Bummer...

Well, "bummy", actually was my reply when my friend asked how I've been doing lately. For some reason this month's just gotten more difficult as it goes along. As I'd mentioned previously I can only guess that it's because things really hit the fan last December. I like my friend Sue because she encourages me to talk if it helps, or to not talk if I feel better that way. She appreciates the fact that I can talk about the experience last year, I think she also appreciates that it's not something I feel the need to talk about very often.

Thoughts of Robin seem to come back even more easily the past couple of weeks. Sometimes I shut them down. Occasionally I let them run free and see where they go. Crying has come back more easily once again. Last weekend I was resolved to sit down and complete holiday cards to send out. Robin and I used to do them as a team effort. I had the easy part - find the cards, do the return addresses, apply the stamps and mail them. Robin took on the task of writing in the cards themselves. We’d usually talk about what she would write in the card, even when it seemed like a simple phrase. She would sign for both of us. Last year I think she did about fifty or sixty cards - probably the last organized task she accomplished.

So there I was last weekend. I was in the car at a stop light when I had resolved that I'd get them done that day. Having made the decision I began to mull over what to write inside. Then it occurred to me that I'd be signing them just "Greg". That started the tears in a way I hadn't felt in a while, trickling down my cheeks and on down my neck. Well, I thought, I guess I don't *really* have to do cards this year.

Single guy?

A month ago a I was talking to Jonathan about getting together for a weekend. During the discussion I was talking about dating and I referred to myself as a "single guy". Even as I kept the flow of what I saying going, a flag went up in my head. What had I just said? I pondered it afterwards. I guess throughout the year I've thought of myself as the "widower" dating but somehow that's evolved.

Owl puzzle

Well the puzzle wasn't impossible as its title had implied. Difficult, but not impossible. I really wondered early on if I would the patience or the brains to put together but I guess persistence pays off.

Grieving at ten months

It seems that October and November were easier. I think it's because those months last year were months of hope and planning ahead. That was the period in which I repeated a mantra to everyone "all we have to do is get through these three treatments (chemo, radiation and surgery) then we'll have at least a year or two before we have to worry about cancer again".

December was a month of planning but with a less inspiring result in mind. Since the metastases had been discovered the medical folks said they couldn't project anything into the future. They couldn't tell if chemo would slow things down, they couldn't tell if Robin had 30 days, three months, a half a year. I guess the one thing was clear - they thought six months was beyond reasonable expectation.

These days I seem to have memories pop up more continuously. Typically they're images of places we were at, or occasionally things that we said. Often there doesn't seem to be a particular reason for things to be coming back up. Sometimes it's obvious. I've been to a couple of events near the local hospital with new friends. Coming and going from the local hockey arena we pass the oncology outpatient clinic. Thoughts go through my head, but I don't say anything. I think that my new friends wouldn't understand it if I started saying 'hey I used to go there with Robin'…

Pruning

A few weeks after the Christmas Cactus had bloomed the last of the flowers had faded. I was still marveling at my new found horticultural skills as I observed how huge the plant had grown. As I removed the wilted flowers it occurred to me that the plant now had to be cut back - it was way too overgrown to fit anywhere.

That's when I came to understand that the plants in the house weren't undergoing some new growth spurt due to my green thumb. All those years they'd been growing fine. All those years Robin had been caring for them, tending to them, repotting them annually, cutting them back as needed, keeping them healthy.

I took a tour of the kitchen where most of the plants reside for the Winter. There's a hanging spider plant which has multiple shoots hanging down for a total of about six feet - nearing the ground. It continually generates brown, dying leaves which I pull off; but I've never done anything to stop it from generating new hanging shoots. I guess I've reached a new level of plant care. Now I see that just continuously growing a plant larger isn’t necessarily the best for its future.

For a couple of weeks I thought for sure there was some metaphor in there about life and death. Maybe something about the human race and how we all come and go from this life. Some parts of the plant coming and going quickly, some parts lasting longer. Anyway, the idea never did quite gel.

As I sat to write about it, my feelings changed. Now I see it much more clearly as a metaphor for the human experience. Maybe we're all being pruned continuously. If so then the pain we sometimes experience shouldn't be viewed so negatively. The pruning in our lives isn't the end of growth, it's simply an opportunity to grow in new directions.