Outlook on 2018...

Outlook on 2018....

For the first time in many years, I was awake to bring in the new year without being scheduled to work. There was no magical transference allowing me to forget or leave my grief behind. I can honestly say that I'm both deeply saddened and glad to see 2017 come to an end. I lost the love of my life, my dearest honey but it also brought an end to her suffering with cancer. Oh how I miss your sweet kisses my girl!

It seems only fitting then, that the new year started out with record breaking cold here in Iowa. Sub zero temperatures not seen since 1887...actual temperatures at -20, with windchills as low as -45 below zero. It mirrors the arctic wind that howls thru my heart.

My honey had a list...one that I'm trying to honor as best I can. My knee joints have been replaced and are healing on schedule. I returned from a trip to Tennessee a few days ago, returning my beloved's ashes to our boys along with mementos collected over the years. Regrettably, the trip was cut short by inclement weather both in Iowa and surprisingly, Tennessee as well.

This weekend I packed the majority of your clothing as you wished for a local charity. A task that should've taken a few hours took two days and a river of tears....each piece a memory to let go of. I kept a handful of things for myself and family. For me, this was harder than the knee replacement surgeries by far. One of your friends came and took things I know she'll use...you would've liked that and I thank her for sharing some of that burden. There are a few other things to sort through, mostly fitness or police gear and books but that can wait for another day.

Another PT evaluation in the morning and then I will deliver your clothing to the shelter. The final tangible task on my honey's list....and I can't help but wonder what next? I know I still have a month's worth of work to do before I can return to my job but that purpose alone does nothing to calm the ache or the sorrow.

I know my girl...promises. I'm doing the best I can. As for the rest...One day, sometimes one minute at a time. You were my peace and my purpose. My happiness and joy...and while I treasure our time, I cannot help but mourn it's loss. Still.

I can't see what the new year holds...none of us can. I only know that the love in my heart still belongs to you...always and forever, my honey.  

Taking Honey Home....

This past week has been a whirlwind of activity, coupled with long hours of solitude while driving to and from Tennessee where honey and I lived for so long. While primarily it was to spend time with our grown boy's and return their mother's ashes and mementos, I was also able to visit some very dear friends and even witness (behind the curtain!) the birth of the fifth grandchild in a very special family.

To ALL of them, I say thank you, for including me in such a precious moment and I know that the upcoming sixth grandchild (in about a month) will be a wonderful blessing as well. I am honored and blessed beyond words by your love and kindness. To those of you that I missed, I apologize...inclement weather (In Iowa) cut my trip shorter than planned. Such is life...we do the best we can.

The time spent with my boy's was emotional and special as well. I got to see firsthand how they're not only coping with the loss of their mother but doing their best to fulfill her (our) desire to live fully and to pursue happiness each day. I'm proud of both of them and I know my honey would be bursting at the seams. David and Josh...I love you. I know that juggling your work schedules and personal schedules is always challenging, I enjoyed every minute we spent together! :o)

I was able to visit many of the places honey and I lived and loved...time changes many things but the memories remain. Bittersweet and tearful as it was, I'm glad I took the time to see them again. The next task on her list is too give her personal belongings (clothing, etc.) to those in need. I found a local shelter for battered women and children and it will be receiving most of it. I think she'd have liked that...boxing those will be HARD but I intend to have it finished by the end of this coming weekend.

After that? I just don't know...the rest of honey's list isn't something I can predict or put a specific time to. The knees are coming along but are stiff and swollen from all the hour's of driving. Ice and elevation will take care of that in a day or two. Baring the unforeseen I should be able to return to work by my target date of February 16^th.

I'm still trying to find my footing and struggling to keep my mind and heart open to the possibility of happiness and love. I KNOW I have those things in my children and dear friends....it's what keeps me moving me forward. At this point, I can't imagine ever finding a personal relationship like I had with my sweet honey. Impossible. So...I will just keep doing the best I can each and every day. I have goals and task to complete once I return to work and that in itself will keep me busy for the immediate future.

I am thankful for what I have...yes dear. But damn, I miss you my girl....forever my sweet honey. 

Tear's At Dawn...

Tears at Dawn...

I was beginning to wonder if it'd ever happen but for a couple of days this past week, there were no tears for my girl. It lasted two days and returned with a vengeance that's left me hollow and numb...the minds a funny thing. We can rationalize a thing, KNOW the reality of it and accept the logic but our hearts will still give not one damn for any of it.

Once again, it's O'Dark thirty....and the ache of my heart seems to leave a gap in my soul that erodes my ability to feel things normally. I'm either raw and on the ragged edge of tears or closed down completely, shutting out everyone and everything. I try very hard not to default to the latter...but I realize that I've failed miserably at that recently. If I've hurt feelings in that regard, my apologies.

In five days my first knee replacement will take place, followed by the second seven days later. Everything is in place in terms of logistics...food, physical therapy and sufficient distractions to keep me from going stir crazy (I hope) for the first 5-6 weeks of isolation. After that, I should be able to drive and I hope to spend some time with my family both in South Dakota and Tennessee. My targeted return date for work is February 16^th. Three months....which will complete a promise I made to my sweet honey. Beyond that? I just don't know. I have some long term goals and like most people, I'll be bound to my place of employment for the foreseeable future. I'll be 5 hours from family in one direction and 11 in the other...it is what it is. Four months past that and I'll be 54 and nearly a year without the love of my life....how is that even possible?

It hammers home the simple truths we all know but tend to ignore. The world will continue without you...time will march forward, relentless and uncaring no matter how much we rage against it. I understand now how so many people simply give up...what's the point, right? It's something I've wrestled with these past months daily. If God is the answer and everything happens for a reason, then was my honey's suffering for a higher purpose? If so, Gabriel is going to have his hands full when my time comes...

My honey was the spiritual rock in our household. I'm not talking about organized religion, which has failed miserably in my experience but there ARE people who; like my dear girl, exemplify both the example and the intent of all religions. They are compassionate, caring and selfless....they help strangers because they want to make a difference. It's these few that give me hope that there is a bigger purpose in our existence. They're spiritual but not necessarily religious in the conventional sense. They believe (as my honey did) they have faith. I truly wish I did...I've been reading her much marked and highlighted bible lately. I've read it (and most other spiritual books) many times over the years. As a soldier and police officer, I've seen the atrocities people of all nationalities can inflict on one another...the price of free will? Maybe. She believed in the goodness of people...of the ability of almost anyone to become a better person if given a chance. It's one of the things I loved about her...and something I've always struggled with. Trust. Mostly, I don't...

