Category: 2021

Reflecting on my relationship with VST, I’ve been thinking about what it was that made US work so well. Thirty-three years is a very long time to live with someone, while still wishing it would continue forever. Day after day, that’s how we found our lives, until his forever ended. As normal people do, we had our differences and spats, but the underlying desire to be together couldn’t be denied. While in the same space, carrying out totally different tasks, we were at peace. It wasn’t just by chance. We were a match.

A few days ago, it was suggested that I complete an online quiz to identify my Love Languages. I’d heard of Love Languages before, but didn’t exactly know what they were or why they were important. So, I took the quiz. In which the five Love Languages were listed as follows.

1. Quality Time
2. Physical Touch
3. Acts of Service
4. Words of Affirmation
5. Receiving of Gifts.

Before ever beginning the quiz, I knew where I stood. I could answer for VST, as well. Spending time with those we love was our main love Langauge. Gifts or pretty words didn’t sway us one way or another. Time spent with either of us was a true sign of caring. VST and I spent a lot of time with friends and family. Those hours with loved ones gave us many happy memories that we often shared together.

The least important to us was gift giving, and so, we had few traditions in our married life that included wrapped gifts. Christmas Eve was our special day to shop together. Each of us could pick out whatever we wanted knowing it would be the perfect gift, and not require the frustration of return lines. The stores were always quiet on Christmas Eve morning, making it enjoyable and romantic to select gifts for each other and head home to holiday fun.

Birthdays and Anniversary’s were celebrated with a card and meal. Again, the time we spent together was the most beautiful thing we could share. I would rather have been with VST more than anyone else in the world. Going to the dump? I was the first in the truck. To Lowe’s on a lumber buying expedition? Let me get my shoes. The task at hand didn’t matter because we were a twosome. How many times we were house-flippin-grungy, holding hands, and talking on the way into Lowe’s. People would often smile at us, two cute little old senior citizens that were still sweet on each other. True.

Acts of Service came to mind when I thought about all the things VST did for me, just because. He knew I was 100% capable of dealing with whatever needed to be accomplished in our lives. Yet, he would never send me out to handle tough tasks alone. We’d work together. His acts of love and devotion when caring for his parents made their last years on Earth heavenly, as we shared our time and love with them on a daily basis. This was the man I was lucky enough to love.

I patiently took the quiz, with the results right in line with what I already knew. The correlation between the results and the success of our relationship was clear. We spoke the same language during our marriage. 100%.

1. Quality Time –40%
2. Physical Touch –25%
3. Acts of Service — 25%
4. Words of Affirmation — 7%
5. Receiving Gifts — 3%

I had to laugh, as I thought back to the reunion and our first dance together. It was evident in that first 3 minute interaction that we had two of the Languages covered. His comment about the brilliant blue-ness of my eyes never phased me, as I told him he was full of bovine scat. The real character of this man would be reflected in his actions. It was all right there in that first dance and never changed much throughout the years.

For fun, take the quiz, of which are many to choose from online. See if your Love Languages are what you thought they were. I didn’t need the quiz to know VST and I were speaking the same language. I miss the quality time spent with him more than anything else. Thank goodness we made the most of it, going through life.

Last week, I was really hungry for lasagna. You know the kind. Sauce just the right thickness, flavorful and comforting. Rich and satisfying. The kind my mother would have made if she were Italian. That kind of lasagna. So, while in the frozen food aisle, I picked up a serving for one. The box looked Italian enough. The picture on the front was alluring with the look of deliciousness. I eagerly raced home and popped it in the oven. I wanted the lusciously thick layer of four cheeses to crust a little on the top, while being bubbly and satifying throughout.

Thirty long and torturous minutes passed, as the little plastic tray sat in the oven. A few pieces of cheese covered the top of the noodles. No lovely smells came from the oven. No browning occurred. A very sad example of lasagna emerged at the ding of the timer. No magical transformation happened. There it was. Plastic lasagna in a 2” x 3” plastic tray. One bubble burped, and then, it was dead.

