It was during the pandemic that Tim & I started to include the First Harvest (Lughnasa, Lammas) in our celebrations of the eight festivals of the wheel of the year. Sunflowers were in full bloom at Buttonwood Farm in nearby Griswold, Connecticut and we decided to make going for a long walk through the huge field of them our tradition. Since moving to North Carolina three years ago I have been floundering, trying to figure out another way to mark the passing seasons. And now I’ve lost my companion.
For the first six months after Tim died I was in shock. As I’ve started coming out of that anesthetized state I’ve been finding ways to live with the reality of my new situation in life. He was the absolute center of my life. I won’t go on about how much I miss him but I have noticed something unique about this grief. When I lost my parents I still had my life with Tim to return to for comfort. Life returned to normal, nothing changed in my household or daily routines after they died.
It feels like “everyone” now has gone back to their own lives, in their own houses, where nothing in their daily lives, plans, and routines has changed. Not so for me. A friend pointed out to me that widows in Victorian times wore black for two and a half years and there seems to be a good reason for this. It may well take that long to adjust to this and it’s good to remind others that while they have a life to return to, mine is forever altered.
Tim expressed similar feelings to me when his brother died in our house, after living with us for the last nine months of his life. He said the grief hit him harder and longer than when his parents died. And he thought it had everything to do with the fact that his brother had been living so intimately under the same roof with him.
I’ve been making some comforting changes in my new life with myself. I went back to practicing yoga, osteoporosis be damned. I skip the spine-twisting moves and am feeling so refreshed, more grateful and at a peace. Tai chi was okay, but it just didn’t do much for me. Sometimes I realize that I am still grieving my loss of health and living by the sea, as well as missing Tim. I find comfort listening to great music on WMVY radio, streaming from Martha’s Vineyard. Doing familiar old jigsaw puzzles reduces anxiety very quickly for some reason.
There is a sunflower field down here, but the bloom time is off for Lughnasa, and it occurred to me the other day that it is in a city park. We never got there to see it and perhaps one deterrent was the idea of driving into the city just didn’t appeal, no feeling of connecting with Mother Earth the way the drive into the countryside did.
I’ve made my peace with celebrating the Wheel of the Year by myself, at least for most of them. I now have a jigsaw puzzle for each of the 8 festivals and movies for some of them. I watched Dancing at Lughnasa for the first time since 2020, when I first had the movie idea. And I plan to go ahead with my annual winter solstice gathering with family and friends.
The two things that have been the most difficult to find a way of doing without Tim are blogging and working on our family history. I hope to write about my halting progress with those endeavors in the coming months.
But for now, I’m sharing the puzzle I started on Lughnasa and finished this morning, as well as some pictures memories from past First Harvest trips to Buttonwood Farms. I will give myself this one journey around the Wheel of the Year, starting here, to celebrate with my puzzles and my memories. Then I will probably go back to simply the combining of paintings with words to mark the eight festivals.
We are the Flower — Thou the Sun!
Forgive us, if as days decline —
We nearer steal to Thee!
~ Emily Dickinson
(The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #161)
I feel for you, Barbara. Over the years of blogging, I saw how special your relationship with Tim was, a lovely gift, so I understand how hard it must be for you to rebuild after such a loss. Take your time, you will find your way. 🙏🏼 ❤️🩹
Thank you so much for your sympathy and kind, encouraging words, Eliza. I do have the feeling I will be okay. 🙏🏼
I totally “get” what Tim meant about the death of his brother affecting him so hard, probably because he lived right there with y’all. I kind of feel that way about losing my mom. My sis, who lived hundreds of miles away and didn’t visit, doesn’t feel that way and seems blissfully happy being an orphan. Not so for me. Grief takes time, but as Eliza pointed out, you’ll get there. You’ll find your way. In the meantime, be kind to yourself and know others are in your corner!