I can almost hear her chuckle and repeat the mantra she whispered so often into my ear... “Love and encourage, boy.” She did teach this knuckle dragger to do that, albeit with one hand figuratively still firmly placed on the butt of a handgun. SO....as the sun comes up this morning, it reflects off the tears that stain my face...I see her beauty there...her heart and her desires for me to embrace another day.

I'm trying baby...but oh how I miss you and your loving embrace....I hope and I pray that you're in a better place. Beyond the pain and the hurt...I love you Tammy Jean.

An Update and Admission

An Update and Admission....

First a word of thanks for all who have taken the time to let me know that they're thinking of me and dropping by with a kind word of encouragement. It means more than I can possible tell you...greatly appreciated.

My doctors appointment for my finger went well and I'm cleared for surgery on the 9^th and 16^th of November. I do still have to see the surgeon this coming Monday (30^th) and do another pre-op physical. Baring the unexpected, everything should be green lighted. So...seven more working days with my 12 hour schedule. Avoiding boo-boo's will be my top priority! :o)

For those whom have never done industrial maintenance...easier said than done! There's ALWAYS something to stick, poke, cut or burn you...a slip of the wrench, brush the wrong piping...instant oowee! Mostly minor nicks and the like but when the doc says NO open wounds...challenging. Even with rolled down sleeves and gloves. Nature of the beast and all that....it'll work out.

I've been asked by a few folks what my plans are and to be honest, I don't know. I've got some rather long term goals but no specific plans beyond the upcoming knee surgery and the recovery, which the doctor optimistically hopes will have me returned to work by mid February. He said complete recovery, i.e. no swelling, pain or stiffness generally takes about 18 months. Terrific...I think!

A wise friend told me I needed to try and let go of the why (of my honey's death) and focus on the what now and when...sage indeed. This is also what my girl told me...repeatedly. I have no earthly idea of how to do any of that but it has made me think more deeply of late on what I want...eventually.

I know that if and when my heart is ready, I will not settle. I want what I lost...balance. Some people can be happy alone and I was once very much a loner. My honey gave me a different perspective on life and people. I still don't trust easily but I am much more open and willing to listen than I was. Some people can feel happy alone. I don't know if you can feel complete that way...I used to think I was but I know better now. For me there is a special joy in sharing an experience with someone...in the simplicity of pleasing another with a touch or a gesture.

The act of looking into another's eyes and feeling them touch your soul...of KNOWING that you're touching theirs...that's completion. Its joy. It's living and its love.

That's what I've lost...that connection...and it's what some never find. It's certainly something worth looking for but I'm not certain I have the patience or the ability to do so anymore. We are each unique but unified in our desires to live a life worthy of remembering. Of leaving our mark in this world. Empires fall, trends fade but memories are eternal. They can be passed on for generations. We should all strive to make remarkable impressions on those we love and those we can help in our own way. My honey did...

With her I learned that intimacy transcends the purely physical...without that soulful connection it's just sex. I'm not saying that's a bad thing but to me, holding her in my arms or laying together and running my fingers through her hair and massaging her scalp as she drifted off on my chest...heavenly. Those simple things...hearing her sing happily unaware I was home...stolen kisses at inappropriate moments...a pat or passing touch...all of THAT and more...that's what I want. Can lightning strike twice? I don't know...but that's some of the what.

As to the when...SIGH...someone said God would tell me when my heart was ready. Since we're not exactly on speaking terms at the moment, I won't hold my breath...but it's not now. All I can offer is this...

Find what makes you happy and gives you balance. Hold on to it and cherish that person...be vocal and make the time. Make memories...they needed be extravagant. Just heartfelt. Dance in the rain...in the store or the parking lot. Steal kisses...hold hands...chase each other naked! Whatever makes you laugh or smile... be silly and real.

We each get one day at a time...don't waste a single one.

The Brilliance of Fall...

The Brilliance of Fall....

I spent this past weekend trying to enjoy the vibrant colors of the season. The radiant hues of reds, oranges and yellows are in full display. Honey always loved the colors if not the season. She was a sunshine person...as many folks are. I like the crisp air and the change of season...usually.

I'm coming to the realization that this year is going to be a season of many first...bittersweet and painful. I drove around the Iowa countryside, alternating between awestruck and melancholy. I missed having her hand in mine...in looking over to see her smile. Honey loved Thanksgiving and both preparing the meal and the gathering of family. There will be neither this year...I also learned that my eldest son's six year relationship actually ended last year. They both kept this from us to spare our feelings and were quite mature about everything.

I feel bad about not noticing and that he shouldered this burden alone...but I understand their decision. I do wonder where he learned to be so hard headed? :o)

A dear friend bought me a journal and I've been writing in it. Venting and random thoughts that I could never post publicly. It's helping...another introduced a new variety of music and this too has been a blessing. So many kind words of encouragement and sentiments of caring...from people both near and far. All of which keep me moving forward, however grudgingly that may be.

Thank you. Each and every one of you...for sharing your strength and light.

There is a season for all things...we all pass through them regardless of our wishes or desires. The timing is almost never of our choosing and even when it is, there are no perfect transitions. There will be pain and sorrow, regrets and dreams unrealized. Nature strives for balance...as should we. Take the time to make those memories and fulfill those dreams, because tomorrow isn't promised for any of us. Find that balance. Worry less about the stuff and more about the time spent with those you hold dear.

It doesn't take money, for I would give all I have for five more minutes...to hold her...kiss her and run my fingers through her hair. The simplest of things...the shared laughter, the hugs. Lazy mornings and stolen moments...those are the colors of life. The brilliance of balance...of living with a lover and best friend. Whatever your joy is, embrace it and pursue those adventures you desire, hand in hand. Be silly, be vocal and never leave room for doubt...enjoy each and every season as if it were your last. Only the memories will endure in the end.

