Unexpected Graces

Last year this time I had to make a decision. I was a mess, life was shattered and there was a dog in need. Frankly, dogs in need trump most everything for me. I didn't feel like I had much of anything to offer, I was barely getting by. But this dog was living with even less than I had to give, so I said yes to him. Some of life's most brilliant decisions evolve in such a grace filled manner. 

 

Hobbs is one of those. Honestly he was the most emaciated foster to ever arrive at my door. It's helpful going into a new foster to have even a little bit of history on them. Are they house broken, crate trained, are they social with other animals.  All valid questions. Sometimes you know stuff on them, sometimes they are a package waiting to be unwrapped. Discovery can be a stressful trial and error process.

I've said before, and firmly believe, that rescue dogs are grateful dogs. Starving dogs even more so. He and I had a lot to give each other. We both needed some intensive nurturing, so day-by-day we did just that. I fed him kibble and love. He fed me love and comfort. We were both grateful. We still are.

As pointers go, he is not the most handsome of dogs.  Adorable in his own way with his bug eyes and under bite.  I've fostered some stunning pointers. I recently had a friend mention that I've always had amazing dogs here. Truly I have. Hobbs reaffirms that love brings out  beauty that may not be obvious from the outside. Don't tell the others, but he may be at the top of my list of favorite pointers. 

So as we enter Thanksgiving week, I have to give thanks for Hobbs. For the huge package of unexpected grace his carried into my life. I wish you the same, in whatever form works for you. May you all experience a Hobbs whenever you most need it. Trust me, it will be life changing.

Moving On

I like to think I am moving on, trekking through the grief, through the sorrows of losing a marriage and a husband to suicide. Some days the light is returning to life, and other days it's two steps back.

Many things factor in, holidays, birthdays, anniversaries all tug at my heart strings. The change in daylight savings time is a challenge. I need the sunlight. I dislike missing the sunset because it's gone down before I get off work. Having it dark when I get home saps my motivation.

I look at couples all the time and wonder how they do it. How do they manage to stay the course and keep the love. Now, I know I'm only looking from the outside in, so what I see may be only a partial truth.  It may not be what it appears, or it may be way more delightful than I can imagine.

The mystery is finding my way through the loss, and still trusting in the future. It's knowing I may be alone from here on out, and making peace with it. I'm not there yet. It's wishing I could have done more, and giving myself credit for all I did do. It's missing the happy man, but not the troubled mentally ill man. He is clearly in a better place, and those remaining have to create their new place in life.

I don't have the magic words for how to do that. I believe faith wraps us up in possibility, and to move on we must surrender to the loss. Acknowledge it, own it, share the pain, cry the tears. To move on we must look forward. We need to honor the past and trust in the future. We have to move, to move on. So staying stuck is not an option. It's hard, it's daunting, and it is part of surviving loss. It's taking it a day at a time, a season at a time, an experience at a time. It's moving when we can, resting when we have to and beginning again. It's as simple and as difficult as that.

Reach Out

Those two words - Reach Out - can mean so many things.  They have been on my mind for a while. Lots of times we are comfortable, or don't want to rock the boat, or preoccupied, or busy. In that moment, day, week or period we don't reach out as much as we could have. Or should have, or wish we had.  Sometimes we need to reach out through the pain, or reach out to share the joy, or reach out to help carry the burden.  Sometimes we reach out to inquire about others, other times we reach out to share of ourselves.

One of the few graces that came from Gordon's choice to take his life is that he was able to be an organ donor. Another grace is that his choice opened the door for me to speak of suicide, and the multitude of impacts it has on the family and friends. I'll be honest, my knowledge of suicide and it's aftermath was blessedly non-existent. It's hard to fathom, and a topic few will embrace. Even those willing to tip toe carefully into the topic, are hoping for a quick way to exit the conversation. 

So on the topic of reaching out, I sat down this week and wrote to the two people who received Gordon's kidneys. I didn't reach out asking for anything, rather I was offering something. It's all done anonymously at this point. Somewhere down the road it may become more personal. I may, or may not, receive any response. But, and there is always a but, I reached out so that they could know of the man who gave them a great gift. 

So that they could know of his passions, his essence, his family, his hobbies. The lovely things that made Gordon, Gordon, before mental illness took him. It was good for my heart to remember the happy man, and let go for the time of the troubled man who gave up on living. And yes, I shared that he chose to end his life. Not to worry them or trouble them, but to know what a miracle it is that his kidneys and their bodies connected with each other. He did not know the gifts he still had to give when he gave up. I do, and now they do. In the communication, that reaching out, I opened more doors. Of communication about giving up, and receiving unexpected gifts. About sharing the truth of journey's we never wanted to take. 

Carry On

I am relearning. Relearning what I like in life, what I will not tolerate. I am relearning how to carry on. Frankly we should all do a self-check and some relearning. Rather like a breast exam, look for things that absolutely have to be excised, do it and move on.

For some to carry on means to pick up the yoke you are harnessed to and keep going. For others (raising hand and yelling me, me, me!) it a bumpy process of rediscovery.  

The one year mark of Gordon's suicide gave me pause to look back. In addition to the daily looking back and wondering, I looked back and evaluated. I noted things I achieved over the year, we can call that personal growth. I reached out to the good people at Nebraska Organ Recovery Service and got on an update of Gordon's kidneys. They are both working in their new "homes". They had rough starts for the recipients, but are doing well. They can carry on thanks to his donation. I also share about life after a suicide. Call it my small way to release some of the stigma. If that isn't a good way to carry on I don't know what is.

