Writing is life. Period. A student of mine, only 10 years old, wrote that on an assignment. It was her opening paragraph. She got an “A”. Without kind words, life would be in chaos and ruin. Hearts would never find each other. Miscommunications would flare, and healing would never occur. How many new love stories are never written because one or the other involved couldn’t find the words to express their feelings? I am, of course, focusing on the positive aspects of words and writing, but anyone who has known me for more than five minutes knows optimism is a core character trait of mine.
When I found myself at the onset of my widowhood, there was nothing to hold onto anymore. Certainly not VST. COVID had robbed me of the chance to be with other newly widowed. All Grief support groups were canceled. Friends were sheltered in place, holding onto each other for dear life. I was on A Street, left to fend for myself, and so, I came up with a way words could help me heal. They became counselor, best friend, confidant, and voice, having been my life since I first learned to talk.
As a child, I raised myself. I have my own feelings about these things and how they happen. In some way, I chose that childhood because I was independent. Having farm freedoms let my brain develop in a little richer way as I spent long hours learning how to entertain myself. Learning how to soak into nature and communicate with the animals I loved so much. I learned what it is like to mud bathe in the middle of a 40-acre vineyard, the long tendrils surrounding me in the most heavenly way. When I was hungry, I could go out into the depths of the farm and find whatever snack I wanted. Nectarines, apples, grapes, bell peppers, cherry tomatoes, and plums were all ready for one “funny looking blondie”, as Dad called me, to pick. Dad was famous for his Elbow Peaches, so named because the juice would always run down our elbows as we slurped up every bite, fuzz and all, straight from the tree.
During those years of freedom, I found that no matter what happened around me, in words I found the ultimate comfort, and in that, my voice. When loneliness spiked, I could write about it and suddenly gain a better understand myself. That has never changed for me.
In this new phase of my life, it came to me that I needed a focal point, just as I had in my Lamaze birthing classes. When the pain became too intense, I needed a life raft to get me through, and so, The Word Method became mine. Not tested in any scientific lab, this one. I can only say, it helped me heal quicker than I might have. Without words, I surely would have faded away to nothing.
In this method, I decided that during each month, one word would be selected to represent our marriage. During that month, when Grief gripped my very core, I focused on that one word with a vengeance. Exactly as in the childbirth of my children, the waves of grief came in sets. Unexpected and intense. Treacherous seas. I could be packing, organizing, arranging, and BAM, there it was. Grief with a vengeance. As I willfully focused on the word, I’d start thinking of every way it represented us. Through tears, I found some smiles or sometimes even a little laughter. Comforted by the multitude of ways it represented us, I’d feel better. I never ran out of examples as there were thousands for each.
There was a second component. VST and I shared few traditions. As Christians, we considered Christmas a special time of year, but as a couple, we never exchanged gifts. We found that even as well as we knew each other, we’d choose the wrong things, and end up standing in frustrating return lines. On Christmas Eve, we would go together to select our presents. Secretly, I longed for VST to have a hidden present somewhere, wrapped the way a husband would, maybe in purple birthday wrap with a wonky bow. But that was never to be.
So, every month since his death, another Christmas present appears to me, wrapped with messages on the paper and, more importantly, representing the word of the month. Okay, for some of you, I need to spell this out. I haven’t lost my mind. Oc course, I purchased the presents for myself after VST’s death. Some are personalized, and I have yet to see them. They sit in my office, reminding me that I love myself. A notice that there will be a first Widow-ed Christmas that I’m dreading. I have now created the beginnings of a new tradition to honor our marriage.
Each month, along with the word and present, I’m creating an ornament for my tree representing the special word for that month. It doesn’t have to be museum quality. Just something that would be a message that 32 years of life with VST did happen. It was rich and wonderful, reflected by the relationship we created. Perfect???? No such thing. A perfect example of an honest union of the two of us? You betcha.
The ornaments have been a snag, because to me, they will be the tangible proof that I am ready to memorialize that month and put a period on those memories. Those days will always be cherished, but not dwelt upon. I have given myself until December 16, my birthday, to finish them. I will be creating a keepsake box for them, and plan to continue this personal tradition until I die, with notes to the kids of why each design was chosen. Because there are thousands of words and memories, I will never be at a loss for stories, smiles, and laughs for the most beautiful time in my life. And for that, I cherish VST even more.
Think of the words that hold meaning for you. You already know my first three were Food, Shelter, and Clothing from my first blog. Month 2 was FRIENDSHIP. Month 3 was LOVE-EVERLASTING. Month 4 was ADVENTURE. Month 5 was FAITH. And Month 6 is HAPPINESS. Find words that fit your love story. When Grief is overwhelming, take a break. Use your words. They are powerful and uplifting.
Today, spend time with memories in a different way. Choose happiness, a choice that only you can make. Take just a moment for one smile as you think about special moments that took your breath away. Soak in the loveliness that brought you excitement and tenderness. Be grateful for the love you shared. Use your words to stay afloat. Pretty soon, those same words will help you soar, if only for a moment at a time.