As for myself, I will take these next months day by day. I have nine working days until my first surgery, which will be November the 9^th. The second is scheduled for the 16^th. I see the finger doctor this Wednesday and should be released for surgery. My surgeon wants to do his own inspection the 30^th along with another pre-op physical. Baring the unforeseen, I'll begin the prep work two days after that...my original plans of driving to see the kids for Christmas won't be doable. Hopefully after the first of the year, I'll be released for travel...six weeks is the target number. It will be challenging both physically and mentally but it'll also fulfill the first of my promises dear.

I've no idea what 2018 has in store... I can only hope to keep my heart open to the changing of the seasons.

Anniversaries and Adversities....

Anniversaries and Adversities....

This for me has been a week of sleepless nights and bone deep sorrow....not on the pot but close enough to stare at it longingly. Tomorrow marks the anniversary of the day I married my sweet honey. We would have marked 18 years of marriage and very near twenty years together...I consider it the single greatest accomplishment of my life.

We weren't perfect but we were very good for each other. We always strove to put the other first and be honest to a fault. It was painful and exhilarating....we had trails that would've destroyed most couples but we held on and endured. We taught each other how to love...unashamedly and unconditionally. She made me a better man and a more complete person.

She taught me that joy comes from the simplest things and that even our darkest moments can be embraced and learned from....if we just change our perspective. It is this loving lesson that I cling to now. Desperately.

On our wedding day, those many years ago, we'd planned a simple outdoor service. At a friends house that had a beautiful backyard in the county. It wasn't extravagant in any fashion...financially our divorces had left both of us starting over but she was beautiful in a simple white gown and I had on the only suit I owned. At the time we lived 80+ miles from the place we'd chosen to be married and we traveled there because it was close to where my best friend (who was very sick with cancer) lived.

Amazingly, a large number of our martial arts outreach families made the trip that day...we started outside but before the service could be completed, the Tennessee skies opened up and the entire group was quickly drenched in a down pour. Our friend had a converted outbuilding that was his dojo (martial arts studio) and the entire group retreated inside...to say it was packed was like saying a sardine can was roomy! Many in attendance were professional soldiers and they quickly rigged a makeshift covering for the grills set up outside...grinningly cooking, drenched in the blowing rain...tarps were thrown on the floor to protect the mats. Hardly the romantic ceremony I'd hoped for...and yet, there she stood...damp...smiling and as beautiful as the morning sun. We exchanged vows and simple bands...my girl sang for me...her voice quavering and angelic...eyes brimming with happy tears. We danced...slowly and locked into each others eyes. I fed her cake...nicely...my best friend encouraged her to smash my piece into my face...which she did for him, giggling madly.

People applauded...many in tears for our union. Best day ever...and one that we each celebrated every year. No matter the circumstances. Be it before or after work...most times in simple intimate ways...I once filled her SUV with balloons, each having a scrap of paper with an endearment of my love. We spent an evening on our deck in the moonlight...dancing to a tape of love songs she'd made for me...whispering the words in my ear as we swayed together.

For those that don't know me...I have two dancing styles...Fonzie slow dance and a version of being tazered while remaining upright! Honey was the dancer...she could literally dance to anything and tolerated my ineptness with humor and grace. We loved each other daily...holding hands and stealing kisses. A thousand tiny gestures that strung together are a love and a life lived and shared, always together...which is why I am so lost without you babe.

You sweet Tammy Jean were my world...my hopes...and my dreams...always included you. You asked me to keep dreaming...to cherish each day. I am trying. Truly. Your memory and selflessness encourage me and give me strength...most days. But I miss you...and I miss us. I think a part of me always will. It's that corner of my heart that keeps me going...makes me face another day. If not with joy, then at least with a stubborn determination to fulfill my promises to you. Yes dear...still hard-headed...despite your best efforts.

I don't know if I can ever love again...I know that was your hope. Your wish for me...but for now at least, it's beyond my ability to do. I love my family...I cherish my friendships but beyond that? I just don't know. I once told you that anything was possible as long as you kept pushing no matter how many doors were closed on you...I believed that and in you...as long as it was desired, right?

Maybe I was wrong...in life, some things are closed forever...beyond our reach. It's the reality...but does that mean our dreams become less meaningful? Our desires diminished and our drives forever crushed? I know what my girl would say...she'd say, “Follow your heart boy...it's a good one.”

If that was ever true, it's a broken one now...but I hear you honey. Happy anniversary baby....I love you. 

The Honey Rule...

The Honey Rule...

Shortly after honey and I first became a couple, I realized that she struggled with depression and low self esteem. It was something that she really tried very hard to hide from the world but those few she got close too saw it. She could become withdrawn and sullen, at times those feelings of worthlessness would overwhelm her and bring her too tears.

Her way of counteracting this was exercise and throwing herself fully into a cause that had a high probability of failure...and I would watch in amazement as she tilted against the windmills of her heart while loving and sharing herself with strangers. It was this undaunted spirit that I feel hopelessly in love with...at the time, it was also that vulnerability that called to me....and spoke to my soul.

We are all shaped by our experiences and by our reactions (or lack thereof) to those circumstances. We are driven by complexities that we cannot always explain...but we do feel it. Honey and I shared many of the same traits, we just executed them in dynamically different ways. Where she would embrace and encourage the broken and the lost, I would charge in looking to confront the cause...she once asked me if I'd always run towards the sound of gunfire. She called it, “White Knight Syndrome.” My response was a shrug and a grunt...to which she'd rolled her eyes. Like all couples, it took us time to learn about each other and breach the walls that we all build to shelter our innermost self's.

We all harbor pain and scars...the causes are as different and unique as the individual but the intensity is universal. It's when we trust another enough to share these that true love begins...my sweet girl taught me (painstakingly) that to make peace with some things, you had to first embrace it. I taught her that you also had to also let it go. As flawed people, this is often easier said than done. So...long ago, honey and I made a rule. It sounds simple but it took us a few years to both figure it out and implement it faithfully. The rule was this...

No matter the circumstance or reason, you are allowed just ONE pity pot day in any given week. No exceptions...no excuses. On that day you could cry, vent, sulk or be pissed at the world and bemoan the injustice of it all. As partners, on that day you could be as supportive or as distant as required. What you could NOT do was try to fix or rationalize the other's feelings or dismiss the validity of that feeling. Period. As a man, this was especially difficult for me...I wanted to FIX it! It took time to realize that fixing some things isn't possible...no matter what.