Needless to say, the box lied. It was the most horrible lasagna I’ve ever tried. Rather like cardboard coated with tomato sauce, it was void of a few special ingredients. Patience and care. I’d forgotten to add those when I took it out of the box and shoved it in the oven. It was heated just right, but, that was all I could say. After a few bites, I lost my appetite.

Today, I’m making lasagna from scratch. Or at least from the scratch I can make it from at this time of year. In the past, I’ve made Bolognese sauce with real tomatoes picked only minutes before they started cooking. Heavenly. For this recipe, I’ll use canned tomatoes, but FRESH basil. With my favorite gangster movie playing, I’ll enjoy a morning of nursing the sauce to rich perfection. The recipe suggests mixing sour cream with the ricotta cheese for a creamier blend. I’ve purchased fresh Parmesan cheese, and will grate the mozzarella myself.

Served with this yumminess, Parmesan Garlic Twisted rolls from the shelves of WalMart will be served as the side. It should satisfy my longing for a home-cooked meal. According to the amounts of each ingredient, it should make enough for the entire Corleone gang, so I’ll plan to freeze it in individual servings. The next time I want real lasagna, I can walk to my freezer and take some out. If a gang comes to hit the mattresses, I’ll be ready.

Being single, I often forget to put care and patience into my meals. Usually, I’ve waited too long, and need something quick. By then, it comes down to whatever I can grab. I deserve better than that. This is definitely not the Keto recipe that VST and I enjoyed and lost so much weight eating. That recipe is still in my brain. I can whip it up when dieting is my focus. Right now, I am going to focus on amazing, ooey-gooey, mouth watering, rich and satisfying homemade lasagna, made with semi-fresh ingredients in the middle of a snowy winter’s day in the high desert.

Now, where is my copy of O sole mio??? Looking up the English translation, it speaks to my hope for today. Please enjoy the translation and have a sunny day yourself!!!!

English translation of O Sole Mio.

What a wonderful thing, a sunny day

The serene air, after a thunderstorm

The fresh air, and a party is already going on….

What a wonderful thing, a sunny day..

*** For those of you that love to cook, I‘m using an online recipe.

The Stay at Home Chef — The Most Amazing Lasagna Recipe.

For my Keto friends —

You won’t be disappointed —

“Just Like the Real Thing” Keto Lasagna — peaceloveandlowcarb.com

Enjoy!

I sleep well. Every night. No matter what. Another wonderful gift God has given me, sleep patterns haven’t been destroyed by widowhood. It’s a fortunate thing, because most mornings, I awake rested and refreshed. In the midst of widowhood, or any personal crisis, I can think of nothing more restorative and necessary than sleep. It makes an optimistic and happy outlook on life more possible.

Oliver and I have our morning routine down. He wakes me with adorable little puppy requests. Not a bark, nor a whine. Something in between. He talks and what he says sounds something similar to, “Please, Mom-Oh, wake up”. Waiting patiently, while I use the restroom first, it’s quickly his turn. Yes. Oliver uses my bathroom, too. He learned to use pee pads as a puppy when we RV’d. Truly, he’s the only dog I’ve ever known to have mastered this. Pee Pads and a bathroom? We can travel anywhere without the need for grass or snowy, early morning walks.

Coffee still brewing in the pot and sleepy cobwebs clouding my brain, the first flush of the day was followed by a low growl. Sounding like a dying animal, it came from the front yard. Hmmmm. I could’ve be hearing things. Houses creak and groan. It was Oliver’s turn, the noise had stopped, and it was time for his disposal flush. (No. He doesn’t crawl up on the seat, but his deposits ARE flushed away. No Muss, No Fuss.)

This time, another distinctive groan-ny growl complained loudly from the front yard. OH NOOOOO! My sewage ejection pump wasn’t well. Now. I’m no expert on these things. I wish I didn’t own a sewage ejection pump. It might be a macerator. Really wish I didn’t own any noisy, front yard, sewage related pump-thingy. Whatever the correct name for the little machine, it was out there announcing flushes to the neighborhood at 5 am. Loudly. Crap. Crap. Crap.

