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Valentine's Day


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I just received an email with a link to this piece:

http://www.alzheimersreadingroom.com/2013/02/when-alzheimers-patients-make-perfect.html

The piece is about those totally unexpected, almost shocking, lucid and rare moments an Alzheimer's patient has...ones that are treasures for ever. One of the last ones Bill had was on Valentine's Day before he died (March 27). He was in the hospital where we were trying to get meds cleared out of his system and start over in hopes that he would walk again. If he could not walk again, I knew I had to admit him to a nursing home which I did not want to do. I was visiting him as I did each day for hours while he was there (unaware that where he really belonged was home with Hospice...long sad story) and I brought him a milk shake as he was not eating hardly anything and a white Valentine's teddy bear. He often bought me white teddy bears...another long fun filled story. He sat up in bed, calmed his thrashing body, looked at me with complete lucidity and calm and we had a ten minute lucid, completely present conversation...not our last but one of the last. I know I was shaking as we talked because I knew from previous moments like this (not many, mind you) that the moment could end in a flash and be our last conversation.

I do not know if it was the teddy bear...something familiar and love filled...or what that created that sacred Valentine's day conversation but as I thought about all of it when reading the above piece...the river of tears began to flow and carry me through memory after memory after memory of Valentine's Day moments filled with the exchange of poems, chocolate, dinners out but mostly just sharing our treasured love. We loved this day...it was love day after all. So now the goal to pull myself together here so I can function...or not.

This also made me wonder what this day might mean to those of you who find yourself approaching Valentine's Day for the first or more time without your beloveds.

Peace

Mary

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Oh Mary, thank you for the link on ALZ. I just posted about my thoughts on this Valentine's Day under my thread 'My Beloved is not with me Anymore'. We must have both been thinking of this special day that we celebrated with our sweethearts. Thinking of you. This first is a very hard one for me. Anne

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I think we were typing at the same time based on post time. I responded to your post just now. That ALZ Reading Room has a ton of good pieces. I mostly avoid them but today I clicked on the link and what followed was a confluence or conflux of all the rivers of the world....rivers of tears.

Peace

mary

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Valentine's Day is tough no matter how many years have gone by. I try to avoid Hallmark commercials and chocolate stands. Everywhere I go I see couples, they seem to come out of the woodwork this time of year. I passed up the church's Valentine Banquet. I will make this day about my dog (it's his birthday) and try to ignore the rest. I watched "The Last Valentine", it was a really good movie, about a widow. VERY touching.

I think it helps to make the day about others...before Arlie I went out of my way to make my kids' day special but now they are both married and don't really need me. If there's someone else alone that you know of, maybe try to make their day special...it helps to get out of ourselves and focus on someone or something else.

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Oh I am dreading it. Last Valentine Day Pete didn't know it even was the day so for the first time for 50 years I didn't get a card from him. He often made cards for me and of course I still have them. I shall get some of them out because even if he isn't physically here I must feel he is with me. I know that many men don't bother (or maybe I should say many men of Pete's age didn't bother) but he always did. I shall be thinking of all of you on this special day for our beloved partners. We shouldn't ignore it. We should try to celebrate it even if now we aren't with them. But it is so hard ....

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Jan, yes, this can be a tough day. I understand how Pete could no longer give you a card. That also happened with Bill. For a while I bought them and sort of helped him sign his name because I knew he would want that but then abandoned that when I knew he did not know the difference any longer. It is all a challenge...and sometimes one is more challenging than another for reasons unknown or known. I will be thinking of you.

Mary with peace in her hands for you.

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Dear friends,

I read a very beautiful piece on Facebook yesterday. It was a photo from a woman who was widowed two years ago. On her first Valentine's Day alone a bouquet arrived at her house. She called the florist to complain about it and he told her that her husband had arranged for her to receive flowers every year into the future on Valentine's Day before he died. Then she read the card that was signed "eternally yours."

I can't vouch for the truth of the story, but it is a beautiful thought.

