"What a wonderful life I've had! I only wish I'd realized it sooner." Colette

Oct 12, 2024

Thirty Years a Widow

Jeez, that's almost half my life. Today is the anniversary of the sudden death of my third and BEST husband, Tino Jansen.  Each year I torture myself by re-living anxious memories of waiting for him to pick me up at the bus stop in Portland, where we'd moved a mere 6 months earlier.  I feared he'd been picked up by immigration, for our former company transferred him from Ridderkerk to NYC without bothering with proper documentation, then letting him go after several months.  Despite his unusual name, Tino was Dutch and therefore unaccustomed to our harsh practices of indiscriminate firings, home foreclosures and countless people living on the streets.  He watched O.J. Simpson's infamous motorcade with astonishment.  How do you explain, let alone justify, life in America?

I can still vividly recall riding that second bus, anxiously staring out the window while imagining all sorts of scenarios, none of which included discovering a dead body.  I went into shock, of course; and despite trying to do myself in, I'm still ticking off the years.  I did have one 12-year roller-coaster ride with the Captain which was certainly interesting, but hardly emotionally fulfilling.  Other than that I've been on my own,except for BC, bless her.

Perhaps, as Kamala Harris claims, it's time to turn the page.  So what wisdom have I gleaned over three decades of sorrow?

3D painting of Mom's house
#1:  Don't make any major decisions for at least a year.  I was younger than any other widow I knew, but I did hear plenty of stories from those who made decisions they later regretted.  The one I heard more than any other was of women selling their homes and moving into something smaller or to a different place, usually to live with their grown children.  Mom briefly considered moving into a condo, easier to maintain, an idea Sis and I encouraged (we meant well); but fortunately she decided to stay put and never regretted her decision.  Tino and I were renting an apartment, but one of the first things I said to Mom over the phone was, "I guess I'll move back home (to N.J.)"  I didn't, after all, and I'm so glad.  Your head's just not screwed on tightly that first year.  On the flip side (as on a phonograph record),  widowers tend to re-marry quickly.

#2:  GET OUT!  I received that sage advice from a favorite aunt and promised I would, but I didn't.  Shortly after Tino's death, I visited his family in Holland, who I'd never met.  I also visited good friends in Hawaii and Germany, hoping to distract my senses and lessen my pain just a little.  The early months are filled with cards and supportive messages, some flower arrangements and maybe prepared food; but people have their own lives, and you're eventually alone again with your grief.

I gave in to my depression and could hardly function, so I quit my part time job.  I spent my days drinking bourbon beginning at 10am, working on this crazy-quilt of our short-lived time together, and watching the Simpson trial until I passed out.  I stockpiled prescription pills and bought Final Exit, a How to commit suicide book, at Powell's Books.  I botched the attempt and injured myself in the process, which is when I realized God's keeping me alive until I'm at least 100, just to piss me off.  Living that long is becoming less unlikely, but I don't want to even think about the age God has in store for me now.  Point is, don't make my mistake.

#3:  Don't beat yourself up for still living.  I had survivor's guilt for much too long, despite these words from gal-pal Rita, who worked at the CDC, "Even if (his heart exploded) at the hospital, there wasn't anything you could have done."  I felt guilty because Tino complained the night before of a slight pain in his chest, but we chalked it up to stress and/or the flu.  Rita relayed a story of a man in his 50s taking his physical and on a treadmill when his heart gave out.  Nothing anyone could do brought little comfort to me at the time.  Guilt is a common response to death but let it go.  (We) don't wield that much power.

#4:  Join a support group.  In 1994 there wasn't much more than the Yellow Pages, and in my search for Grief Counseling I found the one source with a wrong number, which belonged to a Body Shop in the Bahamas, that was a strange conversation.  I eventually joined a group held in a church basement complete with a hand-holding prayer at the end, but I went along to be polite.  I'll never forget how, during the first meeting, we explained our losses in-turn.  I heard, "My father died," "I'm newly divorced," and the like; no one lost a spouse.  I waited my turn, smugly thinking, They don't have it nearly as bad as me.

