As a child, one of the best times of year was Spring. Baby lambs were everywhere. Kittens magically appeared out of darkness of the decrepit old shed next to the animal pens. Birds fed their tiny little hatch-lings. The vines sprouted and bloomed, and life, in general, was fine. Spring fever hit with a vengeance, leaving us ready to park our school books and go climb some trees.
Television was in its infancy during my childhood. The first television we owned was revered by all. I remember the first time we turned it on and watched the Test Pattern. All huddled around the little screen, a black and white pattern magically appeared. Turn off the TV and it would disappear. Turn it on, it was back. Magical. Enough in its simplicity, because there was nothing else like it.
In those days, there were hours in which there was nothing to watch BUT the test pattern. People actually slept during those hours. When there was nothing to watch, children really did go play outside. ALONE and FERAL. News was in the evening, between 6 and 6:30. Finished. People actually ate dinner together at one table. Those magical days were something we would all do well to remember.
One of the best parts of spring had to do with The Wizard of Oz. With no VHS Cassettes, DVD’s, or Digital rental sites, movies were seen in the theater. Once a year, and once only, The Wizard of Oz was shown on a random Sunday night. We were allowed to stay up for the entire movie, if we could stay awake. The first years, movie was watched in black and white, as there were only black and white television sets. The first time I realized Oz was in technicolor when Dorothy arrived there was a magical moment.
Each year, that night was filled with the scent of freshly popped popcorn topped with real butter. Dad would stand in front of the stove with his pan and lid, working magic. Always adding too many kernels to the pan, two little girls would squeal with delight as the lid would raise and fresh popcorn spill out. Wide eyed, we’d watch every single scene of the movie, learning every line as the years went by.
Thinking about the similarities between the yellow brick road and the widow-y journey I’ve been on for the last few years, I smile. In the first month, I remember feeling as if I was spinning round and round, while getting no where. But, as the spiraled trail spread out, I started to see new territory and while traveling somewhere new. My yellow brick road traveled through lands and scenery foreign to me. On certain days, I found the ability and desire to skip a little, being forever mindful winged monkeys could jump out and snatch me at any moment.
My journey has been lined with yellow bricks of sunshine. Bordered by poppy fields that lured me to sleep once in awhile. Funny new friends along the way, all utilizing special powers, while searching for things lost or lacking in our lives. The thing that kept us going was, well, GOING. We didn’t stop or travel backwards. We just kept going, no matter the forests of wicked trees, or unknown terrain. We sang a little, too.
Two weeks are left on this journey of the FIRST year. Last year, VST and I crammed a lot into the last two weeks of his life. We accepted that he was so very, very ill. He slept more than he was awake. When he was awake, he wasn’t really himself, or at least, not the VST I’d loved for so long. His brick road spiraled backwards, while his child-like side returned. His legs didn’t work as an athlete’s anymore. Wobbly, he would carefully gauge each step and smile broadly when he made it across the room without falling. Through his journey away from me, he held onto his strength, dignity, perseverance, and faith in God. He moved in tighter and tighter circles back from where he came, while I moved on, further and further away towards my rainbow’s end.
Rainbows and endings. What a sight it must be at the end of the rainbow. Brilliant colors all blending and planted into the ground like tree trunks, sprouting eye popping jewel-tones while reaching for the heavens. Searching for the rainbow’s end, I haven’t looked for gold or physical riches. I’ve found peace, contentment, rich memories, acceptance, and happiness. Just like any rainbow, the location changes as you get closer, but these things I’ve found along the journey. We’re here but for a short time. A shroud has no pockets. But, a soul is pure light and energy made up of what we’ve experienced here on earth. Those things are the treasures found through my time with VST.
April 8th will complete my first year of widowhood. Looking back, the woman that struggled through cancer and death has turned into ME. Although I’ll be a WIDOW forever, that title doesn’t quite fit anymore. Maybe it never did. I’m a WOMAN, plain and simple. Complicated. Difficult. Loving. Simple. A Gardener who Grieves, but a gardener, first. I hope that your journey through widowhood brings clarity and peace along the way for time takes us all on memorable journeys.