A Chance Encounter

Yesterday Vince and I would have celebrated our 15^th wedding anniversary. We probably would have gone somewhere special for dinner and enjoyed a great bottle of wine. And, knowing Vince, he probably would have brought me a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

 

We would have talked about how 15 years flew by in a flash, but he would have said something especially sweet to me by telling me he’d loved every minute of it (even those times when we argued about whose turn it was to walk Maggie Minx.)

 

Instead, I went about my day as if it were just any old Friday in September. I filled up my gas tank and ran my car through the car wash. And I stopped by the library to pick up the September book club book.

 

As I crossed off items on my To-Do list, I felt a sense of accomplishment because I was being productive. But I missed him. All day long. And I had this sense of sadness because September 6^th isn’t really a special day anymore, except in my heart.

 

My last stop of the day was to go to Kroger to pick up a prescription as well as a few items I’d forgotten the last time I went grocery shopping.

 

As I was getting out of the car to head into the store, I received a text from a friend who said she’d gotten a reminder notification on her phone – and forwarded a picture of Vince and me on our wedding day.

 

It was sweet of her to remember and I appreciated it, but again, I felt the sadness start to take over and I even got a little choked up.

 

Yeah, this is not the sort of thing you want to be experiencing in the middle of the Kroger parking lot on a random Friday in September. 

 

So I got myself centered a bit and marched determinedly into the store. There’s no crying in Kroger, Jane!

 

I managed to get everything on my list…well, except for ice. I – once again – forgot the ice. I always remember it as I’m walking into the store, but a person can’t exactly walk around a grocery store with a bag of ice in her cart. It’ll be an expensive bag of slushy water by the time one reaches the checkout line.

 

Anyway, I finished up and loaded my purchases into the trunk.

 

After I dropped off the cart in the corral, I turned and headed back towards my car. A woman walking by my car said, “Is this your car and is your name Jane?”

 

Probably I should have looked it over for dings and dents in case there had been a runaway cart incident while I was in the store – but I answered her and said that, yes, my name is Jane. This, by the way, is not an indication that she was psychic or anything. My name is actually on my license plate.

 

I almost expected her to tell me her name was Jane as well. Instead, she said, “I just lost my best friend of 50 years this week. And her name was Jane.”

 

Immediately, I told her how sorry I was to hear it and that I can only imagine how hard it is to lose your best friend. She told me it was unexpected and she was still reeling from the shock and the loss.

 

“I used to call her Janie,” she said. “Did anyone ever call you Janie?”

 

Oh, man.

 

I told her that Vince, my husband, always called me Janie. And that today would have been our 15^th wedding anniversary. And then I told her that he’d passed away three years ago and I was kind of sad today.

 

So we stood there commiserating with each other over the loss of her friend and my husband. And then she asked me if she could give me a hug.

 

And she did. This perfect stranger and I stood in the middle of the Kroger parking lot and hugged one another.

 

It was an amazing moment. Because we both needed that little bit of comfort and I think we both felt a little bit better when we separated.

 

She told me that everyone needs a hug once in a while. And then she wished me a happy anniversary and told me to have a blessed day.

 

And then she turned and walked into the store.

 

She never even told me her name.

 

When I got into my vehicle and started it up, I was feeling that incredible rush from a chance encounter with a stranger. Was that a God wink or a Vince wink, or what?

 

I felt lighter and happier. And I knew that she was put in my path – and I was put in her path – for a reason.

 

So Happy 15^th Anniversary, my Vince. I forgot to buy myself some flowers. And I didn’t even crack open a bottle of wine. But I’m okay. You know that – right?

 

And I know it, too. Even if I did forget to buy ice.

 

Until next time, friends.

Three Years. It Has Been Three Whole Years…

I had a hard time sleeping last night. I kept thinking about the night of April 27^th of 2021 turning into the early morning hours of April 28^th when my world shattered and I lost my Vince. Three years ago. Sometimes it seems like three minutes ago – and sometimes it seems like three lifetimes ago.

 

But this morning, despite my lack of rest, I got up, got dressed – and met my friend Debbie at church. And then we went out to breakfast afterward where we talked, reminisced a little and toasted Vince.

 

I think he would have been honored by both activities – the music and the message of God at church was uplifting and he would have taken more and better photos than my one, timid attempt. He would have been moved by the sermon and would have posted something inspirational on his social media pages.

 

And he would have thoroughly enjoyed the bacon and eggs that were on the menu at First Watch. I enjoyed them because I don’t cook bacon and eggs – so it was a rare treat for me.

 

When I came home I walked Maggie and attempted to get some of the more mundane household chores done – like cleaning out the crisper drawer in the fridge and dusting the baseboards. Yuck. Who thought this was a good idea??

 

Neither chore made me feel like I accomplished much – so I settled for running the dishwasher and scrubbing the toilets. Those are a little more satisfying once they’re completed, even if I don’t especially like doing them.

