It's a group I never wanted to Join, the walker bunch. I'm used to zipping around and Chasing after things, like Chickens. I always felt pity for the folks Who needed to poke along Pushing a walker. But now I'm one of them. And it's humbling. But I've come to appreciate my Pushmobile. I've learned that when I grasp the Lower bars, I can maneuver myself Directly over the toilet seat. (I know. Too much information. ) And I can carry items in a bag I've attached to the front. Without my walker, I'd need more Help getting around the house, and Poor Danny already has enough work to Care for me. I wish I'd been more careful so I Could walk freely without help. But I'm thankful for my trusty Aide that enables me to walk at all. And now I will view my fellow walker Buddies with more patience, grace and Understanding. |
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Our visit to Danny's Michigan family was
Idyllic, until it wasn't. Three of Carla's swift chickens flew the Coop, and in chasing them, I Fell to the pavement. The result? Urgent care. An ambulance ride to the hospital. (For Danny, too, since his blood Pressure skyrocketed.) He on the cardiac floor. I on the ortho. A fractured femur repaired. All our plans upended. But the old adage applied. "There are no interruptions, only Opportunities." Opportunities to share with the Ambulance attendant, the fellow who Pushed me to the OR, the sweet Nurse who shared her heart. Everyone had a story. I listened. And they listened to mine. News of us spread. "You're the lady who chased the Chickens. And your husband's here Too. And you're newlyweds." All true. But we're back home now and on The mend. And frankly, I hope my life gets Back to boring.
I emptied my condo of my clothes and
Transported them to my new home. Only a suit and a dress still hung in The corner of one closet, the Apparel Jack and I wore at our Wedding in Missy's living room 22 Years ago. I searched the pockets of the suit, Finding an old tissue and then Gently placed the clothing in a Black garbage bag for Good Will. It was an emotional moment for me. I remembered the joy of our Wedding day. I remembered how Jack had surprised Me by wearing the suit on our 13th Wedding anniversary, our last. But at the same time I was keenly Aware that the chapter of my life With Jack had closed. I had no regrets, only gratitude. I knew it was the proper time to Dispose of my past wedding garb. It was a new beginning for Danny and Me, a beautiful and blessed one. It was time to move on, to make New memories on our street so Aptly named, Memories Lane. I notice the bits of debris on my
Carpet and drag out my sweeper. I can't stop myself from doing a Load of laundry. I gobble down a few bites of a Warm chicken pot pie that Someone has dropped off on my Patio. Outside it's rainy and dreary. But inside, my spirits are Gradually lifting, Right along with my covid Symptoms. In church this morning,
Behind our masks, Becky and I gave each other a Big genuine hug. Words weren't necessary. Tomorrow is the first anniversary of Mark's death, and today is the sixth for Jack, Mark's dad. I gave her a card. "Open it tomorrow," I said. In the note I told her that a lot of the "Firsts" were behind her now, and The second time around doesn't Seem to be quite as hard. But I was truthful. "You will still have hard days, Becky, I do." After six years I still have hard days. But I closed with the words, "I'm thinking of you, praying for you and Loving you on this poignant day," Dorothy
The idea wasn't mine.
I borrowed it from a friend and it is Meaningful to me. First, I dug in the dirt until I Found three stones, A weighty, craggy rock, One a bit more rounded, and Finally, a small pebble. I scrubbed them clean and Arranged them on "Jack's shelf" along With his other mementoes. The rock with the sharp edges represents Early hard grief when the jagged pain rips My soul apart, when God simply carries me Close to His heart. As the weeks and months slip by the Sorrow begins to erode a bit so that the Intensity of it becomes more bearable, suggested By the rounder stone in the middle of The threesome, and I take baby steps as God holds firmly to my hand. Finally, after years pass, the sadness is Diminished, like a smooth pebble I Carry in my pocket. Because it's always there, the small Weight has become a familiar presence, A part of who I am, and not unwelcome, for I would never want to forget my beloved. It's also a constant reminder that God has Not forgotten me. But even then, after the long sandpapering Process, the sharp pain sometimes unexpectedly Reappears, perhaps when I open a photo album, or I find a note written to me in his familiar handwriting. The anguish lingers for a moment, or two, or three, and Then goes back into hiding, a poignant reminder of what My grief once was and of how far I've come. It's been almost a year since her husband
Suddenly died, and she's held it Together, Not crying often, Trying to be strong. But when she and her daughter searched Through bags of her husband's clothes, she Pulled out a favorite shirt. Holding the garment up she saw beyond the Shirt to the one who once wore it and she Mourned. The floodgates opened. As her daughter consoled her the Widow released the millions of tears she Had stuffed inside. "I realized it's not weakness to cry," she Shared. "It's openness and stability." And for my friend, it's one more step to Healing.
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Dorothy Kalb Hsu Seitzinger
Writing poetry has helped me process and express my sorrows and joys, my concerns and blessings. "Life is hard, but God is good!" Archives
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