Jane and I would exchange cards and gifts when we woke up on Valentine's Day. I wrote her a poem every year--and have every year since her death. There were flowers and cards throughout the day and dinner out that night. I miss that more than I can say but no more than each of us has come to know.

I have a new decoration for her grave designed that I will build tomorrow. And the poem is started, but not finished.

But it will not be the same. It never is.

In this morning's mail I learned that two friends lost their husbands to cancer in the weeks since we last talked. In one case, I knew it was coming. He'd been diagnosed with brain cancer before they left for Florida for the winter. The other was a complete surprise. They finally figured out what he had just before he died. The tale of wrong diagnoses reminded me so much of what went on with Jane...

They will each be spending their first Valentine's Day alone on Thursday. And there is very little I--or anyone--can do for either of them that will make them feel any better. It is a day each of us faces now alone no matter how much we surround ourselves with friends and distractions. Every jewelry ad, every florist, every happy couple is a reminder of what we no longer have.

I keep trying to embrace the pain and the mourning and to adjust to this new reality. I am not as desperate as I once was most of the time. I no longer feel the need to put on a brave front. I will write Jane's poem, write her card, and place them with the new wreath on her grave. I will cry when the spirit moves me to do so. And I will come home.

For a time this house ceased to be that. It was the place I ate and slept and worked. But slowly, the sense of home has returned. Jane is no longer here-- despite the pictures and the wreaths and the furniture we picked out together. Those material things were not who she was any more than they are who I am.The deep silences still rock me to the core sometimes. But I have begun--very slowly--to live again and to laugh again. And if life stretches out before me like the steppes of Russia, well, while it may be endless there is yet some meaning in it--some work of worth still to be done and, more importantly, lived.

Jane and I were always builders and preservers. That has not changed for me. I suspect it has not changed for her either. So this Valentine's Day may prove to be as much about rededicating myself to the values and ideals we both lived as to remembering our past and mourning this hideous loss.

Peace,

Harry

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Dear Harry

Jane is smiling, I just know that. You are so devoted to your relationship and to her.

I can not get up to Bill's grave in winter...well if I were more fit I could but my energy is far from back. His grave is in a country cemetery overlooking the countryside and Wisconsin beauty...rustic and the road is not cleared in winter. Come spring I will go up and clean up, plant again, and sit.

I spent two hours with a new friend today. Her husband is Dx with Alzheimer's and she is starting down the road I traveled so recently. I am happy to be able to share what I have learned the hard way and am learning. I will continue to do that forever. I do not see those who lost spouses in my practice at this time. I am not ready for that. But I talk to people who co tact me...drink tea together and hold them when they cry and as tears also roll down my face. It is what I do to honor Bill. It is difficult but rewarding. Sunday I will be at a tea and meet a woman whose husband died a few months ago. I am honored to assist.

Peace to your heart as we all go though another Valentine's Day.

Mary

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He sat up in bed, calmed his thrashing body, looked at me with complete lucidity and calm and we had a ten minute lucid, completely present conversation...not our last but one of the last. I know I was shaking as we talked because I knew from previous moments like this (not many, mind you) that the moment could end in a flash and be our last conversation.

I do not know if it was the teddy bear...something familiar and love filled...or what that created that sacred Valentine's day conversation but as I thought about all of it when reading the above piece...the river of tears began to flow and carry me through memory after memory after memory of Valentine's Day moments filled with the exchange of poems, chocolate, dinners out but mostly just sharing our treasured love. We loved this day...it was love day after all. So now the goal to pull myself together here so I can function...or not.

Peace

Mary

Dear Mary,

I hope your day has been as healing for you tears must have been. The surge of memories and of seeing those memories from a new perspective as well I have found very dificult.

I am honored to be here as you undertake this journey, and hope I might add a little to the love and compassion I find is given here in such abundance.

Thank you for a link to help me understand ALZ: I know so little about it.

Thank you for sharing such a wonderful store of memories, of your enduring love, and of your journey on your river of tears. How beautiful and special your words are to me, and I am sure to others. Thank you so much for your presence here with me, with us. You are a wonderful blessing of songs, poems, images, more music, and links back to life for me, and I imagine for many of us.