 

But I also took some time today to reflect on the past three years. How different my life has been. Do I miss Vince any less than I did three years ago? No, not a chance. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of him. But I cry less than I once did. And I smile a little more than I have been.

 

Those are good things.

 

The other day I was talking to someone who knew Vince before he met me. I hadn’t seen this person since before Vince passed. He offered his condolences – and I got a little choked up. But this happens less and less often. I’m sort of grateful about that because who wants to talk to someone whose eyes leak uncontrollably?

 

It’s interesting to think about the people I’ve met in the past three years who didn’t know me as part of “Vince and Jane.” They’ve only met Jane, who is a little less outgoing than she used to be; a little less “bright” and happy – and has maybe a tinge of sadness to her persona that is lurking just a bit below the surface.

 

Of course, they don’t know that.

 

On the other hand, I know that I get up each day and I try. I have more good days than bad. I wear bright colors and sparkles and try to get my mood to match my exterior. Sometimes I really do feel “sparkly” and those are the really good days.

 

I have fun with friends and family. I keep busy and volunteer my time for good causes. I travel – perhaps not as much as I would have if Vince were here, but I still try to make plans for fun outings. And, no matter what, I know that I have a support system of people in my life who care about me. Who love me. And who loved Vince.

 

And that has to be good enough.

 

 

Memories and Grief - Some Happy, Some Sad

Way back in 2019 Vince and I attended a charity event and, since we were all gussied up, Vince asked someone take our picture. It was a wonderful, memorable evening.

 

Back in 2019, we didn’t know that in a few months’ time, we would be isolated because of a thing called Covid. We didn’t know we would eventually catch the virus ourselves.

 

We didn’t know that a few months after that, Vince would be gone.

 

So we didn’t know that we needed to celebrate each moment with smiles and photos so that five years later I could look back and remember the fun we had.

 

Actually, though, that’s what Vince always did – he documented all the moments, big and small. And because he did, I have tangible proof of my happy life with him, even though it was only thirteen short years.

 

Recently, that photo came up in my memories on Facebook, so I had to repost it. Lots of people posted kind comments and there were more than 140 “likes.”

 

So I started looking at the names of friends and family who liked it. And, as I was scrolling down the list, I became teary-eyed.

 

Because all those people were telling me that they care. About me. About Vince. And they were letting me know it was okay to post that photo.

 

That even though we are approaching the three-year mark since he has been gone, my friends and family understand that it’s okay to remember him. Three years seems like so long ago, but – to me – it also seems like it happened yesterday.

 

For some who haven’t lost anyone significant in their lives, it may be difficult to understand that grief never goes away. That it sometimes softens with time. And it’s perhaps not as paralyzing as it was in the beginning. But that those feelings of grief will come and go – probably forever.

 

That the person who grieves might go on with life as if nothing is wrong – and if you ask them how they are, they will invariably respond, “fine,” but that may be the furthest from the truth.

 

Or maybe they are fine. (Grief can be confusing!)

 

Sometimes it only takes a scent of the cologne they wore, or their favorite meal printed on a menu to bring the grief back.

 

Or it may be a photo of a happy occasion that does it.

 

But most people who are grieving are not broken. We are repairing our shattered hearts and going on as our loved ones would want us to. We have good days and bad days, like everyone else.

 

Some people are not okay with grief. With allowing a person to express their memories or their sadness. Or their joy over a funny memory. They don’t want anyone to bring up the name of the person who passed.

 

I ask, “Why?”

 

Why is it so uncomfortable? Are they afraid the person who is mourning will burst into uncontrollable tears?

 

And to that, I ask, “So what?”

 

What’s the worst that will happen? Maybe they need that cathartic cry and will feel better when they’re done. If someone viewing such a display is uncomfortable, just grab some tissues, hand them to the person crying and step back.

 

Chances are, if a memory is brought up about a deceased loved one, the person grieving will latch onto that memory. We love hearing their name. We love hearing stories about them. What better way to honor their life by remembering them?

 

Recently, I read a post by a woman in my Widows/Widowers group on Facebook who said that the last time she attended a gathering with her late husband’s family, she proposed a toast to him. She had hoped his family would join in and bring up a happy memory or say a few kind words about him.

 

But no one did.

 

And she was so saddened by this. Particularly since he had passed only three months before. And it was his family.

 

More recently, one of his family members asked her not to bring up his name or propose a toast to him at the next family gathering. She was devastated by this and considered not going to the event. She wanted opinions of the people in our private group about what she should do.

 

I thought this was so disheartening.

 

Of course, I don’t know the particulars. Was there family strife? Was it a happy occasion (birthday for their 90-year-old grandmother, family wedding, or baby shower) where her timing was off and a toast to her deceased husband was maybe not the most appropriate thing?

 

Nevertheless, I hope that my family and friends will never stop me from mentioning Vince. And I hope it’s not uncomfortable for them, because it’s not for me.

 

Now, granted, I try not to talk only about him. You know – exclusively. I get that that could be uncomfortable and a little repetitive. I try to keep the Vince mentions down to an appropriate level and if I’m talking about the price of paper towels, for example, I don’t try to tie his name into it.