Hawaiian cruise sailing away, the price of the repairs would come first. VST would have known. Just known. He’d have been on the problem, and by noon, it would have been fixed. There was no mechanical item he hadn’t fixed, and this would be no different. Small problem. Sadly, there are no service calls from heaven.

Just then, the clouds in my brain parting, I remembered something all important. My Home Warranty!!!!! I’m sure I heard my mechanically minded angel singing as this thought came to me! With the stroke of a few keys, I’m scheduled with a plumber today. Well, my name has been sent to a plumber. We’ll see if I actually get a visit.

As a widow, put aside a few dollars each month for the less pleasant surprises in life. You never know when a groan in the dark is going to have a price-tag of thousands. In the case of a sewage ejection pump, there’s no choice about the timing of repairs. Sewage needs ejecting above anything else I could think of at the moment.

Home warranty policies are a great thing as well. After purchasing the policy, for a small service fee, anything covered in your policy will be up and running soon. It’s one more thing to help you dream your best dreams, as you sleep the night away. Beware of front yard growls. Could be a wild animal. More likely a faulty pump.

Just a year ago, VST and I were trying to find comfort for his unusually swollen ankles and feet. In the blink of an eye, it seemed my normally healthy, although disabled, husband had become ill. On our first doctor’s visit, the focus was on possible heart issues that could cause swelling. The first line of defense was a heavy dose of diuretics, which did nothing to correct the issue. Many tests later, the doc found VST’s heart to be in perfect health. From there, we started our downward spiral into the world of Cancer.

VST found strength through spiritual comfort. Covid hadn’t become center stage yet. Congregations still met, but because of our remote location and his illness, VST chose to watch a tele-preacher that aired daily. I would find him deep in prayer one minute, and sleeping quietly the next. His naps were a daily ritual, but then, it was winter, with not much else to do. Napping was the one activity in which his ankles and feet would be elevated. This minor set back allowed VST to enjoy the rest and relaxation that retirement brought. Each morning, he would present his ankles and feet to show me they were less swollen. And in the mornings, they were.

We’d both put on weight during the Christmas season, and made a pact to return to healthy eating. We’d resume our low carb diet, knowing it worked wonderfully for us. I lost weight, but, being competitive, VST lost more. VST lost seven pounds in less than a week. Then, he started to worry. Unknown to us, VST was losing muscle tissue with the fat, while retaining fluid. For a time, outward appearances hid the truth that VST was wasting away.

Comfort from fear about the weight loss was found in foods with the highest amount of calories possible. Double Western Bacon Cheese Burgers with an extra side of fries. Kentucky Fried Chicken with all the sides. Three meals a day, with snacks in between. Slowly, he started to gain a little weight back. Little did we know it was the weight of fluids he now carried.

Confusion bothered him as he became a little quieter and his naps a little more frequent. VST wasn’t as sharp as usual. He measured wood for his projects two or three times, and still made errors. Frustrations growing, VST repeatedly searched for spiritual comfort. Haunting signs, all, that we ignored then, and I remember now. We were entering a very dark and scary tunnel, not noticing the light growing more dim as we inched our way further and further along.

One day, I startled VST in his office as he labored over a quiet project. When asked what he was doing, he told me he was writing down a prayer. Correcting his work, he became more frustrated by the moment. Heartbreaking to watch, VST struggled with the transcription from computer screen to hand writing on paper. His doctoral dissertation had not given him this much grief. He asked me to leave, saying I was a distraction to his work. In reality, he wanted no witness to his grief and despair. Respecting his request for privacy, I left him alone to work with God.

It was a few days after his passing that I found the paper he’d been transcribing. It was a prayer that the tele-preacher repeated often on his daily program. VST had labored to write it down as best he could, and the effort it took to do that was obvious on the page. Clutching it to my chest, I wept, while reciting the prayer myself.