It is a wonderful richness, this life of humankind here on Earth, and you -- through your sadness, loss, and mostly, I think, through your enduring love -- you hand that world of beauty and richness back to us, sharing your loving vision of life.

Thank you so much for your beautiful, loving, insightful, and inspiring words. You remind me that I will survive through these times of memories, and come to welcome them for their healing tears. Thank you. I wish you peace.

*<twinkles>*

fae

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Ah, and I am taking my girlfriend who more recently lost her husband out for Chinese, because that is what they did every year on Valentine's Day. She arrived back from her ten days in Hawaii today. I am taking some roses for her as well.

*<twinkles>*

fae

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Thank you fae for your kind and gentle words. Taking your friend for Chinese and giving her roses on a day that hurts her (and you) so much is so sweet and kind of you and I know it will be a meaningful time. I wish you both moments of happy memories and peaceful hearts.

Mary

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Dear Ones,

I just read something in a newsletter from Catherine Tidd (aka WidowChick and founder of The Widdahood), whose writing is wonderful, witty and wise.

Here is the excerpt that seems so appropriate to share with you here, in this thread:

So many of us are experiencing the grief of not being able to share Valentine's Day with the one we love most. Only the people in this community can truly understand that just because someone isn't physically here does not mean our love for them has diminished. And we all know how painful that feeling is.

But it's also an opportunity to reach out and tell those people in your life what they mean to you. In the last few years, since my husband has been gone, I have stopped thinking of Valentine's Day as just a romantic holiday - I think of it as a day of love and appreciation. It's a reminder to hug someone if I can because they just might need it. To tell someone how much I appreciate their friendship and will always love them for what they've brought to my life. And to buy myself candy because, let's face it - I need to be appreciated, too!

[source: What's New in the Widdahood -- February 2013]

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I find that so true, that to get out of yourself and think of others and make the day about them, it helps. My kids have their spouses and don't really need me to think of them on Valentine's Day any more, they're busy, but I do have widowed friends that could use a lift, and of course, my dog and cats always appreciate attention. :)

Harry, you're so right, they aren't in things...the things serve as reminders though...remembering when we bought this and when this happened here, etc. For that reason, we attach meaning to things as our memories are important to us. Still, we know, if we need to part with those things, they are not the person, the person lives on inside of us.

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A good thread, Marty… I always thought WidowChick.com was for the younger crowd but I guess I could consider myself young-at-heart!

Yes, love and appreciation day sounds good to me. I do not think of Valentine’s Day as romantic either but I always love and appreciate those who have reached out and offered me kindness.

I would like to thank the people on this forum for caring and being so sensitive to my ramblings over the past seven months. I give you all a hug and I treat myself to chocolate just because I am worth it. Anne

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Oh Anne, This is cute! You've been on Pinterest! ;) Thank you...I'll save the chocolate for tomorrow. :P

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Yes, Anne, you ARE worth it so eat all the chocolate you want. And thank you for your open spirit and your sharing at times especially when it has been difficult for you.

I just made a dog food run and took Bentley into the shop. He was a pure gentleman...smelled every single thing in the store...It is a little local shop and I like supporting them and they will order anything I want...and of course, Bentley gets to go inside. He loves it...I can't imagine what it smells like to him.

I also got myself a small, very small, box of chocolate for tomorrow evening. I have not eaten sugar for almost two months and feel much better without it but tomorrow will be a treat as chocolate was our Valentine thing... :)

Peace

mary

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I debated about where to put this but since many are feeling the pain of tomorrow's holiday, I opted for this topic. Tara Brach, Ph.D. is one of my favorite authors and speakers. Her book Radical Acceptance is powerful. This piece deals primarily with the physical pain she lives with as her body responds to a genetic condition affecting her joints. Emotional pain follows. But the principles apply to grief as you will see. She quotes Rumi: "The cure for the pain is in the pain" as she relates her journey through one incident reported in this piece: Meeting Our Edge and Softening. Tara is founder of the Insight Meditation Community outside of Washington DC, an author, a clinical psychologist and a Buddhist teacher.

