Shared memories

Since I was with Jim for the last half of my life, it feels as if half my history has disappeared.  A slate wiped clean.  It is the weirdest feeling.  It’s as if I’m opening my mouth to say something, and then shutting it because no one else in the room will know what I’m talking about.  Physically, it feels like a hole or a blind-spot just over my shoulder.  I’m not writing this to garner sympathy, but maybe empathy so that others may be warned of this odd feeling.

It’s incredibly frustrating to me when it comes to Sarah not remembering doing things with Jim.  I want her to remember her daddy, and us as a family unit.  I want so much for her to remember, and talk about him with her.  But, she can’t.  However, I have found a bright-spot.  She may not remember specific memories, but she knows him.  I can tell she still feels Jim in the way she says, “I mi my dad,” or “ni-ni Daddy,” or even the way she hugs his picture and pats my little statuette of a couple dancing.

I’ll finally own up that I had something odd happen about two weeks ago.  I was moving some things around in the storage shed when my heart started to pound.  You could actually see my chest moving.  It looked crazy.  Then, my neck started to hurt from the pressure.  I locked the shed and drove straight to the doctor’s office.  Of course, it stopped about 10 seconds after I sat down in the waiting room.  Dr. Ramsey saw me about 45 minutes after it happened, I had almost fallen asleep waiting for him, and my heartbeat was still around 100.  So, he put me on a Holter monitor the next day.  I didn’t have another major pounding episode, but it turns out I have a slight arrhythmia (irregular heartbeat) and am occasionally tachy (fast heartbeat).  (Me, tacky?  :-) )  I’ll start low-dose beta-blockers next week.

What little research I’ve done suggests it’s from stress.  There are no heart issues anywhere in my family.  Personally, I’ve been expecting some physical something to happen to my body due to losing Jim.  Looks like the first something finally popped up.  Of course it’s my heart.

Sarah:

And they thought she might not get up on stage…

Compared to the other kids, Sarah’s ant march is more of a dance.

 

It was her bowing after each song that had the other parents, and me, really laughing!

 

The other kids just stepped their feet out for the “feet apart” part of the song. Not my little bunny.

Shopping with Jim, Mother’s Day & a talking bible

While I was in Austin this weekend for Mother’s Day, I dropped into Central Market to get some more Magic Pop for Sarah.  She loves the stuff.  When I first walked in, I noticed the familiar “Central Market” smell I always love.  Then, as I got to the supplement section, I started walking faster.  My mind was telling me, “Just grab the Magic Pop and go. “  I actually frowned at the vitamins as I quickly walked past them to leave. 

I didn’t want to analyze it then, but now I’ve been thinking about my reaction because I did find it odd.  It was a strong reaction.  I know it is not because I blame the healthy food and supplements for not saving Jim.  I honestly believe they helped him.  Minus the major headaches, Jim was incredibly healthy this time last year.  I think I had an odd reaction because Jim and I use to be in Central Market together, working together, and I miss that.  I would pick out something healthy, then show it to Jim to see if he’d actually eat it.  Most of the time, he agreed to my selections.  Sometimes I’d throw in something crazy, like grape leaves or canned asparagus, just to see if he was paying attention.  Jim’s trust in my food decisions for him was humbling.

Austin’s Pecan Street Festival was on Mother’s Day last year, so we visited a petting zoo after we had lunch at the Pecan Street Cafe.

I had a very good and fun Mother’s Day.  It was my mom’s birthday too.  So it was an extra special day.  Sarah is really good at “helping” unwrap gifts.  I made sure I didn’t “over-think” during the day, or look too hard at the daddies with their little girls while we were out.  Sarah received many, many hugs from not only Nanna and Papa, but me too.  On the way to bed, I thanked her for being crazy enough to pick me for a momma.

We just finished dinner at Waterloo. Don’t we look good? I’ll forever love that spring.

FYI – I found a great website in the Beth Moore - James: Mercy Triumphs study.  It’s too good not to share it.  This website will read the bible to you for free: BibleGateway.com.  How awesome (and easy) is that?  I wish I knew about this for Jim.  He would have gotten through the bible must faster, and we could have listened together.  I noticed during his last few weeks he had stopped reading his bible.  The last week, while he was reading a Halloween book to Sarah, I figured out he was having a hard time seeing the words.  It’s that whole “hind-sight’s 20/20” thing that keeps happening to me.