During my move, I showed the paper to K, telling her the story and how much comfort it brought me. A reflection of his ultimate struggle with cancer, it showed me things VST couldn’t say. It gave me comfort to know these words were in his heart when he left.

Unbeknownst to me, sweet K had a mission in mind. On simple white cloth, similar to a man’s handkerchief, she had embroidered the prayer, taken from a photocopy of VST’s precious prayer. A most beautiful thread color was chosen, a grey that matched the skies on the morning he went away. She framed this piece in a rustic gray frame, which looked like it came off a wall from a shop in VC. She purposefully left the glass off, so I could stroke the stitches and the words. Only an extraordinary teacher would know the importance of tactile reading. K is that excellent teacher. I stroke the picture often, feeling the strength and comfort from the prayer.

Comfort. We all need it. Some days, it is a plate of lasagna that took hours to prepare. Some days, it is just the right music played during sunrise. And sometimes, it’s holding a moment in your hands, and stroking the words as you read them. Today, find comfort and peace all your own.

The Whole is Greater than the Sum of its Parts. Aristotle.

Ari was definitely referring to widowhood when he made that statement. I’m sure about that. Without everyone’s support, there would be a lot of widows laying in puddles of our tears, surrounded by spent Kleenexes. At Christmas, I had a list of every single person or agency that had helped me through, and they all received a card and hand written Thank You. This year, I’m keeping an active list of people that continue to come to my rescue and make up T.E.A.M. Hurt.

As I was reading a bit about the “Whole being greater than the Sum of its Parts” this morning, I ran across the acronym T.E.A.M. In light of preparations for an exciting weekend, I thought it an appropriate topic. Together, Everyone Achieves More = T.E.A.M.

On my TEAM, I am blessed to have the most wonderful group of family and friends. Through the months, I’ve written about most of the key players. Some prefer to stay in the shadows, and I definitely want to respect that. Helping me form plans in my new life, they cheer me on when things go well while comforting me when they don’t.

Two of my supporting pillars are K and T, the kids (that are not kids, but adults). Capable, brilliant adults, I’m blessed to get visited by a twin-fueled jet pack of activity when they roll into town. They come with pre-set ideas of projects they can accomplish. The biggest thing they bring can’t be planned. When here, a connection of energy completes a circuit. It was the three of us that were VST’s caregivers during his fight with cancer. The three of us were part of his last earthly goodbye. When we’re together, through the electricity of love, we connect in a different way. The three of us almost make up one VST.

K reflects the soft, intellectual side of VST. Her daughter’s heart and spirit were born from his heart and spirit. She is analytical and optimistic. There isn’t any task that she can’t conquer, even the hardest of things, like becoming father-less. Her grace and kindness rest inside a fierce woman that is one to be reckoned with. So, when she is here, I get a bit of VST and his creativity, all wrapped up in the best hugger ever. A daughter is a beautiful part of life.

T. Well. He IS his dad’s son. Handsome, funny, quick witted, and beyond gifted in knowing about every system in a house, car, or anything that needs fixing. This was beamed into his brain from his dad. T is masterful at making his dad famous eyebrow looks. T reflects the manly, analytical side of VST. He has a man’s outlook on life, which is so refreshing. VST was a manly-man and T followed in his footsteps. T also has VST’s quiet wisdom and inner sensitivity which he guards. He is a tender-heart just like his dad was. A big old soft-ie. But, he will never admit that to anyone, although it’s obvious to those of us that love him best. VST, all over again.

These two kiddos, (who are not kids, but adults) being twins, have their own communication shorthand. I never know what they are up to, but, I know they have things cooking between them at all times. The last time they visited, they were going to sneak out of the house at 9 PM to go get homemade ice cream at our little shop. This time, I am sleeping with my door cracked. Don’t want to get left behind on their brilliant escapades.