Until the young gal, around 20, both hands bandaged, spoke.  "My two daughters died in a house fire on Christmas morning."  She'd burned her hands trying to save them, we all listened open-mouthed.  How can you possibly compare your experience to that?  It was an interesting and worthwhile seminar, meeting with strangers in pain and learning about the stages of grief, original five but expanded now to twelve, here's a good explanation of each.  The one thing which stood out to me is how differently people react to grief; particularly the time to recover.  Every individual has a distinct story.

# 5:  Ignore anyone who says, "It's been long enough!"  The people who say something along those lines haven't experienced a deep-felt loss, but they will.  The doctor who prescribed the different anti-depressants (which weren't working for me) angrily told me, "Get over it.  It's been 6 months," and handed me the near-fatal prescription for barbituates.  I asked hime if he'd ever lost someone close.

“No…but my wife lost her dog and I saw how upset she was.”

Anyone who says Time to move on really means I'm tired of listening.  Time to find a new ear; and in the meantime keep yourself busy.  Aunt Helen took up a number of new hobbies, I really should have listened; but this is the way my story went.

#6:  No one can answer WHY.  When I woke up following my botched attempt I asked the Priest in the hospital chapel that very question, which he undoubtedly heard countless times.  He offered kind words but none to my satisfaction.  The only words which helped came from lifelong friend Inga. She carefully prefaced her well-chosen words by admitting her inability to answer my impossible question; then attempted to explain her nonsectarian view of life and death:

(sic)  "It’s like plants.  You can have two identical side by side; same soil; same sunlight; same care.  One grows strong; the other weakens and dies.  No particular reason and there’s nothing you can do about it.  It’s just nature.”  

Not exactly what I wanted to hear, but her words still come to mind as too-young friends pass away.

Schipol Airport

#7:  Try not to feel hurt as people distance themselves.  Just like after a divorce, you're no longer a 'couple', and to many you've become a fifth wheel.  Or maye it's too painful to see you in pain, no one wants to think about dying.  Tino died intestate and I had a devil of a time with paperwork, public announcements and lawyers.  After listening to my difficulties, more than one of my married friends re-considered making their own wills.  Here I am with Tino's brother, sister and in-laws, who eventually severed ties after 15 years.  Tino did tell me a bit about his family's dynamics and so I tried not to blame myself for imagined slights; but still, it hurt terribly.

Perhaps this post is more of a What NOT To Do when it comes to grieving, and that's ok.  I can't go back and re-gain the time I wasted, but if you're newly widowed hopefully my experiences can help you get through a really difficult period.  In hindsight, I should have taken better care of my health; not to mention my appearance.

Yesterday I bought a huge outdoor planter and lots of plants I can't identify.  The worst they can do is die, and I've already learned that doesn't necessarily mean the end.  So as I approach my 69th birthday and after 30 years of grieving, I think it's time to stop indulging my pity-party.  After all, my best days are still ahead of me!

P.S.  One of Tino's paintings all-of-a-sudden fell off a shelf, it's never done that before.  I'll take that as a 'sign' that Tino agrees.  Ik hou von jou, Tinoja.  Until we meet again.

Oct 8, 2024

Have Faith in FEMA

You won't hear anything bad about FEMA from me, no siree.  This was Ruff Life following Hurricane Georges in Puerto Rico, 1998, here's that story.

At the time I didn't know much about FEMA and assumed, because I lived on a boat, that they wouldn't help me with repairs; but au contraire!  Everyone was encouraged to apply - the worst they could say was NO.  Almost immediately I received a check for $500 to help survive the early days.  After that, maybe a couple weeks, I received another check for around $5,000, I almost fell on the dock.  For real?  YES.

FEMA never asked what I was doing down there, living on such an old boat; or whether I was properly anchored (I had 5 anchors out).  It was a simple process...so simple that I tried it again years later with another hurricane, Harvey, maybe.  I didn't have quite the same payout but I didn't have as much damage; and again, following their smaller, initial check for several hundred or whatever, I did receive a second, larger check a bit later.