Johnson City Does Yoga

“A photographer gets people to pose for him. A yoga instructor gets people to pose for themselves.”  -T. Guillemets

A few weeks ago, I got to talking yoga vs. martial arts with the martial arts instructor/gym owner after Sarah’s 1^st dance lesson.  When I mentioned I had taught a few yoga classes in the past, he immediately said he had been looking for a yoga teacher for years, and asked if I would like to teach yoga at his gym.  Well, that was a surprise.  I’m pretty sure my jaw dropped open.  I instantly wanted to jump at it, but I knew I should think about it.  However, it didn’t take me long.  This is an amazing opportunity.  It will force me to do yoga on a regular basis which I know will help my body and my way of thinking.  Also, it will force me to be around people, which is something else I need.  And I have the chance to help others feel good.  Paying it forward…

A little over ten years ago, I started the Hatha Yoga teacher training program at Yoga Yoga (University) in Austin.  At the time, I wanted to know more about yoga than what you could get in a regular yoga class.  I completed well over 150 hours, of a 200-hour certification.  (Jim was incredibly supportive, although he wouldn’t let me practice my teaching on him.  He would let me try… but I think he just liked the yoga outfit.    After he was diagnosed with cancer, he did try some of my breathing exercises.)  After moving to our house in Johnson City, it was just too hard to give up my weekends anymore and I wasn’t planning on ever teaching.  Never say never…  So, “officially” I don’t know how to teach because those were the courses I didn’t take.  Fortunately, I tend to be a decent teacher if it’s a subject I care about, and I think yoga is amazing.  It is more than simply an exercise and it is subtle.  Yoga is not a religion, but rather something that allows the deepening of any faith.  I don’t know of anything else that can universally do that.

Like I do with most of my big projects, I’ve jumped in with both feet hoping I land upright.  I will start small, just two classes a week.  I decided on Monday and Wednesday at 8:30 am because it is good to start the day with yoga, and Sarah will be at preschool.  Maybe later I’ll add a short lunch-time don’t-have-to-change-your-clothes class.  I’ll see what kind of feedback I get for when people would like to do yoga.  I’m going to start with basic Hatha Yoga (stretch, strengthen, balance & relaxation), see what my students’ needs are and will make adjustments to suit their needs.  (I would love to work with kids, cheer squads, dance teams and athletes eventually.  As classes or camps maybe?)  To start with, classes will be $10 per class and $45 for 5 classes.

So, my Johnson City friends, start looking for my signs in a few weeks.  Please help me by forwarding this e-mail/link to anyone you think might be interested.  Classes will probably begin in mid-June.  Surely, I’ll have the yoga blog finished (I’ll give you the link later) and a few lesson plans done by then…

Rewrite

I had a few friends kindly suggest I personalize the last post because it was a bit dry.  So, if you care or have time, I made it much more personal and less philosophical.  (Late night blog writing is not my thing…)

http://lwcaat.wordpress.com/2012/05/01/it-is-so-hard-to-be-graceful/

It is so hard to be graceful

“The trick is to be grateful when your mood is high and graceful when it is low. “ – Richard Carlson

How is it that some people can be blindsided by tragedy, walk gracefully through it and/or with grace after?  We all can think of someone like this.  There are famous people like Oprah Winfrey and Beth Moore, but there are people here in Johnson City that have no idea how inspirational they are to me.  I have been struggling to “walk with grace” ever since Jim was diagnosed with esophageal cancer.  Whenever I felt I was about to transform into a blue-eyed monster, I would repeat “with grace” over and over.  At that time, I understood it to mean for me to be nice to Jim and Sarah.  However, after Jim passed away, I struggled to understand the real meaning of grace.  My mind would spin in circles.  Like a dog chasing its tail.  I still wonder what grace really feels like to those walking around with it.

At the reception, after the memorial service for Jim, I remember people coming up to me and they would very kindly compliment how I was handling things with such grace.  I would smile, but in my head, I was thinking, “No.  Really.  I’m not.”  I have since found out that many widows react the way I did.  It’s just shock and detachment – not grace.  Thank you to those who thought I was graceful though.

