Category: good grief

The story of Sheri

by Karen, posted in (it's all about the) food, friends, good grief, Gratitude Journal 2013, Life in the cube, Midlife Crisis

sheri blogMy husband’s friend Bob died earlier this year.

My friend Sheri died earlier this week.

Early in 2006, Sheri became my mentor at my new job. Shortly thereafter, Sheri became my friend.

To be fair, she was pretty much everybody’s friend. She was just one of those warm, kind, caring people to whom others gravitated.

Need a hand with something? Sheri’s hand was the first one offered. Totally messed up your knitting project? Sheri would have it all straightened out for you in a snap without making you feel like you were the most inept knitter in the world (which, you know, you really were). Need support for your idea to bring in pies to work on National Pi Day? Sheri was right there, brainstorming how to help you get this awesome idea approved.

Sheri wasn’t feeling well last month, so she went to see her doctor. She thought she might get an extra day or two off from work. Instead, she got a terminal cancer diagnosis.

This is what I said to her:  Does that suck or what?

This is what she said to me: Did I tell you I got a llama? (Sheri knew that I loved llamas). His name is Lucas.

She heard about a llama that needed a home, so she put a pasture in her front yard and said, “Sure, we can take him.” Lucas came to live with them and spent time with the goats that she also took care of. One day when she went out a little late to feed the goats. they ran over to her and knocked her down. Lucas the llama saw this happen. He rushed to her side and stood there with her, watching over her, until someone came to help her up.
Lucas knows that he is a better llama for having known Sheri.

I am a better person for having known her.

Some random memories of Sheri:

  • The. Best. Knitter. Ever.
  • Raised rabbits
  • Was part of the Common Ground Fair every year
  • Loved Dunkin Donuts raspberry ice tea…and their chocolate chip cookies
  • Lover, rescuer, and caretaker of animals, big and small
  • Loved to troll the Portland Farmers Market every Wednesday morning
  • Browsed the cookbooks and the knitting books with me at Longfellow’s
  • Timed our breaks so we could eat and take walks together at work
  • Put in a big garden every year and put up the spoils

“They lived and laughed and loved and left.” James Joyce

The story of Bob

by Karen, posted in friends, good grief

bobOur friend Bob showed up every weekend to bring my husband coffee—I mean, to visit his mother–at the rehab where he works. Like clockwork, he would stop in with a Dunkin Donuts coffee and an egg sandwich and twenty minutes or so of chat. He looked forward to his visits and over the years they became good friends.

Bob had been complaining of shoulder pain that was not getting better, so Bill finally convinced him to see his doctor for an x-ray. “Just go do it,” he told Bob. Finally, he did.

The pain in his shoulder wouldn’t be going away any time soon.

Bob’s pain wasn’t from a pulled muscle, or a rotator cuff injury, or even a herniated disc. Bob’s pain was from a tumor that had metastasized to his bones from his stage 4 lung cancer that he didn’t know he had.

Really? Really? He went to see his doctor to fix his shoulder and came home with a terminal diagnosis and a four to six month prognosis.

He broke the news slowly to people on a need-to-know basis. His wife. His twenty-two year old daughter. And of course, his friend Bill.

Then, he went into overdrive. He readied his house for sale. He purged all of his possessions. He didn’t want to leave anything for his wife and daughter to deal with if he could do it himself before he died. He made an exit plan that focused on the people that he cared about, and he got it done.

He never once complained. He never thought about himself. Instead, he said, “Okay, this is how it is. What can I do to make this easier for my family?”

Bob died four months after he was diagnosed. He was fifty-two.

His is greatly missed.

String theory

by Karen, posted in family, good grief, relationships

I recently attended a memorial service. I didn’t know the woman who died, Mary, very well, but that didn’t stop me from crying almost from the time the first words were out of the celebrant’s mouth. Like Lt. Columbo said, “…death reminds you of death” (or something close to that). Not only was I sad for Mary and her family, I was also remembering the loss of my own mother, my grandmothers, my father. Even though they died many years ago, for grief purposes, it could have been yesterday. Because I’d experienced the loss of my mother, I was feeling an overwhelming empathy for what Mary’s daughter must be feeling.

Something that struck me was this: many of the things that were being said about Mary’s interests and what was important to her were true for me as well. Loves the ocean? Check. Loves her family and friends? Check.  Loves Bingo? Okay, well, as Meatloaf said, “two out of three ain’t bad”. Even though it’s common to hear how people are all different, it feels true that people are really all the same, too.

