Evolving Sweetie

810 Stitches

Working right now on a scarf pattern that is knit in length wise rows. Cast on (start with) 810 stitches. To put this into perspective most scarves I've worked on start with 24 stitches or less. It's a challenging little mental battle. I knit my poor little fingers to the bone all night long and in the end I'm on row 3. 3! The axis turned and my progress seems so small in the grand scheme of the project.

Patience is not an inherent virtue that I possess. 

Reminds me of the prayer beads I've worked through in tougher times. 108 beads in all. Deliberate knots massaged through fingers. Prayers breathed into the smooth and soothing spaces between. Body packaged in stillness until the practice is completed. Moments the mind races forth, unbridled..."Are we there yet?"  And when that evening's practice is completed maybe a tiny space of peace, hope or relief is revealed. But in truth, it's the cumulative efforts that weave forth the cloak of gratitude, shawl of peace or blanket of contentment I'm so desperately trying to see take shape in each the individual prayer. 

Every little stitch and reverent prayer in the moment of creation is unique.

And surrendered to the beauty of the whole.

 

 

 

Dream A Little Dream of Me

Once in college a professor asked us to sketch out a 5, 10, 15, 20 year plan. Where do you see your life professionally, personally in 5 year time increments? After much soul searching, I laid out my blueprint. Her only comment was "Where are your dreams in here? Everything is practical and logical to achieve." Spend thousands on an education and it's this statement that's had the most vivid impact. 

As time marched on, my evolving and soul defining experiences have occurred when I've followed my dreams. Moving to Seattle sight unseen and jobless - a crazy, gutsy and bold leap. Yet Seattle's fertile ground has me rooted and oh, how I've blossomed. 

Then, there is Chuck. Prior to our relationship my greatest hope was to find my soulmate. But it took years of failed unions before I did the hard work to be honest about what I really needed and wanted in partnership. No more ambiguity disguised as flexibility. Once I dreamed the life, courage and conviction to say NO to offers that didn't match became my guiding principle. Chuck appeared close on the heels of my decision. Our relationship contained everything I truly needed in partnership and lots of sparkling surprises.

As I've rebuilt through the dark years that old struggle against dreaming has resurfaced. The lovely life that we dreamed to build together burned to the ground. I'm arising from it's ashes.  Too vulnerable to define my heart's desire for fear of losing it all... again. Yet knowing it's the leap of faith from a place of vulnerability and hope that weaves dreams into reality. 

Time to start dreaming of possibilities.

What is your truth?

Currently I'm taking a seminar designed to get past the mind chatter - the inner critic who has an opinion on how everything you do could be better. The goal is to narrow down to what is your truth - what gifts would you want to give the world if you have the power. And what do you need in order to live in and share those gifts. 

My truths are:

1. Love

2. Creativity

3. Gratitude

4. Freedom

The first three are so me and ring true at my core. The last one I'm still on the fence with. Freedom for me is the means and opportunity to fulfill your heart's desire. I've expressed some extraordinary lengths to get to freedom in my life. And have short circuited and self sabotaged my heart's desire in equal measurement. Curious to see how this one stands by weekends end and after much more reflection. 

Imagine if you have 4 truths to bring into the world to make it a better place... 

What are they for you?

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

This is my 100th post. Hard to believe I've had that much to say already...just kidding. For this momentous occasion I want to share a magical and sad story. Hinted a while ago in my "Letting Go" post that I have a story about rainbows and Chuck. Here it is.

The scene takes place in my condo on March 20, 2008 on my would-be 4th wedding anniversary - one year after Chuck passed. I worked from home that day as it was hard predict how my heart & head would react. And privacy was needed. As I recall the weather was fickle that day trying to decide if it was going to be partially sunny, sunbreaks, partially cloudy...oh, yes we Seattlelites live the distinctions between these terms. Stumbled through the day as best as I could being surprisingly productive. A few minutes before 5:00pm, I watered the garden on my deck and noticed a huge storm approaching. Coming inside the dark skies took my last bit of resolve and I called it quits for the night.

