Addendum

So, I thought this blog had come to a close. Of course, life throws curve balls and we are forced to deal with them. Dan passed away on February 27. Literally dropped dead. A heart that was restarted, but sadly, too late to fully recover. Decisions that were easy, yet incredibly painful. And now, here I am with a path ahead that does not include him.

I've been blessed to be surrounded by family and friends who have managed difficult tasks, guided me through tough decisions and continue to watch out for me. This town of Safety Harbor really has been a safe harbor for me. Friends across the country have reached out to express their sympathy. I have a pile of cards filled with beautiful messages. I am so grateful for each and every person who lifted me up with kindness and care.

As I reflect on almost 46 years of marriage, and over 50 years of being together, I feel blessed. Dan was a truly amazing man who challenged me to live life in a big way. We created and raised two incredible men - my boys are everything to me. Carl has enhanced my life with a beautiful wife and granddaughter. Hunter has a wonderful partner. They have all been so supportive, checking in and providing wonderful opportunities to visit and recharge.

My life has changed considerably. I mean, cooking for one? Lonely days and nights. Waves of tears. Frustrations about daily activities, car and house stuff that Dan always happily managed. Dan's doberman Sieben, who is now my foster dog, gets me up in the morning and continues to need love, walks (always a challenge) and attention.  

One finds a way to cope. A soothing meditation of coloring books and gel pens quiets the brain. I've filled so many pages. A lovely late afternoon glass of wine with neighbors who brighten my mood. Friends who have stepped into the Dan void to help with Sieben and give me a break - I can't thank them enough. An afternoon spent in the pool with friends and a picnic of good food. The volunteer work and the incredible people I volunteer for and with - such amazing support from them as well. "Three Musketeers" Friday with my wonderful sister and brother-in-law gets me out on a weekend evening. A personal trainer who gladly fit me back into his schedule, telling me he was planning to chase me down if I didn't call soon.

Our love story should have lasted longer. I'll take every minute that we had and cherish the memories. Tell your family you love them! I miss Dan's voice saying "have I told you today how much I love you?" (That might be my second and last tattoo!?) Don't pass up that opportunity to share your heartfelt emotion with family and friends through word and action. Life continues for the living and I am learning to live with this loss. There will be no closure, just acceptance and an embrace of all the wonderful people and things I still have.

Love to you all and thank you for checking in.

Paula

Limboland

Dan and I have been guests in Limboland for a few months now. Not the cool Caribbean dance or the religious limbo. That limbo defined as “an intermediate, transitional, or midway state or place.” Ours is a strange place marked by periods of great joy and deep sadness, but mostly by long periods of nothingness. It’s nothingness combined with anxiety because we just are not sure what is coming next. Limboland is filled with questions and answers just over the horizon. But the distance to the horizon is a mirage that defies measurement. Maybe tomorrow…or tomorrow…or tomorrow.

It’s not that we don’t have a plan. It’s that the plans of others need to line up with ours, and therein lies the problem. We are in a state of wait. Wait for the next offer on the house. Wait for decisions from potential employers. Do nothing and keep the house pretty while we wait for the next showing. Leave the house while strangers walk hoards of people through, again and again. Wait with the dog at the local coffee shop, keeping him on a short leash at the fire pit while he eyes up treats other patrons are eating.

In Limboland you own very little. Things that had both great sentimental and perhaps financial value a few months ago are nearly worthless today. Or are sold on Craigslist for pennies. Or eagerly given to friends and family. Fridays no longer mean the start of the weekend—they mean the dumpsters will be empty, ready for the next load. Things are saved from the fire pit at the last moment. Things are stacked in the garage waiting to be hauled cross-country to be stored in someone else’s basement. Residents of Limboland travel light.

I don’t mean to complain, we are actually in a great place and we do know there will be an end to this. It’s just so foreign to both Dan and I. We are used to being very busy. Currently untethered from our routine, we’ve had a hard time adjusting. We know the “end” has us living and working in Florida, on the gulf. The sunshine and palms wait for us as we neatly (can’t have a messy house) sort through our belongings. And without a move date, or a decision from an employer, it’s an activity without an end. In Limboland you live like squatters in a clean, sterile house that looks a lot like yours, but without the soul.

Change and transition is never easy. If we could have created our own perfect path from one point to the next it would never be as messy as it is right now. We’d have answers to every question – in fact, we’d have no questions. Both Dan and I are taking a lot of advice from our great adult sons, who’ve taken the leap, moved across the country and are happy with the change. They did it successfully, and not without bumps. They share with us tips about quickly acclimating to our new location and successfully making new connections. That, in and of itself, is odd – they usually call us for advice.

But in Limboland there is a broader message. It is not advertised, and many folks—I suspect—miss it. It took us a while to see it, and as it slowly sinks in, we know family members and friends who will have a much harder time than us. For some it might be impossible. Our advice, should you enter Limboland.

• It’s the memories, not things. Memories weigh nothing—things have weight and hold you down. Get Rid of the Weight.
• You have no control over the decisions—or indecisions—of others. Take your very best shot, learn from it and move on. It’s their loss, and you will succeed.
• As long as you are a team you are strong. Alternate who is in the Pit Of Despair and who is on the top of Optimistic Mountain. You may change places several times a day, but keep talking.
• The dog will be confused. Let him sleep in the bed for a few minutes every morning. Someone threw out his box of toys, and he’s been through the whole being abandoned thing once before. Let him know that this time, he’ll be coming along on the adventure. 