Between readings, I started to think about something one of my friends said about String Theory.  I can’t recall her words exactly, but I remember that I created a visual of everyone being connected to each other through space and time by string (cooking twine, actually :)). It made me realize that even though I’d only met her a couple of times, because I was connected to people that she loved, I was also connected to her.

Doesn’t this idea give the phrase, “hanging by a thread” new meaning?

The right words at the right time

by Karen, posted in Angels, family, friends, good grief, Midlife Crisis, no fear, relationships

Today, someone told me something that I really needed to hear.

We have been dealing with an ongoing issue for years and things rarely go our way. This year there are some new people involved, one of whom we know from another area of our lives.

These were the words: “I’m on your side.”

After she said them, I felt a subtle shift, and my thoughts about the situation in which we are both involved changed.  I started having new, different, more positive thoughts. I felt less anxious. Suddenly, I started tearing up.  I breathed through it. Everything might actually turn out okay, I thought.

Later on this afternoon, I was in other circumstances that became emotional and I started tearing up again. I went to sit in my car. I called my husband at work, which I rarely do at that time of day because I know it will be difficult for him to come to the phone. I was lucky enough to reach him and then, for the second time today, someone told me something that I really needed to hear.

This is what he said: “Everything is going to be alright.”

Everything is going to be alright.

Speaking your truth

by Karen, posted in Angels, family, friends, good grief, local fun, Midlife Crisis, no fear, Turning 50

Over the past several months, I’ve had quite a lot to say about turning 50 this year to quite a lot of people.

That was then. Several months ago, heck, even several weeks ago, it seemed so far off in the future.

This is now. Now, it’s looming large, and for some reason, I’m finding that I have very little to say. That’s so unlike me! Usually, I’m “talking and I can’t shut up”–just ask my husband.

As part of my turning 50 and vowing to follow any and all whims that present themselves, I bought a half off Maine Deal coupon for a psychic reading by Melissa Boyd of Deep Blue Truth.

One of the things she told me (apart from that my Mom, Dad, and grandmothers were all there and said, ‘Hi!’ 🙂 ) was that my throat chakra was so backed up it was like a bottle neck. The throat chakra is #5, counting up from the bottom root chakra. This is (surprise!) the center of communication and expression.

Apparently, I am not speaking my truth. Who knew? After doing a little online research, I learned that wearing a particular bracelet–one made of Sodalite–can help. (Really? Really? If only it turns out to be that easy).

I’m willing to give it a try.

Angels dropping a dime

by Karen, posted in Angels, family, friends, good grief

I dreamed about my mother last night. We were in the house she grew up in and ultimately died in. We were standing together on the back porch, looking out at the snow-covered street. It was very sunny and bright, and we were watching a plow making its way through the snow drifts, clearing a path in the street. We didn’t talk, but I felt happy.

I woke up from this dream Christmas morning, and had a clear thought: thanks for letting me know that you’re with me today, Ma.

I was at my brother’s house for dinner later in the day for dinner. At one point, I stood up from the table to get a drink and we could hear something hit the floor. My sister-in-law picked it up and said, “Did you drop a dime?” so I said yes, and put it back in my pocket, not giving it much thought.

A little while later, after I had just finished telling my brother about the dream, another coin hit the floor. It was another dime. My sister-in-law said, “What’s with the dimes today?!”  I said, “It must be the angels letting us know they’re here.”  Another guest (who did not know about the dream) said, “It’s your mother!”

And so it was.

Susan Conley at Kennebooks

by Karen, posted in books, friends, good grief, health, local fun, no fear, relationships, writing

Susan Conley recently came to Kennebooks to read from her book, The Foremost Good Fortune. Susan is a Mainer, raised in Woolwich. In addition to being a great writer, she is also a great reader. Maybe this is because (as we learned in her talk) Susan is a poetry teacher, and when she reads passages from her book aloud, in her slow, sing-song-y sort of way of drawing out the syllables, the consonant sounds…it makes her book sound like poetry. Could this manner of speech perhaps be connected to her learning to speak Mandarin?

 I also learned that hula hooping and badminton are “huge” in China.  That she was involved in the founding of The Children’s Room.

“Memoir is all about honesty,” Susan says, and further states that “you feel it when it’s not (honest).”  This is why, after her writers group read her earlier drafts of this book they basically asked her, “Where are you in this?” and she ultimately rewrote so that she was now “showing up” on the page. “You’ve got to take us to those places,” her writing friend said, of “emotional complexity” that were lacking in the earlier work. Oh and of course, I learned the significance of the title of the book.

🙂

Susan started writing her book, was diagnosed with cancer, then started writing it all over again. A different book. This book. She says she told her story in the present tense in the book and thinks of it as a love letter to her sons, who she hopes will read it one day.

