Author: Lynne J

I am a theater educator/performer who was happily married to a wonderful retired music teacher/performer. We had recently retired to Cape Cod where we were involved in both music and theater until my husband was diagnosed with Stage 4 Poorly-differentiated Thyroid Cancer which rocked our world and that of our family. Cancer took his life on November 12, 2019. This blog is to share what I have been going through as my husband's caretaker and how Cancer affected the everyday world in which we lived. My hope is to share with others who have gone through similar circumstances so we can help each other through the process. After all, we are all connected in one way or another.

A grateful heart

Posted on by Lynne J

Today marks the sixth year that I lost the absolute love of my life and my best friend to the dreaded disease called cancer. I remember it as if it were yesterday, recalling every second of that early fall morning, the change in his breathing, the feeling in our bedroom, and that last troubled breath that took him away from us all. I am grateful to have been with him and to have whispered love into his ear as he succumbed to that last breath. I was all too familiar with this experience having been in the room for both my father and my mother-in-laws’ last breath, but this time I was truly ripped in half in an instant and for the many days, months, years that followed. He was a part of me and we were inseparable. I felt like a large part of me was gone. Grief can rob you of everything in the first moments, days, months, years…but now, six years later, I am proof that you are able to learn to live with your grief. It becomes a part of you and changes you forever. And remember…being grateful for your grief means you understand that the other side of grief is extreme love. I understand that now and am so thankful that I had that love and still carry it with me. I am grateful.

I’ve been on quite a “ride” since Paul’s passing! I have experienced so may changes and shifts in my life. It’s incredible to think that the world keeps on turning without him in it, and yet here I am. Here we are! It has taken everything I have to get where I am right now , even during the times I thought I wouldn’t make it. I didn’t want to. As far as I’ve come, I know I still have a ways to go. I climb that hill every day, and the sun is getting brighter as I secure each step upward…positive sign that I am strong, resilient and very capable on my own. I am not the person I was before, as I was so connected to Paul, but many layers have been peeled away to reveal a new and changed me! Looking back to where I was only six years ago, I can see the new path that I have carved out for myself and how resilient I really am. I am so grateful to be able to say that and for every day forward. I am grateful.

For instance, I haven’t felt the need to write in awhile, which I am seeing as a wonderful sign. Writing has always been the vehicle I use to help me get through to the other side of difficult things, i.e. stress, sadness, turmoil, trauma, pain, inconsistancy, depression, anxiety and insecurity. But mostly, it helps me manage my grief. Finding that I haven’t felt the need to spill out my feelings through this blog for awhile is a true sign that I have broken through the veil to the other side. That’s not to say that I don’t still feel pain, believe me I do, but I have learned to work through all of it by leading my life with a grateful heart. I am grateful.

Listen when I say that leading every day with grateful heart cures a wealth of sadness. In the morning when I rise, I outstretch my arms to the Universe and say thank you to all of the past, present, and future parts of who I am and tell all them “thank you”. Thank you to a higher power. I am grateful for all of the parts of my life, good and bad, but particularly the pain. I am certain, it is within the pain I have felt, that I have grown in ways I never thought possible. I am grateful for the experience because it means I have love. Grief, after all, is love. It is through these experiences we move to a new level of understanding and peace. I am more observant about other people now, more kind, patient and empathetic. That said, I also find times for self care so as to balance my existence and be strong enough to be there for others if they need me. I am working at giving love more outwardly and not worrying so much about myself while not losing myself in the process. It is a delecate balance. I find this to be a much better way to live. I have proof that I am strong and resilent enough to get through even the most difficult of times. I now know that there is an “other side”. I am grateful.

The truth is, nothing is or will ever be the same since my family and I lost Paul six years ago. How could it be? But, I am grateful for the beauty I see in our family, the changes, the happiness, the humor, hard work, love and the togetherness we feel always. I truly believe that Paul is conducting his greatest concert from wherever he may be. We, his choral members, are singing our hearts out with him at the helm. It is he…who is directing us to be the best that we can be. I am grateful for him and always will be.

Paul, I love you and will miss you all of the days of my life. You are my “endless love”

November 12, 2025

Resilience

Posted on by Lynne J

re·sil·ience (noun)

  1. the capacity to withstand or to recover quickly from difficulties; toughness.”the remarkable resilience of so many institutions”
  2. the ability of a substance or object to spring back into shape; elasticity.”nylon is excellent in wearability and resilience”
  3. Similar: flexibility, pliability, suppleness, plasticity, elasticity, springiness, spring, give, durability, ability to last, strength, sturdiness, toughness, strength of character, hardiness, adaptability, buoyancy, ability to bounce back, bouncebackability
  4. “Lynne showed her resilience by opening a gift shop on Cape Cod with her son, getting a new puppy, getting back into theatre both as actor and director, while making new friends and reacquainting with old ones, traveling to Scotland alone, and keeping in touch with and spending time with the important people in her life.”

