…… of hanging with one of my children.

Son #3 leaves early tomorrow morning. He’s heading back to Oklahoma to start his Junior year at Oklahoma State. GO COWBOYS!!!!
It’s been so fun to have a child attend the school where Jim and I attended, and most importantly …… met.

It’s been great to go back for football games, especially Homecoming (OSU has THE biggest Homecoming in the world!), Mom’s Weekend, etc. It’s been wonderful to re-connect with my college friends and “sisters”. I loved my time at OSU. Completely and totally loved it.
And am thankful and happy that Son #3 seems to love it, too.

We had a relaxing day today. Gracie and I headed out to Central Park to watch the Broadway show teams play. They usually play on Thursdays. We watched the “Beautiful” team play the “Matilda” team. “Beautiful” won. But the best thing was that the “Matilda” team played under the name of “Maggots”. Loved it! You have to have seen the show/read the book/seen the movie to understand that.

After that, some Central Park worker kicked Gracie Lou out of the area where we were watching the games. He was very rude. Gracie and I have spent many a day in that area, peacefully watching softball games and welcoming tourists to the Park. Gracie is quite the ambassador for NY.
I didn’t go off on the guy, although I really wanted to. I didn’t tell him that we’ve spent the better part of the summer and spring sitting in that exact spot with no problems. But I didn’t.
Instead, I slowly packed up our stuff (slowly enough that it seemed to bother the rude guy) and then we went to sit in the bleachers of the next game, “Jersey Boys” vs “On the 20th Century”.
Now, I totally loved “On the 20th Century”. It was a lot of fun.
But I have to tell you that the “Jersey Boys” team was one heck of a fine looking team.
Very, very fine.
In fact, I found myself sometimes distracted from cheering for “On the 20th Century”.
What can I say? I’m weak when it comes to fine looking men.
So fine.

After watching that game we came back to relax for a bit. Then Son #3 and I went down to the lower east side to watch a free concert at the East River Park. We had great timing because we were able to easily find seats when we got there.
Within 15 minutes after our arrival, there was nary a seat to be found. The place was packed. I have no idea how many people were there, but it was in the several hundreds.
We listened to two bands play and then we headed out to go hang out at the Top of the Rock.

One very interesting thing that happened at the concert is that soon after it started, some guy came up the steps carrying a soft sided cooler filled with small plastic bottles that contained liquids of varying colors.
I have no idea what was in those bottles …… nor did most people …… but I do know that he made a KILLING selling them to thirsty concert attendees! No kidding, he was making money hand over fist. People were coming down the stairs, up the stairs and across their row to get to him. Everyone was under the impression that he mixed up something at home, filled these bottles and then came to the concert to become a wealthy man. At least for this evening.
Here’s a picture where you can sort of see the type of bottle I’m talking about (you can see part of it in the guy’s hands):

They were those small bottles with an orange top. The guy next to me purchased one. When I asked him what the liquid was he replied that he was still trying to figure that out. He thought it might be something alcoholic, yet organic. But “it wasn’t very tasty”.
Shocking, isn’t it?

After that …… on to the Top of the Rock.
It was Son #3’s first time to go up there. And we had a great time. The views were fabulous and the evening was cool. It’s really fun to look out on the beautiful NY skyline and point out areas that we’re familiar with. Like the apartment. No, you can’t see it from there (well, I guess you could if you had some really great binoculars), but you can see Central Park and so know where our building is located.
Here are some pics:

As you can hopefully see, we were there in time for a fireworks show.
No, I have no idea why there were fireworks going off, but go off they did. And for quite a long time. It was beautiful to see.
Whatever the reason.

On our walk back home we walked past the Ed Sullivan Theatre, where David Letterman hosted The Late Show.
I had just asked Son #3 when Stephen Colbert was going to start the new Late Show and wondered if they’d done anything to the theatre.
Talk about perfect timing!

The workmen were putting the new signs up as we watched.
As one chapter ends, another begins.

Such is life, is it not?

…… begins …… again.

