About Me

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Eleven years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Retired, and mostly enjoying it. Still knitting. [Zen]tangling.again after a brief hiatus.

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Technical difficulties

Kristen, I fixed the link on my email. I think. I cannot find a link to email you, on your page. If you have Tan’s or Alison’s or Tola’s email, they have mine, and I know at least two of them have my physical address as well. If you want to send me a comment not-for-publication, I can glean your email address and then delete said comment. I think we did that once before. This time I will save your email to my contacts.

Everyone? Thank you, and bless you, for your loving support. Just because something is invisible, doesn’t mean it’s not real. Some of the following post is from my response to an email Tan sent overnight.

Cat woke me up a few minutes ago. Apparently he had important prowling needs. When I let him out, I discovered that I had not locked the door last night. Fixed that. Also fixed myself a snack consisting of a tall glass of milk and two fat slices from a mini-loaf of excellent chocolate pumpkin bread that the younger twin made for Christmas. He had wrapped two loaves to a fare-thee-well, and I have been enjoying the first loaf for the past several days.

We home teach/visit teach the family of the compassionate service leader. This is the family from Fort Worth which moved here before I did, whose middle daughter I taught in Primary. He was the elders quorum president who supervised unpacking my truck when I moved to Fort Worth, and the friend who came and watched the Packers game with Beloved last Saturday. She is bringing dinner tonight.

Other friends, the ones who lived in my Arlington ward when LittleBit and I moved there in 2003 (the wife is the RS president; truly I have friends in high places*) brought me the packet of ceremonial clothing yesterday, and I slipped it into the white hanging bag that holds Beloved’s temple-worker stuff. There is an unopened package of other temple garments in one of the dresser drawers. I had planned to put that in the bag as well, but I see that I have two tops, not a top and a bottom. I will delegate the fixing-of-that to one of my kids.

Facebook has blown up with love and support. It is almost overwhelming. Middlest was able to get her tickets changed and will be here tomorrow. Beloved’s truck driving brother got here yesterday and is staying with Squishy and Mel. (Mel lost her dad on December 15, exactly one month before Beloved’s passing; he and Beloved had a great friendship.)

I have compassionate leave all week. I have the support of Beloved’s wonderful siblings. Not to mention the new sons and their wives, and my own kids and their spouses and significant or insignificant others. Firstborn wants to come help. Secondborn has made brownies. I suspect I will see one or both of them today.

Today I will make a few more phone calls: Social Security, HR at work, the funeral home once I have figured out how many copies of the death certificate we will need. (A lot.)

I still don't know where the breaker box is located. And I didn’t knit a stitch yesterday, but I hope to remedy that today.


I told Tan that I had just realized that I didn’t tell her how I am, only what I’m going to do. I am mostly-OK, a little teary at the moment, but utterly confident in the Lord.

My honey-do list is growing by leaps and bounds. Internet on the left monitor, Word on the right.

Time to get busy for awhile, and then maybe a nap. I got my best night’s sleep in weeks. Five blessed, unbroken hours. My spirit and heart would prefer to have Beloved here in the flesh. My body, ungrateful wretch, is purely and simply relieved. Squishy worked on my neck and shoulders last night. Even before that, I could already begin to feel an easing. Heaven is merciful. I am blessed.

1 comment:

AlisonH said...

I find I'm not one of the ones who has your physical address. I wish I did. Wishing you all my love, wishing I were there in person.