 

Because, really, who wants to talk about the price of paper towels? And anyone who knew him would wonder at my sanity that I’m bringing Vince’s name into a story about the price of paper towels.

 

But if we’re talking about a great rack of ribs, or the perfect fire pit fire, well, all bets are off. Vince was the most amazing grillmast…uh…

 

…perhaps I’ll save that story for another day.

 

In Honor of My Father-in-Law, Morris Cordova

I have a need to write, but it’s not a blog I can post. Why not? Well, because it’s about my 93-1/2-year-old father-in-law who has entered hospice. And his 92-year-old sister does not know the extent of his condition because her health is not so great either and we don’t want to worry her.

 

Morris – my father-in-law – got pretty sick right before Christmas with the ‘flu and RSV. He went to the Emergency Room, but they released him. He went a couple times, actually, and finally ended up with pneumonia. This was too much for his body to fight and he eventually became unresponsive.

 

He had made a living will in which he stated he did not want to be kept alive by artificial means, including feeding tubes – so we made the difficult decision to put him in hospice.

 

I’ve been through hospice with both my parents and it’s not an easy thing. Dad was in hospice for only a week after his head injury, but mom was in hospice for over a year as she declined from Alzheimer’s.

 

I hated that they both had to be in hospice, but I will say that the hospice organization is amazing. They are the most caring, wonderful people who deal with so much grief. They care about us, our dying family members – and they even care for us again after our loved ones have passed.

 

I can’t say enough good things about them.

 

On Saturday, I went to Newark to see Morris in his hospice room. I had prepared a playlist of music I knew he liked.

 

Back in 2019 after his wife Marilyn died, Vince and I went to Newark frequently to help Morris organize his paperwork and visit him to keep up his spirits. Morris was eager to tell me about his morning routine, which was to get up, turn on his computer and access his music. He’d tell me how much he liked the station that played songs by artists such as Andrea Bocelli and Michael Bublé.

 

Many of those songs are some of my favorites, too, so it was fairly easy to create a playlist for him.

 

So when I got to his room, I turned off the TV. I decided Miss Kitty on Bonanza and Andrea Bocelli’s song featuring Celine Dion were not exactly compatible sounds.

 

We spent the better part of the hour listening to my playlist and then when it was over, I talked to him. Told him stories about some of the songs – how several were played at our wedding, how Vince told me how much he loved me after listening to one of them on our long flight back from Maui. And how much we enjoyed going to the Michael Bublé concert in 2019 and how we wished we could’ve had the opportunity to take Morris to the Andrea Bocelli concert the next time he came to Columbus.

 

Morris, of course, did not acknowledge any of this, although I want to believe that the furrow in his brow smoothed out some.

 

And while I was talking to him, I cried. A lot. I brushed Morris’ hair back off his forehead. I prayed aloud as I held his hand. I couldn’t help but feel Vince in the room with us. Waiting to welcome his dad home.

 

I was missing Vince terribly and wishing he were physically with us – but even though I was so sad, I also felt a sense of peace come over me.

 

It’s hard to explain, but there it is.

 

After a couple of hours, I told Morris that I was leaving. He actually opened his eye a bit as I bent down to kiss his forehead, told him I loved him and thanked him for bringing Vince into this world and welcoming me to the Cordova family.

 

When I passed the nurse’s station, I did remember to ask if they’d turn the TV back on since I’d forgotten. Television noise has been one of the constants in Morris’ life in recent years and I didn’t want him to lie there in silence before his son Keith came in for a few hours to sit with his dad.

 

When I got home, I was exhausted. My eyes were burning from having spent hours crying earlier. I was thinking that it would’ve been so much easier if someone had been with me in the room with Morris.

 

But you know something? It was then that I realized that I was happy that I had that time alone with him. That if someone had been in the room with me, I probably wouldn’t have spent the time talking to him or had the opportunity to tell him the things I was able to tell him.

 

We don’t always get that chance – so it’s important to take it when we can.

 

I wasn’t able to tell Vince I loved him just one more time because he left this world so suddenly. I wasn’t able to tell him that I wished we had many more years of happiness together and that I loved him and would miss him forever.

 

Even though I believe he knew – whether I voiced the words out loud or not.

 

The older we get, the more loss we experience. And it sometimes seems overwhelming to be in the midst of facing yet another loss, such as this.

 

But to experience loss, we must first experience love. So I wouldn’t forego this awful feeling of loss for anything. Because I know I have loved. And I have been loved.

 

I can’t alleviate the pain that all those who love Morris are going through and will experience in the days, months and even years ahead. But we can be there for each other and acknowledge a life well lived.

 

And we can honor our cherished memories of him.

 

Morris – I have been truly blessed to know and love you. Thank you for having me in your world.

The Great Scanning Project of 2023 Continues...

I had lunch the other day with a friend I hadn’t seen in a while and, during our conversation, she mentioned that I hadn’t written much lately.