Today marks five years (hard to believe) since I lost the love of my life. For the last five years, I have been urged by my own will to be an example of resilience both to myself first, and then to my family and friends. How do I do this? Well, what choice do I have? All I can do is put one foot in front of the other and use the inner strength I have to keep going. Turns out I am much stronger than I ever thought I was.

What I can honestly say is that I am definitely not the same person I was just five years ago. Losing Paul was absolutely devistating and shook me to the core and crumbled the very ground I stood on. Everything I knew, and aspired to be was taken out from under me, leaving me a mere shell of the human being I was finally beginning to be comfortable with. I’ve had to rebuild myself at every turn. From the small things, like having a cup of coffee alone in the morning in silence, to walking in the neighborhood alone, and then the larger things like, sleeping in my bed alone, taking care of the house , buying a car, traveling and so on and so on.

I must admit, I have managed pretty well pulling up my bootstraps and moving forward. Not moving on, but forward. Again, what choice do I have? Resiliency is explained above in so many words, and I see it in my every day life. I’ve managed to “bounce” back to the life of the living and with my newfound path, set my sites on happiness in the moment. Recently I start my mornings raising my arms to God and the Universe and thanking them for all that I am grateful for in my life. I thank the universe for putting Paul in my path, building such a beautiful family with him, our experiences together and the life we had. Although he is gone, he is still everywhere in my life. He is in the faces of our children and grandchildren, in the piano in our mudroom, in our family photos, the humor we all share, and in the home we dreamed of having someday and were lucky enought to share for a time.

For anyone who has lost a loved one, the journey you are on now is absolutely a different one and not what you may have dreamt of. Through this phase of my life, my resiliency puts me on a mission to live my new life to the fullest, stepping off of the very foundation I had built with my person. I’m rebuilding that crumbled ground to forge a new path and get to higher ground. Paul may not be with me in the physical sense, but his incredible presence and love still drive me forward with positivity and strength, and no one can take that from me. Ever. Building upon that foundation is such a gift in the next chapters of my life. My strength comes from love and the determination to keep up the momentum I’ve built over the years with Paul and to reach the heights I am meant to reach. We all have potential for bigger and better things in life. Whatever those things are to each one of us, we can keep building upwards and use our resiliency to get to the next level. Keep building towards the sun. It will warm you and help you see just how resilient you can by.

Grief = Rebirth

Posted on by Lynne J

So, I was driving along in my Jeep with my thoughts recently, as I often do, and I was thinking about my grief cycle. Suddenly, I had an epiphany!

Wait, let me first start from another place. I am currently, fortunately, and excitedly involved in a unique theatre piece which has all the feels of the human experience in a theatrical collage. By “theatrical collage” I mean it involves the journey of one woman, who gave birth to a sweet baby girl who was born with a unique set of learning skills. In this theatrical piece, video, stylized movement, heart pouring, humor, live music, dance and simple yet effective technical magic are all involved. It is the essence of theatrical storytelling. It’s a true and moving story. It is powerful…

While taking part in this theatrical telling about one woman’s human truth, I suddenly felt the intense passion I once had for theatre performed as an education. I always loved working on theatrical projects that stir the soul to change, educates the heart, stimulates the mind and leaves the audience with a newfound sense of self to share with the world. I directed many of these kinds of plays and original projects with teens in my early career. It’s one of the ways live theatre is so profound in it’s action.

So, with all of these thoughts in my pocket, I began to stir my soul again about a theatre project I’ve been swirling around in my head and have mentioned doing for a few years now. This piece tells the tale of my own experience with devastating grief and how it has changed who I am as a human being in the world. Also, I know that my grief is mine alone, but knowing that what I have encountered on my journey effects all of us at one time or another and in different ways, pulls at me. It astounds me because not everyone knows how to share their story. I also am acutely aware that people can stop talking about your grief or the loss of your loved one with you because they think it is time for you to move on.

Sometimes grieving individuals, given the chance to talk, don’t know how to put what they are experiencing into words. Maybe they are lucky enough to share somewhere…in private conversations or in small rooms with groups of similar people. It got me thinking…what if we could send the message outward to include many more people who truly don’t know how to deal with what they are feeling?

So back to my epiphany! In my thinking about this I saw a visual of humanity experiencing grief as a rebirth. Let me explain. When Paul first died, I crawled into a fetal ball for quite awhile. I was helpless, lost, broken and in so much physical pain. I curled up into myself to the liking of a fetus, protecting my broken heart I think. I was unborn…swimming in my grief…small.

