Tag Archive | beloved

SOUR AND SWEET

So I began a journey 3 months ago, when I went to the endodontist to fix an infection in an old root canal.  They discovered my blood pressure was 245/145, which for those of you who are unfamiliar, is a stroke level blood pressure, referred to as hypertensive crisis.

I already care for my immigrant mother who is post stroke since 2004.  She went from a vibrant 66 year old to a right side paralytic, who no longer speaks.  Her response to music is there, but no words.  Having been illiterate most of her life, television is her only repose except for watching her great grandchildren bustle about her.

It’s taken 3 long months of bed rest and experimenting with meds to get me somewhat stable.  My family has endured months of spiraling emotions, schedule changing, and unexpected household challenges while I lay flat in an attempt to keep my pressure from exploding something in my head or my heart.

Something, however, did explode in my heart.

Vulnerability.

The vulnerability of laying bedridden and watching the sun rise and set while others hustled about me was tough for a type A person.

However, rest allowed me to grieve the loss of my beloved, less than 2 years ago.  That pain never really subsides, it remains much like my blood pressure…silent.

Occasionally, I find that the tears will emerge as a memory drifts in like a lone candle in the cold night and I find my heart chasing a beloved memory as the candle goes out and the momentary light fades into twilight, along with the brokenness of my heart.

My blood pressure medicaitons have left me with a lingering metallic taste in my mouth that makes food not as appealing, but the wanting, the hunger, remains.

I guess the loss of anything is like that.  I know the loss of my most special of friends has left me also wanting.

In life, there aren’t many people I have met that are actually real.  So much brokenness, pain, and fear.  It’s not the pain and problems I fear, but the fact that no one feels brave enough to talk about it, deal with it and hope for more.  I’ve been somewhat asleep the last couple of years. There is a black hole in my life since his passing, sucking all life, all I know as my universe into it.  I don’t lack the courage to stand again, even as the void left by losing the one who brought me sunshine and flowers, welcoming arms, and a love of life is worse than any pain I have yet endured.  Just tired.  Weary of searching for people with passion for life.

I am disillusioned by the ever-imposing truth that there isn’t anyone out there that is unafraid to be real, transparent, and vulnerable.

So as I searched for a way to make this overpowering taste of metal dissipate from my mouth, I found a pill, miraculin, in a product aptly named, Miracle Berry Fruit Tablets.  They make sour taste sweet!  I had seen a science special on it and now learned it is used with chemo patients to help their taste buds return to normal so they can eat.  For most of us, it turns the sour to sweet.  I’m hoping for anything to help me enjoy the foods I love, but it did make me ponder.

It sure would be nice it we could have such a pill for people, wouldn’t it?  For those who find life somewhat sour, depressing, lonely, and dark. it would be wonderful to savor life again and enjoy the sunlight, being alone, and highlights of life.  Just one pill.

Now, as a nurse. I know they make pills they claim can  bring more life, more joy, and just plain MORE than you feel right now; but somehow, the body knows.  It knows it’s not real.  It’s like the face they paint on “The Drummer Boy”.  It suffices to hide the pain, the illusion of great, without the reality.

My pills get here this weekend.  It’s snowing outside right now and I want to climb under my blanket, pull the covers over my head and pray that like spring,  the sun does shine after winter.  Hopefully, when I pull the blanket off, it will truly be warm and I will find the sun is shining again and the will to continue is present in the ground below, just waiting to push its way into the light and perhaps give one blossom to the world with an enduring aroma that inspires those who pass by to remember.  Just as the smell of pines reminds me of Christmases long ago, when as children we still have the naivete to believe in things we can’t see and await moments of reunion with family that has now long departed but still remembered.

I found that “miracle” pill long ago that has the capacity to leave the taste of wonder and joy and cloak the heart in the miraculous amidst a world of hypocrisy and disappointment.  It still abides.  It still holds true.  It is LOVE.    Only now, it has to span the place between this world and the next, but I still remember when its aroma was strong, its presence, close and its reality, present.

 

 

 

 

 

 

One Day With You Brings Me Back to …Love

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So a couple of weeks ago, I went to visit the grave of my Beloved.  It doesn’t seem like it’s been a year and then again, it feels like a lifetime ago.  My daughter and I painted some rocks worn smooth by time to commemorate the time he has been gone.  My 2 grandchildren were with us and asked, “Is Papa coming down to visit us today?”  My daughter replied, ” Papa’s in heaven.  You won’t see him today, but he sees us and one day he will return.”  They picked their favorite rocks and placed them on the mound which he now sleeps under.

It seems surreal that his body lays there and that we are separated by about 6 feet of dirt and yet by dimensions of time that we cannot yet cross through.  Can a hole in the ground hold a heart that was bigger than the universe…a love larger than all the souls of men?

My daughter wept…for the man who gave her love, taught her about the real meaning of love, held her, wept with her, encouraged her, taught her and never judged her.  One who loved her boys and knew they would grow to be better men than the ones before them.

I wept with her for feeling inadequate to fill that void now left within her because the only man she really trusted to be truthful, unselfish, loving, kind and with a sense of humor that lit up a room. He loved her dry wit and understood her.

I wept for the memories I hold tight within a heart now broken and yet knowing he would admonish me for not living to my fullest and not allowing my face to shine before others and so I go on.

I struggle to write, to share all our Father gave us.  I know the sun will shine and the pain will subside.  I just miss my best friend holding my hand and reminding me how much my Father loves me and cares for me.

So I will go onward, looking for him in every full moon, every sunrise and sunset, every new bloom and the smell of fall in the air, the first snowflake, every song I sing and play, and every night I pray and wait to hear his voice, his encouragement, his love.  For now, the echoes are what remain, but I remember always his last words every night to me…love still abides and it does.