We held each other to that standard...usually with good humor and love. Even throughout her worst trials and illness. We came to this agreement with the mutual understanding that life is short and uncertain and that it was counterproductive to waste precious days not enjoying each other and living. It led to some odd conversations when one or the other would exhibit blue behaviors beyond a day... this is from when she was very sick.

Coming home from work and coming to the top of the stairs, I'd found her staring out the sliding glass doors at the rain drenched morning. Knowing she'd been depressed and angry the day before, I'd kissed her lightly on her head, asking how she was doing. Sullen, she'd replied.

“Same as everyday...like shit.”

My heart breaking, I'd sat next to her and taken her hand. Replying softly.

“Yeah...I know. Can I get you anything?” Shaking her head she'd sighed, answering. “I think God's forgotten me.”

As most of you know, honey was the more faithful one of us...blinking tears, I'd slide off the couch and knelt in front of her. Taking both hands, I'd gently tugged her forward until our foreheads touched. Kissing her nose, I'd said hoarsely.

“Not possible. I bug the shit out'a him several times an hour.”

Shaking her head, a smile ghosting her mouth, she'd said.

“I'm gonna have to apologize for you everywhere I go, aren't I?”

Kissing her and tracing her arms with my fingertips, I'd swallowed hard and whispered. “Yup!”

Wiping each other's tears, she'd added. “I gotta get off the pot, huh.”

Wrapping my arms around her and burying me head in her neck, she'd held me while I sobbed. Stroking my head she'd softly chided me. “One day a week boy...you already had yours...”

I remember telling her that sometimes this rule really sucks...and at that we'd both sniffed and chuckled. Squeezing each other hard...

“But it works...” she whispered. It did...it does. For us anyway way.

Yesterday marked three months without you my honey. I slept very little...four hours in the last 36...even with Xanax, which I detest. I've had my day honey...I hear you...But I miss your smile, your touch and laughter...but more than that...your heart. Your faith in me and in us...I knew without asking that you'd be there. Unflinchingly at my back when I rushed in...as I was for you.

I miss our frank conversations and the moments of comfortable silence when we could just be...the tiny things. Smelling your hair as I held you from behind while you were at the stove or waiting for coffee. Holding your hand...dancing with you in the store...at the mailbox...the way you always woke me with a kiss. So many happy moments in time...it's the tiny details that stand out and I realize it was because of that silly rule...the one were we made each other accountable for the other's happiness.

So...for you my darling, I keep trying. Trying to see the world as you did...as a place to be explored and enjoyed at every opportunity. I try...to hope and believe...to share as I can. I don't know if it really matters to anyone but it does to me. It's here that I feel you the most...were the pain is bearable.

I don't know what's next...if there is a time or a place when I can get beyond daydreaming, wishing and lounging too fulfilling those promises. I know so few things these days...except that I'm thankful for the time we had. I'm trying hard to not be resentful of it not being more...I love you babe.

Now and always, Tammy Jean...

The First Time...

The First Time

A honey-ism...
I promised to add these as I can and this is a fulfillment of that. Though she's gone, I am forever thankful for all she gave me. My honey and I had a very non traditional courtship. It was a slow fuse burning from two very different perceptions.
That first year I slowly fell in love as I watched this incredibly challenged person give so freely of herself to others. Her enthusiasm was infectious and when she smiled it was with genuine feeling. From her perspective, she saw a man with an iron will (read stubborn) that loved his students and truly wanted only to see them become the best people they could be.
Much later honey would tell me the only time she ever saw me smile was when I was encouraging a student, wether it was an adult or a child....

She said it made her wonder what was hidden behind that gruff exterior...and why it was kept so tightly controlled. After our ride in the rain, I was hopelessly hooked. My sweet girl however, was not. Her divorce was only just beginning and she battled with the feelings of guilt and self recrimination that are a part of that process. She tried to adhere to a strictly teacher and student protocol and I knew that pressing her would only drive her away....and so it went for many weeks. Polite conversation in passing, a touch on my arm or that brilliant smile when she was crusading for one cause or another. 

I'd tried to casually invite her to lunch a few weekends to no avail...it was late summer and in Tennessee that means hot and muggy. I'd noticed that she'd starting wearing simple, lightweight pullover dresses instead of jeans or workout attire. She was quite simply, gorgeous. I'd all but given up our relationship (if you could call it that) moving past that one incident. 

So imagine my surprise when on another Sunday afternoon, she again came to the school knocking on the door. I still remember the dress...a brilliant purple, run through with an array of yellow, silver and golds in a random pattern. Long, about mid calf and simple open toed sandals. I must have stood gawking because I remember her laughing and asking me if I was gonna let her in anytime soon. 

Fumbling with the glass industrial doors latch, I'd opened it and as she passed, I could smell the light perfume she wore. My heart fluttered and I reverted to a sixteen year old boy again...nervous and unsure of myself. Locking the door, I retreated to my office mumbling about paperwork and she followed. Sitting on the front edge of my desk, I'd asked what I could do for her. Stopping in front of me, honey had smiled and said that she'd been praying about me. My first thought was.

“Oh shit.”

Stepping closer, she'd whispered. “Actually I've been praying for you my entire life.” Wrapping her arms around my neck, she'd kissed me. Softly, tenderly at first but with an increasing passion that soon had me on my feet, pressing her into the nearest wall. Busy hands soon left us both breathless, panting with lust and need...but strange as it sounds, I didn't want our first physical encounter to be in such a setting. I'd wanted it to be special...I truly wanted her to know that she could trust me. 

I remember looking deep into those blue eyes and knowing that she was the one...her nails were lightly scratching my back and I knew she wore nothing under that thin dress. Honey rarely did...but with trembling hands, I'd held her sweet face and promised that we'd do this...( My body was screaming NOW!) but that I wanted to get us a room. I was living with friends at the time, so there was no “my place.” I recall the intensity of her eyes as they locked onto mine...searching, beseeching. Finally, she'd giggled, shaking her head and replying. 

“You are a very different man, Jim.” 

Being as I was already internally kicking myself, I'd grinned and said. “Is that good or bad?”

Kissing my nose, she'd said simply. “We'll see.” 