 

True.

 

But that’s the kind of thing Vince would have said to me that would’ve spurred me on to write a blog – mostly because if I didn’t, he’d keep after me about it until I did.

 

But he – like my friend – only did it because he thought I had a talent and he wanted me to share it with the world. Or at least my little corner of it.

 

And, clearly, it works. Because here I am – writing.

 

I have written before about my photo scanning project. Yeah, that’s still happening and has seemingly taken over my life lately. The project feels interminable. I would estimate I’ve scanned maybe 4-500 photos, and I feel like I've only just cracked the surface.

 

Yikes.

 

If I were simply scanning them and throwing them all into a single computer file, that’d be one thing. But I’m scanning them for other people, too – so I’m labeling each one and adding them to multiple folders for multiple people.

 

Sometimes the ol’ memory isn’t what it used to be so I can’t always remember the year the photo was taken.

 

It’s a good thing we have the Latin word circa meaning around or about. It’s used in history to indicate an approximate timeline or date. And, sure, it’s used a lot to describe major historic battles or events that changed the history of the world during which accurate records might have been lost.

 

But I say I can also legitimately use it in Jane’s Domain to indicate when an epic Halloween bash was held and I can’t remember the exact year.

 

Not having to think so hard makes my head hurt a little less anyway. Seriously. I study the photo, analyzing the clothing, hairstyles and background and then I hypothesize about the season and year it may have been taken. It would have been SO MUCH EASIER if I had simply written the year and occasion on the back when I took the photo.

No wonder this project is going to take forever.

 

Sometimes it's not the year that stymies me - but the names of some of the people IN the photo. For example, I was scanning a photo from a friend’s wedding in the early 80s. There was a photo of me with two of our guy friends from the dorms at Ohio State. I could clearly recall the one guy’s name, but the other one eluded me. I was determined to remember it (and came close to calling my college roommate because I knew she would remember), but in the end I just didn’t include his name. Figured if it came to me, I could go back in and add it.

 

And then, a few days later I was at the doctor’s office – and the mystery guy’s name suddenly popped into my head and I actually blurted it out loud. Fortunately, I was in the inner sanctum by myself waiting for the doctor to come in. Had I said his name out loud while she was in there with me, she may have ordered a complete set of other tests that had absolutely nothing to do with the reason I was there.

 

Anyway, my “little” photo project is still ongoing. But I have had some fun moments reliving old memories and I’ve actually enjoyed the experience. Sort of. If only I didn’t have such a mess of containers in my office and living room. I’m afraid if I put them out of sight each day, I might not feel the urgency to continue the job.

 

One of the hurdles I managed was to get through the dozens and dozens of small photo albums of my parents’ travels. Little Post-Its are sticking up in the books of the photos that I intend to scan because they are good pictures of my parents and I think my siblings would appreciate having them.

 

My dad took the time to label almost every photo using the old manual typewriter he bought back when I was a kid and he hired me at a buck a page to type the abstracts he wrote and submitted to the Chemical Abstracts Service for publication.

 

Anyway, some of those photos made me laugh only because of my dad’s subtle sense of humor. I took a picture of the picture in the album (so don't judge me on my scanning skills - the following are not technically scanned!).

 

In one photo, Dad was standing in a pair of huge clogs typical of Holland. Dad typed, “My, what big feet.” I love the smile on Dad's face!

 

In another, they were sitting in an open safari vehicle in Africa when dad took a shot of a hot air balloon up ahead. He wrote, “At $360 a Trip, I would Rather Ride the Rough Roads.” Ha-ha.

 

My dad. Always the frugal one.

 

But I found myself a little verklempt when I saw a particular photo from a trip to Ireland that my sister and I took with mom and dad. It was a photo of mom, Denise and me in front of one of the many castles in the country. And dad wrote, “My three lovely ladies at Kilkenny Castle.”

 

Awww.

 

I had a copy of the very same photo, but I had never seen his caption before.

 

Dad didn’t always have enough travel photos to fill up each album, so in some of them he’d insert some random family photos. Various family gatherings that I had forgotten about, or hadn’t remembered we had taken photos.

 

So that was a nice surprise.

 

And then I came across a photo of Vince and me. It was the weekend Vince and I had driven to Alliance for my mother’s birthday and it was the first time he’d met my parents.

 

Vince had made it a wonderful birthday celebration for my mom (I’ve written about it here). And after dinner we were sitting in the family room and apparently my dad had taken our picture. He also took a photo of my brother and his wife. I had completely forgotten that they had come over after dinner to meet Vince, too.

 

I can’t tell you how thrilled I was to have found this photo as it brings back such happy memories. Which makes me exceedingly happy I didn’t just chuck the entire bin of travel photos when I was cleaning out Mom and Dad’s house.

 

Plus, Dad worked so hard on his little photo captions. I’m glad I was able to have one last look at them all.

 

So, anyway, that’s my update on the Great Photo Scanning Project of 2023. And speaking of…I should probably get back to it so that I’m not still writing about this in 2024.

