Wait: we forgot something

We spoke of many things. We discussed impending death; we talked about final arrangements; we made plans. The one thing we never talked about was what he wanted for me in the future. Did he want me to meet someone else? Would that make him happy or not? I hate it when people justify their actions by saying so and so “would have wanted it.” But I do wonder sometimes what my direction should be. How do I honor him? Is it disrespectful to find happiness with someone else? At the moment the very idea of that is so foreign to me I almost can’t fathom it and have no desire to even think about it. But other people seem to think I should be looking to meet someone. I can’t imagine it. The funny thing is that when people I know find a new partner after losing their spouse, I am only happy for them; I think, good for him/her, people deserve to be happy. I wonder why I can’t think the same way for myself.

The Florence Griswold Museum

Florence Griswold was the daughter of a wealthy sea merchant in Old Lyme. She survived her parents, her siblings, and her entire family. She inherited the family home, a grand house with spectacular gardens, but she had no income and began taking in boarders. Lucky for her: her home became the hub of artistic activity around the turn of the century. Important American artists came to stay with her and her home became a well known artists colony. Some of the most important American art, especially Impressionism, came from the people who stayed at the Griswold house. Today it is a museum and has an impressive collection of American art. The house itself is open to the public too, as are the gardens.

Small Victories

For whatever reason, some things seem easier on vacation than they do at home. While not exactly earth shattering, I’ve gone outside my comfort zone in some tiny ways. Twice now I’ve eaten lunch in restaurants without reading a book. Hey, we take our victories where we can. Admittedly, I ate at the bar both times, but I still think it counts. I also decided to take a scenic route home from Old Saybrook, got a little bit lost, and didn’t care one way or the other. I knew approximately what direction I needed to go, and as it turned out I ended up making a giant circle and ended up right where I started. From there I knew exactly how to get back.

I’m learning how to realize that I can take as long as I want to get somewhere; I can detour and go somewhere else; I can do whatever I damn well please because I’m on vacation: there is nothing I have to do. So this is what relaxing feels like. It’s also kind of fun to find out that I know my way around this area better than I thought I would.

You know how sometimes you remember a place, you can see it in your mind, but when you actually go there again it’s nothing like you remember? I had the pleasant experience of finding out that my memories of this resort and of the surrounding towns are precisely accurate. The minute I walked into my unit I recognized it immediately—it was exactly the same as the one we stayed in two years ago, and furthermore it was exactly as I remembered it.

The Beach

I often have trouble reading while at the beach. Uncharacteristically, I don’t become engrossed in my book but find myself just watching and letting my mind wander. Today at the beach I realized that this is the one venue where I am truly able to be in the moment. It’s normally pretty difficult for me to do that, but at the beach what I have always dismissed as distraction is, I think, anything but. My mind is clear, I’m relaxed, I’m listening to the repetitive sound of the water and the various conversations and interactions taking place around me. I’m not really thinking about anything, and it always feels good. For some reason I have trouble doing this almost anywhere else. I’ll have to try and replicate it at other times in other places.

Rhythm and Blues

I had a pleasantly uneventful drive to Connecticut, with only a few sporadic rain showers. I was early but the unit was ready.
As I put all my stuff away, the notion of rhythms occurred to me. We fall into rhythms over time; even those people who perceive themselves as spontaneous and unstructured have rhythms. I’m pretty sure you can’t get away from it. People whose lives are disorganized and chaotic are not fostering this type of rhythm (I would call it a routine, but that word tends to raise red flags). It is simply a matter of trading one set of habits for another; but a lot of people have a hard time with that.
What stuck me was that when we are part of a couple, we adapt to each other’s rhythms and eventually something like a shared rhythm evolves. This is why some people can travel together effortlessly.
But it’s not only while traveling that we do this. Part of the essence of “getting” another person is the ability to understand how we do things. The give and take of this process is what makes a bond between people. I saw myself organizing my vacation villa exactly the same way Philip and I always did it; it felt comfortable and easy. He certainly adapted to my habits over time, and I know I adjusted to many of his. Hand in glove.

On the Verge

Tomorrow I embark on my first solo vacation. I have no idea what it will feel like, but I am looking forward to it. The Therapist reminded me that because Philip and I went to this resort together I will probably have moments when I miss him pretty badly. But since I miss him badly most of the time, I think it will be ok–nothing out of the ordinary. Mostly I’m looking forward to being away, having some genuine quiet time and maybe trying to relax. I’ve been so stressed out about mom, worried about her health and safety, that I’m coming unraveled. The Therapist pointed out (how does he manage to be right and logical all the time? Oh yeah: that’s why I talk to him.) that there’s no reason to worry and that it won’t do me or her any good. She’s got support systems in place, and besides, bad things can happen whether I’m home or not. So I will go, have a good and relaxing time, and step a little bit out of my comfort zone.

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

I am frequently amazed at my capacity for disappointment. I have long believed that people don't change, at least not in fundamental ways. Yet when people consistently behave badly it still pisses me off and disappoints me even though I have no reason at all to expect anything else.
After putting it off for way too long I finally cleaned out our storage unit, got rid of most everything and brought a small amount of stuff home. It' a great relief to be out from under the $80/month I've been spending for no good reason. Some of what I brought home were scrapbooks of old photos, including a truly wonderful book my grandmother kept of pictures of my father from birth through adulthood. It was meticulously captioned, and each page is full of pictures: "1 month." "2 months." "3 months." And on and on, right through college, and including pictures of him with my mother when they first met, when they married, when they had us kids. There were some framed pictures of his father, and of my grandmother.
So. I decided to try and do a nice thing. I didn't really want the clutter of more pictures, and there's not going to be anybody who wants them when I'm gone. But I thought maybe my brother would like to have them--I packed up and sent several scrapbooks, some award plaques given to my father for various achievements and contributions, and some of the framed photos.
I also had a large, framed montage of newspaper articles and obituaries that appeared in various papers when my father died. After my dad's death, Philip put all of that together and had it framed for me. I thought my nephew would like to have it, so I sent it to him with a note.
And the bottom line? Not a word from anybody. Not. One. Word. Why do I try to be nice?