Angels Among Us

So here's the deal.  I saw the movie "Michael."  It is one of my favorites, but I never took it literally -- that angels are sent to help us fix our lives and make sure we don't miss the opportunities that God has provided for us.  As Michael himself said, "I'm not that kind of angel."  In my belief system, he/she is not that kind of God.  But maybe there's a different way of looking at this. 

Early this spring, I had committed to walking Bloomsday with a friend. It just so happened that Bloomsday fell on the Sunday after I finished my chemotherapy.  I had been having a lot of fatigue from that, and typically, Saturday and Sunday were my worst days.  So I was a little nervous about finishing Bloomsday this year.

As usual, I took the shuttle bus down to the event.  This year I got there early because the buses were not as busy as in previous years, and I had walked right on to a bus that left 5 minutes later. The street where we were to line up for the start was mostly empty, just a few clusters of walkers waiting in the sunny spots, trying to stay warm.  There's a kind of camaraderie in that kind of setting, and I started talking to a young woman standing near me.  My obvious chemo hairstyle breaks down a lot of barriers with meeting people.  She is a mammography technician, and so we talked about breast cancer diagnosis and survivor stories.  Her love for her job and compassion for her patients radiated in her face and attitude.  She told me a story of two patients diagnosed within days of each other, treated on the same day, side by side in the recovery room.  One, her friend, had a positive attitude and was focused to fight her battle for life, the other, a stranger, was fearful and focused on her victim status, saying "I just can't deal with this."  The friend is still alive, but the stranger is not. This story supported the research I've read, that, in addition to the traditional medical treatments, other healing practices, like an anti-inflammatory diet, exercise, and spiritual practices, make a verifiable, significant difference in survival rates.  And that having a positive attitude is very important.

This woman was not sporting wings and a halo, but her message to me was clear. We never exchanged names, and after she left me to join the porta-potty line, I never saw her again.  Shortly after that, another woman wearing a baseball cap over her head-wrap introduced herself to me.  She is battling a different type of breast cancer, and is in the middle of her chemo.  She had no one to walk with, and I invited her to join me and my friends.  She ended up setting a brisk pace and left us behind in her dust after the first mile.  There was another message – “you can do this. Other women in the same circumstances are doing this.” 

So my premise is this:  there ARE angels among us.  I'm not saying that a wise and bearded patriarchal God is summoning ethereal winged beings and directing them to us in moments of need.  I don't think he/she is kind of God and they are not that kind of angels.  What I believe is that the energy, wisdom, and power that is our Universe knows us and what we need and where we are headed.  That seeming randomness engages real humans as its own "secret agents" to help each other as we are all trying to grow and evolve. If we watch and listen, we will see and hear these angels and we can be those angels for each other.

Here's the last little bit that "sealed the deal" for me.  Recently I was at my medical office waiting for an appointment with the doctor who is overseeing my radiation therapy.  I saw a woman who reminded me of a friend and former colleague.  I doubted myself, because the woman I knew was a 10-year survivor and, as far as I knew, was in perfect health.  Sometimes people in that setting need their space and privacy, so I didn't speak.  This woman already had lost her hair, so I assumed she was already doing chemo. That didn't match with the person I knew. But I couldn't escape the feeling that I knew her. After she left for her appointment, I checked Facebook and saw some subtle clues that something was going on.  I messaged her, and later we connected.  She was indeed going through an unusual and complicated diagnosis.  I was able to share my experiences about the chemo process and be supportive of her. Our meeting seems more than oddly coincidental. I can't help thinking that I might be, in some small way, an angel for her. This dear friend very suddenly lost her husband while she is in the middle of her cancer battle. I am grateful that she reached out to me and that I was able to support her in that time of need.

 

So, that's what I think.  We are not alone; we are not stumbling through life on our own.  There are "hints and allegations" as Paul Simon says.  "Angels in the architecture" of our lives.  We can help each other through this. This is the token I have been handing out to some of the angels in my life.  It serves to remind me that I never know when I will be called to be an angel to someone.

Crab Cakes Three Ways

In Eastern Washington, crab is expensive and seasonal and usually reserved for special occasions, like Christmas and New Years. It's a meal you have to work for, cracking shells and picking the meat out. 

