Blogging Again!

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Tonight I ran into a good friend who reminded me I haven’t been blogging lately. No, I haven’t. Instead I’ve foolishly spent my writing time dealing with other issues, and I miss the blog. So I’m making a resolution to come back to this, which I love, and let those following me know how I’m doing.
Being a widow is very hard. I don’t recommend it. Not that anyone would recommend it – but just saying. When Larry died in January, my life was put into a tailspin of sorts – dealing with the aftermath of the funeral, and worrying about our children, and taking care of details I never dreamed I’d be taking care of. Today, for example, I got up early and cleaned out the pump house a bit – Larry had put some potatoes in bins there for the winter, planning to put the resulting seed potatoes into the ground in the Spring. But spring came and went, and the potatoes were still there this morning, and they reeked. So I removed them. Then I worked in the yard, cleaning up the debris from a storm that hit us two weeks ago and tore a tree from its foundation into the yard – 85 feet of 150-year-old oak. I can’t remove the tree – but I did pick up branches and some other debris and did that until the sun got too hot to continue.
My life will never be the same. I realize that. And many things are not up to me. I can’t control other people and get them to do things for me, so I have to do them myself. In late March I broke my foot falling down a set of steps in my sister’s house – clumsy me. Then the next day, using crutches, I fell and broke my left wrist, two bones, the ulna and the radius. As I lay on the floor pondering my fate, I set the bones back into place, as though that would fix it, then hoisted myself up to the bar in her kitchen and began to call, first my daughter, then Martha, to let them know I was injured again. I flew home late that evening, and my daughter drove us from Tulsa to Mom’s house, arriving at 2 a.m. The next day I went to the hospital to find out how badly I had hurt my arm. It was bad – but not as bad as I had feared. Six weeks later, I was out of both the boot and the arm cast, and now I can use both pretty well. But I still have nerve twinges in both places, and that is to be expected. The worst thing is not being able to play guitar. I can type now, but the guitar playing is still quite limited. But today I was able to hoist two 40-pound bags of salt into the cart at Wal-mart, put them into the car trunk, take them out again and get them into the softener. So I’m making progress.
The worst thing about being a widow is being alone. Sometimes the house is so quiet, even with the cats, and this is strange. I’m used to having lots of noise. I came from a large family with six siblings and there was always something going on. When I married Larry, he had three teenage boys who were here much of the time, and we had a baby right away. So being alone in this large house is quite a departure from what I’m used to. My social life has changed, also. I’ve dated several men since becoming a widow. One became a friend – no spark. Another, who I thought might be in my life for a long time, is no longer in my life now. My choice – but it was a hard choice to make. Men are not like light bulbs. You can’t go get another and replace it in the socket. And people are fallible and they will let you down. Larry and I had a good, 35-year marriage, with the usual up and downs. But in the whole, we respected each other’s space and we stuck together throughout all difficulties. We were here for each other. He provided for me, even after death, and today I am surviving. But what I miss the most is having someone there at night to snuggle up to. And I know that I can’t just go get a replacement for that. I may never have that again. It is something I have to accept. I do have friends, and I’m seeing someone at the present time, but only time will tell whether it is something with longevity. In the meantime, I have to learn to do things for myself.
So this is the first installment of my “new” blog. I hope I don’t bore anyone with my rambling. But for me, I think it will be therapeutic and maybe, just maybe, it will help someone else who is dealing with similar issues.

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