After she left a short time later I reserved a room (for the next weekend) in an upscale hotel with all the trimmings. Hot tub in the room, indoor pool, ect. The day before I bought flower's and wine along with several scented candles...it was very cliché but in my defense, I was fairly young! On the early evening of that fateful day, I meet honey in the parking lot. We were both nervous but she was absolutely stunning. A pale yellow sundress...tiny earrings and very little makeup. Bright red lipstick. I took her hand and led her up to our room. 

Opening the door, she'd been a little taken aback by the burning candles and the flowers in a vase. Closing the door, I'd turned to her and asked if it was ok. Honey had only nodded, throwing herself into my arms, kissing me passionately. We made love as all strangers do...overwhelmed, yet insistently. Sated, I looked down into her eyes and was shocked to find her crying! My initial thought was,

“Oh my God! I must really SUCK at this!” 

Not very romantic, I know. Wiping away at her tears, I'd tried to ask what I'd done wrong and in response she'd just pulled me closer and held on tightly while she sobbed. As you might imagine, every single thing going through my head was self criticism. 

“Idiot!” “She realized you're nothing but a mistake!” “Was I THAT bad??!!” 

As honey settled down, I was stammering apologies....mortified. Taking my ears in her hands, she'd gently tugged me forward again, kissing me softly, she'd explained that those were tears of joy...that'd she'd never experienced anything that had touched her that way. She'd said...

“I felt your heart and your soul. I was a part of you...” 

My turn for tears...both then and now. On that day I learned that the physical aspect of making love was just the tiniest part of what's possible. I learned about greatness and touched divinity...My love now and forever, my sweetest honey.

Between Love And Hope

Between Love And Hope

I've spent a lot of time lately wondering about this place that sooner or later we all experience. This hollow place between love and hope...I think we define this as grief. It's like standing in the middle of a tunnel through the mountains.

You can clearly see two distinct pinpoints of light...you know what they are and where they lead and yet you're frozen. Unable to move in either direction...because you know, each step forward is painful...searingly so. Much better than to remain here...numb and immobile.

It's said that grief is a passage and that is truth but the passage also has many stops and the occasional derailment along the way. It is here that I ponder...where can I possibly hope to go? Worse still...why would I? That which I most desire is irretrievably lost and beyond my reach.

Forever...I don't know. Oh, my sweet girl...I just don't know!

I'm not new to loss. Grand-parents, siblings and comrades, even my mother but this seems to tear at my soul. Does that mean I loved those people less or you more...does an answer to that question have some meaningful application? I wish I knew. I only know that for me, losing you was akin to amputating the best parts of who I am....or was.

Through this void a steady winds blows, sometimes as gentle as a summers breeze rustling the leaves at sunset or without warning, the shrieking howl of sudden decompression at high altitude. My reactions range from misty eyed sorrow to gut wrenching bawling...I mourn not only your loss but all of the unfulfilled dreams we'd held...is this selfish? Probably. Intellectually I understand all of this but my heart gives not one damn about logic or reason...it only wants you.

I am fortunate that many people, friends and strangers alike have not only offered but DO take my hand and try to help guide me forward. A kind word, a call or even a video or picture (technology is sometimes genuinely useful.) and I am deeply grateful and thankful to all of you for each of these acts of kindness. I'm quite sure that from their perspectives, it's akin to dealing with a petulant child...each step forward is often accompanied by being dragged back three. For your patience, I am humbled...and for those whom have remained steadfast, I beg your forgiveness. I am trying...

With my upcoming surgeries, a co-worked recently asked if I was afraid of dying. I replied as I have in the past. (due to my career choices) No. I've never been afraid of dying...I've been afraid of many other things in my life but never my own death.

The impending death of my beloved honey terrified me...it was beyond my ability to control or influence. I could only react to each new affront on her body...each day was like walking blindly through a minefield. You pray for the miraculous, dreading the eventual explosion. Anyone who has been a caregiver knows this state of extended anxiety and dread. Then there's the guilt...could I have done some things sooner? Was I present enough...real or imagined failings, the intensity is the same.

These past months have been the most difficult in my life...before now, I've never felt lost. She grounded me and gave me purpose...for those that know me well, the thing I fear most some days is simple. Another day in this new reality. I'm not suicidal...I'm not wired that way but it's difficult to paste on a smile and pretend everything is ok. It's not.

I often use humor and goal setting as a coping mechanism. I also write things out... it's my process. I've made some long range plans...I set into to motion the goal of replacing my knees. A promise to my honey...things happen. An infected finger has put those scheduled procedures back weeks now...maybe a month or more. Ordinarily, I adapt and roll with it but I'm just...weary and uncommonly blue.

For those unfamiliar with type A personalities, let's just say that accepting anything as unchangeable through force of will and just plain stubbornness is challenging. My sweet girl used to tell me,

“You can't change the universe to meet your demands.” I'd typically grin, replying. “Wanna bet?!”

She'd roll her eyes and shake her head but it usually worked out. I don't like losing...or failing...and this somehow feels like both. I feel like I let her down...irrational as that may sound, it's what my heart tells me. Dammit. All. To. Hell.

Ok...so, I've vented, had my pity pot day...actually two. I can almost feel the head smack...the rule is ONE! Today, I'll dust myself off and get up...life doesn't wait for anyone. It just continues, with or without you. I guess it's a lot like jumping into the middle of a pair of blurring jump ropes...you can participate or watch. Jumping in you risk being tripped up and maybe even falling...but watching isn't living...it's existing.

I'd promised...live my life...yes dear. Even when I suck at skipping...and have no rhythm. Bring on the whelps and bruises!

A Labor Da Honey-ism

A honey-ism...On this long weekend most of us try to get in that last camping trip or other favorite outdoor activity. The weather can be contrary this time of year as true summer begins to ebb and fall isn't yet fully upon us. The night are cooler and it's the perfect time to leave the windows open at night...my sweet girl was always wistful this time of year. Being a sun bunny, she loved being outdoors but enjoyed the brilliant colors of fall too.