Kevin and Paige enjoying crab

With crab cakes, someone else has done that work, and you pay a premium for that as well. Crab cakes are a special treat for an  inlander like me., 

My first encounter with crab cakes came when Jim and I and our son Kevin spent Thanksgiving in Seattle. We had decided to avoid the family issues around who would host the dinner and who would be invited. Instead we booked a hotel near the waterfront. I made dinner reservations at Cutters Restaurant. It was a wonderful meal, no cooking on my part, and we all ordered exactly what we wanted. My philosophy of dining out is to have something I wouldn't make myself, so I had the crab cakes and they were excellent. 

We spent that weekend walking around Pike Street Market and the waterfront. It was a wonderful family time for the three of us. It's one of my favorite memories. 

The second crab cake episode came last September. It was the weekend of Jim's birthday, and Kevin and I had agreed to spend it together. I flew to Seattle, and we decided to go to a fancy seafood restaurant as our "revenge" against Jim's not being with us. It was a way of responding to our loss with irony and gentle anger -- processing our disbelief that he would never celebrate another birthday with us. We went to Etta's down on the water. Again, the crab cakes were excellent, and the bill would have made Jim's eyes pop. It was a bittersweet dinner, filled with shared memories and the silences of our sadness.

Last weekend, Kevin came home to help with some projects around the house. I had a Dungeness crab in the freezer, a leftover from a family crab feed. I had thawed it to be eaten that weekend, and Kevin decided we should make crab cakes. I found Paula Deen's recipe on the Internet and we set about making it happen. Cooking is something I used to do with Jim, and I haven't done much for myself since he's been gone. The chopping and cracking that Jim would have done was now done by Kevin. We shared memories again, but this time the ache was more nostalgia than acute pain. Crab cakes are actually fairly simple, and again these were excellent. We now have a new memory to share, one that reflects the new realities of my life. 

Three different memories that reflect three stages of my life:  the old, comfortable, and stable one that I thought I would have for many more years; the life after loss, shattered and confused, trying to understand this new reality; and a life in transition toward our new reality. The new life is still unfolding, but it has hope and love in it; it's wrapped in healing that is beginning to integrate past, present, and future.

A Year of Firsts

Someone told me that the first year after the loss of a spouse is a series of “firsts.”  First Christmas without your loved one, first birthday, and so on.  Valentines’ Day would be near the top of that list, since it’s the holiday that celebrates love and relationships. 

Paying Attention

One of the most important things Jim taught his sons about successful relationships was “pay attention to what she likes.”  So for Valentines’ Day, I never got that big, bright red heart-shaped box all decked out in ribbons and lace, because that is not what I really liked.  Store-bought manufactured chocolates don’t qualify as “real chocolate” in my opinion.  The best chocolates are crafted with dedication and love.  Every year, I looked forward to a small, plain white box of handmade truffles that Jim had personally selected from the shop that made our wedding cake. That said “love” to me in a way that a big red heart never could.

It's All About the Laughter

Jim wasn't one for the grand gesture, but he always could make me laugh.  One year he excitedly presented me with jewelry-type box.  I opened it and found a small plastic soldier that had been painted turquoise.  "It's an aqua marine!" he said. Aquamarine was our son's birthstone. Later on, I got the real thing, but that silly plastic soldier is the gift I remember most.

 

No one will ever make me laugh like that, but that doesn’t mean I won’t laugh again.  When you are grieving, you are also surrounded by people who want to help, but aren’t sure what to do.  The best thing you can do for yourself, and for them, is to ask for what you need. 

New "Firsts"

Recently I asked for a Girl’s Movie Night with some dear friends.  We watched “Trainwreck” and howled at Amy Schumer’s raunchy humor.  Another weekend, I joined another group of friends for a quilting retreat.  Being surrounded by colorful fabrics and beautiful projects and loving support took most of the loneliness away.  I also knew that I could just go and sit quietly by myself if I needed to.  

Navigating the landmines of memory in the first year means creating new memories – different ones that are filled with love and laughter.  Love comes in many forms, and it is waiting for us to reach out and claim it. If you are struggling with a holiday, ask yourself “how can  I make this one special in a different way?” 

Life [and death] is what happens when you are busy making other plans

This rephrasing of John Lennon's famous quote summarizes what has happened in my life since I last posted here. You, my friends, already know this, but I wanted to share with you a little of what I've learned from my experience.