 

Besides, those photos from that epic Halloween party circa 1983 are not going to scan themselves!

 

Another Year Gone By

It’s hard to fathom that my Vince has been gone two whole years as of today. Two long years that have flown by in the blink of an eye – and yet the days and lonely nights have sometimes seemed interminable.

 

Yeah, good luck getting me to explain that so it’s a little more understandable.

 

I know time has passed because my home is no longer the same – physically as well as metaphorically. I don’t have the same sense of peace I once had thinking that we had “many” more years together.

 

When Vince and I got married, he was 50 and I was just about to turn 50. My mom – even in her dementia – used to tease us and say that we’d probably never get to celebrate our 50^th wedding anniversary. This, after asking how long we had been married versus how long she and my dad had been married as she couldn’t remember either number. (She and dad, by the way, were just days shy of their 64^th wedding anniversary.)

 

Vince would tell her that while he was sad that we’d probably never get to spend 50 years together – he was happy that we could make the best of every single year we did have together.

 

And, boy, did we.

 

This morning Maggie got me up before 6AM for her first walk of the day. Normally, I grouse and complain because that’s wayyy too early for me. If I need to bring a flashlight to see her and what I’m picking up, then I say we have to wait at least until the break of dawn.

 

This morning, though, I promptly got up, got dressed and was out the door with her in record time. Why? Well…uh…mostly because she was eating a lot of grass yesterday, which indicated that she had an upset belly. And last night she had the most god-awful gaseous emissions I’ve ever smelled. Especially outta her since she isn’t normally a gassy kinda dog.

 

I brought along two doggie waste bags – just in case. (And, believe me, they were needed.)

 

But I digress. And, plus, that’s way more about my dog’s digestive system than you ever wanted to hear.

 

(Ooh, except one more thing – what in the WORLD did she eat? It wasn’t something I gave her as I’ve been gone most days lately and she hasn’t gotten any people food. Must’ve been something outside that I don’t even wanna know about.)

 

ANYWAY…

 

I ended up staying up when we got back from our first walk. I brewed a cup of coffee and sat in my chair looking out the patio at the rainy, dreary morning, thinking about life and loss.

 

And, for the first time, I read the Facebook comments people wrote when I posted that my Vince had suddenly passed on April 28, 2021.

 

Well, I take that back. I do think I read them back then. But I guarantee you, in my grief and devastation, I didn’t remember a single one.

 

So – two whole years later – I can appreciate the outpouring of love and support. And I thank you for every one of those condolence messages.

 

Last year on the one-year anniversary of his death, I knew I didn’t want to be alone, brooding and sad about his being gone and missing him. So I asked friends to come out for a drink so we could toast him and celebrate his life. We had a lovely evening (in shifts because I could only have so many people in the room I’d reserved before I’d have to pay to rent the room). (Vince, by the way, would have approved of my ingenuity in getting out of paying extra charges…!)

 

But it is so comforting to know I have people in my life who continually send me love and support during this grief journey.

 

To wit, I was invited to get together with some good friends tonight so I wouldn’t be alone. We’ll have a toast to Vince – and we’ll talk and laugh and enjoy our time together. And it will make a sad day just a little more bearable.

 

And yesterday morning I got a text from my friend Lynn who asked if I’d like to meet for breakfast. Yesterday morning.

 

You should know that Lynn and I are not normally spontaneous in our get-togethers. We do the initial texting to suggest getting together sometime soon for a meal. We check our calendars. We have back-and-forth negotiations on the best place, the best date and the best time before finally getting something scheduled.

 

Nope, we’re definitely not spontaneous!

 

But I know how much she and Steve have missed Vince – and I figured they wanted to get together to commemorate the anniversary of his passing – and the love we all have for him still.

 

So I made myself just enough presentable to pass muster in a public place (though hair washing was eschewed as that would have required another 45 minutes of prep time – and it would’ve resulted in a lunch situation instead of a breakfast.)

 

Anyway, we met up, said a prayer, had a toast to him, and enjoyed a meal together. Had it not been for Vince, I would never have met this lovely couple.

 

So thank you, my Vince. The reverberations of your life are still being felt to this day – and will continue, I believe, for years to come.

 

I know others miss him – family, friends and people with whom he worked or went to school with or lived by through the years. People I barely know will tell me they miss his frequent phone calls asking about their day or getting together for a little fellowship. His brother talks about him and his dad surely misses him as he often tells me how he can’t believe his son is gone.

 

So I know without a doubt that I’m not the only one grieving. But losing a spouse is so much different than other losses. They’re all just different. And I’m in no way trying to lessen the impact that those losses have.

 

All I know is that I miss him – and the life we had – and I grieve for the future together we will no longer have.

 

But I also know how much he enriched my life. The things he did and said that I can easily recall that make me smile or laugh. The things he did and said that even now can make me roll my eyes. (But, y’know, I’m an eye-roller from way back.)