Daughter #3, who has been living with me in NY for the past two years, flew back to Texas today …… to live/start a new fantastic job in Austin.
She will now be employed by the Texas School for the Deaf. Which is huge. She did her first internship there and loved it.
It’s pretty difficult to get hired by that school. Particularly for hearing people.
Daughter #3 moved to NY two years ago to do an internship (for her Masters through Gallaudet University) at a school for the deaf in Queens.
She was supposed to be here for one year.

But then she met someone.
Someone special.
And so she decided to stay another year. She became a nanny to a very precious/precocious boy who lives in our building. He’s like the smartest 3 year old I’ve ever seen.
Ever.

Daughter #3 has not loved living in NY. Hard to comprehend, I know.
But the girl was raised in Texas, and is really a Texas girl at heart.
So she flew out today to head back there.

Her “someone special” will be moving to Austin the first of September. Fortunately, he has been blessed with a job in which he excels. The company he works for really values and appreciates him, and so they agreed to let him continue to work for them, and start an office for them, in Austin.
God is good.

Now, I have to remind everyone that, when I decided to do this “NY thing” …… like, three years ago …… there were no children involved.
None.
Zero.
Zip.
Nada.

However, by the time I got settled in up here, I had not only one, but two children living with me.
Daughter #1 got a fellowship at a well-known theatre here before I moved in.
And so she moved to NY not long after I did, to live with me while she did her fellowship.
And then came Daughter #3.

Two more children than I had planned were then living with me.
But hey, the more the merrier, right?
Whatever.

Sometimes merrier.
Sometimes tense.
But it worked out, for the most part.

Daughter #1 finished her fellowship last year and is now living in Philadelphia, working at a small college there. She has left the world of theatre, which seems to be a smart, and more lucrative, career move.
Plus, she’s able to come visit me in NY on some weekends.
Which is very nice.

In fact, she came up this past weekend, as did Daughter #2 and Little Bit, plus a couple of D2’s friends.
We had a full apartment.

Son #3 was added into the mix this past Sunday.
I seem to thrive on a full house.
Since it’s the only kind of “house” I know.

We had a great time and I was able to spend a lot of time with Little Bit, while the girls hit the town.
I had a great time, having all of them here.

Then today arrived all too soon. Daughter #2 and Little Bit left for the airport around 12:30. I was sad to see them go, but sadder to think of Daughter #3 leaving.
But the time came for her, too, to hit the road for the airport.
And my eyes were not dry.
Not for a while.

I helped her take her bags downstairs and then helped her find her really bad Uber driver.
And in a matter of seconds …… she was gone.

Son #3 is still here …… until Friday.
And while I’m glad he’s here, I am still feeling the absence of D#3. This is going to be more difficult than I thought.

Part of me is really looking forward to finally being alone up here …… the way I initially planned.
But the rest of me is going to miss D3 like crazy.

I know that I’ll adjust soon …… and find my new normal up here. But part of me is really tired of always having to find …… and get used to …… these new normals.

The thing that keeps me going is the knowledge that D3 will be starting an amazing job next week …… and I’m excited for her.
She’ll be living with a wonderful friend in Austin (someone I have lovingly referred to as Daughter #4 a time or two) and she’ll be doing work that she loves.

In less than a month her significant other will also be moving to Austin …… and will hopefully have an apartment ready for him to live in.
He grew up in Ohio, so I’m hoping that he learns to love Texas. It’s unfortunate that he’ll be moving there at the end of August/first of September …… but if he can keep in mind that he’ll never have to shovel walks/driveways in January/February …… I think he’ll be ok.
🙂

It’s been a teary couple of days.
But I’m doing ok tonight.
I know that all of my children are exactly where they should be.
They’re all healthy and relatively happy.
What more could a mom wish for?

I’ll be going back to Texas in September.
I’m not sure how long I’ll be there, but I know I’ll get to see some kids and one Little Bit.

I miss you already, Daughter #3. And I’m so thankful that I was blessed to have these last couple of years with you.
I’m excited for what lies ahead for you.
God IS good.

I’ll see you soon.

Much love,
Mom

…… too much?

You’ll have to bear with me …… because just asking this makes me cry.

I wonder …… do I mention Jim too much?
Not in everyday conversation with friends.
But in conversations with other men.

I have to pause every time I type that question …… because I really am shedding tears.
Jim is as much a part of me, as I am a part of me.
We met when we were 20.
We married when he was 23 and I was one month shy of 23.

