VST and I loved our morning routine. If we were ballroom dancers, the trophy would have been ours. Onetwothree, onetwothree, coffee in cups, pellet stove lighted, onetwothree, onetwothree, two in their chairs, Oliver delighted, onetwothree onetwothree, news a-blaring, nobody glaring, onetwothree onetwothree, day in the planning, eternity spanning. Take a bow.
Every morning, we created a plan as we sipped our coffee and took a little time to play video games, while simultaneously cursing the latest news, whatever it might be. Those precious minutes together were among the times I miss the most. Although one can certainly dance alone, it isn’t the same as dancing with someone you have loved for decades.
With just a glance, so many things were gauged at the moment we woke up. Mood, physical well-being, and quality of sleep. As farmers, we both embraced the crazy internal time clocks we needed for so many years. Morning people are wired a little differently. My creative time is dark:30 every day. Can’t be changed. My eyes fly open, and although I am crabby until I get my coffee, I am ready to tell the story of the day. The words can’t fly out of my fingers fast enough. With VST, it was beautiful projects stored in that big old head of his. Together, we were the embodied version of the Merengue, a Puerto Rican and Dominican dance. A lot of turning, hammering, hands on hips with one leg extended, and clapping. Our days always included both of us dancing our hearts out.
My first days of dancing solo were a hot mess. There was no more routine. I had lost it. When VST got sick, there were 90 deaths from something called Coronavirus. Just 90 had occurred in Washington State. At that point, our world fell into the nightmare of Cancer, which engulfed us, consuming every moment of our lives, be it awake or asleep. The cable stayed on soft music meant to soothe Oliver when we would leave him. The kids referred to it as Funeral Parlor music. The truth is, it soothed VST and me, too.
The first morning after VST’s abrupt exit, I tried our dance alone. Onetwothree……..Coffee is hot, brain is not, Onetwo…….heart is broken, not one word spoken…….one……….Television on, 20,000 gone. Shocked. “20,000 and ONE”, I sent my lonely scream towards the TV. My VST. Although not a Covid Statistic, it mattered not to me. He was gone.
Through the days, I found that I needed to create a new dance step for myself. I kept my planner up to date, writing down the daily steps and checking them off as I completed them. I taught myself to dance alone. It was messy and wrong at first. Anyone who knows me knows I can, and do, trip myself, having the largest feet ever. They must have been hard for VST to avoid all those years, as he skillfully led our dance routines. He stepped on my toes, but only when they needed it. In the dance of life, we twirled and tilted, dipped, and looked soulfully into each other’s eyes. Necks snapped, and heads turned away as eyes flared when appropriately angry. We were flamboyant and on time with the rhythm. Dancing alone was different.
Looking at Month 7, there are now days I forget to write down accomplished activities in my planner. I try not to, as I know in Month 14, I will still be amazed at all the things I am accomplishing. Each day, Oliver gets his breakfast while I pour my coffee. I blog. Morning news has been replaced with 70s music. My days now include a brisk walk outside, but not always at the same time. It’s interesting how the neighborhood dances differently at different points of the day. My routine includes time on the internet, but not video games for now. Interpersonal games are far more frustrating and intriguing. I try not to spend too much time fretting about the latest hit on my internet dating site. Cyber dating is still a new and unfamiliar dance.
I am finding the things I really enjoyed before and adding a few of those things in every week. I have GIRLFRIENDS that might talk for an hour on the phone with me, laughing and gasping at the outrageous nature of life. I take unplanned breaks to soak in the awe-inspiring beauty of my surroundings, so grateful that VST and I chose the right time to buy this little piece of paradise. I am dancing a dance of happiness now, with fewer bouts of dramatic loneliness and grief. I am dancing an original piece, and it’s up to me to find the tune and move with it.
New activities are unfolding. I have joined a group of women who meet often, supporting our community with activities that are new and fun to me. Yesterday, I decided to join a group that provides wreaths for the graves of fallen heroes at our National Cemetery here in town. This holiday activity will help me get through my first Christmas waltz without VST.
I am planning ahead in three-month blocks, knowing that our 33rd wedding anniversary looms out there in the wilderness of emotional landmines. I have a choice. I can dread it every day until it comes, or dance in the moment and know that when that day arrives, I will save a very sweet and special dance for VST, my Dr. H, because he will forever be my special dance partner.
Thank you for your support. Your continued interest is helping me grow as a writer. I squeal with delight when I see readership steadily climbing!!! Please share my link with your friends and family and keep reading. I would love to hear from you. Good thoughts go out to you as we travel along in this wilderness called Grief.