Another milestone

This is what Tim's office looked like a couple of years ago, Tim and me, his desk and chair, Smokey jumping off his desk, the desk covered with things Tim used every day including his yellow talking book machine plus green boxes full of tapes.

Hidden behind Smokey on top of the desk are two telephones and several tape recorders containing Tim's "Roladex" of phone numbers and many notes about people and places and things to do.

You can see the pictures on the wall, a filing cabinet and Tim's much-used walker - and there but unseen in this shot is also a comfortable arm chair to the side of the desk. All in all, this room was a welcoming environment for visitors to sit and talk.

It doesn't look much like this any more. Smokey died a year after Tim did and I eventually donated the desk and chair to my son-in-law's brother. A small antique secretary that once belonged to my mother now occupies that spot. There's no desk chair or armchair, just photos of Tim's grandchildren on top of the little desk, plus several pot plants.

The photos are still on the wall, although I may have moved a couple of them around. The filing cabinet is still there too, and along another wall is the large blond oak entertainment center with Tim's reel-to-reel, tape deck, 8-track tape player, and multitude of tapes, cords and paraphernalia inside and on top of it.

No one in the family was interested in that large cabinet, although it was especially made for Tim long before we met and is still in excellent condition. I guess it's just a little too big for most living rooms or dens these days.

June 15th was the one year anniversary of Ora Lee's death, the 2-1/2 year anniversary of Tim's death. Tim's family had a reunion down at the farm last month, on a day when I had to be in Columbia for a Republican Party event. Angie was there, but without the kids - she and Vernie are separated and he didn't want her to take the children to the farm that day for some reason.

I was so sorry about the conflict in the date, I really would have loved to see everyone. I haven't seen most of them since Ora Lee's funeral and only occasionally talk to Betty Gosnell or Bryan on the phone. I miss them.

And I miss Ora Lee. I still miss Tim very much too, but now when I think about the two of them, it's with images of them being busy and productive where they are, spending time with each other and Theron and T.C. and Ninie and so many others.

In a way, getting past June 15th is like passing another milestone. As if I can draw a deep, mostly pain-free breath for the first time in 2-1/2 years. That's a good thing.

Another dimension, aka heaven

Nearly a year has gone by since Tim's nephew T.C. Cox was killed in a car wreck (June 7), and then his grandmother, Tim's mom Ora Lee Cox died a week later (June 15). I think about both of them frequently, not quite as often as I think about Tim, and when I do it's with curiosity, not grief. How has this year been for the both of them? What have they learned? Who have they seen, talked to, visited with, worked with? What do they look like? I think I know that one - they look like mature adults, strong and healthy. Not too young, not too old. Here's some of what I think, from impressions I receive whenever I meditate in prayer about them and their new habitat. T.C. is good with younger children, he always was and still is. He can share his own experiences, helping them get to know Jesus, Father God and Holy Spirit better. He can help mentor the younger newcomers and help them adjust to being without parents - although there are a multitude of "foster" parents available, relatives sometimes, who can fill that role. He can also assist them in learning to use their new capabilities, help with studying and learning the many things they need to know. He can introduce them to other people they need to develop a relationship with. He can show them around, taking them on tours of the many fascinating facilities. He can join them in having fun, too, worshiping and praising and playing and enjoying their new life to the fullest. When I think of T.C., I always think of him smiling and laughing and hugging. Ora Lee has always been a people person and after spending great quantities of time with her mom and dad, sister and brothers, I have a feeling she looked up everyone she knew who was already there, catching up on news with her friends from church and elsewhere, neighbors, cousins, aunts and uncles. I can see her starting a regular gathering - a sharing group - in someone's home. Maybe in her own home, whether that is with Theron or Tim or both of them. Prayer would be her focus, I think. Tim has been there longer, and his activities have been on my mind for all these months. I see him spending time with his friends, Mike, Steve, Allyn, Ann Poston and Hope Love, as well as a number of other men and women who had been through tough times of sickness or disease like he did. I also see him spending time working in a lab of some sort, using new technologies, new information and education and training for his new assignments. Other times I see him exploring mountains and valleys and plains, swimming in lakes and rivers, flying in little one-man aircraft. Sometimes I see him studying in archives and libraries, or sitting in classes indoors and outdoors and asking many questions. I see him wanting to learn and share what he's learned with others. And I see him playing several brass instruments as well as singing with a group of men, worshiping God in small chapels and large auditoriums and wide-open valleys. Sometimes it's hard for me to be satisfied here on earth, I feel like they are accomplishing so much in their dimension and I'm accomplishing so little in mine. As a side note - I don't see heaven as being far away, "up" or any specific direction, actually. I see it as being other. Another. Another dimension, maybe occupying the same space that the planet earth occupies, or space right next to it, for all we know. If we could see how much space there was between the atoms and molecules in a chair, we'd never sit on one. There is more empty space than there is solid matter. So there's plenty of room for more than one existence, more than one real reality to occupy time and space together. It's not really important, but it is an interesting concept. A lot of people are sad when someone they love "dies," as if once the loved one leaves this planet, there is no chance of them ever being happy or fulfilled or excited ever again. What a limited vision! The most true happy, fulfilled, excited life comes when we're settled in our new habitat, learning and working in our new assignment after we leave this planet. So - Happy anniversary, T.C. and Ora Lee. Hope you have a party! I know you're certainly not sad, and we'll try not to be selfishly sad ourselves.