Leading up to the first set of anniversaries, I wrestled with my wedding set. At first it was an enormous comfort to see my beautiful, ornate setting on my left hand where Chuck placed it. It grounded me and symbolized of our life together. On the day Chuck passed, I placed his wedding band on my right hand and where it still resides. The closer I got to the close of the first year, my wedding set turned from a comfort to a liability. Glancing at my hands, strangers would ask me questions about my husband. Innocent, oblivious inquiries that they never in a million years could anticipate unleashed such a tragic tale. It felt painful & cruel to set myself and others up in that situation. 

Handling my early grief, I constructed a number of rituals. And to me the rings went on with purpose, specifically, intentionally and that was the way they needed to come off. My heart knew that to move forward I couldn't continue wearing them for another year. But an empty left hand was more symbolism than I was ready to handle. 

Finally, I decided I needed to take the rings off on our wedding anniversary.  While packing up my work computer that day, the skies opened up and rain started coming down in buckets. Going to dinner with my sister & bro-in-law to celebrate my anniversary was still hours away and I broke down. Lighting  Chuck's candle in front of his memorial picture, I poured my heart out to him about my decision on the rings. Everything in my heart bled out...that I put on the rings for life, that it killed me to have to take them off, that I needed to move forward, that I was sorry, that I hoped he forgave me....  The sobbing was so hard, I couldn't breathe. Scattered into a thousand pieces.

Its that exact moment a beam of sunlight lit up my face through my deck door. In a daze I stood up and opened the door. Stepping onto my deck I realized that I was in the middle of a huge glorious rainbow. Never have I seen one this close up before - it was right across the street. Felt like I was floating in the center of it. As my breath began to catch and steady, it grew brighter and more brilliant.  And my soul received this message "I know love, it is alright. I love you and this is what you need to do. We will be alright." Then the rains thundered down and the rainbow was gone.

The message conveyed to me that I was loved and Chuck was ok. Was it from Chuck? Was it from God? I believe from both. It pulled me from the deepest pit of my despair and grief with hope and love. Reassuring my battered soul that removing my wedding bands at this time was the right decision. Did it make that step any easier to do? No - I still died again inside later that night when the time came to remove the rings that bound me to Chuck. But my anniversary rainbow left it's spark that continues to shine in me.

Most people I tell this story to get a shudder. Is your soul recognizing the sign too?  One of the facilitators at my widow support group was in awe and excited that I saw a rainbow that day. Apparently, it's a classic ADC (After-Death Communication) sign to see a rainbow on a significant date after a loved one has passed. Here is a link to a website I found that sited other similar stories. Butterflies & Rainbows  I've seen a few other rainbows in my travels since when I've been acutely missing Chuck. To me, they are little hellos from heaven.

Somewhere over the rainbow, we all continue on. Thank you for that magnificent sign.

Rainbow from Maui trip 

Calling All Angels

Charles Anthony Lasseter 

March 16, 1969 - March 11, 2007

a man is placed upon the steps, and a baby cries 
 high above you can hear the church bells start to ring 
and as the heaviness, oh the heaviness
the body settles in 
somewhere you can hear a mother sing 

then it's one foot then the other 
as you step out on the road
how much weight? how much? 
then it's how long? and how far? 
and how many times, oh before it's too late? 

calling all angels 
calling all angels 
walk me through this one 
don't leave me alone 
calling all angels 
calling all angels 
we're tryin' and we're hopin' 
and we're not sure how... 

and every day you gaze upon the sunset 
with such love and intensity 
why it's...it's almost as if 
if you could only crack the code 
then you'd finally understand what this all means 

but if you could...do you think you would 
trade in all the pain and suffering? 
ah, but then you'd miss 
the beauty of the light upon this earth 
and the sweetness of the leaving 

calling all angels 
calling all angels 
walk me through this one 
don't leave me alone 
callin' all angels 
callin' all angels 
we're tryin' 
we're hopin' 
we're hurtin' 
we're lovin' 
we're cryin' 
we're callin' 
'cause we're not sure how this goes 

"Calling All Angels" by Jane Siberry 

To my dearest love Chuck,

My heart is always with you. Today I revere as sacred for it marks the end of your journey on this earth. My greatest hope is that you are soaring with the angels. Honey - I miss you more than words could ever strive to express. 

