7th Decade

 Yesterday was my birthday.  I entered my 7th decade, it was my second birthday without Rick.

To be honest I don't remember much at all about my last birthday.  I made it through, that was my goal and I was successful.  

Turning 70 is surreal, not the aging part but it was such a milestone birthday that the two of us always talked about.  Rick would have been 70 last year, I know we would have celebrated in some form or fashion but it would have been different because of covid.

Yesterday I thought about him most of the day.  Life has changed in so many ways, yet much has remained the same.  The dogs and I walk daily, the chickens are still my girls and spring is arriving on the farm.  The redbuds are blooming, the dogwoods are budding, every day brings a different shade of green.

I have worked the beds, cleaned all the planters and containers, pruned fruit trees, cleared the fence line and ordered seed.

Friends called, texted, sent cards yesterday, family members dropped by.   I felt much love and gratitude, yet the feeling of emptiness stayed with me.  I just miss him.  The pain is not unbearable any more, just nagging, always that little twinge that has become a part of me like my blue eyes.

My mom traveled constantly after my father died.  It was her way of dealing with the twinge.  I am fortunate to have friends who live all over the globe and in their infinite kindness they issue invitations to visit.  Before Rick died, all I wanted to do was travel, now it is such a difficult thing to think about. 

This farm has become my security blanket, the last threads of a life that was not perfect, but content.

Building courage to continue new things daily is exhausting,  finding direction and purpose is painful, like being born again.  This freedom, thrust upon me by the death of a lifelong partner is nothing that I asked for but it is the hand I have been given.  The responsibility of it is heavy and the choices are not easy.  Life continues to go on.  Sharing my birthday selfie.

Happy Valentines 2022

 February 14, 2022

Love is messy, complicated and difficult

Love is glorious, beautiful and life sustaining

A heart wrapped in love will celebrate the beauty of the roses and endure the pain of the thorns.

May you have an abundance of roses and an absence of thorns.

Happy Valentines

jilda

A Gift

 New Years Day, 2022

It's interesting how the celebration of New Year's has changed through the decades for me.  Once upon a time, it was all about dressing up, going to a party and lots of champagne. As the years went by, it became spending time with good friends, enjoying good food and making memories. Then it was just Rick and I, a great meal at home, and a good bottle of wine and sometimes we didn't stay up to welcome the new year.

Rick loved New Years, it and Thanksgiving were his two favorite holidays.  He made elaborate mind maps of his resolutions, he would make recordings of his resolutions.  For him, a new year was like getting a new life.  I never got into resolutions but I always did vision boards.  A couple of months after he died, I picked up my vision board for 2020 and threw it in the trash.  Everything on that board, every vision I had included him.  I no longer make vision boards.

Last year as 2021 came calling, I had expectations.  You probably had them as well.  A vaccine would be distributed, Covid would be contained, and  the divisive craters created by politics would begin to grow smaller.  

This year, I have no expectations of 2022.  As a matter of fact, I smudged my house last night, opened the doors and hoped that any kind of negativity that existed would disappear into the darkness.

 I am living one day at a time with hopes that I can spend time with my friends and family, play music once again and travel before I am too old.  I am practicing kindness as much as I possibly can.  This farm is a full time job but the hard work outdoors has been good for me.  I am grateful for family, friends, my dogs and chickens.  My life is very different, but it's good.  Painting and music give me joy, so do books and conversations with friends. 

This morning when I walked the dogs I spied a flash of golden yellow on the trail.  I looked down and there was a heart shaped leaf.  I think it was a gift for the new year.  For this year, may we all be kind, to each other, our selves, to the world around us.

Christmas 2021

 December 25, 2021

My second Christmas without Rick.  I foolishly thought this one would be easier, I was wrong.

With Jordan's help, I put up a Christmas tree.  With Rick's voice in my head, I painted cards, and I didn't get enough painted, so New Year's cards will be sent to those I missed.

But, it hasn't all been sad, friends have sent surprises, called  and sent wonderful wishes and love.  Family has done the same.  Jordan and I did our traditional outdoor Charlie Brown tree and we baked cookies. I had breakfast with my brother's family yesterday.  Both sisters invited me to their family gatherings today. But I chose to stay on the farm this Christmas day.  I need the outdoors, the space and the healing of of this place.

Last night was a good healing ugly cry.  My friend Christine is right, a good cry always makes you feel better.  Today the sun came up and as I glimpsed a few messages on FB, they were all full of love and kindness.  The song from years ago is right, " why can't every day be like Christmas."  If we could just capture that feeling and push replay any time we felt animosity toward each other.

It's warm in Alabama this week,  and that makes me envious of those who have snow and cold. The dogs are still sleeping, the wind is blowing and I smell the coffee brewing.  I wish all of you the Happiest and most Loving of Christmases today.  I hope your Christmas wishes come true.   

November

 November has always been my favorite month, Thanksgiving my favorite holiday.  I have been laboring hard the past few weeks, getting this farm ready for a winter's rest.  I watched the lunar eclipse ( well parts of it )  and thought about Rick, hoping that he was somewhere seeing the magnificent spectacle of a cold autumn night and mother nature's magic.