Our small deck was where she'd spent most of her final time here on earth...and since her passing, I've not been able to cross that threshold...until yesterday. Saturday was spent furiously cleaning the upper level of our condo. I deep cleaned everything in preparation for my upcoming surgeries. I even managed to uncover her elliptical machine (where I'd draped all her coats and light jacket's) and put her clean and folded clothes into the dresser downstairs, along with the assorted foot wear, left scattered in our bedroom and laundry room. These small task took an inordinate amount of time to complete...it was a tearful and heart wrenching experience...and I still cannot bring myself to take down her bathroom robes or the numerous cooking aprons hanging as they always have...it took most of the day and left me in a funk...but honey and I had a rule...you are allowed ONE day on the pity pot...only ONE in any given week, no matter the circumstances.

So...Sunday morning, with her stern whisper in my heart, I set out to complete some of the task I'd been putting off (mending some pant's) and was determined to use our grill to make steaks and chicken for the upcoming week. Returning from the store, I'd prepped the meat and then turned my attention to the pack of needles and thread I'd bought. I couldn't find honey's kit and truthfully just couldn't make myself look very hard. A word here....as a young man, my father had taught us the basics of sewing. Simple stuff...but I'd not actually done any sewing in DECADES. I had a pair of tactical pants that needed a button put back on and a pair of jeans with a broken belt loop. Easy right? I'd certainly thought so....

First off, threading the damn needle itself proved to an exercise in patience worthy of a saint! I didn't remember the holes being that small! After muttering oaths under my breath for nearly twenty minutes...success! I pushed the needle effortlessly through the material and plopped the button right over it...easy peasy...EXCEPT for when I tried to repeat the process....for the next half hour, I poked my damn finger TWICE, broke the thread once and ended up with a fishing spool looking snarl on the backside that I managed to tie down and secure...who's gonna see it, right? The belt loop??? Holy frick'n, mother pucker!!!! :o( Two bent needles, three poked finger's AND a thigh!!! The pant's very nearly went to the grill...I was seriously considering setting them on FIRE! All the while, I swear I could hear faint snickering...my honey would've been rolling. I know she'd have rescued me after the first (maybe the second) blood letting... but she'd have giggled the whole time!

I knew there was a reason I'd outsourced this sorta thing....

So after bandaging my sore fingers, I had two completed (albeit bloodstained) pair of pants repaired...FYI...anybody asks and you can bet there'll be a better tale for the bloodstains than the truth! ;o)

Grilling and the making of the sides (Fried potatoes with onions and garlic sweet peas) was a bittersweet experience. We'd always done these things together...and while I'd enjoyed the meal (I have TON'S of left overs!) it left me melancholy. I'm not much of a drinker...two “girlie” beer's and I've usually had enough...but sipping one as the sun went down, I'd watched the contrails of a high altitude jet and thought of my girl...yes, there where a few tears...but they where mostly from good memories...lot's of them...of similar evenings shared together. Lying on lawn chairs or a blanket on the ground, hand in hand and just...being.

As the stars came out; I realized I'd been staring upwards for some time. The jet was long gone and my tears had dried but the memories of my sweet girl left a warmth in my heart and a wisp of a smile on my face...I feel you baby. Alway and forever my honey...

A Honey-ism...Closet Combat

Reflecting this morning on our early years together as I watch my sweet girl sleep, I remember the morning when I came home early and unannounced from work. Honey and I had only been living together a short time then...maybe six months. I worked the night shift as a production worker in an automotive plant and she was a second shift police officer. We had one vehicle and 'hot swapped' every day with a mere thirty minutes to spare.
This was a difficult time for us financially and we were adjusting as a new family with all the baggage that comes with going through a divorce but we were happy and enthusiastic as most new couples tend to be. Then and as she has our entire marriage, my honey loved to sing when she was happy and has a beautiful voice...
There'd been a major breakdown at the plant, so they'd sent the entire shift home two hours early. A rarity but a welcome change in routine and for me with the long drive, particularly appreciated. I hadn't called for fear of waking her. It was one of her days off and I'd honestly just thought it'd be an opportunity for some extra snuggle time.
Entering the house, I could faintly hear honey's voice...singing. Coming into the kitchen the low hum and thump of the washing machine told me that she was doing laundry. For those following along, you remember that my girl has always been an early riser. She loves exercise and has been a fitness fanatic most of her adult life. Coming down the hall to our bedroom, her voice became more distinct and I could tell that she was in the closet. I grinned...instead of announcing myself, I'd thought...
I'm gonna SCARE her! 
Some of you will see where this if going...I'd been her martial arts instructor for nearly two years and she'd held a black belt before starting her training with me. A typical male brain fart...sneaking into our room, I spied her bent over in the closet pulling clothes from a basket to hang them. Tip toeing closer I quickly closed the gap and grabbing her on each side of her waist, I'd cried YAH!!!
Her reaction was immediate....and painful. Straightening, she'd executed a perfect spinning back fist to the left side of my head, followed by a back kick to the abdomen that knocked me completely out of the closet! Stunned I still noted her fierce expression as she turned to face me fully...and burst into laughter as she realized who it was standing there bewildered and swaying like an oak caught in a high wind. Between peals of glee, she'd rushed out to hug me exclaiming.
"It really WORKS!"
Needless to say, I'd never surprised my honey in that way again...even knuckle draggers learn...eventually! Her laugh has always been infectious and plentiful. Even throughout the past five years of cancer, she's managed to hang on to that...until recently.
These past few months have been horrific for her. Physically and mentally as this damn disease strips from her the abilities to do even daily task. Now with hospice care, we try not to worry about the little stuff. I'll get to the laundry and the housework...but my focus is on her. I want to hear that laughter and see that smile....more than anything. It happens occasionally. She hums sometimes and rarely, she'll sing at a whisper. I relish both.
Though diminished, my girls spirit still shines. She clings to hope and knows that for us all in the end, the love we share for each other and family is the one of the things that no disease can alter. Hoping to head to the water park today...time will tell but it won't be because she won't try!

A quick honey update....We've had to start draining her lungs again daily, which is dispiriting for her as we were going as long as six days. She's tired and I know this latest development makes her anxious. SO...I'm taking her to the lake today for a picnic lunch and to soak her toes!

This afternoon, we'll take in the new Wonder Woman movies and then I'm grilling her steaks with all the trimmings and some ice cold Corona! :o) Thanks to all of you terrific folks for the kind comments on my page and for supporting my girl! We are truly blessed by each of you and your thoughtfulness!

I hope everyone has a wonderful day!

Jim & Tj (A.K.A. honey!)