I can see why you get what Tim was talking about and now I’m getting it, too. I sympathized with him at the time but now I understand what he was feeling in a much deeper way. (And how I wish I could tell him that!) And it was the same with your mom. I don’t remember how long she was living with you but I think it was for quite a long time before she died. It’s amazing how coping with grief helps us to grow and changes how we look at things and makes us more compassionate. Thank you for sharing your experience with me, Debbie! 🙏🏼
Oh Barbara even though we’ve never met after reading your posts all these years I feel as if I know you and Tim personally, and I do understand how much you must miss him.
I agree with you that the grief is different when our parents die vs our spouse or one of our children. I wish I could do more than say how sorry I am. Much love from me, your old friend.
Rosie, you’re one of my oldest and dearest blogging friends, and I’m so glad we stayed in touch long after you stopped writing your blog, which I still miss. I know you’ve been through the unimaginable grief of losing your daughter and I still cherish the book of poignant poetry your wrote about your feelings. I know that feeling of wishing we could do more than say we’re sorry, but rest assured, your love and kind thoughts mean the world to me and do help. Thank you, my friend. 🙏🏼💙
Barbara, it was a shock, even if Tim had health issues prior to his sudden passing, you suffered a shock and you should never feel you must judge how long your grief will grip your days going forward. I can understand what Tim meant to you, to an extent, due to the sudden passing of my beloved mother. Like Tim, she had her share of medical issues, but to go from speaking to her just hours before, then finding her unable to talk or identify me and passing away hours later was a shock. I felt it was a dream until I picked up her cremains six days later. You and Tim spent over 50 years together, that history was blessed with good memories … don’t be too hard on yourself.
You have many ways to pass your time and I’m glad you have returned to yoga which brought you joy and peace. Putting together jigsaw puzzles is peaceful as well. My mother spent hours and hours listening to talk radio and working on jigsaw puzzles as well – she would tune out her pains and the rest of the world while immersed in puzzles or reading.
Finding out that Victorian widows wore black for two and a half years gave me some welcome perspective. They were lucky that society gave them so much space to grieve but our modern society puts a lot of pressure on us to quickly move on with our lives. I have to say that my friends and family, even though their lives have gone back to normal, have been very understanding and patient with me as I try to adapt to this strange new reality. So I’ve been lucky, too, in that respect.
You lived with your mom your whole life so you had a shared lifetime of memories and I bet you were also in shock for many months. Your daily life was forever altered, too. I found out that the Victorians wore black for a year after a parent died. (I can understand how working on jigsaw puzzles helped your mom deal with pain. It helps me with anxiety, too.) Thank you for all your kind words and sympathy, Linda. They mean so much to me. 🙏🏼💙
You’re so welcome Barbara. It is easy for me to slip into your shoes, so I can easily share your pain.
The neighborhood my grandmother lived in for many years was predominantly Italian and she was friendly with many of the families. She would tell us that when one of the Italian women lost their husband, they wore black the rest of their lives and never remarried. My grandmother lived in that neighborhood from the late 1920s until her passing in 1986.
It was the same in Greece, at least when I was living there back in the 1970s. You couldn’t look down the street in Athens without seeing them going about their daily shopping, dressed in black from head to toe. Our landlady had been a widow for over 20 years and was still wearing black. How different from colonial times in this country, when widows were expected to remarry as soon as possible so as not to be a burden to their families. Perhaps that’s where our culture’s ambivalence about grieving originated.
That is interesting … yes, dressing in black for the rest of their lives. I can remember the Italian women on my grandmother’s block even wearing stockings that resembled leotards, so they were sheathed in black even on their legs. That’s interesting about women being a burden on their families, so expected to marry as soon as possible.
I did a quick search online and was amazed at how many books there are on the subject of Victorian mourning customs! I decided to get one, since I’m so entranced with the subject at the moment.
That is interesting Barbara – well sometimes in our modern-day marriages, or even long-term relationships, your significant other looks at you the wrong way and you’re in “splitsville” … it does not say much for modern day relationships. But … on the other hand, there was you and Tim, with over 50 years together and likewise, my former boss (not Robb) passed away on July 12th. He and his wife would have been married 51 years this coming Sunday. They were attending a Tiger’s baseball game on a Sunday afternoon and he had a fatal heart attack right at the ballpark A high school friend of mine married into the family and told me. I thought of you, of course. Ed and Chris had triplet daughters and one son a year older. Chris has been staying with her two sisters, or with each of the married children’s houses since Ed’s passing as she does not return to the house yet.
