What’s with this relationship status stuff? And “looking for” stuff? Why do we have to be so neatly pigeonhole-able?

So, I lost my husband one year, three months and six days ago. Does that make a widow? Single? Mostly married, still, in my head?

I actually dislike the terms “single”. And “widowed”. They seem to imply a lack, a loss. (Although in my case, that is certainly true.) I prefer “on my own”, “independent”, or how about, “none of your business”.

We all need companionship, friends and loved ones to float down this great river of life with. Some are near and dear, some are casual, and some are here for a time and soon gone. There’s a time for everything, and to everything there is a season – even love we thought would last a lifetime.

I have amazing friends of both genders, here, in Anchorage, and across the country. They’ve lifted me up and kept me going, and have always been available to cheer with me and cry with me, and I have the privilege of doing the same for them.

So really, now that I think about it, when someone asks me what my relationship status is – or what I’m looking for – I think the very best answer I can give is “friend”.

He had some conditions, though. First, he had us buy more beer. Second, he got to pick his methods. And third, he wanted us wearing t-shirts. Just in case wet t-shirts accidentally became involved.

We settled in back at the Big Yellow House, and he selected his tools for the job:

• Pressure washer

• Belt sander
• File and rasp
• Dremel cutting blade
• Masking tape and compressor sprayer
• Turtle wax and dremel buffer
• Vaseline intensive care
• Styptic powder

OK, a little unconventional, but we could live with that.

First, he put down a couple of plastic sheet drop cloths in the family room while he had us select our nail polish color. I say color, because he only wanted to load the sprayer once. Cleaning the nozzle can be a pain, so we all had to go with the same color.

The pressure washer didn’t work out so well. It was hard to aim, a little painful, and it broke one of Janiece’s side table lamps. Note to self: not intended for indoor use. Boogie went downstairs to hide at this point, but the rest of us simply had another beer.

The Smart Man could have been a bit more gentle with the belt sander and rasp, but we did have styptic powder on hand. And I guess the drop cloths were a good idea, after all.

After another round of beer, we decided that we’d give each other footrubs, round robin style, and let the Smart Man watch. He liked that. I think. He was kind of buzy futzing with the paint sprayer.

Unfortunately, the sprayer lacked fine control for polish application. The Smart Man’s stereo receiver and home theatre system will never be the same, it’s now covered with a fine coat of grape-colored purple lacquer. Still, he did a nice job of masking our toes (where the tape gripped and we weren’t bleeding) and the paint job looked fabulous.

One final drink, and we tackled the cleanup job. I think we’ll need to replace the paint sprayer, and I hope Janiece can get the spots of blood off her ceiling. (Anne should be just fine, we applied direct pressure.)

Next time, I think we’ll go to the nail salon. We like the massage chairs.

Note: None of this actually happened. At least I think it didn’t. But I do have a fresh pedicure.

Boogie, Janiece and the perennially cheerful (and anonymous) Smart Man.

I took some time off for fun on Thursday and Friday, and much fun was had by everyone. The Incomparable Anne^TM and the Organized Stacey^TM joined us for massages, shopping and pedicures, and Stacey’s husband JR jumped on board for dinner at local Asian restaurant Junz.

Stacey and Janiece. This was taken at dinner, after a Lemon Drop or two.

Anne, Jeri & JR (Stacey’s husband). Terry and JR were highly entertained by our company.

Jeri, Anne and Janiece at PF Changs, where we ate lunch in honor of our friend John.

To give beyond reason, to care beyond hope, to love without limit; to reach, stretch, and dream, in spite of your fears. These are the hallmarks of divinity. ~ Notes from the Universe

I consider myself to be richly blessed, in both a spiritual and material sense. I have amazing family and friends, who shine more love into my life than I could ever imagine. I am financially comfortable, with a lovely home, reliable cars, health care, and a challenging, interesting, relatively secure career. I am healthy and happy, with a strong body and immune system and spiritual and emotional resilience.

In some ways, my life can be defined by the great losses, the hard things I have faced. And I am realistic; my ‘hard things’ are nothing compared to those of those who truly overcome in this world — those who have survived abuse and still shine, those who have conquered cancer, those who have come through disaster with only the shirt on their back and rebuilt.

Still, I have flailed in a painful, horrible marriage years past all wisdom, until calling it quits. I have parented a mentally ill child, with prayers and tears and 3am self-flagellation. And I’ve lost a beloved husband, the man I thought I’d spend the next forty years growing old beside.

The heartbreak that accompanied each fresh, raw challenge has helped define who I am and helped me discover, serendipitously, how very much I love the people I share this life with.

More importantly, those events have reinforced my closely held belief that, in our short span on this earth, our mission is to love fully and give freely.