Seeing as the unhelpful definition of “graceful” is “having or showing grace,” I will turn to a few synonyms to be more exact: adroit, controlled, dexterous, easy, harmonious, nimble, pleasing, pliant, poised, practiced or skilled.  It is almost laughable how far I am from these qualities, yet, I really want to own, feel and be them. 

Very often, I am still wrestling with a steering wheel I have no control over.  No one likes where it took any of us.  Life still does not feel “right.”  How can it?  Jim isn’t here.  But, the more I fight against what I cannot change, the more damage I cause.  Like a little bird caught in a net flapping and flopping around.  When I was training to be a yoga instructor, they taught us that yoga has a few basic moral laws: nonviolence, truthfulness, compassion and kindness.  Then, they said we had to practice this within ourselves first.  Otherwise, how can we fully and truthfully offer it to the rest of the world?  Ok, raise your hand if you practice nonviolence, truthfulness, compassion and kindness with yourself. 

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

Outwardly, I’m pretty good (not great, could always improve) at these yogic laws.  I’ve picked a fight only a handful of times and don’t eat much meat, so I’m not very violent.  Hopefully, you can tell how truthful and open I am trying to be with you.  Ask me anything, if I am allowed, I will give you my answer.  Kids and animals tend to like me, so I think we can check the boxes for compassion and kindness too.  Here’s the big – BUT – I am none of this with myself.  I’ve got a really mean voice in my head and I occasionally have to reword her “comments” so they aren’t as harsh.  Daily I hear so many “I should haves” or “I can’t believe I didn’t dos” or “why was I so uptight about that,” and some of them stop me in my tracks.  So, nonviolence, compassion and kindness are out the window.  For me, truthfulness is the scary yogic law because there are different kinds of truths.  There is factual truth, and I’m pretty good with that since it is solid.  But, in writing posts for this blog, I have found emotional truths are able to shift and change.  That’s a little freaky.  Sometimes, I have to sit with a story before I tell you about it, so I can whittle down to my basic, real truth.  And sometimes I have to go back and rewrite what I just wrote.  So, I’d say my truthfulness is sitting on the windowsill.

Having said all that, I still believe the path to becoming a graceful person is by trying really hard to follow those basic yogic laws and handing the wheel to God.  (As in, “letting go, and letting God.”)  Wow.  This is going to take a while…

Sarah: Here is the link to Sarah’s 3^rd birthday party pictures that I promised in the last blog.

This past weekend she went swimming for the 3^rd time, and was in the water for 2 hours.

making friends

a good swim with Papa

hi there

she's finally tired

Sarah had a very Happy Birthday

Saturday was Sarah’s third birthday.  We had a much smaller party this year than last.  The house was still full of people, and (almost embarrassingly) presents.  Sarah sweetly opened her presents at first, but then picked up speed.  She was really cute after opening a present because she would hand it to me so I could open the package for her to play with it right then.  I kept telling her, “You can play with your presents after you open ALL of them.”  So far, she laughs the most at the log Helen gave her.  Hee-hee, let me explain.  It looks like a campfire log and has a “flame” that lights up and wiggles when you push a button.  While Sarah was first playing with it and laughing, it suddenly hit me how much Jim would have loved this log.  I said as much to Helen, and she had the same thought when she bought it.  I know it would have reminded him of Ren and Stimpy’s “Log by Blammo.”  You’ll want to click on that to hear a song Jim use to sing – seriously, he knew all the words.

It wasn’t until Sunday, after all the excitement and preparation, that I really felt Jim’s absence.  He just should have enjoyed what the rest of us enjoyed with Sarah.  Sigh.  I am trying to come up with traditions for Sarah.  I put that on hold for the past two years.  I did find a cute two-tiered cake with a butterfly on it.  The bakery at the Dripping Springs HEB jumped through a hoop or two to help me get that butterfly.  I think I’ll try to incorporate it into her birthday cakes in the future, at least until she gets tired of it.  Also, I’m going to always give her something I believe Jim would have given her, and say it’s from “Daddy.”  This year it was the “Horton Hears a Who” dvd.  He had already given her a stuffed Horton, and I knew it was his favorite Dr. Seuss.  When he was a kid he was worried about walking around after he read this book.  How cute is that?  (Of course I love the book for Horton’s famous line, “A person’s a person, no matter how small.“)  I also write an annual birthday letter to Sarah.  Are there any traditions that you like to use in your birthday celebrations?  I’m taking suggestions…

Happy Birthday, Sarah.  You are a seriously sweet, cute and smart three-year-old.  And, yes, I’m totally biased.