I am thinking of all of you as you move into this day. I seem to have pulled out of the space that led me to a river of tears yesterday....it happens that those tough moments do not last as long most times as they once did. There IS hope but no one could tell me that two years ago and definitely not three years ago. I will be thinking of all of you on this day that celebrates love of all kinds. Peace to your hearts, Mary

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/tara-brach/coping-with-grief_b_2639491.html?utm_source=Alert-blogger&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Email%2BNotifications

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Mary,

I'm not sure I understand that article. Is it something akin to accepting something vs. fighting it? Is that what she means by softening?

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Kay, I went through the piece and interpreted it according to what I understand as I did not quite understand what confused you. If this does not help, let me know. I appreciate how you go after things. Yes, it is akin to accepting but goes beyond that to entering into it, walking into the pain, embracing the fear....see what I wrote. I went into far too much detail but I think it does explain it.

Tara has lost a lot (with her health) which brings her close to her edge (the place where she no longer feels she has control over her fear of the future in this case). The ego, she calls this piece of it the controller, tries to make her safe, make it better, allow her to trust herself, take charge by avoiding, keeping busy etc. ..but it can't last.

Then she says: "Yet, great loss can unseat the controller (great loss makes it harder to maintain control over which feelings she allows in and how she functions and so she "scrambles" struggles to maintain control), which we often scramble to resurrect by getting busy, blaming others, blaming ourselves, or trying to fix things. Even so, if we are willing to let there be a gap (an opening), if we can live in presence without controlling, healing becomes possible." (Healing can happen if we live in presence-she knows this). She says she can hold her ground and stay busy and keep firm for a long time but then when her body gave way. she could do nothing...landed in the hospital. A kind nurse touched her so that she wept. (she lost control over her feelings with the nurse's kindness) Fear of the future took over.

Then a verse from Rumi came to mind: "Forget the future" ... She says: I'd worship someone who could do that ... Rumi says: If you can say "There's nothing ahead," there will be nothing there. The cure for the pain is in the pain. (when you are at the edge of pain...up against it...walk into it..feel it. )

She allows the fear and pain to be. She opens to it (softens). As I allowed the fear--attended to it, breathed with it--I could feel a deep, cutting grief. "Just be here," I told myself. "Open to this." She faced her "fragility, temporariness, and the inevitability of loss." She sees how burdensome it is to maintain control. She experiences "the burden of being the controller, of thinking I could manage the future or fight against loss, was gone for the moment. It was clear that my life was out of my hands."

She struggles with the ego, the controller, but (softens) i.e. allows herself to sink into her pain (when she reached that edge)...that which she was running from. At her edge she chooses to: "meet our edge and soften." My edge was right here, in the acute loneliness, despair about the future, and grip of fear.

She knew she needed to be less rigid, to soften so she could open to the pain..be in the present. Her ego (controller) fought her. Staying in control and not allowing the pain was what she did to survive so often. If she softened....opened to pain..."It was as if I'd fall into a black hole of grief and die."

Then, gently, tentatively, she encourages herself to soften, i.e. to feel what was there. The more painful the edge of grief was, the more tender my inner voice became. She knew she was at the edge of her grief (fear, loss, pain) and she became like that old nurse...tender and kind to herself....self compassion. At some point I placed my hand on my heart and said, "Sweetheart, just soften ... let go, it's okay." She let herself go and became the nurse to herself..she softened. "As I dropped into that aching hole of grief, I entered a space filled with the tenderness of pure love. It surrounded me, held me, suffused my being. Meeting my edge and softening (not being rigid and opening to the grief) was a dying into timeless loving presence. (In letting herself go, let go of control, enter the pain...she felt filled with and surrounded by tender love.)