I love you eternally ~ Jeannette

As I make my way through the memories that are forever etched onto this day, I also remember the flood of love that surrounded me. From my last conversation with Chuck & his urgent insistence that I know he loves me more than anything, to the miracle of feeling his bliss as his soul passed over, to my family on the line helping me through the minutes until paramedics arrived, to E our dear friend who sat & cried with me through all the business of handling a body, to B & G my lovely friend-sisters that arrived shortly after, G my chauffeur & rock as I broke the news, B & E gathering our friends and whole-heartily opening their home to me, all the calls, dozens of scurried travel plans to reach me ASAP, hugs, tears, guided steps, days taken off, food & alcohol gently offered, donations, cards, prayers... all extraordinarily beautiful acts of love. There are thousands of other acts, large & small, since that day that have helped me reach survival at two years & counting. 

From the bottom of my heart, I thank all of you - my family & friend-family, friends, co-workers, fellow grief travelers, counselors and kind strangers that boldly, subtly or silently eased my journey. My love and thanks goes out to you all.

The Blessings Behind the "C" Word

Today marks the beginning of our ending. It was 4 years ago, today, that cancer first entered our lives. It was like a bomb went off and our lives were ground zero. I can remember it like it just happened. The panic in Chuck's voice on the phone urging me to come home. My insistence on him telling me what was wrong. And the desperate responsibility I gave my sister to stay on the phone with me and keep me focused until I arrived safely home to excavate through the rumble. Cancer? How can that be? Did he really say - the doctor thinks I have cancer?  

Cancer - one of the few words that turns the blood in your veins ice cold. Instantly your life has been hijacked and a foreign plan is playing out. A moment in time your life doesn't recover from. I don't know yet what I'll need to get through today as I'm assaulted with memories. Maybe a long drive, maybe a massage, maybe a walk in the woods, maybe ... it'll come to me from deep inside and I just have to trust where it leads me.

I've been working on this post for a few days now. Today - instead of relaying the horrors of our cancer journey, I want to share the blessings. BIG CAVEAT - the blessings and lessons I've learned can't be measured against the massive devastation and loss we've all experienced through Chuck's illness & death. I'd give all that I have to be able to rewrite our story. This is not network tv where the beloved character can come back from the dead to boost ratings. I can only choose how to tell the story and how to carry that into the future. Even in the most desperate of circumstances, love and grace can be found. This is what I want to share of our story for in these details are some of the most precious moments of our lives. 

In no particular order, some blessings through our journey with cancer:

1. Cancer cuts away the bullshit. And shines a spot light on what truly matters. 

2. Maddening while it is all happening, it's a blessing that you receive the bad news in bites & pieces as you are ready to handle them. The mind is a phenomenal adaptor. Your hope constantly redefines as each new series of tests & treatments are evaluated. Hope remains. And your ability to shift is extraordinary.

3. Your sense of humor is a godsend.

4. Kindness & loving grace of strangers. Chuck would have strangers stopping him on the street asking how he was doing. Sharing their own tales of chemo and treatments. You are given the secret hand-shake to a world you'd never choose to know, but here is were the best in humanity is witnessed. Compassion, love, care, generosity, kindness, sorrow, empathy, understanding - grace.

5. Friendship & Family. Here is where the rubber meets the road. Some relationships grow stronger, some fade away, some step up to the plate in such unexpectedly loving ways. And amazing people come into your life that you'd never know otherwise. I can't tell you how often we were brought to grateful tears by heads being shaved, care packages being knit, walks, phone calls, donations, meals etc. It's truly a humbling experience. So often Chuck would look at me with big tears in his eyes saying "I'm so loved."

6. Mend those fences well. One of the blessings in Chuck's remission time was he got to re-establish a relationship with his father. Neither of them has to move on from this life with that being unresolved.

7. You never know how strong you truly are until you are tested. I'm proud to say we both handled ourselves with an abundance of grace and strength.

8. The preciousness of life. And to make the seconds, minutes, days count.

9. The 2nd time around, I believe our acceptance and courage in facing the prognosis gave us permission to have many talks about both of fears & hopes for the future. Chuck told me in his own words what he wishes for me as I continue on. And I was able to reassure him through my own faith that he'd be surround by love when his time came. I firmly believe it was this acceptance that allowed him to pass on before anyone ever expected. He was staring at a future of loss of control, potential paralysis, loss of mental capacities, more treatments, hospice, all of which he was spared.

10. The lesson that there are worse things in this life than death. It no longer frightens me to die. That doesn't mean I'm putting the welcome mat out for the grim reaper any time soon. 

