THE END OF THE HARDEST YEAR

They say that death is a natural thing. No one gets out of life alive, right? We are born, we live our lives, we don't think we'll ever get old, and no one 'really' believes they will die. Seriously, we don't, right? Some of us want to die....we get old, we get sick, we get tired of the 'good fight', we get depressed, our lives fall apart.....it's one thing and then another thing and before we know it that "other thing" becomes one too many things and we can't do it anymore. "It" is life, living, putting one foot in front of the other, blah, blah, blah. I know those feelings. I've been there. And so has my oldest son, Shawn. He took his life this year at the age of 43. 

 My youngest daughter, Lizzy, called me and asked me if I was sitting down (I was), if Alan was with me (he was), and then she told me. No sound came out of my mouth, my brain stopped working, my feelings went numb. I gradually was able to talk to her and ask her the usual questions, none of which she had any answers to. 

The hardest part started two years ago when he cut his family - brother and oldest sister and me, out of his life. We didn't (and still don't know) why. It just happened...and we weren't cut out of just his life, but his wife's life and my three grandchildren's lives. So the mourning process had really already begun in some ways. We learned things slowly about his life at the time of his death and it drew a picture of a lonely, terribly gifted man whose life was unfulfilling. He could get music so beautiful out of a violin, cello, or keyboard that would bring tears to your eyes. He could write, play, and sing the most beautiful music I've ever heard. Oh, I'm sure there are other details that I will never know about his death/life but that is to be expected in this situation. 

I was forbidden to go to the funeral by his wife and my ex-husband's wife. I could have pushed it but didn't want to make life more difficult for my grandchildren. I was still in shock anyway. I was just reuniting with my husband after a year apart trying to sell a house in Alaska and me trying to get my own health where it should be in Seattle, we were buying a house and moving from Seattle, and I was still battling chronic physical pain. I didn't have room for this emotional pain so I just "put it aside". I packed, I didn't sleep, I gave a room to a friend because she had nowhere to stay, and I just kept putting one foot in front of the other. 

That was 8 months ago and the mourning is just now becoming acute. Why does it take so long? Why can't I just do it and get over it and get on with my life? Because he was/is my oldest son. It is true when they say we aren't supposed to bury one of our children.

The chronic pain comes and goes and is not constant for which I'm so grateful. I have doctors who listen to me and work with me.  My mother and my grandmother gave me arthritis which I've had since I was 14 years old. I'm the oldest child of an alcoholic who was abusive to me. My heart quit working in 2010 but thanks to modern medicine a pacemaker keeps me right on ticking. And I have a garden variety of other ailments that most people have that are bothersome but not life-threatening. This year I got a new present: seizures. Still trying to figure this out and put it somewhere that I can deal with it. 

And through it all has stood beside me the man, who since the day I met him has made my heart skip a beat. My Alan. This man really loves me and I am blessed among women. He holds me when I am sad, he comforts me when I cry, he drives me everywhere I want to go, he helps with the housework, he takes care of the yard and the vehicles, and he love me. He may be in his 60s but he looks like that high school guy who you can't keep your eyes off of because he is so darn cute and sexy. I love the way his hair falls over his forehead. I love the way he looks in his baseball cap, like he just came off the ball field. I love the way he walks. I love watching him do "manly" things. I love his ability to make history come alive for me. I love him for allowing me to love him. I am so incredibly lucky.

We have moved to a beautiful place between the ocean and the mountains. Very little rain, bits of snow in the winter, and summer that goes on and on. This place is clean, it feels and looks clean. It is green and beautiful and filled with good people, mostly "gray hairs" (as I call older people like myself) but that's on the outside. On the inside they are good, nice, and to my surprise many of them are creative, as am I! I became involved as soon as possible. I love rubbing elbows with and talking to "real" artists. I'm pretending to be one of them but deep inside I don't really think I am a "real" artist. But they put up with me and I am making some really awesome friends. 

I get to see my oldest daughter who runs like the wind and takes chances in her life that I wish I had the courage to do when I was her age; I get to see my youngest son who is a self-taught genius with a camera and a computer and anything tech and who has a heart as big as the sky; I get to see my other family members (by marriage) who are the best anyone could ask for. I get to work from home for my oldest "son" by marriage who has become the strength in my life in so many ways. I got to see my brother and sister-in-law this year and last year which wouldn't have happened if I hadn't been in the "lower 48". BUT, I miss my youngest daughter who graduated from the University of Alaska Fairbanks with her Masters in Counseling last year and who I believe has chosen her field of work well because she is so intelligent and caring and will help so many people in her lifetime. I miss her husband, who gives me so much support when I need it the most and who knows more about building a structure than anyone I know. I miss my friends, especially one who always has her shoulder at the ready should I need it and who believes I'm a better person than I really am. I miss my grandson in Alaska who is just the cutest thing.

2013 was supposed to be a magical year for me because my lucky number is 13. OK, maybe my lucky number is 2014! I look forward to a new year and I'm sure there will be new hills to climb and new joys to share. I believe that I got my PhD in life this past couple of years...they have been the hardest and at the same time the most rewarding. 

So, Don't Let Weeds Grow Around Your Dreams....Janie