Sarah trying to hold her cousin Mason's hand. She was also nose-bumping him and feeding him her Chex.

“Someone was watching over you”

On Saturday, I took my engagement ring to Throckmorton’s, a wonderful jewelry store and repair shop in southwest Austin.  The jeweler, David, was able to repair my crushed ring right then as my mom and I spoke with his wife, Tracey.  (Dad and Sarah were playing outside.)  Minutes later he brought it back to me looking brand-new.  Even the rough spot, where the ring hit the concrete, was smooth again.  That’s when Tracey looked at me and said, “Someone was watching over you.”  I just smiled and nodded my head.  I couldn’t tell her just how right she was. 

Actually, I think I had some extra help on both Wednesday and Friday. 

While driving home from Lubbock, I avoided hitting a dog.  Unfortunately, I did not avoid hitting a reflector pole.  It dented both my right wheels and completely removed my side mirror.  I was nine miles west of Mason.  No cell phone service.  I saw a truck starting to pull out of his driveway, so I limped the car over to him and asked Sarah to work with me because I just “boo-booed” the car.  Dwain let me use his cell phone to call Allstate for a tow-truck.  To paraphrase, they eventually told me, “We can’t find anything, but if you can, we’ll reimburse you.”  Thanks.  So, Dwain kindly offered to take me to town, and that’s when I told him I had a 2-year-old in the car too.  Then, he called his wife, Ouida, back at the house to let her know the situation and we were coming to her for help now.  (Sarah rose to the occasion, and very nicely stayed and played with Ouida and Chunky, the miniature daschund, while I ran back and forth to the car.)  Turns out her neighbor owns a little place called Dipsticks in Mason.  He sent a gentleman with a huge sledgehammer to bang the least dented wheel back into a useable condition.  It worked.  We got home.  And now we have friends in Mason.

On Friday, I decided to mow the rent house yard and my yard.  As I was mowing past the rent house’s storage shed, the mower suddenly jerked to a stop and turned off.  Thinking I was stuck on a rock again, I looked to where the grass comes out and saw some wire.  Dang.  I looked to the other side and saw the bundle of serious baling wire I was now tied to.  I got Jim’s wire cutters, but they couldn’t open under the mower.  I tried parking over a low spot but it wasn’t enough.  So, I called Paul Axtell and he came over with an ancient, mean-looking jack that is almost as tall as me.  He got the mower up high enough but it was still tough to cut the baling wire because he had to separate the three strands of wire to cut each one.  So, while he did that, I got on the other side to try and separate the strands on that blade.  Suddenly, but in slow-motion, the mower started to fall towards Paul.  I think I said something and tried to hold onto the mower.  As soon as it landed, I jumped up thinking, “Kris is going to kill me if I hurt her husband.”  He said the jack landing on his knee was the worst part for him.  I did ask him to please pull his arm out from under the mower so I could see it.  It was fine.  Then, I looked at my right hand.  The middle knuckle on my middle finger was bright blue and already swelling.  As I examined the scratches on my engagement ring, I noticed a little bit of blood.  I moved my ring up and saw it had barely cut into my finger and was starting to swell.  I quickly told Paul I was going inside to take it off.  As I was running into the house, he yelled, “Use soap!” behind me.  It came off pretty easily, but that’s when I saw how crushed it was.  (The jeweler said if it had been a normal engagement ring, the diamonds would have come out.  Jim never did trust me, so he set the diamonds down into the ring.  Smart guy. )  When I went back outside, Paul asked the obvious question: why was I wearing my engagement ring?  I mumbled that humidity makes it hard to take off my rings (that and my Ehlers-Danlos).  However, even though I think that ring may have saved my fingers, I will take off all jewelry from now on. 

Jim should have turned 38 on Sunday.  Helen, Jim, Sarah and I laid wildflowers out on Jim’s grave, and Sarah and I sang “Happy Birthday” to him that night.  In my mind, he now starts to live in the world of the forever young.  He may not be here, with me, right now, but he is still near.  During our past, Jim protected my future, in so many ways.  I don’t know if Jim or God was responsible for all the help, but I am thankful to both.  So many things had to happen just the right way for everything to have turned out as well as it did.