I do understand how it is to be in shock after such an experience, and it's easy not to fully understand the FEMA rep's information.  So don't believe the former President when he's claiming you'll only get $750; or the Government is trying to take your house.

POPPYCOCK!  That's just fearmongering; but like most of the lies which continually spew from Trump's lips, loads of people believe him.  In a sense you can't blame them - they're desperate for a change in their lives and are grasping at Trump's straws.

DON'T, please, when it comes to FEMA.  They are truly trying to help, and aren't using disaster funds for illegal immigrants.

But go ahead - spread false rumors and put your fellow citizens in danger.  Can you believe there are people out there too frightened now of losing their homes that they'll remain in place in the face of upcoming Hurricane Milton?  Doesn't that bother you?

I don't do social media, so how about sharing some positive insight instead of the latest shelter adoption?  For those in real need, thank you.

Sep 27, 2024

Delos

Delos was a side trip during our Mykonos stop with the ship, Celestyal Journey.  Part of UNESCO's World Heritage List, it's only 1.3 square miles (3.4 sq. km) in area.  If I'd ever heard of it, I'd forgotten; but it sounded like a nice excursion, and it was. Photo is of the House of Kleopatra, not the Egyptian one but from a wealthy Athenian family.  The small entrance/gift shop is in the background.  From A Tour of the Archaeological Site of Delos, a handout at the entrance:

"The island's importance grew due to its being centrally located on the sea route between the Greek mainland and Asia; and because of its excellent harbours, protected by the islands of the Cyclades.

"Delos must raise some astonishment when one compares its size to its history. Although a small, rocky island no more than 5km long, for ancient Greeks it was the most sacred place, because Apollo and Artemis, two of the most important deities of the Greek pantheon, were born there.

"Early inhabitants (2500 BCE) lived on top of the low hill Kynthos, from where they could easily inspect the sea for enemies.  The Mycenaeans (15th cent. BCE) felt confident enough to settle in the small valley by the sea."

Here's a fun story:

"According to Greek mythology, Delos used to be an invisible rock floating in the Aegean, not belonging to the physical world.  When female Titan Leto got pregnant by Zeus, his wife Hera decided to ban Leto from all earthen places so she could not give birth to her children. Leto wandered the Aegean, trying to find a place where she would be protected. Zeus pleaded with his brother, Poseidon to tie down Delos so Leto could deliver twins Apollo (god of light, music and poetry) and Artemis (goddess of wild animals, hunting and chastity)."

Sep 11, 2024

I AM Better Off than Four Years Ago

I haven't written as much about politics as I used to...primarily because I can't believe the number of people lining up to follow a megalomaniac.  I don't have children to worry about and I'm on my way out of this world anyway...metaphorically, don't worry.

I'm all for the Harris-Walz ticket and will proudly mail my ballot off as soon as it arrives.  I work with good people who support the Republican ticket regardless of who's at the helm.  I will say, as far as Haitians eating people's pets, that I heard similar rumors about Vietnamese immigrants following the withdrawal from Vietnam.  Recent groups are always targeted, I can imagine what my Polish grandparents endured.

Maybe someone did do that, but you cannot use an individual crime to characterize an entire culture; otherwise we'd all be considered mass murderers.  What do other countries think of us, do you imagine? In other cultures some might eat dogs, but what do Indians think of us eating cows?  It's the same as decrying brutal killings of citizens by immigrants...how much worse is that than school shootings continuing because of lax gun control?

Things are a mess, so I've decided that rather than get upset I'll simply sit back and watch the upcoming carnage with popcorn, oooooo...gloom and doom.  What'll happen?  At least we'll still be able to blame one another. 

I can't list reasons I'm better off than 4 years ago, I just know that I am, look aroud my blog for possible answers.  I'm hoping not to lose what little I have, just like everyone else.  So I'll leave the fight to Taylor Swift, boy, is she in for some verbal abuse, keep her safe.  Good thing she's got a big boyfriend.

This is hastily written because I'm off to work shortly to cover someone with Covid, I know, I know, that doesn't really exist; the election was stolen; Elvis lives...

