Another lost to cancer

After writing a couple posts ago I may be less active, instead I have become a more active writer; go figure.
Anyway, today I just found out David Servan-Schreiber, the author of Anticancer: A New Way of Life died of terminal brain cancer last July.  I was actually going to check out his site to make sure it was linked correctly as I was going refer to it for something else, and I found the link dead.  So I looked up a few things to find he had died.
This saddens me.  His book Anticancer provided me with so much hope.  Again it often seems that there is no control in regards to cancer.  I hear so many different stories of people who have had healthy lifestyles who have been diagnosed or who have died of cancer, but likewise there are many who are not living so healthy that don't seem to be touched with health issues.  I still believe a healthy lifestyle can make a difference, but, perhaps we have way less say over our mortality than we think we do. Although, at best, I can say that the changes I have made in lifestyle have enhanced my general well-being and create a better balance in my life.

Focusing on the Future

It is amazing how time can slip away.  It has been awhile it seems since I have written.  Somehow doing a little getaway with a friend for a few days and then having busy filled weekends and catching up on all the things I didn’t do while away. And of course the really amazing spring weather has lead to me being outside enjoying the unusually warm weather over being inside... somehow then I didn’t gather enough time to write.  Or perhaps there was not much really to expound upon.  I did take time to paint, of course. 

One thing I am aware of is the desire to move to a different space in my life. I feel, even though I am still processing all that has occurred in the past few years, I am noticing that I am starting to be more disengaged with the constant internal reflection that has been so actively engaging.  I guess on some level I recognize that I need to focus more on the future and put more energy towards developing my future.

This doesn’t mean I’m giving up the blog, but perhaps, right now I’m not going to be writing as frequently.  Really, perhaps not surprising given my entries have been less frequent in the past few months.

Another place to see what I’m up to is my website: www.abelcreation.com
Hopefully I’ll update with some new art soon.

The Connection that Continues

In the next couple of days I will be approaching the three year date since my husband’s passing.  This is a somewhat odd point in my journey of life.  First, on the concrete timeline aspect, I have actually been widowed longer than I have been married.  That sure is strange; yet it doesn’t feel like I have been away from my husband for three years.  I think this is because I not only think of him daily, but I experience his presence frequently.  Now, this may seem a bit weird to some, but what I have found is that as I talk about death with some of my closer friends, many of them have had experiences of the presence of a loved one after they have passed.

One of my friends suggested that I make a list of these experiences, so I figure that on this significant anniversary, why not share some things that have occurred.

There are some experiences that perhaps have been tricks of my brain, although since there has been so much frequency, I doubt it at this point.  In this category was the feeling of a breeze caressing my arm on the morning of my first wedding anniversary after my husband passed. More recently, after a very late night celebrating my birthday I was woken up early with a call from my brother to turn on my computer to Skype (he’s travelling Asia right now); I groggily went downstairs, started my computer; started a stovetop espresso and started emptying the dishwasher.  I know my habits and before taking off espresso off the stove I check to ensure the coffee has filled to the top; except I got caught in thoughts and forgot about my espresso until I finished unloading the dishwasher.  When I realized I forgot my espresso, I turned to the stove, thinking oh no my espresso, but the stove was off.  Perhaps I groggily turned it off, but I’m sure I didn’t.  The espresso was made perfectly.  My only explanation is my husband did it for me and I thanked him.

Other incidents, of a somewhat more concrete nature: walking into my home after being away all day and smelling espresso (my husband loved his coffee) throughout my house; going into a supermarket and hearing “Green Eyes” by Coldplay – a song that my husband knew I associated with him... and a song that I don’t think is typically played in public places, I don’t think it was released to radio etc. So, strange coincidence, perhaps, but I like to think it reflects my husband’s presence, and perhaps it makes the grief process more bearable, that somehow he is still with me in spirit. I like to think about it as part of our ongoing connection and ways to communicate despite being in different dimensions i.e. the physical  vs. the non-physical spiritual world.

Yesterday there was the weird thing of my cell phone not working when I was going to call my therapist to say I was late.  It kept resetting when I went to my contact list.  I arrived at my therapist’s and shared my apology for being late and explained my cell was doing weird things.  She shared her phone did something weird temporarily that she associated with the loss of someone she was close to and this lead to her sharing reflections written by one of her colleagues that she is collaborating with. The reflection actually answered a struggle I‘ve been having with my extended family.  In fact, if I did not share about my phone difficulties, I doubt that my therapist would have shared this with me and I don’t know if that would have become the content of the session, but this was the right thing for me to gain from session.  Interestingly my phone is now working properly.

So, make what you want out of these incidents (and there are more than I have shared). I personally like to think of it as connection that continues.

Clutter

Today I have decided to tackle some of the clutter in my home.  Let me tell you about this clutter.  I tend to save almost everything thinking I can reuse it in some project somewhere down the road. I am generally better with bills and the obvious things not to keep. With some of this clutter came the chaos that occurred in my life.  With the chaos came my benevolent friends who literally packed up and unpacked my belongings when I sold my condo and bought my current abode. I am eternally grateful for all the help I received as I would not have been able to do it on my own. 