Then: In the remaining days, whenever I recognized that I'd tightened into anxious planning and worry (i.e. harden), I noted it as "my edge." She knew that was her edge and became kind and tender to herself as the nurse had done...she softened and opened to that which she was hardening against. Then I repeated to myself: "Sweetheart, just soften." I found that kindness made all the difference.

When I returned home, the stories and fears about the future were still there. The controller would come and go. But I had a deeper trust that I could meet my life with an open and present heart.

She would now allow herself to quit controlling and meet her edge (the place where fear froze her and made her rigid) and soften. Consciously grieving loss is at the very center of the spiritual path. (The cure for the pain is IN the pain...in meeting it...entering it) In small and great ways, each of our losses links us to what we love.

The controller goes on duty when the risk of the edge is close. It's natural that the controller arises: We will seek to manage the pain of separation (loss) in whatever way we can. We will do what we can to avoid the reality of loss and its pain. Yet, as we awaken, (soften) we can allow our sorrow to remain faithful to itself. We can willingly surrender into the grieving (soften)

She found "I've found that by honoring the pain for what has passed away, we are free to love the life that is here."

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This came in my email today and I thought it an appropriate Valentine Day post...for everyone here on this Valentine's Day. How blessed we all were to have shared our lives with someone so special. May this day that honors love be one of peace as well as the sadness that lingers. Mary

story people.pdf

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My friend, Cathy, and I just had a long spontaneous email conversation...started with her email Valentine card...both of us up very early reminiscing about the days when she and her first husband (who died in 1992) and Bill and I spent time together. Bill and Larry were both sensitive, kind and gentle men. Larry founded and ran a shelter for the homeless in Chicago. I loved Larry and Cathy loved Bill and well, we all loved each other. We heard each other. Bill enjoyed Larry because he was so sensitive as was Bill. Many times in a couple only one of them is sensitive...and it is usually the woman. So Bill really enjoyed being with Cathy and Larry. We all wanted to go to Hawaii together but that never happened as Larry got sick. Now the tears are flowing again....as memories have been taken of their treasure chests and felt and seen and shared again. Such treasures in that chest! Cathy is one of the few people I have any real contact with who knew and loved Bill. We were both sobbing during the email conversation. Such a treasure and gift she is in my life....this is turning into a tearful day but one of love. I do not mind the tears, truly. Tears have always come easily to me and to Bill so now there are just more of them. The last Valentine's Day I remember was Bill's last in 2010. I have no recall of V-Day in 2011 or 2012 except I know I must have had lunch with my friends as it is an annual gathering...as it will be today as she now celebrates age 65. A young thing :) I will talk on the phone later to Cathy and eagerly await seeing her in March when I drive to Chicago for eye doctor and stay with her and her new husband. I last saw her at Thanksgiving when we spent the day in ER. She has been through hell since then and I have been sick. But sometimes these email exchanges are such treasures...spontaneous and so real. A gift. She is the friend who has just completed chemo and who has been my friend for well over 40 years. I have only a very small handful of people in my life who I treasure as much as I treasure and love Cathy-soul sisters- and I know I am lucky because some people have no one like that....who hear each other so well. Of course, I worry about the cancer but try to live and enjoy the now. If all goes well we will travel east in the fall to my niece's wedding...taking side trips as we go and come. Time to get going here before I drown in my tears. Bentley would like his breakfast. I just added canned food to his dry food as I read that dogs usually are living in partial dehydration because canned food has the moisture they need. I talked to the woman who owns the dog food company I use (local Wisconsin since 1906 company and we figured out how to maximize his diet....he woofs it down now) I wish each of you a day of treasured memories and a moment of reaching out to someone. Peace, Mary

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Thank you, Mary, for your extrapolation of this piece, it helped me understand what she meant to convey. I felt it was deep and did not want to miss the intent of her meaning.

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Mary,

What you and Bill and Cathy and Larry all shared was very special. George and I had a couple friend like that, but they pulled back after he died...they haven't asked me over once since...some just cannot continue once something changes the dynamics. It is good that you and Cathy can still share, the laughter and the tears...

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