I AM THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM

Some days, well, most days, I feel like I don't have a friend in the world. I am so lonely. 

I wasn't before. Not before Bob died. Besides his companionship, I felt like my social calendar was perfectly filled--which is to say not too too filled, but just-right filled. 

For people of my age and newly retired, that meant carrying on with the same social engagements as before retirement, whether with my spouse or with our friend-couples. Going out. Staying in and entertaining. It was easy enough to do before my spouse passed away. 

But now, I am the elephant in the room. Even with my own family. You'd kind of wonder why I am always alone on weekends since I have three adult children with two in-law children and four grandchildren? I mean, it's not as if their social life died in January. 

I used to tell the kids, "To have a friend you first need to be a friend." Applying that principle to my own life makes me realize just how much of emotional support goes between spouses. Like, 100% most of the time. I am lucky to have a very understanding sister but she doesn't live in my province and we see each other rarely. If she lived closer I probably wouldn't be lonely unless I chose to be and believe me, right now I am NOT choosing to be lonely. 

Hopefully this is just another stage in grief but I doubt it. I think that I am presently the elephant in the room and will graduate to being the marginalized social outcast (if I'm not there already). I'm not really sure why. Applying the usual rules of social engagement--those same rules that I grew up with--if you were lonely, you phoned someone and went to visit them. You invited people for dinner and then they invited you back, the next week or so, to their place. I think I've done my part but the reciprocation just isn't there. Younger people are just what I used to call "takers". They are happy if you are the one cooking and cleaning and inviting them to dinner but when it comes to inviting you back, they don't. 

Anybody have a peanut to share? (Do elephants eat anything else? I could clean the house, cook it for dinner and invite you over.)

May 27, 2015

I met Bob, the love of my life, in August 1999. We were both living in Richmond, BC and we met through ICQ. I have always been the academic person: he had always been the practical genius. When we met he was building a Harley Evo rigid chopper. It was an interesting process to see those parts come together into what was to become The Excruciator. (I named the bike after riding on it once as a passenger. Riding with no shocks is no treat, believe me.)

Honestly? I loved the feeling of freedom, the wind in my face and the sensation of flying that motorcycles impart. I hated not having control. Bob had been riding and building motorcycles since he was a teenager and he was an excellent, safe driver. Nevertheless, I decided at the age of 52, to get my motorcycle license so I could ride my own. 

I took lessons with an accredited motorcycle school and passed the written and Stage 2 test (known as the Parkling Lot Test; the Motorcycle Skills Test or the Motorcycle Skills Assessment). I was now free to ride my own bike, a Honda Shadow 500, during daylight hours. Bob and I had a few awesome rides and I was at the point of gaining confidence riding solo. 

Then I dropped the bike! It was entirely my fault, I just wasn't paying attention to details. I was on crutches for more than 4 months just at the point where I was starting my Masters in Educational Technology. Doing your Masters degree is expensive and I sold my cute motorcycle. My job description (Special Ed Teacher) became more focused, my workload involved many hours of daytimejob work at home, and my tendons didn't really heal properly or quickly. Those were the excuses I used to cover my fear of getting back up on two wheels again!

A decade passed in a flash. I knew that the ravages of  that one quick accident would prevent me from ever riding a motorcycle with gears. The shifting (left foot) was just too painful so I looked into automatic choices and they were few. And my anxiety was growing with each year that passed.

Ultimately, Bob bought me the cutest 50cc scooter and I joined a local scooter club of like-minded afficionados. It took quite a few rides to get a grip on my ingrained nervousness but eventually I started to feel more condfident.

(This is "Pearl" my first little scoot.) Looks so small but represents overcoming fear of falling, fear of injury and just general anxieties. Bob was VERY proud of me!

My story has a bittersweet continuance. In January of this year, my Forever-Love passed away. He had been sick for a long time and his illness had prevented him from riding or even participating in any part of what would be called a normal life. He liked to say that when I was out on Pearl, filming rides around the neighbourhood, that he was living vicariously through my travels. 

I wanted to do something to really honour my husband's memory. I have published many poems relating to grief so that others may know that they are not alone even when their family ignores them during the Afterloss. Here is one of them:

Aside from publishing the musings of my heart, I wanted to do something that was NOT easy for me. So I sold Pearl and bought a larger scooter. I named her Bailey.

I am now retracing my steps of more than a decade ago. I passed the computer mc test and am right now practising the skills necessary for the MST/MSA license, Stage 2. I still suck at the "weave" (slalom) and am still nervouse about the quick stop from high speed. Street riding is easier so if I manage to pass the Stage 2 license I will immediately take the road test and finally be done with it.

Now I am a senior, retired person with nothing but time on my hands. Time to practice riding. Time to take long scoots around the neighbourhood. Time to reflect on a love now lost and another love (the allure of wind therapy) just beginning again for me.

May 20, 2015

I am a widow. My husband passed away in January of this year and this is his birthday tribute. I was blessed to have him in my life and equally blessed to be able to survive and just...keep...going.

Becoming a Retired Senior: How Life Has Changed

The thing about working is that really, there are certain weekly purchases that you never think about. Groceries. Gas for your vehicle. Dog or cat food. 

So, now, as a retiree, everything has changed.

Canada is not much of a coupon paradise! Before I quit work, I used to imagine retirement. In my mind's eye, I saw myself and Bob (my darling husband) sauntering over to the local Starbucks and relaxing over a cappuccino and reveling in the beautiful West Coast scenery. Added to that scenario, I saw myself searching online for the best bargains at various grocery stores and grabbing coupons--online or from other various sources--and wandering purposefully down the grocery aisles in a coupon stupor of bliss. 

WRONG!

Sadly, my first scenario was quashed by the vagaries of illness and death. I still plan on spending some quality mornings by myself, over at Starbucks, but just...not...yet. Maybe in the Summer when mornings are sunny and hot. I'm an unabashed Morning Person. 

Secondly, the retirement-couponeer scenario has also yet to come to pass. I don't know where those elusive coupons are hiding but the ones I see delivered to my computer are not really the ones I want or need. I have become an obligate vegan now and all I ever see are coupons for meats! My monthly Gardein(R) vegetarian food coupons won't even print on my printer! (Nice company: they are sending them via snail mail.) [btw, it's only their coupons that won't print, thankfully. Others will.]

That leads me to the most touching problem. Money. Lack thereof. Instead of making the rounds of grocery chains, I make the rounds of dollar stores to find cheap brands of products such as freezer bags, handiwipes for counters and the like. Even gardening supplies now come from the dollar store. I don't know why, but I find this situation distasteful. I just wish I could buy the usual namebrand freezer bags at the usual, conveniently-close grocery store and be done with it. 

Last week I had to limit the number of times I went out for lunch with friends and family, simply because I budget a certain amount for gas and for entertainment (and it's like once per week). I don't usually give excuses but it does hurt me to say "Sorry, I can't" even to my family. 

Wonder if there's anything else around here that I could sell on Craigslist? LOL