T and K know their dad in a way that I didn’t. He was their father. I knew VST in a way that they didn’t. He was my husband. Together, we complete the circuit with amazing memories and stories. We loved VST best, although they had an 11 year advantage over me.

Together, Everyone Achieves More. I have a list for the two of them. This weekend, in their visit, I’m getting visited by an electrician, spa professionals, a computer programmer, a tax prepare-er, a handyman, a home decorator and design consultant, two therapists, comedians, and dog whisperers. Add in, two of the best people to spend time with, and the weekend will be amazing. Through laughter and tears, we’ll be honoring the tenth month that we’ve been without Dad and VST. Respect will be shown on Monday, February 8th, as we release 10 bright balloons to the desert sky. My eleventh word will be revealed and another month without VST will begin.

Stay tuned for the activities that are about to unfold. This weekend, I’m receiving a delivery for which I have been anxiously waiting. Splish splash, I was taking a soak………

A most unusual event I need to share. Yesterday, in the quiet of the morning, at the time just between dark and light, an radiant event transpired in my back yard. I’ll tell you about it now.

For the last few days, I’ve been a little under the weather wishing things could’ve turned out differently. As a widow, we all have those days in which we aren’t 100%. I’m no different. I’d watched a Netflix Show called Surviving Death, about signs that our loved-ones are near. I didn’t start with Episode 1, as I normally would’ve, but decided Episode 4 might be interesting. With no for reason for choosing that episode, I started watching.

My attention was immediately captured as the first story shared was about butterflies and the importance they had in one person’s grieving experience. I had a very similar experience with butterflies when VST’s mom passed away. While caring for her in her final days, I’d asked her how I’d know if she was near. Responding immediately, she whispered, “Butterflies”. That was her answer. Just “Butterflies”. After she died, every day, for almost two years, butterflies flew in and out of my life. In many forms. In many ways. From Monarch butterflies flying mid day at a busy intersection in the 113 degree heat of the Central Valley, to a story on the radio about a butterfly smuggling ring in Russia. Every day, there was a unique way in which butterflies were interjected into my life. I came to accept and love the signs that she was watching over me as I healed through my grief.

With VST, there’ve been no butterflies fluttering by. No strange cloud formations. No dreams or messages. Nothing. Just nothing. While watching the show I wished that, just once, I’d experience a sign that he was happy and at peace. But nothing came.

Blogging, I prefer to sit in my studio at my desktop computer. I have a nice office chair that supports my back. Oliver has his bed right near my feet. Comfy and cozy, I’m surrounded by things reflecting my life. It is unusual for me to blog in the living room, as I find too many distractions.

But on this day, I sat quietly on the couch blogging on my iPad. Usually the curtains would be closed because it’s dark when I blog. On this day, I’d opened them when I got up. Through the sliding glass door, I view the back yard. As I was blogging, something outside caught my attention, and looking up, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

In the back yard of Winterpast (the name for my home), there stands a Russian Olive Tree. In the high desert where I live, this is considered by some to be a junk tree. My magnificent tree grew up from a volunteer, majestic and beautiful. The back fence neighbor hates the tree and wants me to cut it down. Not going to happen. I love my junk tree and have since the day I met her. She’s a windblown transplant like me, thriving in the desert.

Yesterday, in that time of morning between dark and light, this dormant, leaf-less tree glowed. The darkened winter sky set a beautiful backdrop for the tree, which gleamed in splendor for a good ten minutes. I quickly got my phone and took pictures. It was a burning bush moment that I was lucky enough to witness and photograph.

In that moment in time, with Winterpast’s tree ablaze in light, I knew in my heart, VST was speaking to me, loud and clear. Heaven is a beautiful place. He is surrounded by all our loved ones while waiting for me. The peace and beauty surrounding the moment of splendor filled my heart with so many emotions. It was an awe-inspiring message that some would explain away by the angle of the winter sun. That’s a fine explanation, unless you feel differently, as I do from this experience.