A change of plans

I didn't play for Maundy Thursday service - a meeting was called that I needed to attend. And I didn't drive to the beach on Easter - I still felt tired from being achy, feverish and coughy earlier in the week. So I called Bryan, explained about still recovering from the flu, then we talked for a while about Angie.

Easter I went to Trinity's 11:00 AM service. The service was mostly good but Matt seems to have adopted the Presbyterian "party line." Disappointing, to say the least.

I drove down to Cherry Grove Thursday morning and spent that day, night, and most of Friday with Harold, Mary Lois and Jesse in their nice rented condo. It was so peaceful and calm there, the beach quiet and clean. Thursday afternoon we walked on the beach a while, ate a light lunch, then all of us drove to several stores including all the way to Coastal Grand Mall so Mary Lois could shop for Jesse a new navy blue blazer. After she finally found one at Dillards that fit him, we drove all the way back to Cherry Grove and ate a delicious supper at Olive Garden.

Friday morning Mary Lois and I walked on the beach again, then we all went and played miniature golf, ate lunch at Applebee's and came back to the condo. I watched a little TV while reading a book, while Harold and Mary Lois and Jesse went to look at and photograph a huge sand sculpture close by (a whale and a huge tortoise, very well done). About 4:00 I packed up and came home, as they were expecting Jesse's other grandparents to come up from Charleston for the night. Traffic was heavy and it took a good two hours to get home with no stops on the way.

Saturday I was tired and a little sunburned from walking on the beach without sunscreen. Sunday morning after breakfast I went back to bed and stayed there until after 11:00, reading the newspapers and watching the news.

Today has been an odd sort of day for me. I didn't feel like talking to anyone much, just went to the ships office and did my work, came home for lunch, returned to the ships office and worked a little more. I was polite, spoke to everyone, just didn't have much to say.

I miss Tim. I could talk to him about the way I'm feeling and he would understand. As I thought about all that this afternoon, "Write Write Write" is what I heard in my head, so I am. I'm writing. Maybe this blog is not the best place, but Tim always encouraged me to write, too.

Several subjects for Bible study came to me, as I was meditating. Such as the story of the Prodigal Son. Not the faithful father character, not the prodigal son, not his resentful older brother. No, instead consider the servant who killed the fatted calf. Hmmm.

Second - how many soldiers, when confronted with an enemy, call up the general to come shoot that enemy? That's the way many people pray... I've written about that before, but it's still appropriate.

Then there are all those "If" statements in the Bible. Some things God promises are conditional. Sometimes it IS about me. My response. My obedience. My believing. How many of those "If" statements are there, I wonder? Maybe I'll start looking to see. Doing these Bible studies will help me, they always do.

Easter

I'm not involved in any of the Easter program at church this year -- except for playing for the Maundy Thursday night service, just a couple of hymns.

So this year I'm going to drive down to the beach and attend the Easter Sunday service at Belin United Methodist Church with (Tim's brother) Bryan, Sam and Olivia Cox, and whoever else in the family is there. Sam's parents, her brother and his wife I think all go to that church, so it should be a good day.

Bella's 7th birthday falls on Easter this year. Vernie is now one of my Facebook friends, so I sent him an email asking if they were planning a special party or anything for her. Also, if there was a chance I could see him and/or Angie and the kids while I'm there. I haven't heard anything definite back on that. It would be great to see them all while I'm there.