 

I miss holding his hand. I miss his hugs. I even miss his crazy driving – turning left into traffic and teasing, “Your side!” as I hang on, squeeze my eyes shut and brace for impact.

 

Well, maybe I don’t miss that last thing so much.

 

But I keep his love for me in my heart and, even through tears, I know I have been blessed.

 

So do me a favor? Hold someone you love close. Tell them how much you love them. And give ‘em a hug. Trust me – it makes the world a brighter place.

 

My Florida Vacation

A friend asked me to share photos from my recent trip to Florida and short cruise to Cozumel…and I realized that I didn’t take very many pictures. 

At least not up to the Vince Cordova standard of picture taking for a vacation.

 

I know we’ve become a very “snap happy” society with the advent of cell phone cameras that take excellent quality photos. But it also helps to have someone who thinks to take the photos.

 

For years, that was my Vince. And, because he loved taking photos and documenting our daily life, I have so many memories. Even insignificant dinners where he’d take my photo (despite my protests). Now, when they come up in my Memories on Facebook, I get to remember that night that I may not have specifically remembered otherwise.

 

Before Vince, I felt like I DID take a lot of photos. And this – mind you – was back in the day when we had those little point-and-shoot 35 mm cameras where the film had to be developed. I usually brought my camera along whenever there was a party or a gathering or a trip somewhere.

 

True, there were no selfies or duck lips, or hands on popped-out hips photos. And there were a whole lot of pictures that – once developed – were out of focus or might have been good except that the tallest person had their head cut off in the photo. Or they were just generally a bad photo that should have immediately been thrown away. But because we spent money on the film developing, they usually got tossed in a box of photos with all the other blurry shots as well as the negatives.

 

So now many of us have boxes and bins of photos in attics or closets or basements that need to be sorted.

 

That’s one of my March projects. There. I said it – now I’ve gotta do it!

 

Anyway, back to my trip.

 

I had a wonderful time! I rested and relaxed. I enjoyed the warmth and the sunshine. I had a glass (or two) of wine and some great conversations. I got to dip my toes in the ocean. Several times.

 

My hosts for the first weekend – Melinda and Dan – were happy to show me around their (relatively) newly adopted state. Melinda tried to point out various areas of their part of Florida. In vain, I might add.

 

It’d be like me trying to explain to someone not from Central Ohio the trip from New Albany to Grove City – and all the suburbs in between. To a directionally challenged person, this is a lesson in futility.

 

Perhaps I should have pulled up a map and followed along. But I also knew I wasn’t going to be driving myself around there anytime soon. And if I ever do, I will desperately rely on my GPS.

 

So instead I just enjoyed the drive and looked at the flora and fauna that is Florida.

 

We enjoyed meals out. And had some tasty drinks. And went to a pop-up outdoor market where we poked around the handmade goodies made by locals. One night we even had a Facetime call with our friends Brian and Patty back in Columbus, which was fun. Especially since Melinda, Dan and I were outside on their patio by the pool.

 

I then moved on to Susan and Jeff’s. I worried a bit that I might be overstaying my welcome since I was going to spend several days with them – and then Sue and I were going on a 4-day cruise to Cozumel.

 

You know what they say about guests and fish? Something about three days and beginning to smell – or something like that.

 

But Sue and Jeff were also great hosts and I felt a sense of rejuvenation that being on vacation with no responsibilities ensures.

 

Especially since I had no dog-walking duties. (Haha. Sorry, Mags…!)

 

But Sue and I went to the beach one day and just reveled in the heat and sunshine. Fortunately, for my paler-than-white skin, we had an umbrella to shield us. This, along with my 70 SPF kept me from frying. Thus, I came back to Ohio with a slight tint of color, but not anything that people would look at me and suggest I’d “gotten some sun.”

 

In my teens and 20s, that would have been an insult. But – hey – with age supposedly comes wisdom. Am I right?

 

Sue and I had pedicures one sunny afternoon, which was necessary lest I horrify the natives with my gnarly feet that have been fully hidden in socks and boots all winter. Felt blissfully freeing to wear my flip flops with happily polished toes in “Under the Moonlit Sea,” which is a cool purply-blue color. Sue chose “Aquatic,” which was gorgeous – a sparkly green with blue flakies.

 

Gee, you wouldn’t have guessed that we were going with a theme for our upcoming cruise, would you?

For dinner one night we had burgers on the grill, which, believe it or not, was one of the highlights of my trip.

 

I know what you’re thinking, which is probably: “You are weird, Jane’s Domain!” And that may be a nice way of putting it. But allow me to explain.

 

I can’t remember the last time I had burgers on the grill. Vince used to be our Grill Master and he’d make us the tastiest burgers on any random Tuesday. I took those dinners for granted, I guess.

 

And there is just something about burgers on the grill that no “flame broiled” or “gourmet” burger can hope to compare.

 

Sure, I suppose I could go out and buy a grill and make my own burgers. But it’s just not the same, you know? Besides, I’ve been known to singe off my eyebrows with a grill and, well, that is just not a good look.