Valentines...or the lack thereof

The upcoming holiday has always been something that both bumused and annoyed me. What began as a Roman ritual for virility, was later named for a Christian martyr in the 5th century. So yeah...it's been around a while. Now days, it's a billion dollar commercial event that can cause stress or elation in equal measure, dependent on your particular perspective.

The annoying part for me is the social expectation to celebrate the love of your life on this day. Shouldn't we be doing that every day? I would think that the person most important to you would be worthy of acknowledgment more than once a year but hey, that's just me! While I have no issues with treating your significant other to a 'special' day out or a gift for no particular reason, I DO have a problem with designating a time and place. What's romantic about that? Where's the delight in discovering an unexspected surprise or treat?

The truly bumusing aspect is how many couples, young and old that allow this scheduled event to define their relationships! I've worked with folks that have had some truly horrific battles over percieved failures in demonstrating their 'feelings' on this day. As a former police officer, I dreaded the inevetabile domestic calls and epic arguments. As in all things, there's the good as well. Proposals, well thought out trips and extraordinary dates and successful nights out together or as a family. I just think that by and large, the vast majority of us have become insensate. Which makes this celebration of love, mediocre at best.

So...you want romance? Try this. Take the time each day to really talk to one another. Listen. LOOK the love of your life in the eye and sincerely care about what they're conveying to you. Tell them consistenly and often that you love them. Hold their hands, wrap them in a hug and kiss them. None of us know, when we walk out that door each day, what will happen. It could be the last time you ever see that person. Happens all the time. Don't wait. Don't leave any doubt or room for regrets. LOVE them each and every day like it could be the last day!

If you each really put the other first, you BOTH win...each and every time. Don't get a Valentine...BE a Valentine. Treasure that which you hold most dear and remember that no matter your status, we are each equal in not knowing the number of our days. 

Life Support

The challenge of the blank screen or page is something that we as writers face each and every time we sit down to begin a project. At times the words seem to flow effortlessly and when they do, that feeling of creation is a heady thing indeed.

Unfortunately that isn't always the case...for whatever reason, there inevitably will be a time when we struggle to keep our writing schedules or feel uninspired. Then that blinking cursor or the empty page are not only daunting but can seem insurmountable. We falter...questioning our abilities and our chosen path. Is this story worth telling? Am I doing it right?
The nothingness reflects like a mirror and the longer you stare the greater the void  becomes...the hiss of air escaping into the cold vacuum of space, would almost be comforting. Shuddering, we close the window and redirect our attention and in that moment our nemesis grins.

Is it over? It shouldn't be...not if this solitary profession is something you believe in! As writers, it's our JOB to overcome such challenges; to fight with our intellect and will. To mold that barren wasteland into something interesting and believable for others to see and appreciate. Creator of worlds and the shaper of destiny...not a bad job title, eh?

Writers, for the most part work alone and therein lies the biggest part of the problem. If you don't know why you're stuck or even if you DO, finding the solution on your own is akin to solving a rubics cube while juggling vials of hydrochloric acid and taking a polygraph. Sure, you can do it but there's gonna be scar's!

Having a support group of like minded folks is not only important but vital to keeping the muse in an agreeable mood. Spending the time and effort needed in finding a writiers group in your area that is positive and encouraging, will likely make the aformentioned task seem like childsplay but it's worth it!

Having a trusted group that will listen to and understand your frustrations and concerns is like having a team of crack EMS personnel at you disposal. Use them. More importantly, be there to lend a helpful hand of your own to a colleague in their time of need.

Tis A Reason

With the holiday season past, we look forward to the upcoming year with hope and optimism. Like most folks, I tend to reflect on the past year and weigh victories and defeats. It's a part of the human condition. What we mustn't do and what I am struggling to rectify in my own behavior is simply this...We CANNOT and SHOULD not accept ties! 

In our relationships and our professions, tying is the realization of "good enough!"As a writer this past year I've done several pieces that while acceptable, I KNEW weren't of a caliber that I was capable of.  I settled for "good enough." Shameful and ultimately; lazy.  Oh I have all the standard excuses...work pressures, family issues, personal problems, ect. but it boils down to this...I shrugged it off and let it slide because it was EASIER! 

We all need a reason for the things that we do...be it working, playing or writing. We justify the time, money and effort spent in each of these endeavors, allocating resources as we deem fit. Most often we place markers on our efforts by the tangable returns we see...in most instances this is indeed a valuable and time tested methodology. In matters of the heart and in our authoring expenditures however, it can be fool hardy.

As authors we work on projects and pour an enormous amount of time and effort into them. At SOME point, we DO have to send these works into the world and allow the readers to evaluate them. That's what story telling is all about, isn't it? We WILL be rejected by some and accepted by others. It is a part of the process, BUT we need to honestly evaluate the feedback we're given to improve our craft and hone our own abilities. More importantly, we need to commit ourselves to a dedicated schedule of writing, research and tradecraft that will consistently raise our personal standards. 

Failure is completely acceptable IF we've given our best in the effort. If we truly do THAT, failing is simply a strength building exercise for our next attempt! This applies in our writing and our life. To me, reaching a place of comfort where I'm willing to settle and say this is 'good enough' means I've acccepted that I can get no better and do no more. To ME...striving for the next level, PUSHING past the plateau is what life is all about! Digging deeper into the complexities of the human condition and ourselves is what enriches our experiences and widens our horizons...apply THAT to your WRITING and well...let's just say, tis the reason. 

A Day Of Thanks...

On this day each year, we as a nation gather in celebration, to enjoy a meal and give thanks to the many blessing bestowed upon us. For most, it's a day of overindulgence and laughter, intersected with naps and shopping. Our hearts are lighter and we give more freely of our time and resources. All of which are good and necessary things. I am thankful for my family, friends and employment.

For others, this day will serve as a reminder...of failed adventures and unachieved goals. It will be a harbringer of stress and anxiety, another dark streak in a season filled with depression.With nearly eight million US citizens unemployed and of that portion;  690,000 of those folks are homeless. It's easy to see that our nation as a whole, has work to do. I am thankful for the volunteers that strive to combat the hungry and the destitute.

As always, there are uniformed men and woman both here and abroad, sacrificing their time with loved ones to protect our way of life and our freedoms. They willingly place themselves in harms way to safeguard our streets and borders every hour of every day. For all of them, I am especially thankful.

