There are two things that we don't want to happen but have to accept,
things we don't want to know but have to learn,
and people we can't live without but have to let go.
~ Author Unknown
In two days, I board a plane heading for Chicago - my home town. The trip is an anticipated one for several reasons:
- Comfort and healing time together with family and friends I haven't seen in two years since Boomer and I moved to Florida or his subsequent passing (read Oh My Man and Reality).
- Have a memorial honoring Boomer, and to spread his ashes on Lake Michigan - - the bridge between Illinois, where he called home for 30+ years, and Michigan, where he grew up.
- Private time to grieve and mourn that I am without Boomer on this visit; and do this necessary phase of grief work over our lives together here - which is where 90% of our relationship was based - build the foundation of peaceful, loving memories of him and of us from this twisted, sorrowful space of completion.
- I need a break.
- Have some fun.
- Boomer use to like to watch me mow. He'd stand in the doorway of the front door and watch, and later kid with me of the "Zen-like trance" he said I seemed to be in with my precise, meditative-focus on the grass.
- And the times I use to mow the lawn of his old house before he moved to Evanston, (read Three), and his enjoyment of having the free and willing labor, watching me from doorway even then too.
- With my birthday being next week, I remember my birthday gift from Boomer last year - - the new sod for our front yard. I loved it.
- Boomer taught me how to edge. We got the electric edger; he set it up while I mowed, gave me a brief tutorial and then let me loose. Later he remarked I was a natural (read Juicing) and probably better at it than he ever was.
- The last time I mowed I had to replace the spline to the edger, something Boomer didn't get to show me how to do. It was emotional in that I experienced 4 powerful stages of grief within a 15-minute window: despair, anger, acceptance, moving on. Then knocked I it out of the park by successfully doing it on my own and thinking, "hmm, don't mess with a woman who can operate a power tool."
Today brought a second milestone of forward motion in life for SMO without Boomer that had me stop in my tracks - - it was the first time, since Boomer's death, that there was not a piece of mail delivered with his name on it. It was alarming at first, a jarring of reality once again of just how much I love Boomer, miss Boomer, and the somewhat harsh reminder of the permanence of death; how our lives are forever changed, yet do carry on, while presenting another possible tipping point of acceptance - - nearly 7 months have passed and finally mail has arrived without Boomer's name it (read Sutures and Oy!) - - choice as to whether I feel relieved and glad or cling to the heartache of my loss.
The winds of change are clear and present today. That's what I see. That's what I am experiencing. The timing is serendipitous and perfect sense as I get ready to head north. Boomer use to sail, before he had babies, he had sail boats. It was something he was passionate for, and missed having in his life. He liked to exercise his nautical skills by always acknowledging when the winds changed and how it forces you to change course when you're on the boat so the wind shift works in your favor.
|Boomer - 2011|
There he is again...Boomer sharing his loving, nurturing knowledge with me, all in his new way, continuing to help me be the extraordinary, capable person he always believed me to be - - no matter the conditions, leveraging these winds of change to work in my favor toward healing, wholeness and new happiness. Thank you, Honey, yet again. I hear you. I'm grateful for you and you're right - - I've got this. "Yes, SMO you do. So I'll meet you in Chicago."
She was no longer wrestling with the grief,
but could sit down with it as a lasting companion
and make it a sharer in her thoughts.
~ George Eliot