Something made me change my blogging location, while typing on my ipad instead of my desktop. Something changed my routine to open the curtain while darkness eliminated any view. Something got my attention while I was intently focused on my writing. Something made my heart skip a beat and insist on pictures. Something different and wonderful.

As the tree glowed, the air around it seemed to glow as well. Golden-yellow-shimmery-iridescent magnificence right out my back window. The other trees were not glowing. Just my beautiful Russian Olive. I smiled. VST picked the right way to let me know things are brilliant in his world. My heart felt his happiness for my happiness. A sign I won’t soon forget, that came on a average morning, on an average day, while I sat blogging in that time of day between dark and light in the high desert.

Movies in the evening help me to wind down and fall to sleep. DVD’s do come loaded with insufferable previews, one after the other. A few weeks ago, one such preview caught my attention, and I decided order the DVD. The name of the movie is Collateral Beauty staring Will Smith, Kate Winslet, and Helen Mirren, just to name a few of the stars.

Expanding my DVD collection, I now have quite a few classics. With things changing so quickly in our society, you never know when old movies will be permanently canceled. In that frame of mind, I order 3-4 movies a week, and this week, COLLATERAL BEAUTY arrived.

I wasn’t sure if it would hold my attention or even be worth my time. After watching it, there was so much to think about, those thoughts spilled over into my dreams. Without giving away the plot, professional executive Will Smith suffers a loss he can’t deal with. His friends, being worried, devise a plan to help him. The movie’s message is that beauty surrounds even the most profound losses. In life, Love, Time, and Death are interdependent.

I forgot how much I’ve always liked the three main actors and their work. In no time at all, I was engrossed by the storyline , and watched until the last credit stopped rolling. The ending was a total surprise to me.

Time, Love, and Death were humanized, each one controlling different parts of our lives. Death gives Time and Love importance. “Love is the ONLY why,” was a special line from the movie. Time needs to be recognized and respected while being mindful of Love and Death. All three are deeply intertwined and woven through the movie in which the story was beautifully told.

When I think back to the three words as they relate to VST’s battle with cancer, we weren’t given much time to grasp what was happening to us. Nine weeks not much longer than a sudden death from a car crash, taking VST away before any of us could realize he was dying. Time was marked in days. 63 days of illness. 7 days of hospice care. 2 days of a coma. Eternity without VST every again. It seemed after he was gone, there were days that would crawl like the coldest molasses, and other days that were gone in the blink of an eye. The past ten months seem like it has taken years to complete. In other ways, I can close my eyes and be back in VC, watching the sunrise with my healthy husband.

There wasn’t enough time to finish our love story properly. We had to end it where we did. Love was never lacking between the two of us, but it was defined by time and death. Before-death and after-death love affairs are different. Our “Before”was what everyone longs for. Our “After” looks a lot like my grief. Without time, love could have never grown and bloomed. Without death, the scope of the beauty of our love wouldn’t have created my exquisite memorial mental tapestry.

Although Time, Love, and Death all deserve proper respect and attention, Collateral Beauty appears when you lose someone in your life. Collateral Beauty found in the love every hospice professional showed me as they gently cared for VST. In every sympathy card from friends and family. In the voices of strangers I needed to talk to when changing our financials. In the faces of our friends and family at his memorial. In total strangers that learn about his passing. In the past ten months, the Collateral Beauty in my life has exploded, leaving me in awe of it’s brilliance.

Take time to look for the Collateral Beauty in your life. The more you look, the more you see. The more you see, the more gratefulness will spill out of your heart. I hope you see the movie sometime. Just beware. The ending may touch you in a very special way.

There is life after dark! I don’t often see it, as I seldom go out at night. This started years ago for VST and me. Dark brings out all kinds of things in the high desert. Wild mustangs standing in the road, licking the salt like statues. Deadly ice waiting to spin a speeding car right out of control. Drunken revelers celebrating life’s milestones or nothing at all. The blackest of black covering everything, and making it difficult for those with poor night vision. VST and I liked to tuck in with our nightly routines as the sun slipped behind Mount Davidson, putting a bow on one nice day after another.

