The golden one that wasn't...

This blog is in a unique format.

I have written it over the course of a little over a week

as things have come to mind.

It seemed appropriate to me to date the entries separately 

but to post them all together. 

 

3/12/2026

 

Fifty years ago today,

we signed the lease on our first apartment

and started cleaning and moving stuff in. 

 

Fifty years.

A long time by any standard.

 

Just over a week later,

we would marry. 

It was a Saturday.

It was a leap year.

"December 1963 (Oh What a Night)" by the Four Seasons topped the singles chart.

Patty Hearst was convicted of bank robbery.

Bell bottoms were on the way out

and shoulder pads were on the way in.

"One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest" and "Rocky" were the top movies.

People were watching "Happy Days", "Laverne & Shirley", and "The Rockford Files" on TV. 

Gerald Ford was president of the United States.

Later that year, I would vote for the first time.

The 1976 Chevy Malibu in lime green with a white top was the car of my dreams. 

Fifty years ago,

on the first day of spring,

my Al and I said "I do".

 

I was 18.

He was 20.

We should have had 50.

Instead, we had just six weeks shy of 37.

 

Can I confess that I am jealous when a couple reaches 50 years.

I am happy for them and jealous of them.

Not terribly attractive I know.

Especially since I am so happily remarried.

But it is highly unlikely my Lanny Love and I will see 50 years together.

 

Over the years I planned that 50th almost as much as I planned our wedding!

I now find myself wondering what to do with the day....... 

 

3/15/2026 

 

I don't compare.

It just isn't a good idea, so I don't do it.

Not even when it doesn't matter because it creates precendent

which creates habit

which creates discordant feeling toward one or the other of my husbands and lives.

So I don't do it.

But it crossed my mind this morning 

that I celebrated my first and fortieth wedding anniversaries -

both significant anniversaries - 

in the same year. 

 

3/16/2026

 

I want to talk about how my Al and I came to be.

We were babies!

I was recently turned 13, he not quite 15 when we met.

I was just finishing 7th grade, still in junior high,

he was going into 9th grade, high school. 

He thought I had good legs,

but, c'mon, I was in junior high and he was in high school.

We went to the same church,

so over the next year, we saw each other on Sundays and Wednesdays

and most Friday and Saturday nights at teen activities.

 

But it wasn't until the summer after we met that he and I became we.

It happened because he got up and moved 

when I sat down in the chair next to him one Sunday evening. 

I didn't mean anything by it, we just both always sat on the front row -

because we were both blind as bats -

and he happened to be sitting in front of and to the side

of a girl with whom I wanted to talk.

So I sat next to him and turned to talk to her

and he got up and moved down a couple chairs.

As only a 14 year old girl can do,

I took offense!!!

 

I immediately began to flirt with him at every opportunity

with the full intention of getting him to "like" me

and then breaking his heart with my aloof "I don't think so" response

to his affections,

Not very nice, I know.

But while I was batting my eyes and laughing at his jokes,

we both fell in "like" so when,

on July 3, 1971 he asked me to "go steady"

I gladly said yes.

I was 14, he was not quite 16.

We were a couple from then on,

marrying not quite 5 years later on the first day of spring.

 

3/17/2026

 

The first day of spring.

That was not our original choice of wedding date.

We had chosen March 27,

but just before the invitations went out,

we discovered that my mother,

who had cancer,

was facing another surgery the Monday following that date

and I didn't want to be on my honeymoon,

so we hand wrote change of date and venue notes

and sent out the invitations.

It turned out that my mother's surgery was moved up a week,

something she didn't tell me,

so I was still on my honeymoon when she had surgery.

 

Still, I have always loved that our wedding day was the first day of spring.

Had I thought about it,

it is very likely I'd have chosen that date to begin with. 

 

And, as it turned out,

my mother passed away just before midnight on March 27 five years later

(though the official time of death was just after midnight March 28),

and a few years after that, my brother-in-law passed on March 27 

so I'm glad it was changed! 