This will be my second holiday season without him.  I think the reality of it is that it's actually the first that I am fully aware.  Last year's season was just a passing of time, between family members with Covid and the crater of darkness that his passing created, the sunrises and sunsets happened without fanfare. I did decorate a tree and paint a few cards but that empty space consumed me.

It's not that you get use to the emptiness it just becomes a part of who you are.  Learning to live a life alone after spending 46 years with someone is a jigsaw puzzle of emotions and decisions.  Each of  us will or has handled loss differently.  When my parents and brother died, I threw myself into work but when Rick died I faced the ugliness of grief head on.  Covid and the isolation that it brought to the world caused so many of us to grieve alone.

I can tell you this, we who survived that grief and loss are not to be taken lightly.  My tolerance for greed, hate and ugliness has disappeared.  I know how quickly life can change, how precious moments are and those who have walked this path seem to be in agreement with me.

So Thanksgiving will continue to be different.  I will cook a bit this year.  I will as always ( even in the darkest of days) think of things to place on my gratitude list.  For me, friends hold a special place on that list, without those who stood by me  my life would be so cold and empty.  My animals, this farm gave me healing energy when I thought there was none and family, who even in their grief stood by me.

My hopes for the coming winter's rest is that creativity will blossom for me and that my body will continue to remain healthy and strong.  For others who are in the throes of grief, hold on.  Life changes, you will change, that's all I know.

Morning

 October 23

It's been awhile, but to be honest getting the farm ready for winter is labor intense, especially when you are the laborer.

This morning there was dense heavy fog shrouding everything with a chill.  I made a pot of coffee, gave the dogs their morning treat and settled on the sofa to watch my day begin.  As always the birds came to say hello and eat their morning meal, I could hear the geese on the neighbors pond and the occasional ping of acorns as they dropped on the tin roof.

Most mornings I still shed tears, maybe I always will.  The stillness and silence and emptiness of the dawn reminds me Rick is gone.  I tried talking with the dogs, but they do not converse.  So I sip hot coffee and remember, good times and bad as I plan the day.  My old leather day planner is over 30 years old and it remains a  good and steady friend.  It has become my compass when there is darkness and a guide when life overwhelms me with its business of continuing.

After the fog lifts this morning the task of privet war begins.  Privets, hedges if you will, have tried their best to claim my back fence.  After a meeting with the saw today, they get doused with white vinegar and I dare them to rear their ugly faces again.  It has become personal, this battle of who controls my back fence and I intend to win.  My oldest sister battles them with a small torch and I warn them, I have one of those as well.

Fall is doing her best to appear, but she is slow to make an entrance down here in the south.  I love her and I wait for her.  I know that fall brings a calmer pace to the farm,  and not only does the earth begin to rest but I get to turn my energies to my creative side.  Finally with fall and winter, art and music get my attention and the labors of spring and summer wait for their turn sometime in the future.

The Power of Music

 August ended, September has arrived and he brought cooler temps, well 80's for highs and 60's for lows.

As I write these words this morning I am listening to Gram Parsons and the Flying Burrito Brothers.  It's a big deal because I am listening to my old vinyl  and I am happy.  Before he died, Rick had gotten us a new turntable and gotten our old albums out of storage.  Last week, I finally started cleaning and shelving the albums, the first one I played....Delaney and Bonnie.

Listening to the music that helped to shape who I am has been such a release of emotions, good and bad.  Rick had given some of our albums to our nephew Michael many years ago.  Sadly Michael passed away and who knows what happened to those albums.   Frankly there are albums in my stacks that I looked at and thought why did I/we buy this.  I am sure at the time of purchase the reason was valid.

It is exciting to hear albums that I haven't heard in 30 years or so.  Rick was such a lover of all things new and technical.  When cds came out, he was jubilant.   We have have 100's of cds, but there were many obscure albums that  we owned which were never transferred to cd and I missed them.  My morning coffee  and evening reads  are truly more pleasurable listening to music that was as much a part of my life as Rick.

Gram Parsons was a major influence on our music.  His voice, his harmonies inspired us to put that raw emotion into what we created.

Another album that I have listened to this week, Leon Russell and Marc Benno, Asylum Choir.  Hearing Salty Candy again made me laugh and their version of Sweet Home Chicago brings back many memories.

I truly believe in the arts, without them I fear we humans will not survive.  Every trip we ever took to a new city, we visited museums, galleries, and listened to local musicians, watched local theatrical productions, ate foods we had never experienced, tried to always meet locals.  Learning as much as we could about about other places and people and absorbing new cultures was always our goal.  Everywhere we traveled , we expected to have a good time and you know, we always did.  

Music is powerful, it can bring joy, tears, trigger old memories, create new ones and be your best friend. I would be the first to admit that our taste in music was about eclectic as you can get.  Music educated me and opened my eyes and heart to the world around me.  Music was the bond that helped us share 46 years together, music introduced us to many of our dearest friends.  For several months after Rick died, I could not listen to music of any kind.  I knew in my heart the healing of my gaping wound would never take place until I could hear music and let it bathe my emotions.  I was right.

I hope there is music in your life today.