The Neutral Zone

Between endings and new beginnings lies the neutral zone, that expanse of indeterminate duration where one has begun to let go of the past but has yet to discover a future. As William Bridges states in the  book - Transitions - there are three main functions in this span.

The first is "surrender." I have re-lived the last months of Janell's life and tried to figure out what I could have done differently to prevent her death, with no answers, only guilt. I have filled the last ten months with busy-ness, remodeling the house, cleaning and rearranging every room and every shelf, exercising, reading, traveling, and working-working-working. Let go - she is gone from my physical life. The question is: how do I let go of the guilt, the emptiness, the grief and our life together, and still honor her life, our life, and our love. I look at our albums, full of memories; sometimes I smile, but still I cry. When will that shift to smiles, laughs and warm memories?

The second is "disintegration - reintegration." My life has fallen apart in so many ways: I am no longer a member of a "couple" and now almost a "pariah." In a sense, other couple don't know how to interact with me. I don't fit. I also don't fit into the "singles" world either; former single friends don't know how to approach me, or I exude an aura of being unapproachable. I do know that I hibernate - I retreat to my home and hole-up evenings and weekends. I'll spend an entire weekend talking only to the clerk at the grocery store or the check-in person at the gym. Family will call (bless their hearts!). I watch too much TV, read, write, exercise and clean/rearrange the house. I don't reach out to others for social contact.

The third is "perspective." Nothing seems substantial anymore - I find so little meaning in life. I see people shopping, going to movies, working, laughing, holding hands, having intense conversations and behaving as if these activities were important. If they only knew how transitory life is - how quickly everything seemingly important can be snatched away and replaced with - nothing.

And yet - I get up every day. I make up my bed. I shower, shave, brush my teeth, eat breakfast, go to work, eat meals, etc. I go on - I do my work and meet the needs of my project directors. I write my list for the weekend and put my check-marks next to each task I complete. And I wait . . . .

Choosing Your Ruts

The legend goes that there is an old muddy road in Georgia with the sign that says - "choose your ruts carefully. You will be in them for the next 25 miles." Some people choose ruts - others are pushed into them. I feel like the latter, when Janell died. I was jolted into the rut of routine, in order to survive. But just as it's difficult to turn one's wheels out of deep, muddy ruts, it is even more difficult to turn one's life back into - well, LIFE.

Some of my routines/ruts are simple: eating a popsicle and a fudge bar after the evening meal (this was very tactfully pointed out to me by my son-in-law, bless his heart!), having a cup of tea and crackers before bedtime, reading the Sunday morning paper over breakfast, watching the same sitcoms, wandering the house picking up and re-arranging, blah, blah, blah. 

Some of my routines may actually be beneficial: seeing the grand-kids, working out on a regular basis, buying and eating nutritious food, weekly vacuuming and cleaning, reading nightly, keeping up to date on bills, and getting up and going to work (to pay those bills).

And some of my routines are painful: waking up in the night and missing Janell next to me, worrying about my youngest kid and feeling helpless to help her, arranging and rearranging Janell's possessions with no thought of what to do with them, obsessing about finances and actually getting to retirement, and looking at that retirement and seeing nothing without Janell.

So - when do the ruts get more shallow and when will there be dry pavement to drive upon? When will I look forward to the next day and feel alive again? When???

A Letter to Baby Sabina

Happy Birthday, my dear Sabina. We have been waiting for you and now you are here. You are so beautiful and so lucky. You don't know it yet, but you have two incredible parents - kind, gentle, funny, caring and smart beyond belief! And you have two families who love you and will welcome you in so many ways, many of them involving food!

But I want to tell you about one person who also waited for you. Unfortunately she is no longer with us in person, but will always be with us in spirit - Grandma Janell. She was one of the most loving, dedicated and courageous people I have ever had the honor to love and be loved by. She was my wife for seventeen years and she is my kindred spirit forever.

Grandma Janell had an immense capability to care for people. She so much loved your Mom, your Aunt Jill and Uncle Brandon. They were her life. And when I came into her life with your Aunt Melissa and Aunt Michele, she accepted us and we became part of her life too. But her ability to love went far beyond her close family - she had (and now you have) such a wonderful extended family - great aunts and uncles, cousins and so many more. They will wrap you in so many layers of love.

Grandma Janell was also "Educator Janell" and "Principal Janell." Her love and her dedication to her kids, her teachers and her peers was boundless. They would do anything for her, as she would for them. They created the safest, most gentle and most successful school where kids wanted wanted to learn, and teachers wanted to teach. You would have been thrilled to be in her building!

Grandma Janell was also courageous. She faced down the most dreadful illness and lived her life on her terms, not its. Each day of her life was a blessing and she cherished each day to the fullest. And each day of her life was also a blessing for us;  we also cherished each day we had with her, and we miss her each day.

But don't be sad, Baby Sabina - you will know Grandma Janell. We will tell you stories about her, the times she made us laugh, the times she made us cry, the adventures we shared, the people she helped, the wonderful dinners (get used to it - you will have food heaped on your plate from all sides!), and the love, always the love. So - welcome, my dear, sweet Sabina. The spirit of Grandma Janell will be with you always, as it is with us.

Reminders

As I watched the tribute to the victims of the tragedy in Tucson today, I was pulled back to the pain of Janell's death - her suffering over the last three months of her life, the talk with the doctor as he urged me to "call the kids," the last moments when she went into cardiac arrest and I had to decide on resuscitation, and the aftermath of comforting and being comforted. The tribute dragged to the forefront all of the pain and grief.

As I think back over the last months, I am reminded of my love in so many smaller ways - seeing another women with thick red hair, finding a picture of Janell when I clean out shelves and drawers, coming across her email in my old Outlook account, getting a piece of junk mail with her name on it. The list goes on and on. Sometimes I move on, other times I am reduced to tears.

When will the reminders bring joy and solace, and not grief and even a bit of bitterness? And how do I place "reminders" around the house - pictures, plaques, scrapbooks, and clothes - that create memories and smiles? I still struggle with wanting to honor the past and find ways to live in the present. The future - I don't have one - yet.

Lost in Transition

As I sit here on the second day of the new year, reflecting on the past year and looking ahead to 2011, I feel what Sid Simon called "stuckness." I've written about it before, but it seems so appropriate now, on the cusp of two years.

There are many relationships connecting me to 2010 and holding promise/pain for 2011. Some remain strong and vibrant; others appear to be fading. Many questions arise:

•  Which ones do I sustain and nurture, and which ones do I release? (And should I add: which ones will release me?) 
• To which ones do I lend support, and where does that support become enabling? 
• How will relationships transition now that I'm not part of a couple (in a "couple's world")? 
• How will relations shift with in-laws, now that our link - Janell - is no long physically present?
• What was and what will be my social network?

 Since Janell's death, I feel a sense of "hibernation" in our house, or maybe more a sense of "incubation." The house itself is undergoing a rejuvenation, with new lights, new paint, new window coverings, and new bathroom decor. Maybe the remodeling of our/my home is a symbol of my need for change, growth, and "re-design." I'm not the person I was a year ago, but I don't know who I am now and who I might want to be. And until I reach a level of understanding and acceptance of who I am, defining, connecting and disconnecting relationships will be difficult.

And so I go through what I heard someone call "the daily grind" - life.