 

I also read a lot of books on this vacation. To some, that might mean it was a boring vacation. To me, on the other hand, it meant I truly had a chance to relax. I told my sister recently that I’ve had a hard time concentrating on books since Vince passed. Don’t ask me why. It’s just hard to fully immerse myself in fiction. Sometimes I find myself re-reading pages because I’ll finish a chapter and have no idea what I’ve just read.

 

During this vacation, I managed to read just like I used to. That’s a good thing.

 

Hunh. I didn’t think I had a lot to share about my trip to Florida. Guess I never know when to shut up – and burgers and SPF and book reading becomes the topic of conversation.

 

Ah well. If you’ve read my blogs before, you know that they sometimes meander. (Sometimes?? Surely, you jest, Jane!)

 

I may write more about our cruise to Cozumel in another blog. Meanwhile, enjoy the sunshine-y pictures. 

Here in Ohio on this Sunday, we’re having a snowy, dreary day. But no matter the temperature outside – I hope you enjoy your day.

 

And I’ll be back again soon!

 

New Year, New Possibilities

 

As the clock ticks down the final hour of 2022, I just thought I’d take a moment to say thank you to the many people in my life who have offered support and love during this first full year without my Vince.

 

Even if I haven’t specifically said it, you have made a difference – and I’m grateful to you.

 

I have had moments where I am still fully immersed in my grief as if he had just passed and I wonder why it seems as if I haven’t made any progress on this grief journey whatsoever.

 

And I have also had moments where I’ve experienced the joy that this life holds and I’m thankful to be alive.

 

It is in those moments that I have to remind myself that it’s okay to be joyful. And that Vince would have wanted me to be happy.

 

I didn’t set any specific goals for myself when the calendar changed from 2021 to 2022. I didn’t make any New Year’s Resolutions. And I had no idea what the year would have in store for me.

 

I was still more or less in shock that the love of my life was gone and that I had to go on without him. So it was about all I could do to hang on and make it through the days, weeks and months this year.

 

But now as we head into a brand-new year, I am trying to think positively. I am working on a list of things I’d like to learn and what I can accomplish and ways I can better myself. To propel my life forward.

 

It’s a good feeling. Making plans. Looking forward instead of looking down.

 

Will there be moments I get stuck? Probably. Will there be moments I don’t want to work on myself or my goals? Uh, yeah. I’m sure that will happen.

 

But at this very moment, I’m heading into 2023 with a positive attitude.

 

Wish me success, okay?

 

And I wish the same for you. Happy New Year, my friends. Be well! 

 

Thankful, Grateful and Blessed

On this Thanksgiving Eve when we turn our attention from all the Christmas decorations that are already on display to focus on mounds of turkey and stuffing and green bean casserole…er, I mean, we focus on all the things we have for which we are thankful – I thought I’d share a little story that happened to me just today.

 

I had met some friends for lunch in Powell and we had a great time catching up with each other. Unfortunately, we couldn’t make it a marathon gab session all afternoon as they had places to go and people to see. Which sounds way fancier than saying they had to pick up the grandkids and/or take a nap. Nevertheless, those were still important enough tasks that they had to run.

 

And so did I. Because I had some errands to run myself before the end of the day. Like stop at the bank. And the gas station. And the car wash. 

 

But before I could get to the first stop on my list, I spied with my little eagle eye the Home Goods store. Ohhh - my Happy Place. I love, love, L-O-V-E that store!

 

And Home Goods at Christmastime with all manner of shiny, sparkly things? I can’t even begin to tell you how much dopamine and serotonin flood my little brain.

 

So I parked and headed inside to snag a shopping cart even though I had only an item or two on my list should they happen to have those items in stock. With Home Goods, one can’t make any assumptions.

 

Except that one can always assume I will come out of there with things I had no idea I absolutely needed. Therefore, a shopping cart is mandatory.

 

Once inside, I found a plethora of shiny, sparkly things that called to me with their siren song of shimmer and glitter, but I practiced discretion as I no longer have the need (or desire) to decorate every square inch of surface space in my home. And I truly do have more than enough holiday décor.

 

But that didn’t stop me from winding my way around every single aisle in the store.

 

As I was wandering down the picture frame and candle aisle, a woman stopped me and asked if my name was Jane.

 

Surprised, I said it was. Meanwhile, my dopamine- and serotonin-filled little brain was frantically trying to place her. Did we meet recently at the Twig Bazaar? Was she someone I met at the widow’s group meeting I’d recently attended?

 

Had I – God forbid – run into her car in the parking lot in my haste to enter Home Goods and she had a friend at the BMV who told her who owned the grey Passat with the sparkly license plate?

 

Evidently, she saw the gears turning because she quickly pointed out that I didn’t know her.

 

Then she went on to say that she had been friends on Facebook with Vince. Her husband was in the car business and she inadvertently asked to be Vince’s friend. He asked her if he knew her and she explained who her husband was. And she graciously told him he didn’t have to accept her friend request.