We’ll get there. In the meantime we attempt to adjust to Limboland and remain optimistic that no later than tomorrow, we’ll get at least one answer to one question. And if not tomorrow, then the day after that.

Halcyon Days

We're in the midst of sorting and packing. We've been making decisions about items in storage spaces that have been untouched for years. The boys came home for Christmas and had to look at, and disposition items, they thought would be safely stored at their parent’s house forever. We are at the cliff, the point where the next step forward is a huge change that neither Dan nor I were truly prepared to take for a few more years. 

And yet, I think about why I started this blog, and it was to ready my mind for that big move to a warmer climate and a new beginning. Dan has been ready to turn that snow blower into a fountain for a long time now.

In December, my job was eliminated, just business and nothing personal. Except that, of course it is personal. It’s about me, and about what I contributed, and to what extent that contribution was valued. My professional currency became valueless and it was at that point they let me go. The company is heading in a new direction that didn’t include me and it is just business.

How arrogant of me to think I’m special, because of course I'm not, this has happened to so many people before me, my husband included. And now we are here, at the end of almost 20 years in the same beautiful house and a very special neighborhood, with neighbors that are not likely to be duplicated. And we sort and we pack. Even the dog is confused. It looks like something big is happening, yet no one leaves or takes him to the kennel, but everything is different.

I’m not sure where this story ends. I’m not done working yet. Neither is Dan. I’m very optimistic about two different employment opportunities, in two different cities, in southern states. They want to talk to me in person and I’ll be an enthusiastic participant in those conversations.

And yet, what a wonderful house this has been, on an incredible street, in an incredible community. Such great friends so close by. My heart aches to think about leaving.

The real-estate agent is optimistic. Great old house, well cared for, premium value, sellers market. The home stager was sweet as she complimented us on all of our personal touches and let us know exactly what to remove. No distractions allowed to confuse potential buyers. “They need to see the house and not what you’ve done to make it your own.” So we sort and pack and neuter the house, our home.

Tears roll down my cheeks. It is the end of these halcyon days.

Me time

I’ve been in a bit of a funk. Approaching my birthday, I think, it’s the double nickel. I am not sure how the years have gone by so quickly, but they have, and I’ve been thinking about it. It’s been on my mind so much that I downgraded my September Olympic triathlon to a Sprint distance. Fear. Stupid, irrational fear. That I’d come in last, or worse yet, be pulled off the race course because I was too slow. 

I was looking forward to this weekend. Dan and guy friends, along with the dog-faced boys were heading to the cottage to do some repairs and pull in the pontoon boat. I could go, or I could stay home and “recharge”. Work has been difficult, projects felt like they were out of my control and I chose “recharge”.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.  Let me recap my very dull weekend. After a frantic Friday afternoon at work (crisis averted due to very competent colleagues), I got home at about 5:30 to an empty house. Dan and the dog-faced boys had left for the cottage at about 4:00 pm.  I proceeded to forage for leftover food and ate a warmed up dinner. I settled down to watch the Wisconsin Senatorial debate (be still my beating heart), post some nonsense on JSonline and watch my “Perception” DVR backlog. I was in bed at midnight.

Saturday found me sitting in my pajama’s until noon, totally missing the farmer’s market that is two blocks from the house. I went shopping, and happily, found a few new dresses for my work wardrobe. Happy with my discoveries I found that I had got shopping wrong, as I didn’t have any coupons to bring the price down. All the other ladies in the Boston Store dress shop looked at me like I was “shopping challenged”. I begged the cashier not to make me feel bad. She took pity of me and scanned some other smart shopper’s coupons for me. Arriving at home I chatted with the neighbor and promised to call if I got bored. I found a can of soup and crackers for dinner and watched a gripping “This American Life” episode I had DVR’ed. It was 7:30 PM. Oh my, look, a NCIS marathon. That was good until 11:00 when again, I went to bed.

On Sunday, I went to the gym and lifted heavy things for no reason. I cruised JSOnline and posted a comment or two. I walked down to the ‘Tosa village for a little shopping and lunch. I returned home to find a message from Dan that he was en route from the cottage and would be home soon. Thank goodness.

Dan tells me that when my boys, Carl and Hunter, are around I light up. I know this to be true. I can also say that when Dan and the dog-faced boys are around I feel so much more alive. Sometimes irritated, but alive. Dan showered, we debriefed the weekend and walked down to Hectors to watch the Packer/Saints game. Dan wore his Saints shirt, hollered too much in the bar and I wondered if we would get out unscathed. It was invigorating.

Solitude is overrated. I wouldn’t do well on my own. I need the craziness of people (and the dogs) around me to keep me awake. I don’t really need me time, I just need someone to give me a reality check. October will be a fun month.  My birthday (I might as well embrace it, it’s happening anyway), two weeks in Florida for work and fun, and the beautiful colors of autumn. I don’t need anymore me time.  I realize now that my recharge really comes from “we time”. I’m glad to have had the reminder.