Now, night surrounds me with all the same things in my new town. A far off pack of coyotes sing their love songs to each other across the canyon. Wild mustangs visit our neighborhood like shadowy ghosts in search of food. The silence of the desert is so intense, the wind’s approach can be heard like a farway train, coming closer and closer, until it attempts to enter the house through my chimney, rattling my Russian Olive tree, as she sleeps in her dormancy. The train runs through town on schedule, roaring down the tracks running easttowesttoeasttowest.

Last night was different. With T and K here to liven things up, we ventured into the nightlife of my little town at 6:15 PM. Main street was bustling with commuters racing in both directions. The Won Ton had patrons waiting outside, offering the best Chinese fare in the area. We drove by while on our mission, headed for our hardware store.

Not having been there for months, my senses were assaulted from every direction. Paint, lubricants, pipes, fittings, tools, gadgets, the classic blue and white colors of the store. Faintly, the smells of fresh cut lumber, the favorite scent that bathed VST as he created beauty with a hammer and nails. I can’t walk to that end of the store just yet. For every project, VST and I would choose the lumber together. Every board. Those days included early mornings, Donuts-To-Go, orange tie downs, and red warning flags on the ends of the longest boards. Always, the unwanted patches of pitch on our jeans. They included VST refusing to ask for help to load lumber, because, he could do it just fine. Even when his body reminded him it wasn’t just fine.

Last night, our focus was on wiring for the new spa, which will be delivered today between 2PM and 4PM. As VST’s son, T knew exactly the configuration needed to bring bubbling jets to life. 40 feet of this, 10 feet of that, a box, some fittings, and we were good to go.

While dining at The Red Barn, we ran into Ninja Neighbor. Banter with a feisty waitress made dinner more fun with attitude and sass. At a time when I would normally be deep into my nightly movie, we shared laughter and good conversation. Being out in life was much more fun.

As I write, T and K are up and ready for the morning. Oliver hears them and is pleading to go see his favorite people. They are off to McDonald’s for early morning breakfast, as another day begins. I better be ready. Stay tuned.

Just looking at the number is chilling. In two months, I will be at our little RV park in Cayucos, California to celebrate his First Heavenersary. Our favorite place to visit, VST called it our Hawaii. We’d laugh at all the flight hours we were saving by staying on the mainland. Cayucos was indeed our Hawaii in the twilight of VST’s forever. On one of the last days that he shared his thoughts with me, he told me he wanted to go to the coast again. I know, VST. Me, too.

Ten months is almost one year of seasons. In the midst of winter, I realize I have been through the end of spring, a summer, and autumn without my best friend. VST made everything an adventure or building project. Either way, we enjoyed each other so much.

In 2007, both our jobs were taking a toll on us. I was a teacher for severely ill kids in the Children’s Hospital in our area. He was in charge of Child Protective Services for our county. He also helped abused elders and women. VST was one of the most popular managers in the place. If his employees needed help, he was at the ready. During fires, he was the first to call in and find out what he could do to help. Part of his duties involved making sure Foster kids were safely out of harms way during disasters. We were both stressed to the max, to put it mildly.

For a long time, in my dreams, I envisioned our cabin. I couldn’t tell where it would be, or how big, but, I knew we’d own one during our marriage. In the winter of 2013, I finally mentioned this and the hunt was on. Almost without looking, we found the most adorable little cabin, less than 900 square feet of abused space. Every inch was in need of renovation. Because of that, it was priced at a steal just for us. We took possession the night of our 25th anniversary in 2013. There was no hot as the pipes had frozen. The hot water heater had missing parts. There was no toilet. We didn’t need a frig. There was no heat, except for a wood burning fireplace.