11. Through my own journey in care-taking & grief, my spiritual connection has opened up.

12. Holding a hand can be a lifeline.

13. The value of your life force & energy.

14. The gift of time. Chuck was able to carry out the main goals he wanted to achieve in remission. Take me to Paris, see Versailles, complete the LiveStrong 40 mile bike ride, get us (me) into own home, have his mother settled in CA ... and countless others. He made his short list and accomplished a lot.

15. How the heart broken open by tragedy heals with more capacity to love. 

16. The extraordinary grace, empathy, compassion & passion of the doctors, nurses, therapists and care staff in the cancer institutes & hospitals. They are angels walking among us.

17. Never in my life had I felt so strongly that I was exactly where I was born to be, then when I was taking care of Chuck.

And although there are countless more blessing received, I'm running out of steam... so, I will leave you with this last one.

18. You can't take care of anyone else unless you care for yourself.  And critical illness can take your marriage to depths of love unimaginable any other way. In his last days, Chuck would tell me that I was his knight in shining armor. That all the ways to love, protect & provide for a person, I fulfilled for him. What an amazing gift to receive. And what a truth to know about yourself. You were strong & present enough to provide the love and care your soul mate needed when it mattered the most.

I'm not done with my dance with cancer. Unfortunately, cancer will shape our lives in profound and extraordinary ways as millions of people will battle cancer in their lifetimes. The landscape of my life has been ravaged by cancer and the life I was leading is gone. I'm a survivor of cancer as much as if the battle was waged in my own flesh. Someday, I'll find a way that I can utilize my experience to help others on this journey on a more intimate level. The right path has yet to be discovered. And I'll continue supporting LiveStrong and other organizations in their battles against cancer as I can. I'm in this fight for life.

So, live strong my friends. 

Live Strong.

Letting Go

This isn't the post I set down to write. I'm surprised. The words that are fighting to be sent flying into cyberspace don't reflect my day. Hope and productivity were the words for today. I expected to be writing about my weekend at my sisters, or the lovely roasted chicken I made for dinner or random happy thoughts. 

But placing my hands on the keyboard, the tears started to flow. For weeks now I've been feeling the tide pulling me into a new phase of grief. And its' not subtle. It seems the songs and passages that have been capturing me have a common undeniable theme. Letting go.

Gearing up for another leap of faith. The foundation I am laying for the next chapters of my life can't be complete until I let Chuck go as my husband and gracefully, wholly accept him as my late husband. And I have done so much work already, so much....

We lived a whole lifetime in our 4 years & 4 months together. Time is such an inadequate measure of the nature, volume and maturity of our love. That love reached depths to span many lifetimes. And still, I fear this transition. Letting Chuck truly become my past and be a spiritual soul-mate. I'm irrationally frightened of forgetting who we were as the course of my life unfolds. My heart continually breaks so easily over the loss of Chuck, our future, our hoped for children, the dreams we wanted to pursue, the life we envisioned, the people we were and the potential of who we'd become. Yet, I mend it over and over again, proving my life force is strong. 

And sure, some memories will fade away as time continues. How do I keep from losing too much? 

I saw a rainbow today from my deck. Someday I'll tell you my beautiful rainbow story from my anniversary. Since then whenever I see a rainbow it's like a secret hello from Chuck. Maybe this is the source of my tears today. Maybe a release was just necessary.

In my travels since Chuck has passed I have taken to sending him postcards to the condo. In my own brand of magical thinking, by sending my written sentiments to him publicly the words are bound to find Chuck where ever he may be. This blog has performed a similar function at times like this.

To my honey Chuck - I love you beyond measure. I'm working toward being able to let you go as my husband. This action does not reflect any loss of love for you, only a necessary step I must undertake to continue my journey forward. Remember to love another is to learn the song that is in their heart and sing it too them when they forget. Right now, this is the song in my heart for you. I love you...