On this day we give thanks...to our forebears for their vision and willingness to forge a new nation. For all the small things...the laughter of a child, the warmth of a hug and the laughter of family and friends; we are grateful.

It is my intention to remember each of these, not just on this day but every day. To be humble and grateful for that which we take for granted. Shelter, food in abundance and the love of a spouse and health...for all that we give such little thought too...I am thankful.

The Fallen

                                                             The Fallen

On this long weekend above all others, most Americans gather to enjoy the start of summer, shrugging off the last effects of winter and breaking out the BBQ grills and summer toys. Many do thank service members on this day…mistakenly and good naturedly.

For those whom served this is hopefully meet with grace, regardless of what your feelings might be… for this is not our day. It is reserved for our brother and sisters that sacrificed all. For their families, who know the pain of promises lost and uncertain futures.

For us, we veterans; this day of remembrance is bittersweet…of the hardships shared and the camaraderie that is found nowhere else in human existence.  We have the same questions, with no easy answers; as the families and those feelings are often compounded by the guilt of survival.

What all of us must keep foremost in our thoughts is this…our friends and family members, those brave warriors who gave their all, did so freely and without remorse or hesitation. For God and country? Perhaps in part but mostly for those whom stood beside them united in the ideal of right over wrong and the certainty that those basic freedoms must be protected and safeguarded from those who would do it harm.

On this day, I thank their families. The children most especially, who will grow up without fathers and mothers. Please know that their sacrifice was not in vain and that the world is both safer and richer for having had them in it.

I would ask that on this day, we each honor that by extending a helping hand to those families still struggling with such monumental loss, remembering that our freedoms are rights earned thru sacrifice, not inalienable privilege.

For myself, I am honored to have served amongst them.

Perception And Probabilty

As writers we're happiest when the words are flowing at a breakneck pace. When the muse isn't simply speaking but screaming for our attention, hopping up and down and gesturing wildly like a man caught in the throes of a grand mall seizure! For those rare moments, the pages pile up and the word counts soar...it's AWESOME...but for each storm there is a calm and of course the inevitable wreckage created in its passage.
So what is writers wreckage you ask? Composition debris...especially when we're on fire! We all have these at some point ...plot holes, unresolved threads, inconstancies in charator or story. Too much filler...too little dialouge or anything that fails to progress or more importantly, drops the reader OUT OF THE STORY!
As the creators of our worlds we take liberties with reality and thats ok...to a point BUT when we sacrifice believability simply because its convienant or it "makes" the story work, we cheat ourselves and our readers. A hard core criminal suddenly has a change of heart and becomes compassionate for a stranger...a little old lady takes down a SWAT team...a top notch investagator 'forgets' a basic procedure. These are real scenes from published works, that made me (and many others, by the reviews) pause and throw the red BS flag!
It didn't sound real...it was a wave of the magic wand...the whole thing was a dream kindia resolution that drives readers AWAY.
As writers we know what the backstory is...we KNOW how these things happened and have rationalized it; to. by. damn. WORK! This is why it's vitally important to get an outside perspective. Let a Beta reader, a trusted colleague, someone you trust to give you unbiased feedback, and to review your work before you send it for submission. In the fictional genre, probability is the meat of our stories...what IF, is our hook...that which sets our stories apart and makes them uniquely our own.
What we must not do is give in to the temptation of finishing by taking the easy path...find a solution that could happen, even if its improbable. It just can't be IMPOSSIBLE! If we've done our work well, our charators are multi-faucet people of depth...get inside their heads... make THEM figure it out!
Ask why...how...where...would they do this thing? What would motivate them? Inhibit them, ect.
When we get the perception down we'll more clearly see the story from the perspective of our charators and more critically, our readers.

Endurance

When we think of endurance, many things come to mind. Sports, fitness and even relationships are often connected to that term. So what is endurance? The definition is more complicated than you may think...
Enurance is the ability of an organism to exert itself and remain active for a long period of time, as well as its ability to resist, withstand, recover from and have immunity to trauma, wounds or fatigue.

As authors most of us know that to be successful, endurance isn't just handy catch phrase, it's a prerequisite! Only a tiny percentage of us will ever have the luxery of writing a single piece that becomes an instant sensation or a national best seller. For most of us, we need to be prepared for the long haul...to write consistantly, producing solid stories that we not only love but that are worthy of publication.

Think about it. When we send our work into the world several things will happen. Elation...that wonderful bliss of completion and satisfaction that comes from doing all that hard work. Doubt...usually followed by self recrimination. We asks ourselves..."Was it REALLY ready?" Of course there's also the aforementioned fatigue...and there WILL BE trauma...and wounds....so hang on! Not EVERYONE will enjoy your labors...nor should you expect them too. Visibility is difficult to obtain and even harder to maintain. Publishing is merely the first step in our journey!

Writing is with few exceptions; a solitary endeavor, so how does one build that endurance from within to "resist, withstand and recover?" The glib answer is to keep writing and that's true but it's also SO much more complicated than that!

With work, (most of us have 'real' jobs!) family, social commitments and the day to day necessities of simply living are exhaustive enough BUT add in writing schedules, research and that pesky but all important 'building a social media presence' thingy AND book promotions/sales and signing events.....ARE WE HAVING FUN YET?

So how DO we eat an elephant? Of course, one bite at a time! To build our writing endurance it's vital to set goals and task that are both realistic and obtainable. While its important to be consistent, its IMPERATIVE to balance your writing activities with experiences that will strenghten your writing immune system to critique, frustration and burn out.

Go to a seminar or workshop. Get togather with other authors ( or readers!) and have coffee. Toss around some ideas and swap stories, laugh and enoy yourself! Read. Then read some more...read outside your normal genre, volunteer at a library, VA or shelter to help with their literacy programs.
Be involved in something that helps to recharge and inspire your interest! Do these things....find that balance and your writing cannot help but get stronger and more relatable.

I guarantee you'll have more new ideas than you can shake a stick at AND your writing immune system while shrug off attacks like a pack of super hero's!

Web interview

I just interviewed with Erik Van Mechelen on writing your first novel. Check it out here:
http://www.shakeup.tv/translate-world-travel-martial-arts-first-novel-jim-hellvig/