I carry on with some of our old traditions. Some weeks just require a Friday night celebratory shot to mark making it through the week. I carry on by being part of a survivors of suicide on-line group. I carry on by meeting monthly with a group of widows. Lord knows I never expected that to be a peer group of mine. Life takes you down roads you never thought you'd travel. By the way, what a terrific group of women.

I carry on by fostering dogs and being a crazy dog lady. I carry on my love of flowers/gardening, working as a florist. I carry on by blogging. I carry on with faith, sometimes a bit wobbly, sometimes strong; I carry on because I chose life. I carry on because of all the decisions and happenings that led me to the here and now. Is it easy? No one ever said that. Yet some days it's easier than one might expect. Some days it's all up hill into the wind, in mud up to your knees. 

In the end, let us carry on. You lead and I'll follow. I'll lead and you'll follow. Carry on my friends, life beckons and grace follows.

365

Three hundred sixty five days ago Gordon chose to end his life. That just begins to number the days we will try to make sense of his decision. To make sense of the incomprehensible. To accept the unacceptable, to attempt to wrap our heads around his choice.

I'm only beginning,to push through the stigma that comes with a death by suicide. I struggle with saying my husband died by suicide. I struggle with talking about him, even when I long to hear memories about him. The isolation, the head games, the feeling of being judged at worst, and knowing you're being gossiped about at best. The regret of wishing you could have done more, the shame of an outcome beyond your control. I am more than the consequences of his choices. Yet I know I walk with his choice preceding me and following me. And you know what? He was more than his final choice.

These days I struggle with going places and being the single one. Especially the single one who's spouse chose to die. I struggle with conversations in groups, it's harder now to share of myself and easier to merely listen. I wrestle with choosing solitude and resenting it.

Untreated depression, health issues, life frustrations, anger,job losses all played a role in his choice. In the end his pain was greater than his ability to cope.

At the very least I can write about it, advocate, and share what the journey is like. It is not something that I/we had control over. We were not included in his decision. Even those who reached out to him could do no more than that. It is not a neat and tidy act, and healing from it is the same. I am acutely aware of being a alone and painfully aware of why.

It seems ironic, in retrospect, that he died during Suicide Prevention Month. Ironic too that his decision was, no doubt, fed by regrets. Our journey forward is filled with the same. If I've learned one thing this year is that we need to reach past the awkwardness, ask the hard questions, breech the painful silences and subjects. We need to reach out. And we need to know, in our heart of hearts, we are never truly alone.

Even Keel

Sometimes our reality is just a hard place to be. August came and went, and as grieving goes it was a hard one. Grief knows no pattern, no schedule, it has a mind of it's own. I had a birthday, a significant one, and I really didn't want to celebrate it. Didn't want to even have it. It may have  been hard to celebrate even if life was on an even keel. I don't know. What I do know is life is not on an even keel. The reality that Gordon took his life is hitting hard. Owning it is the first step. Sadly I/we have been taking this first step for months and will be for years.

September is Suicide Prevention Month. There is so much stigma about suicide, so much isolation following a suicide, and so much soul searching for those who lose someone to suicide.  I do know looking back will not provide answers, as there will always be more questions than answers. The challenge is to look forward and step boldly, or timidly as the case may be, at best consistently in that direction. Sometimes that step feels crazy scary, sometimes they are wrought with tears. Sometimes they are the routine steps of our day-to-day life. It involves some of what we have always done, and some of what is new on our life journey. 

When we are on an even keel, we sometimes forget how grace filled life is. When we aren't, and many times we are not for a multitude of reasons, we still need to be open to the grace of the journey. 

This part of the journey is hard, is tearful. There is grace in that, and growth. Wherever you are in life, I wish you the same....grace and growth. 

Owning It

I'm pretty sure I should rename this blog..."Owning It Is The First Step", or "What's Your Reality" or "How To Get Through Life With No Easy Lessons".  

First I'll own it. I had one of those days. I looked at others and judged my life, my inside by their outside. "They" look carefree, they look put together, they look like they have it all. They look like life is perfect. And I wept. Because as blessed as I am this is not where I thought I'd be in life. 

Which leads me to "What Is Your Reality".  My reality is I carry the weight of grief on a journey that won't end, but that I will get through. My friends journey is one of breast cancer treatment. Another person's daughter disappeared while hiking 18 days ago and has yet to be found. Another friend is going back to college, with kids in grade school and high school...she's alternately excited and terrified. I have friends who never thought they'd be alone all their life, and yet they are. There are those with money struggles, health issues and those faltering in their faith. There are those who fight the battle of mental illness. Mother's who have miscarried, mother's estranged from their children. It goes on and on. And, sometimes we weep. It is an emotional necessity.

Then we get back to "How To Get Through Life With No Easy Lessons". We do that by looking at the reality other's face, and counting our blessings. I may not be where I thought I'd be, but I'm in less pain than others might be. I'm blessed more than I can count, I just need to stop and count.  Other's might gladly trade their struggles for my reality. I have to judge less, envy less, and love more. You never know from the outside what weight people carry on the inside. If you are invited in to their struggle, or if you reach out to share the struggle, you both will be blessed. Owning it, and helping others own it, is how we get through life. Help someone today, love yourself today. Begin with the blessings.