On that first night, wondering what we had bought, we were just happy to be there together. We couldn’t sleep there that night because of the above mentioned problems, but, after the first week, all those things were fixed, and weekends would find us knee deep in pine needles and sawdust. It took us five years to finish the last project before we sold it. In those five years, we had more fun than a couple should be allowed. VST found a video on You Tube called, The Cabin. So hilarious, we would sing it on Friday nights on our way there. It was our little home 25 miles from home.

In the last 306 days, I miss so many things. Good Morning’s. Virginia City sunrises off the deck. Hot coffee. Channel 2 news. Our video game time. His walks while I made the bed. Projects. Lunch out after getting supplies. Holding hands. Arguing and seeing who could win. Making up. Talking to the kids when they called. Vacationing in the RV. A million little things. The sound of water running while he brushed his teeth. Early morning departures to places unknown. Running from storms to warm places. Yes. A million little things.

What has surprised me is that I have found many things in which to find comfort over the past months. Some routines have continued. I talk to VST a lot. I am learning to listen for signs and answers. He taught me so much about life while we shared it together. We promised to be together forever. We were. It was just that it ended up being his forever, not mine.

I heard something the other day that made sense. If a day in heaven passes in the blink of an eye, then VST will turn around and I’ll be there. It will seem like no time at all for him. For me, it seems like 306 days, plus a lifetime.

Ten balloons will grace the high desert sky today. T and K will be with me as we watch them soar. I know VST is up there watching. I know he wishes he was still here with us. Relax and enjoy heaven, VST. We will all be together again soon enough. For now, please watch over us. Send us a sign once in awhile. Give us something to laugh about. I love you so much, and miss you with all my heart. Your Darlin’, Joy

Optimism is something VST and I internalized as we navigated through the maze that was our life. Focusing on the good, we held on when startled by the flash-floods of life. VST and I looked for life’s lessons every time our normal was turned upside down. Invariably, we could find positives in every situation. Even the worst. In that way, we were perfectly matched.

VST’s parents were two of the most optimistic people I ever met. Moving to California during the dust bowl, they found jobs harvesting fruit while living in labor camps. From Oklahoma and Missouri, they found their riches in family they kept close. Descending from wealthy English families that received land grants from the king before the USA was a country, they could have become bitter at the twists and turns of poverty and discrimination. And, yes, they faced class discrimination as Okies, which is a derogatory term. They didn’t become pessimistic. They focused on optimism and God, making a wonderful life for themselves. The poverty of their youth made them strive for the riches of their elder years.

Farming was a fertile place for us to choose optimism. The vineyard taught us humility. It reinforced time management. It kicked us in the butt until we almost didn’t have one left to share between the two of us. Droughts, disease, and the tiny villainous mite, brought us too our knees. Our faith calmed us, promising next year would always be better. We learned to dance in the rain, while drying raisins lay drenched and rotting in it. We learned what we could control and what we couldn’t through farming while maintaining our optimism.

By 2014, optimism while living in California wasn’t possible for VST and I, so we packed up and moved to Virginia City, Nevada (VC). It was easy maintain a positive attitude there, because we were retired with Time, Money, and Health on our side. For six years, we enjoyed a wonderful life. I’d maintain optimism that the snow wouldn’t really be that bad. VST maintained optimism that we would be lounging in Laughlin, Nevada rig-side when the storms hit. The bottom line was that we chose to focus on the bright side of life.

During VST’s illness and his final days, I never saw his faith waiver. He maintained his path until the end, making his wishes known to us all. His faith in God helped him steer his course to the end. His total trust in the Lord was awe-inspiring. I never witnessed him asking “Why me?”. He rowed with the current instead of against, making a peaceful exit with one last sigh.

This month, I need to work on maintaining an optimistic attitude. It’s Month 11 now. I think about the days and how they’ve flown. The one year anniversary of his death is close. Winter plods on, with more storms promised later in the week. With optimism, I’m working on yard designs, and plans for road trips. Life is such a beautiful experience. Even at the worst moments, there is collateral beauty to be found and cherished. Optimism. Month 11. That’s the word.