I was hungry, and you gave me something to eat. I was thirsty, and you gave me something to drink. I was a stranger, and you welcomed me. Matthew 25:35

To those whom much is given, much is expected. If I see a need I can meet, then God has put it in front of me for a reason; it is my choice and my purpose to give, anonymously, quietly and generously. If I encounter someone who needs shelter, food, help, then if I can in any way, I am privileged to be able to provide hospitality, comfort and support.

Yet even if I am being poured out like an offering as part of the sacrifice and service I offer for your faith, I rejoice, and I share my joy with all of you. Phillipians 2:17

And on the spiritual plane, the same principle applies. If a friend, a colleague or a stranger needs support – a hand, a shoulder – I am happy to help. At every juncture in my life, I’ve been cared for by loving friends and family, whose encouragement and kind words have illuminated my way. If I can pass on a fraction of that light to those who cross my path, it is an honor.

Losing a husband, a life’s partner, reinforced how precious life and love are. Love those you have while you can, wholly and fully, without fear or reservation. Express your love actively, because none of us is promised tomorrow.

When I lost my father unexpectedly, ten years ago, I had the unusual opportunity to talk to him just a couple of hours before he died and tell him I loved him. I cherish that last conversation.

And when I lost my husband this March, I kissed and hugged him goodbye and told him I loved him that morning, as I did every morning. I will forever be grateful for that last kiss, and for that daily expression of love.

“To give beyond reason, to care beyond hope, to love without limit…” I believe we all have a purpose in life. To give and love freely – materially, spiritually, to family, friends and strangers alike – is mine.
___________________

This I Believe is an international project engaging people in writing and sharing essays describing the core values that guide their daily lives.

Hot Chick^TM Janiece suggested participation in it; here is her contribution:
This I Believe 2010 – Janiece

The Incomparable Anne^TM also wrote candidly here:
This I Believe 2010 – Anne

We were going to hike, kayak, do archery, play outside, but Mother Nature had other plans – torrential rain, thunder, lightning, hail, and then some more rain.

Oh well – I did do yoga – and Steph got asked at the last minute to teach the yoga classes as the scheduled instructor couldn’t make it – and Sunday cleared up enough to go shoot a few arrows and walk around the lovely, if soggy, camp.

The cabins were warm and the bunks sturdy, although I’m not agile enough to truly be very thrilled about a top bunk anymore.

The food was stellar, and the lodge’s fireside room with magnificent Puget sound views a great place to write.

I am still behind on word count, doggone it, but I’m chipping away at it.

We were talking about her favorite subjects in school. (Reading and writing.) And books. And Halloween.

She solemnly assured me she believes in EVERYTHING.

Sea monsters? Yep. Regular monsters too.
Tooth fairy? Yep.
Ghosts? Yep.
Unicorns, fairies? Yep.
Aliens? Yep.

In fact, she wanted to ask me if I believed in space aliens coming down and landing in flying saucers.

I told her, “Of course, but some space aliens are HORRIBLE drivers and have all sorts of problems parking their flying saucers very well. That’s why they land in cities, or in the middle of herds of cows, and end up on the news.”

She liked this, and giggled a lot. Her next short story in writing class is going to be about space aliens who don’t fly their flying saucers very well.

My work there is done.

He appears to be enjoying it immensely. By my judgment, he’s not one of the super-popular kids at school, but still has a solid, genuine, positive and intelligent group of friends. He hangs with the geeks – they have LAN parties, gaming get-togethers and marathon Dr. Who sessions. I don’t think any of his friends drink, do drugs or sleep around; they may, however, get in trouble for trying to hack Microsoft someday.

This afternoon was one of many great small-town high school days. It was sunny, warm and beautiful. He and his friends met up at the school to play Ultimate Frisbee for a couple of hours, then variously piled into cars or hoofed it down the hill to Dairy Queen to hang out.

I remember my senior year, although it was an awfully long time ago. (My pet dinosaur hated being left home alone while I went to class.)

High school was not an especially happy time for me, although it got better as I got older. I was very young for my grade, just turning 16 at the start of my senior year. I didn’t have many friends, my family had issues, and I was quite likely clinically depressed. Still, I stayed busy – I was on a club swim team, in color guard, and an editor on the school newspaper – and got decent grades.

Being a senior meant open campus, and lunches at McDonalds or Taco Time with friends. It meant interesting classes – like Lifetime Sports, where I took rollerskating for a quarter, and racquetball for another. We had privilege; the closest locker assignments, the best lunch times and preference for the popular classes like photography and pottery.

In spite of my general malaise, I do remember a few wonderful times. We had awesome horror movie nights at friends’ houses, group trips up to Inspiration Point just to hang out together, a great night at homecoming with one of my best friends, ski trips, picnics, and a backpacking trip with my dad.

One night in particular stands out. Six of us piled into one car and drove up to Inspiration point. I did not drink, smoke, or date, and had a reputation for being straitlaced. A couple of the kids broke out a beer, and one guy – the driver, pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one up. Everyone groaned – no one wanted to deal with the smoke.