I had thought about going up to old Salem (Winston-Salem, NC) to the sunrise service there. Tim and I went to that many years ago, when his Uncle Jay was pastor of Home Moravian Church. It was a fascinating service, with brass bands playing antiphonally, marching from all corners of the old historic district to converge together on the grounds of the cemetery. I'll write about that another time, but it was a great day, a spiritually uplifting and joy-filled day.

I decided not to drive all the way up to Salem, choosing rather to spend the day with Tim's family who I have not seen in a long time now. It will soon be the year anniversary of T.C.'s and Ora Lee's death (in June), and I haven't seen T.C.'s grave site, there in the cemetery on the grounds of the church. I think Easter would be an appropriate time to do that. Whenever I think about T.C., I can see him strong and tall in my mind, playing with and teaching small children, smiling and laughing. It's a good image.

Love that elephant!

The last time Tim and I attended our precinct meeting, there was next to nobody there, and certainly nothing fun going on.

It was good to see so many people this time, and to have something fun going on with Ellie the Elephant wandering around, hugging everybody and having his photo taken with many of the people there.

Tim would have loved to have his picture taken with me and the elephant, laughing and joking and hugging. I'm sure he was watching, though.

Yesterday was our 25th Engagement Anniversary, and I thought about all the good times we had together over the years attending political events, working with candidates and going to meetings. I know the ones Tim attends these days are even more fun that the ones I'm attending, but I look forward to pitching in and helping out wherever I can in the days ahead. Love those elephants!

Getting back into some things

Lots of the photos I have are not in digital form. That is, I have actual prints of photographs from the old-style 35 mm. film, taken in the days before digital cameras came out. One of them are of political events going back to the early 1990's, when Tim and I first started working with campaigns. I think I may scan some of them so I can upload a few here and there.

After Tim died I more or less dropped out of working in politics. I did go to one state executive committee meeting in Columbia when Rudy Guiliani and other GOP big-wigs were there, and a couple of other meetings for various candidates around the same time. That was before the SC Presidential Primary.

But it's nearly time for precinct reorganization, something we never missed over the years, and then the Florence County GOP Convention, and then the State Convention. A group of younger Republicans are interested in helping revive the party locally and asked if I would come back and get involved, so I agreed.

Any information or advice I can offer, I'll be glad to give them. They are too new to the process to be discouraged and disillusioned, which means they are still energetic. They remind me of the way Tim and I were, back when we first started working with a few local campaigns. I pray they won't drop out as fast as they dropped in, which is always a worry.

And I pray for myself, too, that every time somebody mentions Tim and how much they thought of him, how much they miss him, it won't do me in. I'm better in that regard but occasionally a comment will still hit my heart and hurt, it feels so strange to be out there by myself.

A new , old resolution

I will survive this. That is my new year's resolution. It's not really a new one for me, but it's needed again. Because of the circumstances facing me many years ago, I made the resolution that I will survive this. "This" meant loneliness, depression, uncertainty, doubt, anger, grief, fear, exhaustion, lack of money, whatever the situation was at the time.

The key to survival was gritting my teeth, speaking my mind to God, and determining to get through it. Then whether or not I felt like it, whether or not it was done in sincerity or hypocrisy, I chose to praise God. Thank God. Worship God. My heart wasn't full of gratitude, it was full of hurt and bitterness, but I walked around in my bedroom and praised God anyway, even as I told him that I didn't really mean it.

Gradually the depression and self-pity lifted. Gradually the praise became sincere and I could feel something other than sorry for myself. Like repentance. I could ask God to forgive me for holding a grudge, forgive me for not trusting him more, and ask for his help in starting my life over. And of course my life did start over. I did survive.

As 2009 is about to begin, I need to make that resolution again. I still miss Tim so much and it's been two years now. I think about him all during the day, imagining who he's talking to, what he's working on, the kind of day he's having. Some days I feel completely in limbo, just treading water really. I know he wouldn't be pleased with that and I know the Lord isn't pleased with that.

It's time for survival mode again, and that's my new year's resolution.

Anniversaries

Tomorrow is the second anniversary of Tim's death. Christmas Day would have been our 24th wedding anniversary. And Christmas Eve-Eve (23rd) would have been the 20th anniversary of Tim's double transplant surgery in Minnesota.

Today was harder than most people will ever know for me. It took an extra effort for me to go to Sunday School and church, come home and prepare lunch for myself, chat with a friend who needed something notarized, and talk on the phone with my son for a while.

I wanted to just curl up in bed and maybe watch an old movie, but instead I checked my email and Facebook account and wrote early happy birthday notes to several Facebook pals - tomorrow is their actual birthday.