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The Heart of a Lover

How does a heart grow? For with every beat it paces itself even closer to its own end. At times, it races and strengthens the force with which it will drive the vessel forward, within which it lives. At others, it slows to such a stillness that it is almost imperceptible; when pain and suffering encroach upon its borders and leave the gasp of a heart desiring to beat but bound tightly in an unmerciful grasp that left to its own devices will succeed in crushing the spirit of an individual and ultimately, its spirit of life.

But a heart is an unbelievable organ that possesses self-protective mechanisms that allow it a dimension of life that cause the mind to marvel. Its fibers appear to work in unity but possess the capability to function as individuals should an event occur that necessitates the intercession of this ability.

There exists a heart that cannot be held with human hands but can be seen and heard with more resonance than that which beats within the human body. It can behold great aspirations and hope for great things not yet manifested in the physical.  Perseverance is fed by it, and it can surpass even death in its eternal ability to inspire others, who will duplicate its energy and provide encouragement.

It is this that cannot be seen that enables the physical organ to override the broken parts closed or barely flowing due to the excesses of life, physical and emotional. The spiritual enlarges it borders beyond what man and technology find possible to restore. The heart that cannot be seen and yet gives more life than its physical component and will produce effects that are more enduring.   It is with this heart that we love, grow, inspire, persevere and hope. The heart that will await patiently that which it has hoped for, endure great measures of pain for a moment of love and fade like smoke in the wind if not nurtured by even the smallest measure.

It is with this kind of heart that I wait upon the Lord. It is this heart He seeks…that will wait, hope, persevere and love as He loves; see as He sees and hear His voice when it is but the faintest whisper within; it’s desire for that which gives it life is insatiable and yet simultaneously content with what God has given. I must hold this heart within myself and while waiting love, laugh, cry, breathe, hope, dream, and endure. But my heart is only half full, for it beats with another’s that makes its joy full, its hopes fulfilled, its breath deep, and its love fresh and renewing; it is in cleaving to this heart, I am made complete. It is the one I was fashioned from within and his heart completes my own and to him I return the heart of love he built and perfected.  Freely, I give it.

Did We Live Well?

I’ve had a lot to grieve lately, but also much to celebrate.  After the death of my beloved, I have no regrets and no words unsaid, only dreams we hoped to live. We lived as I must continue to live the life I still have, not just because Rick would want it that way, but because God has given me a life to live, and Rick was part of that life– the most wonderful part of it! Meeting my Creator (no, I’m not going to preach) I must remember that the life I now have is because His Son chose to offer me life and the opportunity to know my Creator as He wanted me to know him.  He continues to reveal Himself to me in so many ways.  I will post on some of those ways soon.

In life, today, we have many ways of meeting people online based on what we have in common or what we don’t have in common, and sometimes when we are just surfing the web looking  for something interesting, but we end up meeting others enduring the same trials or celebrating the same significant events in life.  I have been privileged to meet many online in the last few weeks that have inspired, touched, and encouraged me to continue to be strong.  Yesterday, I talked with my best friend and realized just how hard I’ve been on myself the last 7 weeks since Rick’s death.  I wasn’t giving myself time to heal, to grieve, to celebrate the love he gave me.

So today, I give you a quote I found on one of those inspirational quote sites,

“It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died.Rather we should thank God that such men lived.
-George S. Patton, Jr.

I thank God every time I remember this beloved, special, loving man in my life.  This kind of person doesn’t come along often in life.  He knew his purpose, he fulfilled it joyfully and he left when it was completed.  Now, it is up to me to demonstrate how this beloved’s life made a difference in the world, if only for me. I am  left here to finish my own tasks with the same attitude and run the race set before me, knowing those who have run the race before me stand as witnesses, encouraging me that I can do it; I can make a difference because I was created to do so.

I will not grieve as those who have no hope but live knowing he will rise again, and I will join him once again.  Until then, I live as an example of a woman who was loved, cherished, and perfected by one who laid down his life daily because he loved me as did the One who laid down His life without being asked, without expecting recognition but hoping to give something enduring in a world that seems so ready to dispose of that which is not like itself. So today remember someone, even if they are departed, that made a difference in your life and let me hear from you.  Witness of their love, spirit, and heart to others and hold on to a part of them and thereby make a difference in someone’s life.

Life is precious and temporary here, but love is enduring and always abiding in the hearts of those who make it important and love abides because we love one another.

  And because we love,  our God, who is love…..

LIVES!

 

 

Fear: I pushed the button to publish

Okay, so my last blog called, “Left Behind” just published and I could feel the air leave my lungs. Anyone else ever written and then heard the muffled voices of laughter and mocking as you sent it out to the web, knowing that these people don’t really know you and now they will judge you. Well, I’m there.

But maybe someone will log on tonight and understand what it is to feel left behind. It’s like making the discovery of the first light bulb but finding yourself in line back to buying candles because they turned the electricity off at your home.

My mind knows he’s gone, but my spirit is still connected to him. My heart hurts all the time and there’s this anxiety beneath my skin that keeps looking for a place to scream, but finding no escape.

I drive in my car or sit in my driveway and just sing or scream or cry as loud as I can because no one can hear me. No one can judge me for not moving on, for not being strong, for needing my best friend, my love, my darling to tell me it’s going to be okay.

So be merciful in your comments but do comment, please. It’s lonely in here and I need a few friends to offer a hand to hold. A kindred spirit that knows what it feels like when all has gone dark and everyone sleeps but I…just…weep. So weary, so very weary of going on alone.