August 8

I spent the last weekend at Memorial Lake with my gang. Mary, Morgan, and Luvisa in the trailer, Haley and Dustin in their new cabin, and me in the man cave (an 8x8 wooden shed behind the trailer also referred to as The Condo).  On Saturday evening, I enjoyed a potluck with the old Lake Family.  It was just like old times. I ate until my belly button flipped outward.  I laughed even when I didn't hear what was so funny.  The three days I spent at the lake are the most days I have spent at the lake since Judy died.  Funny thing...being at the lake makes me miss Judy more than when I am at home.  The lake was happy times, not that our home wasn't happy times, but memories of Judy and me the lake are more vivid probably because we were together there without the 10 000 things that usually went on in our everyday life at home.  Every little wasp trap and camping gadget remind me of Judy.  She loved lake time.  Drinking wine by the fire, trying to rid the world of flying insects, watching The View on farmer vision, lake clothes, and many other things are reminders of the lake experience we shared.  Another funny thing...grieving Judy's loss is more intense now that nearly 3 years have passed.  The first year was relief from watching Judy suffer for 7 years.  The second year was a little more intense.  This third year is crushing.  Feels like someone is standing on my chest some days.  I have to work at being excited about anything.  Grief comes in waves, uninvited.  Hard to explain, but you can't go over, around, or under...you have to go through grief.  No escape.  If you don't grieve, you are not human.  Everyone's experience is unique.  They say there are 5 stages of grief.  You go back and forth in the stages.  There is no particular order.  The journey is circular, not linear.  You never get over grief, but I am sure time takes away the sting.  That's life.  You have order, then something comes along to cause disorder, and finally you have to re-order your life.  I'm sure I will come through this stronger, but right now, I am just not that strong.  I do what I can.  I stay active.  I force myself to stay connected.  I eat healthy.  Every day, I give and I grow.  I read.  I meditate.  I contemplate. I openly share with people the struggles I am going through, and I pray.  Moreover, I try to shine light and love in the world.  I forgive.  I give thanks for my daughters, Luv Bug, my sons in law, my dear friends, my family, my home, my activities, my health, and every little experience that comes my way.  I have learned to be content with aloneness which is different than loneliness.  And while I breathe, I hope.  And I have faith which is the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things yet unseen.