Never once did I or anyone else mention the date, although I have certainly thought about it a lot in the last few days.

I got a phone call yesterday morning from a woman asking to speak to Timothy. I asked, "May I ask why you're calling?" She said she was calling from the University of Minnesota Transplant registry office. So I told her that Tim died December 15, 2006 and that the Transplant team had been notified about it at that time.

She apologized several times, saying that the "call list" had never been updated. She seemed truly sorry, but we didn't speak any further than that. I have no idea the purpose of the call, but it could have been a fund-raising call since they occasionally do that.

Also yesterday I did donate the clothing to the Hispanic ministry, as well as the Suzuki keyboard that I never use. Annette said that they'd had a break-in at their church building and everything they owned had been stolen, including musical instruments, so they were very glad to get the keyboard. And I was very glad they could use it.

Sally had taken me out to lunch for Christmas, then came back to the condo with me and we chatted for a while. She was still here when Annette came, and she helped carry the items out for Annette. We didn't talk about the date then, either, although we did talk casually about Tim in passing.

Later on Sally emailed me the little story below. It's made the rounds before but it was timely and it certainly reflects the way I feel about dying. Whenever my thoughts go back two years, I can feel Tim and the Lord re-directing my thoughts to the present, to the way things are for him now in heaven, and I make the conscious effort not to look back.

Here's the story...
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There was a young woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and had been given three months to live. So as she was getting her things "in order," she contacted her pastor and had him come to her house to discuss certain aspects of her final wishes. She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she would like read, and what outfit she wanted to be buried in.

Everything was in order and the pastor was preparing to leave when the young woman suddenly remembered something very important to her. "There's one more thing," she said excitedly.

"What's that?" came the pastor's reply. "This is very important," the young woman continued. "I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand." The pastor stood looking at the young woman, not knowing quite what to say.

"That surprises you, doesn't it?" the young woman asked. "Well, to be honest, I'm puzzled by the request," said the pastor. The young woman explained. "My grandmother once told me this story, and from there on out, I have always done so. I have also always tried to pass along its message to those I love and those who are in need of encouragement.

"In all my years of attending church socials and potluck dinners, I always remember that when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say, 'Keep your fork.' It was my favorite part because I knew that something better was coming ... like velvety chocolate cake or deep-dish apple pie, something wonderful, with substance!

"So, I just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand and I want them to wonder, 'What's with the fork?' Then I want you to tell them: "Keep your fork ... the best is yet to come."

The pastor's eyes welled up with tears of joy as he hugged the young woman good-bye. He knew this would be one of the last times he would see her before her death. But he also knew that the young woman had a better grasp of heaven than he did. She had a better grasp of what heaven would be like than many people twice her age, with twice as much experience and knowledge. She KNEW that something better was coming.

At the funeral people were walking by the young woman's casket and they saw the pretty dress she was wearing and the fork placed in her right hand. Over and over, the pastor heard the question "What's with the fork?" And over and over he smiled.

During his message, the pastor told the people of the conversation he had with the young woman shortly before she died. He also told them about the fork and about what it symbolized to her.

The pastor told the people how he could not stop thinking about the fork and told them that they probably would not be able to stop thinking about it either. He was right. So the next time you reach down for your fork, let it remind you ever so gently, that the best is yet to come.

Friends are a very rare jewel, indeed. They make you smile and encourage you to succeed. They lend an ear, they share a word of praise, and they always want to open their hearts to us. Show your friends how much you care. Remember to always be there for them, even when you need them more. For you never know when it may be their time to "Keep your fork."

Cherish the time you have, and the memories you share. Being friends with someone is not an opportunity, but a sweet responsibility. Send this to everyone you consider a FRIEND even if it means sending back to the person who sent it to you. And keep your fork!

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Those are my sentiments, too, so I'm sharing this little story with whoever reads this.

Another step forward

Christmas time, still reflecting...

I realized one day, looking at the box of Tim's clothes in the bedroom and at his clothes still hanging in the closet, that if I wait much longer to donate them to someone, they won't be usable. Wrinkles will get to be too permanent, material dried out and a bit brittle, that sort of thing. Plus, if I keep looking at them every time I get something of my own out of the closet, I'll just keep hurting myself, afresh and anew. It's time to have them picked up by one of the local ministries.

One time years ago we called the boys' home over in Darlington, after Tim's transplant surgery when he had put on a lot of weight and we had essentially bought him a whole new wardrobe. They were very grateful to get all the shirts and pants, plus sports coats that he couldn't fit into any more. I may call them again.

