Surviving and Thriving 11 Years Later

[feralfae]

It is my hope that this letter finds everyone recovering in the peaceful sanctuary and the lovingkindness of this community. I could not be more thankful for this wonderful sanctuary, for the loving people here, and for Marty's unswerving devotion to her life's mission.  I often say, "I am in the Service of the Maker of the Universe" (kudos to Madeline L'Engle) and Marty is one of those wonderful souls who follows her life path with special beauty, grace and love.  Thank you Marty, for all you have done and do to support, validate and nurture us through our loss, as you walk with us on this path of grief, and for your constancy, your respect and your concurrence with here as we share in this communion of loss and grief.  Thank you. 

There are people whom I have met here, with whom I still hold a special friendship and shared support.  You know who you are.  Thank you for your presence in my life. 

Today is the 11th anniversary of Doug's death.  For years, I was unable to even say "Doug died."  I would say he passed on, left, escaped, anything but the stark finality of "died" for such a spirit as he shined on the world.  He was an extraordinary man of exemplary integrity.  When he left, my world crumbled.  And yet often, I felt him with me when I needed strength, courage, a peek at the topo map for this peak I was climbing.  And when I felt myself falling into darkness, Doug would be there to rescue me and help me climb again. But I had no goal, no certain peak on which to focus.  For years, our shared focus had been on keeping Doug alive, praying for a miracle, participating in clinical trials, foreign and domestic. And being who we were, even in those last weeks, I expected a miracle.  And Doug remained determined to stay, not to leave.  Doug died at 10:20 PM on February 7th, 2012. A few minutes later, a great horned owl came and beat its wings against the bedroom window.  It had been perched in a tree for three days, very near the house.  As an ornithologist and a falconer, Doug has a special affinity for owls and raptors.  I have stories.    

 When Doug died, first I wanted to go be with him, but that was not allowed, although I had it planned. Then I realized half of me was gone, and all I could do was revolve in circles.  Finding this community helped me to finally regain some objectivity on my deep state of grief and my life-encompassing loss. And here, I found people who would walk this painful but necessary journey with me. The journey slowly became a blessing of re-discovering solo me, of remembering my life before Doug was diagnosed with cancer.  Now it is 11 years later, and I am thriving. I slowly immersed myself once again in my archaeology.  I am now in my second year on a site I discovered three years ago.  It is an ancient astronomical observatory, arranged in boulders that were left by the melting glaciers and moved by late Pleistocene people to form long lines pointing to the Equinox, Summer and Winter Solstice Sunrise and Sunset, and more.  I have not been this excited about a site since an Illinois archaic rock shelter I investigated almost 40 years ago when I was still at Northwestern.  And you will know whereof I speak, when I say that the recovery from the amputation of half of my life, our shared spirit and our shared sense of being, has been a rough time.   Sometimes I thought I would never be comfortable in the world again, much less back to exploring and discovering and researching.  I am thriving.  For the discovery of and initial findings on my site, I have been recognized with a Research Fellowship from a private foundation. I feel as though I am back in the world. My world.  

And I do not think I would have healed so much, found and rescued this much of myself,  nor even would I have understood this journey of grief had I not entered this community of lovingkindness and understanding, compassion and generosity of spirit which I have found here.  This community is a true blessing for all who need its healing and restoration.  Thank you, thank you.  Blessings to us all.  *<twinkles>*

[MartyT]

Blessings to you as well, dear one, and thank you for your kind words. You've touched my heart 🧡

[kayc]

@feralfaeWelcome dear friend, good to hear from you!  You and your husband lived extraordinary lives, and yours continues, amazingly!  I think of and remember you fondly...not always here, but in my heart.  Sending you my best!

[feralfae]

Dear Kay, Your continuing love and friendship have meant a great deal to me.  Thank you for your constancy, kindness and for being you.  Your loving and kind heart touch so many people.  Thank you for being in my life all these years.   *<twinkles>* 

[scba]

I support everything you have said about this site. 

I work in Research and congrats for your Fellowship. What an accomplishment! Can you share a link about the site? 

[Gwenivere]

So good to see you, Feralfae.  I’ve never spoke with you much, but have read about your rediscovery of exploring.  I’m so happy for you.  The change in wording does mean something.  I dislike we have an extra anniversary date now.  There were so many bad days with holidays and once happy birthdays.  You will inspire many.  Hugs.  💕

[kayc]

And I missed your *twinkles*

[feralfae]

Thank you all for the notes.   It feels good to still be able to visit here and find the wonderful fellowship, the caring and the support continue. It's almost the end of February, and lots of memories always come up in this month.  I do still have some emotional vulnerability, and I don't expect it will dissipate entirely.  But I am busy preparing a paper on my site that I'll be presenting in April. It is an ancient observatory with boulder effigies, including mammoth effigies. It is a lot of fun, but also a good discipline for me, as it definitely occupies my mind. I am still solving its puzzles and slowly deciphering the site.  And aren't we all solving puzzles, as we slowly pick up the pieces and put our lives back together?  There are still empty spots in my days, for I am now doing solo all those daily rituals that we did together.  Thank you for making this place a sanctuary, thank you all, it means a lot to me to be a part of this community of healing, loving hearts.  *<twinkles>*  

[kayc]

Come Father's Day it'll be 18 years for me, so it seems a lifetime ago.  Growing old alone...

I hope you don't have a bunch of snow, I always think of you when we get the snowstorms, which we're having.  Shoveled 8 1/2" yesterday, it's a lot for these injured hands.  I'm glad you're still doing your work and it satisfies.