 

But of course, he did.

 

And she said she just loved how idyllic our life seemed to be. That it made her heart happy that Vince loved me (“His Janie”) so much. And that we were always doing something fun and interesting – and that she enjoyed reading about our dinners out or our adventures on the trips we took.

 

Clearly, she knew me by the multitudes of photos Vince took of me on every occasion – whether it was a simple meal or a fancy wedding or a once-in-a-lifetime trip.

 

And then she told me how truly sorry she was that he had passed.

 

I cannot begin to tell you how much it meant that she stopped me. She even said she was not sure she should because she didn’t want to make me sad.

 

I told her I’m already always sad – but that I was so grateful that she did stop and talk to me. It made my heart happy that Vince had such an affect on people that someone who never even met me before recognized me in Home Goods.

 

If there is a list we’re compiling tomorrow on things for which to be grateful, having had my Vince for thirteen years tops mine. And having someone remember him to me is also incredibly special.

 

So however you spend your Thanksgiving holiday – eating lots of candied yams and pumpkin pie – or watching football – or dropping a turkey in a vat full of boiling oil – I wish you (well, besides a lot o’ luck with both your football team and the deep-fried turkey thing), lots of love and happiness.

 

And I hope you spend the day with people you love.

 

Happy Thanksgiving!

 

Oh, and PS. If you ever wonder if you should talk to someone about their loved one who has passed – always, always talk to them. We yearn to hear that others remember them and miss them, too.

Photo-Op?

For a year I’ve kept the same profile photo on Facebook. An entire year. And I had formerly been one of those people who changed her profile pic pretty much as often as she changed her undies.

 

Well, okay, so that’s not true. I’m not THAT narcissistic. (And, yes, I DO change my undies every day – don’t be gross!)

 

It’s not that it was such a wonderful photo of me that I just held onto it. But it was taken at Gervasi Vineyard, which was the last trip that Vince and I took together as well as the last photo of the two of us.

 

So it felt like I was being disloyal to him to think about taking it down and changing it up.

 

What I’ve realized in the past year is that some of the spark has gone out of my eyes and my photos aren’t nearly as good anymore. That’s probably because in the “before” I was either in a picture together with Vince – or he was the one taking my photo. And he took those photographs with such love, I couldn’t help but be happy – and that happiness was reflected in my pictures.

 

Well, either that – or I’m just getting too old and wrinkly to take a good photo anymore. Haha.

 

Besides, frankly, I don’t have anyone aiming his camera at me constantly, so there are far fewer pictures from which to choose.

 

But I know I must look forward and can’t constantly dwell in the past. Am I guilty of plunking myself smack dab in the past and refusing to move on? Sure, from time to time. But only momentarily. I have to believe we all do this on occasion. Memories are powerful and we know that our past has helped shaped us to be the people we are today.

 

Yet I know I don’t want to be one of those people who, because she lost the love of her life, can’t get out of bed in the morning and continue to live her best life. Vince would hate that for me.

 

So I finally changed my profile picture. It’s a selfie and, thus, a little too close-up for my taste. But, because I actually fixed my hair and applied makeup, which is not an everyday occurrence anymore, I decided it was a good time to give it a shot. (So to speak.)

 

But, um, I’m standing in front of Vince’s T-shirt quilt, so I guess I haven’t completely moved on.

 

Oh well. Baby steps.

 

Before I changed my photo, I was talking about it with a friend. And I related the story about how Vince and I met. Which was online. And he didn’t even have his photo as his profile pic. It was a shot of a coral reef that someone who had set up his profile for him, plugged into the spot where his photo should go. But as this was the beginning of the Age of Social Media for Old(er) Folks, Vince didn’t know how to change it, so he left the coral reef.

 

For the first couple weeks during our online correspondence, I didn’t even know what “vncord” looked like. And that was okay. I maintained back then that I wasn’t looking for a date – just someone to talk to. Yeah, in retrospect, I’m so very glad that (a) Vince was persistent in asking me out and (b) I came around to the notion of going out on a date with someone I met online.

 

I know a lot of people don’t use their own photos in their profile. They substitute their pet or a flower or a picture of their latest tattoo. I even had one friend use a close-up picture of her eyeball as her profile pic. I have to admit, that was a little disconcerting, even though it was a lovely eye.

 

Maybe I’ll branch out and stop putting my own face out there. I could instead use a picture of my big toe? Yeah…no, I don’t think so. Even with the pretty nail polish, my toes are not exactly photo-worthy.

 

Or how about a photo of the spiky weed that is growing near my garage that I refuse to pull since I’d have to dig out the gardening gloves that I promised myself I wouldn’t need again?

 

Again, that’d be a “no.”  People will get the impression I’m lazy. And that would be a shame since my message is supposed to be: I don’t like digging in the dirt!

 

Oh well, for now I guess I’ll just stick with my own imperfect, too-close-up face. Tomorrow I can decide if that weed is photo-worthy.