You've touched my heart, you've touched my soul

You've changed my life & all my goals

And love is blind & that I knew when 

My heart was blinded by you

I've kissed your lips & held your head

Shared your dreams & shared your bed

I know you well, I know your smell

I've been addicted to you

Goodbye my lover

Goodbye my friend

You have been the one

You have been the one for me

I'm a dreamer & when I wake

You can't break my spirit - its my dreams you take

And as you move on, remember me

Remember us & all we used to be

I've seen you cry, I've seen you smile

I've watched you sleeping for a while

I'd be the mother of your child

I'd spend a lifetime with you

I know your fears & you know mine

We've had our doubts & now we're fine

And I love you, I swear that's true

I can not live without you

Goodbye my lover

Goodbye my friend

You have been the one 

You have been the one for me

And I still hold your hand in mine

In mine, when I'm asleep

And I will bare my soul in time

When I'm kneeling at your feet

Goodbye my lover

Goodbye my friend

You have been the one

You have been the one for me

I'm so hollow baby, I'm so hollow

"Goodbye My Lover" by James Blunt

Nirvana

Is there a place that calls to you from the depths of your soul? Anywhere that just the thought of it brings a measure of calm to your restless mind?  To me that place is Nepal. As our life together was unraveling in our hands, I'd close my eyes, breathe deeply and then be sitting on one of Nepal's overlooks, prayer flags whipping in the wind and overlooking her majestic mountain peaks. Or I'd be kneeling in a temple praying for peace listening to the singing bowls and gongs. It became its own mantra when I'd start to panic over losing him "someday I'll go to Nepal, someday I'll go to Nepal." Almost as a lifeline to the future, that life would contain experiences I'd treasure again. Can I explain it beyond the obvious images we have from the media of the spirituality of the place? No, not anymore than I could explain to my friends and family "Why Seattle?" when I had never before step foot her soil. It's just a calling, a knowing from deep inside. To my weary soul Nepal seemed to be the answer to what I needed most: rest, beauty, prayer, reflection, stillness, calm, simplicity, respite from the modern world, closeness to god, a chance to find peace.

Someday, I'll get to experience her with my own senses. Flags will be whispering my prayers through the wind up to the heavens. And the prayer wheels will be spun in remembrance for the precious souls who have departed from my life. A higher measure of peace will be mine that day.

Till then, I will look to other's images and stories to carry me there.

Love in all it's fragility

Two tales are calling to be shared today. The events are significant in the tapestry of our life together. However, the date is only part of my memory because it is exactly one month prior to his passing. 

That morning, we attended church with Chuck's family in California. Their church's ritual is on the Sunday prior to Valentines Day couples celebrating a significant anniversary (read divisible by 5) renew their wedding vows in front of God & the congregation. Guest couples are encouraged to take part in the ceremony regardless of the anniversary year. Of course with us visiting that weekend, my in-laws strongly suggested we participate. I had very mixed feelings over this request as renewing my wedding vows was not something I wanted to be witnessed by hundreds of strangers. Unbeknownst to my in-laws, when the cancer came back I asked Chuck to marry me again. I wanted him to understand that even with knowing the tragic ending of our story, I would absolutely choose him as my husband again, and again. How it was orchestrated was my issue to overcome. The bottom line is what's important is the vows happened. The where and when details are trivial. 

Truth is I had no need to worry about who was watching. As we stood at the altar together, I placed my hand on his heart and everyone else fell away. We looked deep into each other's eyes and pledged "for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness & in health, to death do us part." Those are the hardest words to say while you are actively living them. You can't know the relief and grace you feel knowing you possess the strength and resolve to carry your love through the hard parts of the vows. Nor what it is to be on the receiving end of the flood of gratitude, love and vulnerability when your partner hears that you are pledging to them & God to be by their side to the end. Especially when the end was dangerously near. Nothing I could have given Chuck in 10 lifetimes would have ever meant more.