Sep 5, 2024

Tu-Be or Not Tu-Be Tied

I just re-read an old post (Fredder), where I casually mentioned having my tubes tied.  I was in my late 20s, and at the time (early '80s) needed my husband's permission.  Fred was in the Army so as a Dependent-Wife, the military controlled my medical care.  I'd been taking birth-control pills ever since having an abortion the year after Roe v. Wade, and as I'd not changed my mind I wanted it made permanent.

Therefore, what's happening now with the Supreme Court and Congress regarding women's health no longer affects me, thank God.  For 50 years I've taken for granted that other's daughters and granddaughters would have the same hard-won rights; but as I read my words, "...I had my tubes tied," I couldn't help wondering if that is or will become illegal in different states, too?

When I shared my news with other D/W friends, all save one with children, they were astonished and asked how I managed to talk the military doctor into performing that trick.  I was childless and still young enough to propagate; but even though my friends already had 2 or 3 they were refused.

"When the doctor asked if I have any children I said my husband has 2 daughters living with us."

That was a white-lie.*  The girls were living with us, for the summer, but what the hell was the difference?

"Oh, well then, approved."  I got lucky.

And snip-snip it was over.  My friends asked why hubby didn't just have a vasectomy, a simpler procedure, and I replied (sic),

"If something happens (with our marriage), what if his next wife wants children?  And since I'm the one who doesn't want them, I'd still have the same problem."

So I wonder, does witholding care from women also include having one's tubes tied?  Or, now that I think of it, prevent vasectomies for men?  I've heard conspiracy theories in which a certain group (which will remain nameless) wants more (white, of the right persuasion) babies.  Poppycock, I thought; until I heard Trump declare,

"We want babies...lots and lots of babies."

As part of the military for 14 years, (we) had no say over which state or country we'd be assigned; so should varying state laws apply to the the unwilling or unable?  You know what I mean.  Then equally unfair is to penalize young girls and women who, for whatever reason, are stuck in the state they're in.

If I didn't have the choices I did, I would not have been able to live my 'authentic' life (I'm trying to relate); and no one, no one, has the right to decide what that is but me.

In conclusion, although I'm no longer affected, please, R or D, support those who vow to avoid the most extreme limits to abortions and give the gals a chance.  Not everyone is suited for parenthood and that isn't a character flaw.  But if you disagree I charge you with this:

If you force 'em, then PAY FOR 'EM!

* (Is white-lie politically incorrect? I made a slip last week with Chinese Fire Drill and was summarily uh-uh'd. What's the alternative? Someone suggested Asian Fire Drill but we collectively shook our Senior heads; better not use that comparison at all. Sure hope I can keep using the one with the bear.) 

Sep 2, 2024

I Thought...

1980s
Sis and I were talking the other day and I said I'd like to retrieve my things in storage (in NJ) some time next year.  The conversation drifted to 'things' not turning out the way we figured but the way they're supposed to, often much better.  How many times have you said, "I thought..." only to explain your delight, disappointment or astonishment?

"Have you written about that?" Hillary asked after I rambled through the following trajectory.  Pretty much, over time; but not all together so here we go (links are to previous stories):

After Mom died in 2016 I thought I'd be back in a year or so to pick up my things, mailed over the decades from distant shores and held in Mom's attic for safekeeping (r).  I'm kicking myself for not taking a photo BEFORE I cleaned out her house, but imagine everything you own fitting in such a space, in your 60s. The really important stuff.


2005
One day, staying with Mom between marriages, I whined that I'd never have a home of my own.  Everyone I knew seemed to own a condo; a co-op; something.

Mom replied, "You have a home.  You just don't have a house to put it in yet."  She meant a sense of home, so I'm sure she appreciated the irony of what came next.

'King Tut', aka Ruff Life, wasn't exactly what I thought I'd buy, but in hindsight she was much better - for the experience if not the lodging. I still pine for a safe, solid space; an anchor to call my own.  I may not have total control of the outcome, but I can develop a better mindset to alleviate any angst.  I remain hopeful, for I've still got time.
Original gourd art designs Copyright 2024 Andrea Jansen Designs. Please write for permission.