We grew up together.
We thought we’d grow old together.

We really did grow up together.
We married one year after we graduated from college.
We were babies.
Though we didn’t know it.
And would’ve bristled at that thought.

We became parents at the age of 24.
We were so young.
We had our whole lives in front of us.
Or so we thought.

So now, when I find myself getting to know someone …… specifically, a man …… I find myself talking about Jim.
Not a lot.
But when a man shares a memory with me …… a memory that Jim shared with me …… I talk about that.
When someone shares something in common with Jim, I comment on it.

It’s not that I’m comparing the two men. I truly am not doing that.
It’s just that my past and Jim’s past are so intertwined, that I can’t help but identify with someone …… even if it’s from Jim’s identity.

Does this even make sense to anyone?

When a guy tells me that he loved growing up in a very small town, I can totally relate, because Jim loved that, too.
And I say that.

When a guy tells me that he loves “Caddy Shack”, I tell him that Jim did, too, and I recite Jim’s favorite line from that movie.

Is that too much?
It doesn’t feel like it …… at the time.

We grew up together. His past is intertwined with mine.

I’m not comparing one man with Jim.
I’m just noting what they have/had in common.
It feels natural.
To me.

But then I stop …… and wonder.
Does a man really want to hear about another?
Does a man realize that it’s not a comparison, but a likeness?

I don’t know.

I hope so, but I don’t know.

Yes, of course I miss Jim.
With all of my being ….. with all of my heart and soul …… I miss him.
But I don’t expect to find him in the form of another man.
I try not to compare them.

In mentioning him, I’m just thinking of the ways that they’re alike.
Which is a positive thing.
In my opinion.

But in the eyes of another man …… I don’t know.
Is it too much?

Should I stuff every memory of Jim way down inside?
Should I work hard to refrain from mentioning him …… and anything that they might have in common?
Should I shut the door on common memories?

I have to admit …… that I hate this part of “dating” …… of getting to know someone else.
I hate that I have to stop and re-think my natural response.
I hate that I feel like I should censor anything about Jim.

And I especially hate that I find myself in this position.
That, because he’s dead, I’m meeting men.
I.
Hate.
That.

But there I am.
Meeting men.
Trying to figure out what to say.
Trying to figure out what to share.
Trying to figure out what not to say.
Trying to figure out what not to share.

This is not where I was supposed to be.
This is not what I was supposed to experience.

But here I am.

It is what it is.

And I’m doing my best.
My best includes mentioning Jim.
It always will.

Maybe I’ll meet a man who’s ok with that.
Maybe I won’t.

Either way …… I’ll be ok.
Truly ok.

It is what it is.

…… is Camp Widow.

I know …… the name is suggestive of a hotel full of little old women, wearing black and sitting in rocking chairs.
Well, the word “widow” is suggestive of that.

Until you become one.

Not at first.
At first I think that most people hate that word. I did.
Because I wasn’t old and you’ll rarely find me sitting in a rocking chair.
My husband was dead, yet I still felt married to him.
I was not a widow, thank you very much.
I was not one of “them”.

Then came my first Camp Widow.
Only it wasn’t called that the first year. It was called the National Conference on Widowhood.
Yeah, we all know it was a blah name.
Which is why it was changed before the weekend was out.

The name wasn’t important to me.
The experience was.
It was full of laughter, tears and more laughter.
Outsiders would never guess what we all had in common.
Never.

After that first weekend of spending time with over 100 people in the same boat with me, the definition of the word “Widow” started to change.
I loved every person I met.
And I still do.
They are some of the most amazing people I’ve ever met.
Each year I look forward to seeing them again. And again.
We love, and hate, the reason that we all love each other.

We are widowed.
And so much more.

Now I embrace that word. Because to me, “widow” means that I’m a survivor.
I’m still here.
And I’m strong.
I’m living as fully as I can …… because Jim can’t.
And because he loved me.
He would expect nothing less.

The definition didn’t change overnight.
It took time.
Sometimes it felt like forever.
I wasn’t always sure that I’d get to here.
Sometimes I’m amazed that I did.

And all of the time …… I’m glad I did.
For Jim.
For our kids.
And for me.

God is good.
All the time.