Later that evening, Chuck would leave me for the first time. We were on the plane home to Seattle and he needed to visit the washrooms. The seat belt signs were illuminated, so I flagged down a flight attendant to get permission for Chuck to be up. I fought the instinct to follow him. Seconds later a tapping on my shoulder meant I should come to help Chuck as he was struggling on his feet. I arrived at the back of the plane to no Chuck and both washroom doors unlocked and shut. I opened the right door first to find Chuck standing there, slumped over, out cold. It took me calling his name with rising hysteria, shaking, tapping his face and 45 seconds or more for me to revive him. Reflex opened his eyes twice and absolutely nothing was looking back at me. Chuck was not there. Such a vacant look I will never forget. Frightening, absolutely frightening. The third time his eyes fluttered open, I witnessed the light of his soul returning. Luckily, a doctor was on board just a few rows up. After assessing Chuck's conditions, he determined we could make the flight home and avoid an emergency landing. The two hours passed excruciatingly slow. Chuck remained in the bathroom with an oxygen mask on and I sat on the plane floor in front of the restroom door until we needed to prepare for landing. Because of us, the plane's back facilities were unusable and service was limited. We had a wonderful attendant that stayed with us the whole flight to calm our nerves. We were both just so scared, embarrassed, deflated and exhausted. The flight ended with the "walk of shame" as Chuck dubbed it. We were escorted out by four paramedics through an angry sea of passengers that we inconvenienced the whole trip. I know there were lots of sympathetic onlookers in the crowd, but plenty of stares left scorch marks. 

Weeks later Chuck would confide in me that while unconscious he was in a warm, comforting and loving place. And he did not want to return. It was the panic-stricken look on my face that pulled him back. He came back for more out of love for me. 

How can one day contain so many extraordinary gestures of love?

Perhaps this final act was meant

To clinch a lifetimes argument

That nothing comes from violence and nothing ever could

For all those born beneath an angry star

Lest we forget how fragile we are

On and on the rain will fall

Like tears from a star, like tears from a star

On and on the rain will say

How fragile we are, how fragile we are

"Fragile" by Sting

The Act of Forgiveness

Ever watch National Lampoon's European Vacation? The family is trapped in large traffic rotary in London and they keep passing parliament. "Look kids, Big Ben!" - over and over again. And upon awakening this morning I realize that my healing journey is stuck because I'm in this huge emotional juggernaut passing by the same landmarks over and over again. And the common theme underlying them all - things I need to forgive. 

A hard truth I learned a long time ago is that we humans make the best decisions we can given where we are, what we know and who we are at the time. Especially in situations where love is involved family, friends, self. That doesn't say our actions are always righteous or for that matter harmless. It just means that it is pretty rare that the amount of damage inflicted is intentional. 

To forgive doesn't mean you need to continue a relationship, behavior or forget what happened. Some things need to follow their natural course and end. Forgiveness is ultimately a gift to yourself for it frees you from the burden of carrying around all those powerful negative emotions inside. It releases them into the cosmos and healing can truly begin.

In regards to Chuck's illness and passing I keep visiting old wounds. Not intentionally, but there is a loop of moments and conversations that keep bubbling up into my consciousness. My In-laws come to the fore-front and carry the heaviest bulk. Finishing of the estate will release my internal ties - I hope. Their message is clear my participation in their family is not desired. And for my own health and soul, I need bid peace and finally part ways. 

My hardest work remains with myself. I acknowledge that I did the best I was capable of while care taking Chuck. But it's the few tests that I failed that I can't let go of, and they are big ones. Our denial that lead to our decision for me to continue plans and not be at a critical appointment. It doesn't matter what has happened since, I haven't been able to forgive myself for this one. And then there is the last time I saw him alive. He was sleeping peacefully. I never left the house without waking him to let him know I was going out. I didn't want him to worry if he awoke and I wasn't there. This fateful morning we had a conversation 30 minutes prior to my going to the laundry mat. I had explained my plans for the morning, made him comfortable and exchanged love yous. He was so exhausted. I didn't have the heart to wake him up after I finally loaded the car and headed off to the laundry mat. I rationalized that when he woke, he'd see the Starbucks drink I left for him and know where I was in the sequence. Reality is he never woke up. I found his spirit gone - exactly where I left him, drink untouched.

And in all that I lost in that moment of finding Chuck, was my last opportunity for him to hear me say I love you. 

My brain has rationalized 100s potential outcomes if I had awaken him. Maybe if I had he'd have not left peacefully. What if he had been awake when it happened, what if it had prolonged his life, what if he would not have let go, what if...  The truth is my decision, made out of compassion for him, cost me the last time to say I love you and goodbye. And this is the decision my soul keeps asking for forgiveness from Chuck, from me. Each time this comes up I cry it out and re-reconcile it.  But next time my soul cries out for forgiveness, the intensity has not diminished. 

Are there just moments in life that you just can't forgive even for yourself, no matter how hard you work? Or have I not found the right path yet?  Either way, the message is coming through loud and clear to me. Keep on trying.