Interesting that Chris is staying with her sisters and children rather than returning to the home she and Ed shared. We all cope with our grief in different ways. I had friends and family staying here with me for a couple of weeks but I never felt like going to stay with them at their houses. It must have been very traumatic losing her husband so suddenly in such a public place.
Yes, I thought it was interesting about Chris not wanting to return home too Barbara. I agree – it would be traumatic enough for that sudden loss, but in such a public place – I can’t imagine. I’m wondering if it had happened at home if the outcome might have been different.
I suppose that might be a universal aspect of grieving, wondering “if” this or that had been different. We can be left feeling so helpless. But hopefully her family is there for what she needs, when she needs it.
Yes, that is true. I don’t know if she has returned home yet – my friend hasn’t mentioned it. Another thing Chris has in common with you besides the longevity of their marriage (same as yours), they did not have a funeral, but will be having a memorial service on September 19th instead. That is the beauty of having family, even if all family members are not close by, the same for you. I know of the four kids, two live in the same city, one is in Chicago, not sure of the other one. One is single, the rest are married. They were a closeknit family.
Just want to leave some hugs and love. As others have already stated, I feel like I’ve known you and Tim, and can only imagine what you must be going through. I wish our culture gave us more room to grieve in a way that is healthy and needed.
Than you so much for your kind thoughts, Robin, and the hugs and love. Our culture does make it difficult to fully grieve, but I’ve been lucky to have the continuing comfort and patience from family and friends.
It is amazing how these blogging spaces allow us to form connections with people we have never met in person. I’ve felt a connection with you through our locations that we have shared, albeit at different times – spots in Massachusetts, including Cape Cod and Connecticut. Even though I went on a long blogging hiatus – 7 years – I was delighted to find you still blogging when I returned. As you heal and navigate this new and different chapter of your life, I hope you continue to share in this space. I love your sunflower photos.
Thank you, Karma. It does fascinate me to think about all the same places you and I have been to, but never at the same time. You never know, some day our paths might actually cross! I missed you during your hiatus and was delighted when you returned. I still remember when you commented on my Cape Cod squirrel photo back in June of 2010, after I had commented and linked back to one of your posts. Sixteen years ago. I’ve enjoyed your nature and travel posts ever since. I hope we both keep our blogs going as we keep growing and exploring the world around us.
…and, Barbara, the loud quiet in our homes yet we must carry on in whatever ways we find best by ourselves. As you know I too am navigating changes from multiple grieving about love, health, family, friends, including unfortunately not enough money for survival.
Last week our local TV pet shelter was advertising on TV two sister cats named Thyme & Oregano which had me thinking at that moment of Tim. Oh no, I certainly will not be adopting cats!
From my healing heart ❤️🩹 to your ❤️🩹 we must carry on… with a lot of compassionate self-care.
You’ve been on this journey of self-care and being by yourself for a lot longer than I have, Teri. I’ve always admired your strength but I am now getting a much deeper appreciation for what it takes to carry on. That loud quiet you describe is something else. Every morning I turn on the TV just to hear a human voice, and after I’ve heard all the news I can bear, I start listening to music on my indie radio station. At bedtime I listen to an audio book, it’s like having a story read to me by my mother, who used to read to us, even long after we could read for ourselves. I do miss having another body in the house! Many hugs to you as you continue to carry on, my friend. 🙏🏼 ❤️🩹 💙
Those are excellent ways to bring the human voice into your home.
I miss hearing the paw nails tapping on the floor as she moved around. Now I on hear my own slippers shuffling.
Sometimes the quiet is fine. I enjoy relaxing in front of my fake fireplace burning therapy candles of lavender or eucalyptus sage, especially when I’m feeling low. It helps me process what is happening with my soul in that moment.