                                                           **************


It was a quiet summer Sunday afternoon.  Having read the Sunday paper, I was watching a golf tournament on TV and actually dozed off for a few minutes.  I woke up to Scout, our 10-year-old Labradoodle, woofing to go out.  I let him out and then, a few minutes later, checked on him because my husband Jim was working in the yard and I knew he'd left the gate open.  I looked out in the yard for Jim, and saw him lying face down near the pickup truck. My first thought was "oh, he's working on the sprinkler lines." Instantaneously came another thought and the first clue that my life was about change forever. "There aren't any sprinkler lines there. This is VERY bad!"  I grabbed my cell phone and ran to where he lay.

                                                           ************

Every person who is in a long-term relationship knows at some level of awareness that one of the two partners will outlive the other.  Jim and I were married for 26 years and expected to spend at least 20 more together.  We had retirement plans, dreams of living in the Colorado foothills near our grandchildren, visions of an active and happy old age together. But in a heartbeat, all those plans became meaningless. 

                                                    *************

I rolled Jim over, trying to start CPR, calling his name, slapping his face lightly, begging him to respond.  He didn’t look like himself because there was no life, no joy, no love in his face.  I could feel the door of our life together closing. I was shaking too hard to dial my cell phone, so I screamed for help and neighbors rushed into our yard. Pulling me away, they started CPR and called 911. It all felt like an out-of-body experience. I was watching this calmly but with a feeling of dread, knowing that, after this, nothing would ever be the same. In that moment, I felt hollow inside, having no sense of who I was or what would happen next. I was disconnected from the person I had been, and empty of the person I would become.

                                                            ***********

In  the days that followed Jim’s death, I began to move from numbness to feeling. One of my strongest feelings was fear. I was terrified -- of our finances, of Jim's unfinished work as a builder and general contractor, of being alone. Grief counselor and writer, Christina Rasmussen, speaks of the fear associated with loss: "After loss, we perceive the entire world as dangerous because the amygdala [part of the brain that process sensory input] instantly compares new experiences with this trauma and what it means in your life." I felt like I had landed in a minefield with no clear path to safety. Besides the fear of all the knowns in my life, I was terrified of the unknown. If my life could change this quickly and unexpectedly, what other changes might be lurking ahead of me?

I have learned that this fear can be managed, that taking small steps and risks will re-train my protective neural patterns to trust life again. I also have learned from Christina's book that the life I have now is a preparation for the life I am constructing out of the remnants of the past.  This new life will unfold as I walk forward, taking gradual steps, simple but sustainable steps, on the path before me, the path to my future.

 

The Christmas Quandary

For years, I've made Christmas gifts for my friends.  It started in college with some of those very ‘70s macramé hanging candleholders and continued when I was single and had more time than money. It became a habit. 

 

 I'm a little ambivalent about this, because I had a grandmother who made some very nice, useful gifts and some pretty awful ones, (yes, I’m talking about you, macaroni-covered box).  Every year, it was a crapshoot as to what was in the package wrapped in her signature style of mismatched pieces of re-used paper and ribbon.

 I try to stay mainstream with my crafty gifting, mostly making quilts or knitted accessories, and my friends always seem pleased.  Rule one, no macramé or crocheted teacup planters. Pinterest has made all this seem more normal. I mean, if a couple million or so people are making wine-cork baskets and ornaments and who knows what else, it must be cool, right? 

This year, being very busy with work, I decided to give myself a pass and just buy all my gifts.  Lately, my crafting time has become compressed to a week between finals and Christmas, and the cursing coming from my sewing room has been noticed by other family members as being less than festive.

However, I'm really not a shopper.  I generally plan one trip to a couple of 'independent stores that I really like, and then retire to a stack of catalogs, my laptop, and a nice toddy to complete my shopping and let UPS/Fedex do the leg work.

 

That worked well this year, much less stress, but I found that once the shopping was out of the way, I missed the planning and creativity of making gifts.  So I thought to myself, ”maybe just a few, small handmade gifts." 

These seemed to exactly fit that description:  festive, holiday-themed pot holders.  Very fun to make, used up scraps of fabric I (mostly) already had, and could be combined with other things I had on hand, like holiday-themed kitchen utensils, in a basket. Who doesn’t need new potholders?  Not me, that’s for sure.

 I liked the way the Christmas potholders had a little hand-pocket, so I adapted that idea to some plain rectangular ones.  This is a fun way to try out different quilt block designs. 

 

This year, I'm going to focus on small projects that can be finished quickly--instant gratification and I can use up a lot of the fabric I have in my stash.  In the meantime, I still have one large project that is almost finished.  I'll post that when I'm done.