Monday, September 9, 2019

Hiraeth

I haven't blogged a lot of late. Partially it's a matter of other priorities and partly because it seems the first part of my grief journey has come to an end. The sharp pain of sorrow doesn't trouble me so much anymore. And I am thankful for that.

But the journey continues.

I stumbled across the word hiraeth yesterday. Hiraeth is a Welsh word.  The definition is a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost place of your past.

All that seems to sum up my present state. I can honestly say I'm doing well but underneath there is an almost unidentifiable yearning, or longing for the home I've lost. I still have my house, but the home that I had with Faye is lost.

And I yearn, to a new degree, for that eternal home where I will meet Faye.

And I press on.

Wednesday, August 7, 2019

A regret

I try my best to avoid regrets. I loved Faye and she loved me. Our marriage was happy. And yet, there were imperfections as there almost always are.

We were too busy. We really were. I was busy. Faye was beyond busy. I always teased her that she would somebody be the busiest person at the care home, which never happened of course.

We often go several days without even having a meal together. And longer without more extended time together. It would have been fair to say we often were like ships passing in the night.

So we had a weekly game night. And we drove places together--including church--whenever we could. Of course she would concentrate on knitting. :)

Holidays were precious times. And were times with family when Faye concentrated on being a mother and grandmother.

None of that can be changed of course. And life was what it was. And Faye had to channel her immense energy.

So I press on.

Thursday, August 1, 2019

Just a daydream

I had a day dream today. It's good it was a day dream because I was driving.

I saw myself entering Heaven where I was greeted by Faye. Off in the distance I saw a whiteish whirlwind running in our direction, barking and jumping.

Paisley's been waiting so long for you to come home, Faye told me.

Like I said--just a day dream. It's not theology or doctrine. It was just a day dream. But a sweet one that made me smile.

Just imagine my dog, who has never met Faye, being allowed into heaven and meeting her and recognizing her and adopting Faye as her heavenly human. And imagine Faye dropping her reservations about dogs and loving Paisley.

It was just a day dream. I'm not putting any weight on this at all. But it made me smile. And it makes me smile now.

Wednesday, July 31, 2019

Still longing

It has been more than a year and a half since the worst day of my life, when Faye left so suddenly without saying goodbye.

My heart is slowly, unsteadily, healing. But changes come in fits and starts.

Somedays I feel like I've finally conquered that mountain. My vision is clear. My ambition is returning and energy is coming back.

And then the fog settles in again. But God is with me. And I am recovering. I will embrace life again.

But I miss her smile every day.

Yet I press on.

Monday, July 15, 2019

My best decision

I often think of Faye when I playing with Paisley (that's not her to the left, but it looks quite a bit like her. Paisley has more white fur, her ears have a different fold and her nose is black.)

In fact, I sometimes call Paisley Faye as in "stop that Faye."

But most often I find myself wondering if Faye would like Paisley.

I think she would complain, a lot, about Paisley mostly about the mess. Paisley is a professional shedder and she loves ripping stuff apart. Not furniture but thinks like plastic bags. She doesn't eat but she rips them apart.

But for all that, the things about Paisley that make me smile would make Faye smile as well. I know Faye would smile when Paisley demands a tummy rub from me. She would like stroking the velvety fur on top of Paisley's head. She would like it when Paisley would lie at her feet.

And I know she would like going for walks together.

The best decision I've made since losing Faye is getting Paisley.

A fond memory

Faye loved hospitality.

When we lived in Manitoba, just a short walk from the church, Faye would sometimes invite everybody who was available to come for Sunday dinner.

Since moving to Alberta she had to work a little harder but she did.

She would call people until she found somebody who was available. And she didn't see any of it as work.

It was a pleasure to her and it was an outpouring of her gifts. One being that she was a genuinely friendly extrovert. She wasn't afraid of the telephone and a few no thank yous along the way did not deter him.

Fond memories. And I press on.


Monday, July 8, 2019

Feeling tendernesss

Faye was embarrassed by her arthritic hands. She generally tried to hide them in photographs.

They didn't bother me. I loved her. And I loved her hands.

They symbolized, for me, her work ethic. She worked hard all her life. Hard work wasn't just something she had to do at times, it was part of who she was. She worked and she had the heart of a servant.

Nobody who ever had us over for a meal needed to ask Faye to help, she started helping from the moment we walked in the door.

And somehow those arthritic hands was a visible sign of her love of service and work. They were hardworking hands.

How I miss being able to tell she was beautiful to me in every way.

I've been blogging less of late--partly because I'm consciously trying to get busier and use my time differently. But the foundations of my new life are getting more stable--so my mindset is changing.

And I press on.