What also came with this was as I settled into my home were two piles of boxes: one in my bedroom closet and one in the basement.  Truly these piles were out of hand. But they were big enough that I didn’t feel I could tackle them in one evening and with a small child around I didn’t want to do it in chunks as he would get into stuff and it could easily become a bigger mess.  Now, I think I’m a bit pass that, if my son gets into the pile, so be it, I will work through it anyways the next day, and I'm sure I will be working through these piles for days.  It was a little more difficult to be so cavalier when I was obliged to be at work daily and every hour seemed to be accounted for.

So what’s with these piles? Literally, to this day there are boxes that I have not yet gone through and sorted through the contents. Albeit, many of boxes have stuff of my life with my husband in them.  There are Rubbermaid containers containing his clothes (these I still won’t sort though and I feel they are for my son to see if he wants anything of his dad’s when he is old enough to make that decision). Then there are the bits and pieces of stuff from our wedding... like cardstock and ribbon leftover from our handmade wedding invitations, and other similar bits and pieces from our life lived together.  It is weird, that it has been almost three years since my husband passed (now longer than the time we were married) and in some ways it feels like I am on some sort of archeological dig of a life lived long ago. At the same time, I am crying through these little bits as I sort through them.  There is happiness in these tears because our time together was so good, so precious, and enriching; with that comes the missing and grief that continues to live with me.

Cleaning and sorting clutter can be like that.  I recall early after my diagnosis that I read in one of the “helpful” pamphlets that the hospital gives the newly diagnosed, a suggestion to start sorting through clutter so if you die you loved ones will have less to do.  I think I threw that pamphlet out immediately as I was so insulted that I would have to think about death at this point in my life. Also, I was totally emotionally unprepared to embark on these boxes. But somehow, a full year later, this suggestion comes to mind today, and I think of how for anyone going through clutter is a trip down memory lane, that there is a lot of emotions for anyone’s clutter and we all have sentimental attachments.

On Grief

Grief is an awing process.  In some ways it never stops.  Yet grief is also memories; good memories of my relationship with another person who enriched my life. Today, I felt that heart-stopping gasp of pain? Sorrow? The chasm of a love(r) removed from my heart? Whose pain lingers for the rest of the day after its arrival. I feel this periodically, no longer every day. It still takes me by suprise although it’s presence is as familiar as an old friend.  A simple conversation with family about what we recall about our loved one who has left our physical world but remains alive in our hearts and memories; a conversation that has occurred countless times in these walls, however this time, not the first or last I’m sure, the tears well up unexpectedly even though I have had these conversations without tears before. I wonder why today?  Today was a glorious fall day, with lots of fun and frolic with my son.  Today had great ideas and conversations shared with friends. Today was full of love and joy. Perhaps today is reflective of much of the time I spent with my husband - how we lived together. I know it isn’t a significant anniversary.  Curious the way grief holds the heart and when it provokes a greater emotional expression.

The day that music died

Although a line from the song 'American Pie'; somewhere before my husband actually died, I stopped playing piano. Further, I stopped loving music and no longer listened/paid attention to music. For the non-music lover, this may not be so remarkable. However I love music. 

Music is in my soul.  I breathed music as a teen, having music accompany me for every waking hour of my day – and I still can name songs I liked within a couple of notes and can sing the lyrics all these years later. I took years of piano lessons, learned to play recorder then flute in school. It was my refuge for expressing emotion for many years. As an adult I would relax from a trying day by playing familiar pieces on piano. I was teaching myself jazz to accompany one of my friends who sings. My husband and I invested in a digital piano as a joint Christmas gift one year.

So, imagine the realization that I am no longer listening to music – or liking music. Further, when I start to play piano I start crying – it hurts my heart too much.  At this point I could only listen to radio as selecting as song I liked from my vast cd collection seemed just not interesting – or more likely too painful for my ears.  I recognize now this was one of the ways I was grieving.

Slowly I started to hear new music that would appeal to me.  I think, listening primarily to CBC (the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation – public radio), I started to relate to a song – ‘Heartbroken’ by Canadian Meaghan Smith. This evolved to other songs of heartache that I started to be able to listen to, then sing.  I started to try playing my beloved piano again. Not very frequently, mind you. And teaching myself something new – I wasn’t quite ready for that.

Now, two and a half years later, I am finally able to play songs that I can tell my son; your daddy liked this piece. I am actually singing along to songs I loved at one point in my life and are full of memories.  I am finding out about new bands. I am teaching myself new pieces. And with the impetus of my uncle, I think I’m going to try and teach myself guitar (my uncle gave me his old guitar with a fingering book).

I think I can now say that music is alive. As I write that I take a deep breath and sigh, finally. In many ways my emotional life has been connected to music.  It stuns me to reflect that I have been so disconnected from music for so long.  At the same time, I believe my reconnection to music is a reflection of the healing I have done, and my emotional readiness to really engage life fully again.