I haven't seen any of Tim's family now in quite a while. I called and left a message on Angie's voice mail but didn't get a return call. I mailed Liam a birthday present, a book from Toys R Us, no card in it or anything, thinking Angie would probably call before the 11th - Liam will turn 4 years old that day.

While I was at Toys R Us I went ahead and bought both kids Christmas gifts, but I'll wait another week to mail those, this time with a card. I won't be giving any adult Christmas presents this year due to the state of everybody's finances. Hopefully 2009 will be a better year, eventually, and next Christmas we can go back to our normal gift-exchanging routine.

I remember the first Christmas Tim and I were dating, when between the both of us we went to about 20 different parties, some of which were gift-exchanging events. Tim was a member of the American Diabetic Association, the Heart Association, Federation for the Blind, Full Gospel Businessmen, Civitans, plus some other groups in Williamsburg and Florence Counties. Then there were employers (mine), churches, Sunday School classes, political get-togethers, you name it, if it had a party, we went to it.

A lot of the gifts we exchanged were "white elephant" types - give something you already have or something cheap. Some were serious, some were gags, and none cost much if anything. I still have at least one of those - a small casserole dish, hand-painted. I like it and use it once in a while.

At almost all of those parties, we sang traditional Christmas carols and funny children's songs (Up on the Housetop and All I Want for Christmas, for instance, and Jingle Bells). We ate the traditional holiday goodies (sugar-free ones for Tim since he was still diabetic in those days) and enjoyed catching up on news with everybody.

Over the years the numbers of parties dwindled and the groups changed somewhat, but after Tim's transplant he could eat sweets so we still consumed quite a few Christmas calories every year! It will be a much quieter holiday this year, all in all. But with or without presents, with or without high-calorie snacks, the reason for the season is still there.

Thinking, just thinking...

Today is December 1st, 2008. Nearly two years since Tim died. The past couple of weeks I've had a hard time getting into the "holiday spirit," having to try hard to be cheerful for other people's sake. This Thanksgiving was the first one in my entire life that I did not spend with family, either my own or in-laws, and it wasn't much fun. I went over to Trinity church to eat dinner. The church prepares a full meal for the House of Hope residents (men and women's homes) and the Hispanic ministry, plus singles and elderly couples who don't want to cook for themselves.

I sat with the "other" Betty Cox and her husband S.L., both in their 80's now, and Edna Fludd, age 96, plus Perry Mobley, now 80 years old. He is our interim pastor again - he was our founding pastor, actually, many years ago. His wife Jean was helping out in the kitchen so she came and sat with us only for a few minutes. There was one other "youngster" at our table, a woman who is probably half my age.

It was a strange meal. The food was good, lots of traditional dishes and desserts. There was actually way more food than we needed, since the crowd seemed considerably smaller than had been expected.

Sitting next to Edna, I said little, just listened to comparisons of aches and pains, surgeries past and upcoming. I was remembering years past when Tim and I were surrounded by either his family or mine, enjoying laughter, catching up with news, watching the little kids having a ball. I was wishing I had stayed home and eaten a TV dinner and then feeling a little guilty about that, and tried to be interested in the comments of my table companions.

I gladly gave Edna a ride home, chatting about her health, her neighbors, discovering that she had known Frances Baily for many years - they were neighbors. I explained that Tim and I had known Frances from the Full Gospel Businessmen's Fellowship way back in the 1980's. She told me that Frances had died a couple of years ago, which I hadn't known. That made me even sadder.

I have so much to be thankful for, it's really selfish of me to feel sorry for myself right now. I could have driven down to the farm last Saturday to be with Betty Gosnell, Tim's aunt, her family and whoever else from Tim's family gathered for their usual after-Thanksgiving meal. Bryan, Sam and Olivia were there I know, I haven't heard whether Angie went or not, or Dale and Jon.

But I had promised to practice with Bernie Shick - another 80 or so year old - for him to sing at church Sunday, and I hadn't thought that Betty would have the dinner this year since Ora Lee died. Then it turned out that Ed Clement needed me to play for him to sing at a funeral Saturday afternoon, the grandmother of one of Ed's co-workers. We listened to the Carolina / Clemson football disaster (Clemson won) on the way to the church and back. It was cold and rainy, which didn't help.

But the sun came out today and although it was chilly and windy, the sunshine always makes things seem better, and for that I'm grateful. It was a much better way to start December, and my day needed some brightening.