got caught up in that and thinking about the coming Anniversary. I experienced a lot of what I will call "Ground Fog" - memories that would envelope me as I drove on familiar roads, past familiar places. Memories that would drift away as I drove through them. I am very pleased to report that the fog has lifted.

I am now looking forward to driving on new roads and making new memories of my own. I will be making these memories driving my own car, my own trailer, with my own horses. At this moment that does not feel scary. And I can laugh when I read that last sentence.

Learning to be on my own

After my husband of 42 years died I have had to learn how to be on my own. On my very own. Something that I  had never really done as we got married when we were so young and in College. Slowly I have learned to be comfortable with being my own company. Finding what it is to be truly alone—and that it is not about being lonely.

It was this embracing of being on my own that has lead to all sorts of changes. As I have mentioned before when someone calls to invite to dinner my response is when? and where? I have the ability to flexible with my plans. And as in the previous post, take two plus weeks and travel with horse and cat without discussing or accommodating anyone else. It is all about me and what I want to do. And while part of me says at what a high cost, another part is embracing this new "me".

Now after the last 2-1/2 years of living on my very own—I have moved in with a friend, another widow. I am learning how to live with a person again. To see someone at breakfast. To have conversations easily. To talk about plans for the day. To discuss what to have for dinner when we are both "home". Someone to cook for, someone who cooks for me, someone to cook with!

It is all surprisingly easy. I share my friend's house. Have my own rooms. Share communal rooms. We both come and go as we please, having our own friends and activities. But also check in with each other.

And I am still on my own, I just now have a friend to share my day with.

Move.....moving.....moved

Conjugating the verb to move. I am moved. Moved my stuff, moved in, moved on even. It is done, over, finished. Unpacked and everything put away. Not that I necessarily know where everything or maybe it is where anything is. Keep opening drawers to find out what is luring in them. And where did I put that? And where is such and such as I know I brought it and everything is unpacked but where is it?!!?!?

How is this all possible? The moving experience went smoothly. The path that is before me is open and I keep walking it. There have not been any disasters or events or crashes. Again I ask How is this possible? I all to well remember the last move and the move before that. I used to describe myself as a cat - hating change. Moving, even contemplating moving used to throw me into panic. Leaving behind what was familiar and safe and moving into the unknown was scary. But......

Now I seem to be embracing change. I was going to write How is that possible. But it just is. Clearly. More conjugating, to change. I am changed. I have changed. Life is changing. I keep moving forward. The How is that possible reverberates in my head. I did not ever think I would be able to move on, move forward, move beyond Rob's death.

I spent the last few months sorting through everything. Three distinct categories: what I was taking with me into a furnished living situation, what I wanted to hold onto and put into storage, and what I would/could let go of. I went through a lifetime of possessions, handling each one thinking about what it meant to me and deciding if I wanted to keep it close with me, keep it in my life or let it go. I have said it before—the realization that by letting go of an object does not mean letting go of or throwing away or dishonoring the memory. The memory lives on and I found I do not need many of the possessions I had been holding on to.

While driving back to my "old" house to clean up the after mess I realize I have indeed moved out, moved on, moved away. It is no longer "my" house. It is no longer a place I want or need to be. The memories are embedded deeply into my soul—forever. Seared into my soul is a more apt description.

I am different. All the aspects associated with the move are like holding up a mirror to myself that enables me to see—really see and understand—the myriad of changes within me. The move has shown me that I am embracing change. My path is about change and evolving and metamorphosis and transformation. How is that possible?

Step by Step

I am experiencing a surreal time, having taken the step to becoming house-less and unattached to a single location. Letting go. Snowbird. Wait, I hear the Beatles singing Blackbird.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to be free.

Blackbird fly Blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night.

Blackbird fly Blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to arise
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
You were only waiting for this moment to arise.

Doors are opening

The trip to Florida opened my eyes to how my living arrangements could be different. I mean I don't have to live in the same place forever. Really?!?! I can move. And that leads to the thought of moving on. Going the way of Snowbird - six months in New England and six months in Florida. Who knew such a thing was possible for me?!?!

I remember after Robert died I wondered if I would stay in the house. The idea of moving was just too overwhelming at that time and I put the thought aside. But the time is right—NOW. I am on a new journey. Walking through a new door. Taking the first step on a new path. Wow!

I started thinking about what this all would mean. And started to explore the logistics in my mind. Trailing Cici and Casey, bringing my cat Leon, moving out of the house, finding a place to live here, finding a place to live there, where would the horses live?

When I think of the house, the mind exercise goes into what do I keep? Where do I store things? What can I let go of? Letting go of stuff. Of physical objects that hold memories. Acknowledge that letting go of an object does not mean letting go of the memory. Or of letting go of Robert. He will be with me always. And I do not need to be surrounded by things to remember him.

With all these thoughts swirling around in my mind, inevitably words begin to leak out. I find myself talking about selling the house and becoming a Snowbird. I am not sure how this will manifest itself but it is so large that conversations ensue.

And one of my good friends says, "Come live with me. I would enjoy having company for six months." And that cements the deal. I now had a "temporary" living arrangement here in the North, next challenge will be to find something in the South. I am through the door.

Rediscovering myself after the death of my husband

I have been saying that I am "reinventing" myself. But that did not feel quite right. Thought about it a while and decided "rediscovering" myself was better. Now I think maybe it is really a matter of "discovering" myself. As my blog says, "Who am I this time?"

Who am I? How perceptive of me in titling this blog. I can truthfully say I do not know the answer yet, but the process of discovery is a wonderful wild ride.

A couple of months ago a friend mentioned she was going to be trailering three of her horses from New Hampshire to Florida. I listened to her debate about when she would leave—sooner or later. The reason really depended on whether she was traveling alone or had a traveling companion. I listened, said nothing, and then drove myself home.

Of course during my trip home I kept thinking why couldn't I go with her? What was holding me back? Why couldn't I just up and go? Another Ah Ha moment. Like the one where a friend invited me to dinner last minute. An Ah Ha moment of acknowledging that I am not tied down. That I can make my own plans at the drop of a hat.

So yes we set off for Florida the following week. Driving from New England to Florida I  encountered places, roads and town names that evoked memories of my life with Rob. My friend and I drove through parts of the country where Rob and I grew up, where we visited family, where we went to see our last client together, where we drove for vacations. As we continued South past these locations, I looked forward to starting to make new memories.

The trip took 4 days from New England to our destination in Florida, with three overnights at barns that had accommodations for horses, dogs and people. My friend made all the arrangements. I had no clue where we would be staying each night. And it did not matter. This is huge because the not knowing used to drive me crazy.

I find I can easily drop into a place where I do not have to be the one making the decisions. I do not have to know what is going to happen next. I can be open to the journey and not worry about the destination. It can take care of itself, and it (the destination) becomes part of the journey filled with new memories.