  

 3/19/2026

 

As I type this, it is the day before

and I find myself thinking of that other "day before".

My grandpa getting in (he performed the ceremony).

The rehearsal.

Dinner after with my mom and aunt at Little Black Sambo's.

The last "Night, see you tomorrow." 

Nervous excitement sleeplessness.

 

I find myself fascinated that today is not filled with dread.

It has been my experience that the days leading up to a "special day"

are very often - most of the time - worse than the day itself.

I expected that to be the case this week

but it has not been a difficult, angst-filled week.

I have thought about this special wedding anniversary, a lot,

but not like in the past, not with dread of the day.

And since this is a big one,

that surprises me.......  

 

3/20/2026

 

It was a beautiful morning,

that first day of spring in 1976.

It had rained all week that week

so I was delighted to see my wedding day dawn with sunny skies!

 

We had an afternoon wedding, 2pm.

We didn't want to be partying late and 

I had always wanted an afternoon wedding.

 

Both my parents walked me down the aisle toward my groom,

both gave me away to a man they already love like a son.

I got the nervous giggles waiting in the foyer for my entrance.

I still remember my mom: "Stop that! Right now! Straighten up!"

I tried, and my face in that entrance picture reflects my effort!

 

I remember a lot about our wedding,

but I remember a lot more about the years that followed.

They were good years...and bad.

They were easy...and hard.

They were joyful...and sorrowful.

All of them were loving, growing, committed years.

 

On that spring afternoon,

we promised "until death do us part"

and we kept that promise!

It never occurred to us not to do so.

Not when it was bad, or hard, or sorrowful.

Not ever! 

 

This morning, as I reflect and type this,

my throat is a little thick,

my eyes sting a bit.

I miss my Al.

There are times when I simply long to sit down and talk with him,

hear his corny jokes,

tell him about my day. 

 

I think of our last conversation

and look over at the wonderful second husband he wanted me to find

and know that he would be so pleased with my post-Al life.

I am so pleased with my post-Al life...

...and yet, there is that longing for that life that cannot be replaced,

the life I built with my high school sweetheart,

the man who knew me better than any other ever can

and loved me anyway...

and I him.

 

My covenant with my Al was complete on that January evening in 2013

so today I cannot say I have been married 50 years,

I do not get to celebrate a golden wedding anniversary with the love of my youth,

I only got to celebrate not quite 37.

But today, on the 50th anniversary of our wedding,

I remember the life I shared with my first great love.

And I love him and I miss him!!!

Deeply!!! 

 

 

Then and now...

It is just after 5am as I type this

and in just under twelve hours,

at 4:59 pm, 

I will close my thirteenth year of widowhood

and open my fourteenth. 

 

This past fall, my Facebook page,

as it often does,

showed me a "then" photo

and invited me to add a "now" comparison.

So I did, just because,

with no intention of posting it. 

And I didn't post it.

But it made me pause

and I knew it would become a blog,

I just didn't know when. 

 

The "then" photo was one of the last out-of-bed photos

my Al and I took together.

I remember the night we took it.

We were on the rooftop at 

Cancer Treatment Centers of America in Phoenix, AZ.

It was a warm evening, light breeze.

We had spent the day doing "treatments".

It was an unusual evening in that 

he was not too exhausted and sick

to enjoy an evening adventure. 

 

We looked at the stars, the lights of the city;

we talked about...so many things!

We talked about our lives together,

past, present, and future.

We talked about treatment and how it was going.

We talked.

It was one of the last times we were able to have a "date".

It is a cherished memory.

 

The "now" photo was taken on a 2025 fall symphony date.

My Lanny Love and I had dinner out,

ran into one of our daughters, granddaughter, and a friend.

It was an evening of lovely music and wonderful company.

 

It made me think about my "then" and "now" life.

So much has changed!!!

Very little remains the same!

My "circle" is different, 

    I look different,

        I feel different,

            my personality has changed, 

                I live differently, 

                    I am married to a different man............ 