I said, “Hey, John*, let me see your cigarette!” He snickered, thinking ol’ goody-goody Jeri was going to try a smoke, and handed it back to me. I smiled, held it up to the group, then ground it out in the ashtray and tossed it out the window. Everyone cheered, except for John, who really was good-natured about the insult.

What do you remember about your senior year? Was it a good year – or was it painful?

*Names have been changed to protect the guilty.

Friends will:

• care unconditionally
• cheer for each others’ successes
• laugh and cry together
• be comfortable companions
• relax and be crazy, silly & joyful together
• provide encouragement when each other are down
• offer practical help when appropriate
• serve as a sounding board
• listen without needing to fix things
• be kindly, gently honest & direct
• serve as a reality check when needed
• be positive, sensible, and open-minded
• inspire each other to be a better person
• dream together
• be partners in adventure

I strive to be this for my friends – often falling short – but I do love each and every one of you!

Feel free to add to this incomplete list in comments.

We compared dates and events, and finally settled on the Kirkland Triathlon this last weekend. Unfortunately, Chuck hurt himself a couple days before the event, so Steph rallied to do both the bike & run – she is amazing! (She’s training for the Portland marathon two weeks from now.)

One disadvantage of this event was that it was at 7am. In Kirkland. That meant leaving the house at 4:40am to make the 5:20am ferry. And — cold, 68° lake water never seems very appealing at that hour of the day.

There were over 1,000 entrants in this triathlon, and a few dozen relay teams. A triathlon is swim, bike, run – and relay team members have to tag each other in the transition area between legs of the event.

Because the triathlon had so many participants, we started in waves of about 50 – 60 swimmers, 5 minutes apart, and each wave had different colored swim caps. We’d wade in until we were waist deep after the group ahead of us took off, then wait our turn. I prefer to start near the back, I don’t care for the melee at the front. The water wasn’t nearly as cold as I was afraid it would be, I was fine.

The first 100 yards or so are always tough, adjusting to the cold, the crowd, the different stroke technique. (for me, seven strokes head down, one with head up, to stay straight) Then I found my rhythm – and this time I started passing people. A lot of people. Maybe enjoying it was not the best sportsmanship, but it was satisfying. According to Steph, I finished about a third of the way back in my group – not bad for starting in the back row. If it had been longer I would have been able to pass more swimmers.

Then Steph took off on her bike like the experienced triathlete she is. (She’s done an Ironman and a few ½ Ironman tris – I admire her strength & endurance.)

I couldn’t get to the finish to watch her because the course was laid out like a pretzel and crossing the course was nearly impossible. I hung out in the transition area, overheard the swimming organizers debriefing, and apparently they rescued 6 swimmers in trouble, and pulled out another 66 who asked for assistance. My gosh! I can’t imagine trying a deep water, lake swim unless you were completely prepared for it.

Would I do another relay triathlon? Definitely! It was fun and I think I supported our team creditably. I’d also like to shoot for a longer swim next summer, if I find the right event.

Thanks, Steph, for this awesome opportunity!

I’ve tackled this subject before from different angles:

      Simple Pleasures
      Giving Thanks

It might seem odd to feel like I’ve had many blessings in such a tragic year, but I have; it’s been a surprising silver lining.

I’m grateful for the blessing of:

• the amazing resilience of the human spirit. No matter how crushing the loss, how devastating the blow, how black the pit, each one of us has the strength and the unique ability to keep going, one step at a time.

• my physical, mental and emotional health, which is amazingly stable so soon after such a major cataclysm in my life. Thanks to those who have supported me as I’ve made taking care of myself a priority.
• my sons – who have grown into really good, caring, bright young men who I’m proud to claim as my own and enjoy spending time with as they grow into adulthood. I genuinely like them!
• the truly tremendous, fabulous friends and family I have in my life, from every walk, location and source. Just a few months ago, I took them for granted, but now I treasure the time, the shared adventures, the caring and the support.
• my employer, who fully understands their current place on my priority list and supports me anyway as I rebuild my life.
• my intense creativity, which colors my personal and professional life and always drives me to choose color and texture when simple black and white would do.
• the abundance of America and my family’s middle class lifestyle – there is nothing we need that we cannot easily obtain in this country, from medical care to food to (lots of!) shoes to high-speed consumer broadband.
• my husband’s continued presence in our lives, even as defined by his absence. He cared a great deal for us and prepared well for this day. I talk to him often, and while he certainly cannot answer, I do feel him there. As I look around there are many signs of him woven into our lives: books, papers, food, art, videogames.

There are many more blessings as well, I’m sure, but right now my primary focus is the people in my life. They make me beam with gratitude, sleep soundly at night, feel fulfilled and happy and grateful every morning. My thanks to all of you!