Finally, The best thing that I learned is that Susan has been cancer-free for three years.

Susan may be back at Kennebooks in March as part of the Maine Women Write Book Club. Consider joining! The first meeting is slated for mid-October at the time of this writing. Call (207-967-6136) or email Ann (ann@kennebooks.com) at Kennebooks for more information. Hope to see you there!

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Angels at the beach

by Karen, posted in (it's all about the) food, books, family, good grief, local fun, Midlife Crisis, relationships

I was walking at the beach with my daughter and my husband the other day. I was thinking about how big she’d gotten, which led to thoughts of her at different ages throughout the years, and how I received that sign from my dad that I was pregnant with her.
Of course, thinking about one dead relative inevitably (for me) leads to thoughts about other dead relatives.  Wells Beach reminds me of Nantasket Beach in the 1970’s, and Nantasket beach reminds me of my grandmother. She always took me to the beach (ocean) when I was growing up, and I always think of her when I am near it, so granted, thoughts of Nana had been hovering there in the back of my mind for the past hour or so.

After we finished our beach walk we went to Forbes to get some lunch. I was telling my husband how I had been trying to get to Forbes all summer but something kept coming up and I never made it. I decided to take it as a sign that it was because I was supposed to be there this day in particular. He smiled at me, indulgently. He is used to me ascribing meaning to things that he does not.

As we were finishing up our lunch, I suddenly became aware of the conversation at the table behind me: “Nana, are you happy here at the beach? You’re an angel!”

I swear to God.

I felt a huge surge of emotion as the tears welled up and spilled forth (zero to 180 in a millisecond!).

I just finished a pretty good book that has an angel subplot: Pictures of You  by Caroline Leavitt. Check it out!

Pennies from heaven

by Karen, posted in family, good grief, relationships, tweens

Ever heard that our loved ones that have died sometimes come back to visit and when they do, they often leave clues for us that they are/have been here?

There’s even a poem written about it!

Well, this week I’ve found pennies on the floor in my house unexpectedly on three separate occasions. It reminded me of another time that I found a penny, years ago, about 13 to be more exact. My husband and I had recently decided to have a second child and I was wondering if I was pregnant. I was running out to pick up a pizza, preoccupied with this thought (about the baby, not the pizza). I pulled up to our favorite (at the time) pizza place, B&F Pizza.

As I got out of the car, I noticed a penny on the ground. I bent down to pick it up and for just a moment I thought: I wonder if this is a sign? Then I looked at the date on that penny: 1937, the year my father was born. Was this Dad telling me that I our next baby was on the way?

Shortly thereafter I did discover that I was pregnant.

Do you think it was a sign?

A (working) room of one’s own

by Karen, posted in family, good grief, Life in the cube, writing
The empty room

As part of some, um, reorganization of staff at my place of employment, I have been given the opportunity to work from home. This will start on or before August 5, at which time Life in the Cube (as I’ve known it) will basically be coming to an end.  As exciting as this prospect sounds to a girl who is a card-carrying, white-knuckled driver when it’s snowing, it necessitates (shudder!) setting up an office at home.

My current “home office” is actually decentralized: my computer for bill paying and writing and such is in the kitchen. I’m set up at the end of the table which is situated in the corner of the room between two windows (and is sunny all day long, which is why I chose this spot). The filing starts out in a basket on a shelf of the kitchen island, then gets permanently filed in the cabinet in the upstairs spare room, or in binders to the left of the built-in desk in my bedroom. Stamps, stapler, envelopes, pens are kept in a kitchen cabinet.

The built-in desk is a good idea in theory, but in practice? Not so much. It faces a wall (I want a sunny window) and has a flourescent light (I want incandescent), both of which I hate, and therefore is not conducive to any actual work getting done. If I would be working 10.5 hour shifts from home, something (preferably almost everything) had to change.

Our mission (since we choose to accept it) is this: make the spare room into my office.

This might not be as easy as it sounds.

Step one was to check my internet speed to see if it was up to speed.

It was not.

Hello, incompetent technicians from my cable company. It took them 3 tries to get this working correctly and to repair what they damaged while installing the new cable modem. The third time was the charm.

Knock on wood.

Then we emptied out the room. “We” consists of me and my husband, with the emphasis on husband. He did most of the work: taking out the book case, the cd tower, the filing cabinet, the end tables, the love seat.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

All of this had to be put somewhere for the interim. That somewhere is our bedroom. It’s sort of overwhelming. The idea of “keeping your eye on the prize” now makes much more sense to me.

Now that the room is emptied, the next step is: Painting and flooring.

To be continued…