Are you considering moving back into your daughter’s home? Or are you considering wearing all black? I think wearing all black for the rest of my life would depress me even further into the darkness. I’m too old and tired to consider a selling my home to make another move even if it made a lot of sense.
I do hear the squirrels pouncing into my roof during the day. And I often hear the birds outside my windows.
The leaves and premature acorns started falling a few days ago. It beginning to look like fall here.
Well Barbara, I’m really not sure how to reach you, here or by the email that I have for you.
I have some good exciting news to share with you!
I have found my next pet!!!
It’s a budgie parakeet MALE! I’ve named him FREDDY because I always would say to my pets “Ready Freddy”. He is coming home to an antique stainless steel good size cage on wheels for a single bird this Saturday at noon.
Yes I’m already feeling my ears ringing with Linda saying What!?! Is that a mistake!?!?
But with all the Ai research that I did, it will be a good choice for me at my age, energy, and financial situation, much better than the a new small puppy for so many good reasons.
Hope you are okay and just busy with good in your life.
Well… Barbara. I changed my mind about adding a bird to my indoor home. Apparently I’m still in the fog of grief and not able to make decisions yet!
Sorry to be so long about responding, Teri. I’ve been out of town visiting family. And my uncle died on Wednesday.
It’s good to know that you have so many ways to comfort yourself while you’re missing the sound of Yorkie’s paw nails tapping across the floor. (((hugs)))
For now I am content to stay here by myself with my daughter a phone call away. As long as I have electricity and things like the TV, air-conditioning, and washing machine in working order I find that I do like living by myself. I keep saying that it’s kind of nice that everything stays where I put it. 😉 No, I’m not wearing all black, except I did on the day I buried Tim’s ashes in the cemetery. I also feel too sick and tired to move again and will need my kids to handle that if it becomes necessary. In the meantime I am continuing to downsize and streamline the objects and keepsakes surrounding me. Sometimes I hear a barred owl hooting at night, and an annoying dog barking for long periods of time during the day. No signs of fall here yet!
I’m curious what made you change your mind about getting the budgie parakeet? It seems like it would be easier to care for than a dog. Do they make good companions? I think it depends on the person whether a pet is a good idea for elderly folks. My sister-in-law is thriving caring for her dog and it keeps her healthier and less depressed just needing to walk it every day. Otherwise she wouldn’t get any exercise and the affection it gives her makes her life joyful. But for me it would have the opposite affect as I am motivated to exercise on my own with the treadmill, resistance training and yoga, and would find giving attention to an animal a chore. Different people, different needs. I hope you find a good solution for your personality as you carefully consider all the pros and cons. Give yourself time until you feel more sure of your choice.
Hello Barbara, My sincere condolences about your uncle passing. Healing our hearts take so much energy and time.
I think staying in our own homes even without TV or luxury appliances working is really a good way to continue on even if it means living alone. “I keep saying that it’s kind of nice that everything stays where I put it.” had me laughing as I often find my coffee cup in my microwave hours later! Your place sounds so fitting for you. Glad you’re not going for all black forever.
You are absolutely correct about “Different people, different needs.”
I am definitely feeling better with time passing. The crying has dissipated and the fog is less often. I’m finding my path as you are too. ❤️💙
Thank you, Teri. 🙏🏼💙 Lol – I guess it doesn’t help so much that everything stays where we put it if we can’t remember where we put it! 🙂 I’m glad you’re feeling better and there’s need to rush through the process and bury our emotions. It’s weird to be enjoying life while feeling sad at the same time.
For some unknown reason when I try to subscribe to “in the woods” blog it only shows me as RSS feed and not like my other subscribes. I have tried serval times including logging off and restarting.
So I tried unsubscribing and then subscribing. Still RSS feed only.
Does anyone happen to know what I might be doing wrong?
My thoughts are with you. You’ve been through a lot. It’s hard. Take care of yourself, and give yourself the time you need to mourn.
Thank you so much, Sheryl, for your sympathy and comforting thoughts. 🙏🏼💙