It confirmed my 

    before Al's death/after Al's death

        life division.

The blending of two lives,

both of them mine. 

 

Widowhood and grief have taken on a "sameness" now.

That is good.

Normal is no longer "new" which means it is actually normal again.

That is good.

I still experience periods of deep sadness and sorrow.

That is because I still love.

I mostly experience deep joy and absolute contentment.

That is very good!

It's the way of spousal grief,

or at least it has been for me.

 

I miss him, my Al.

I miss his sense of humor.

I miss his brilliance.

I miss his preaching. 

I miss his beautiful singing voice and singing with him.

I miss how well he knew me after 37 years of marriage

and 42 of "couplehood".

I miss...so much. 

I miss him.

I always will miss him.

 

I have given myself permission this week, to grieve what was.

I will share lunch with him today,

very likely something I totally should not eat

because he loved junk food.

 

I have also given myself permission to enjoy what is.

It seems strange to me that all this time later

I still have to do that from time-to-time.

 

As I sit in the dimness of this thirteenth anniversary morning,

the fire is warming the living room where I am cozied up in my chair.

Candles are glowing softly.

My Lanny Love is sleeping soundly,

one of the cats curled up next to him in the warm spot I left behind.

The dog has come out to be sure I'm not going to cook and has gone back to bed.

The other cat is curled comfortably on the hassock in front of the fire, 

purring contentedly. 

And the shadow of the last year seems to have lifted from my soul.

 

I look at this "then and now" photo

and I see sadness and joy.

I see great love.

I see great blessing.

I see a blending of two lives,

both of them mine,

and I am grateful! 

 

Happy heaven anniversary, honey! 

 

In the quiet

In the quiet of the morning

God sits with me,

just as I am,

in all my brokenness. 

 

He doesn't turn His face

from my grief

but sits in it with me

as I remember.

 

He doesn't laugh

as I wonder 

"panic attack or heart attack?" 

and look up the symptoms of each 

for the third time this week.

 

In the quiet of the morning,

God sits with me,

just as I am,

in all my brokenness. 

 

Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High 

will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.

~~ Psalm 91:1 ~~  

Honestly, it's such a weird year!

It really is!

 

It's "my month".

And the grief is heavier this year.

And lighter.

 

Or maybe I'm handling the "heavy" differently.

Or maybe it's heavier for a different reason 

I don't know,

but it's weird.

 

All of 2025 I grieved more,

was more aware of my Al's absence,

cried more than I had in a while.

I was NOT looking forward to January!

And here it is, dreaded January...

no tears, just heavy awareness.

 

Night before last was the night I have felt guilt over

for 13 Januaries starting with the offending one

where I broke my promise to keep him home to die.

And this year, the night passed and I didn't remember

until yesterday.

In the space of less than a second,

I felt relief at the sign of a heart continuing its healing journey

and crushing guilt that I had forgotten an important day in his walk Home.

    I hadn't gone to his gravesite.

        I hadn't rehearsed - again - in my mind,

        the reasons in-patient hospice was the right choice. 

            I hadn't wept at my "felt" betrayal.

PLEASE!!!

In a grief journey,

please,

never forget,

feelings are not facts!!!

Or in any journey for that matter. 

 

It made me wonder about the heaviness of the last year.

How many other things about the "walking Al home"

did my heart remember but my mind did not.

I know for certain of at least two times

because a day or two later I would think

"Ahh, that's why I was so sad that day!"

 

This is something in my grief journey I did not anticipate at this point.

False-guilt over healing.

I experienced a lot of that in the first few years.

    "HOW cqn you smile!?!?!?" 

        "HOW can you wish it would just stop hurting for a minute!?!?!?!

        The pain is what connects you to him!!!" 

            "HOW can you WANT to move forward, live live 

            when he isn't here to live it with you!?!?!?!"

                "HOW in the world can you even THINK about remarriage!?!?!?"

                    "YOU KISSED ANOTHER MAN!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!" 

But the last several years have been false-guilt free.

Except for in-patient hospice day.

And that always initiated a sense of false-guilt and betrayal.

Yes, I always call it false-guilt

because that's what it is.

 

I follow a fellow griever on FB, Gary Sturgis,

Who is me from a male perspective

(except more faithful to posting).

https://www.facebook.com/SurvivingGriefGarySturgis 

He has just commemorated the 12th anniversary

of his beloved wife's death.

I made the following comment on his recent post,

"Reflections of a Griever".

 

I will hit the 13th anniversary in 15 days. 

I am joyfully, happily remarried to a widower 

who commemorated his 12th anniversary in September. 

You are right. Grief softens. It changes. 

It morphs into - dare I say it? - a friend. 

We talk often about our co-beloveds - 

I use that term because we don't love each other instead of them, 

we love each other in addition to them. 

It is a rare day one or both of their names are not mentioned. 

There are no days they are not thought about. 

Grief and happiness CAN co-exist! Work THROUGH your grief. 

And don't plan to retire from it. 

But accept the promotions it offers as time goes on. 

 

Those last two lines,

 

And don't plan to retire from it. 

But accept the promotions it offers as time goes on. 

 

That right there is my "take away" for this post!

And I think I will be accepting this "forgetting" promotion moving forward.  

 

 

 

2025 is a wrap

2025 has been a hard year.

A quiet year writing-wise. 

This 13th year,

a mere 25 days from completion,

has had more than its share

of painful moments.

It has been a consistently darker year. 

I find myself somewhat surprised.

 

I mean, come on, the 13th anniversary is just around the corner!

Shouldn't I be in "status quo" by now?

You know, those moments of grief,

but overall, ticking along nicely

without a lot of heartache or tears. 

But that's the thing.

In grief, there is no "status quo".

Not even in spousal loss!

 

Having been an intimate participant in widowhood,

one would think I would know that by now.

However, even I find myself caught up in the social assumption

that widowed grief is really bad at first

but that it is not lasting like that of child or parental loss.

Maybe because that would be so much more convenient.

 

Part of the issue, I feel certain,

is the scratching open of the wound.

Two cousins have been widowed within the last year

and as I have walked with them through the loss,

and one through the losing,

my own wounds can't help but open,

can't help but become sore, tender.

I "feel" with them.

It is part of what makes me an effective partner in their journeys.

It is also painfully vulnerable. 

 

Perhaps it was knowing that my Al

would have entered a new decade of life this year

had he still been having earthly birthdays.

But he is, 

as I have heard mamas say about their children,

"forever 57".

I hadn't thought about that until recently,

"forever" an age works with all death loss

with the "forever" being exponentially more significant

the younger the deceased.

As spouses go, "forever 57" is pretty darn young!

Or at least it feels that way to me!

 

Maybe it was some health issues

my Lanny Love is experiencing,

the reminder that one of us will do widowhood again,

and the fear that it would be sooner than either of us hope and pray. 

 

Maybe it's because one of our daughters

and her family

have had an exceptionally rough year emotionally.

 

Maybe it's because our granddaughter got her driver's license this year

and he should have been here to beam proudly

and tease her about not running into the house

as she pulled into our driveway for the first time on her own. 

 

Maybe.........a lot of things. 

 

I want a reason.

But in reality, there probably isn't one.

It simply has been a year of missing more...

    wondering more...

        actively grieving more... 

That, quite simply, is the way of widowhood.

The love doesn't die,

so the grief doesn't either. 

 

I anticipate that 2026 will have its moments.

This is the year we should be celebrating our 50th wedding anniversary.

 

Is it okay that I feel a twinge of jealousy

when others celebrate theirs?

 

I imagine this year's birthday will sting

just like all the others have.

I imagine there will be heartaches and celebrations

that he and I should share

just as in all the previous years.

 

But can I be honest?

I am looking forward to,

praying that,

the consistency of heartache and missing that has been 2025

will once again ebb,

once again become gently lapping waves

instead of the tsunami of emotions

that 2025 brought with it.