In the months that followed, I crawled out from under myself and began to eat, sit up, walk a few steps and eventually I was standing on my own two feet. As the months went by and then the years, I found my new place in the world. It took surmountable effort on my part, but I persevered through all of the stages. Crawling, sitting, walking and eventually running. This strikes me because it was like being reborn. I’m a different person now. I look at life through a different lens…a more powerful one. I have to say that I’m finally feeling newly formed in this world, with room for more growth. If you would have told me that I would be here where I am right now, a few years ago, I would have thought you were crazy. But yet, here I am. Alive in my body, stimulated by art, music and theatre, surviving on my own, self-employed with a business I own with my son, and finding many social experiences with friends both old and new.

This theatrical piece I always envisioned writing will involve other people’s stories intermingled with mine, from those who are willing to share. It will include acting, movement, music, and will be a visceral experience for those watching, allowing them to have their moment of much needed catharsis. My hope is that they will then feel part of a whole, instead of feeling as if they are in an isolated dark hole alone and broken, where my grief started for me.

Grief comes in many forms. It is devastating and although I thought I was prepared, I wasn’t. What I found in my process is that I am a lot stronger and resilient than I even knew I could be, and that by helping others with similar circumstances helps me to heal too. I feel that I have something to say that shines a positive light on moving forward after losing someone you love. I want to help those who need it. I want to be that kind of person.

I had an epiphany and I will share it with anyone who will listen and learn.

My Nightmare/My Dream

Posted on by Lynne J

My nightmare was filled with terror…and I  longed for it to end

I was pulled into the darkest of woods

Very much alone…quiet…empty…nothing

The absence of color so stark

I could not tell the difference between myself

and what surrounded me

Lines blurred,

Tears stained,

Body weighted… 

Mind…numb…

I moved laboriously through the darkness, crawling on my knees, clenched in pain

and drowning in an ocean of continuous tears

Adrift

I could only feel my own heart being suffocated

In my very body 

The pain authentic and unparalleled

I almost died there. I lie still wanting to

But…

Somehow…

I kept moving forward while chains with padlocks kept holding me hostage

With no key to unlock them

I tried to discern which part of me would survive this absence of color as I drudged on trying to break free

Time passed excruciatingly slowly at first

The heaviness unbearable

I was blinded by both the darkness and the absence of my very foundation

With nothing to hold onto…but a small thread which lingered there

Somehow, time began to creep forward ever faster,

The thread began spinning out of sequence forming a fabric which I hardly recognized, because I could not yet see it

The chains broke open

and I sensed something new to hold onto

And when I could go no further in the darkness

.

Light crept in beneath my heart and split open the darkness with a vibrant sound

Brightness whirled around just enough to let me see fractals of color

As the color began to  spin gloriously around me I suddenly opened up to the light

as nightmare spun into a dream

a dream of a future

and it was all mine

Out of the woods

Free of the darkness

Then…it came to me

The nightmare had taught me what real love is

And how lucky am I to have found it.

I will have it with me forever.

Written by Lynne Johnson

November 17, 2023 

“Our beach”

Posted on by Lynne J

Small waves snap at the shore

they stir my heart with every roll

Memories of our children, grandchildren

playing in the sand in a time now gone

You have disappeared beneath the waves

your ashes a ghost in the bay…and angel among us

The slaps of the waves pound into my heart

pushing at me again. I stop …I stare at the

bay and my body and soul is so restless

Peace never comes… completely

it seeps in here and there but never, ever

does it complete me again.

I remain unwhole, flakes of a past I hold

against my skin…it’s jagged edges

searing the softness of my now aging body

I am missing your heart, your eyes, hands,

your gentleness… your voice, lips on mine, and

your love, and our togetherness.

In my minds eye, this scenario… you gone before I

appeared diferently . I though my strength and spirit

would keep me abreast

I find my strength to be dull and my spirit crestfallen…

I am abreast to pain, perserverance, and

the constant loss of you over and over and over and over again.

Every grain of sand on our beach is a reminder of our dreams together

How sad it is to linger here nearest to our paradise…alone

This dream wreaks of a nightmare…the nightmare I never wake up from

The waves continue to lap towards me…the tide coming forth

to enter my space of solitude

a reminder that it will never end…this grief

this dream of all dreams … the one we shared together for years

now nightmarish and lost

I must perservere or else be swallowed up by the tide

joining you – that is the new dream .,.

to entwine my loving heart with yours again

seeking Joy

Posted on by Lynne J

Today marks the 35th Anniversary of my beautiful, loving and thoughtful marriage to Paul. It astounds me still, that he is not physically here to celebrate with me. I remain baffled by his loss, and although I’ve made great strides in my grief journey, I am not “there” yet. I don’t know where “there” is, but I imagine it is a place where I am happy again and joy fills my soul. I see glimpses of it from time to time, but my life is still tainted by his passing. It’s coming up on three years since he passed and as I said to him this morning…”I can’t believe it’s been almost three years without you. I didn’t think I would last three minutes.” Yet, here I am.

But we do go on, don’t we? Although I am definitely not the same person I was, there is another version of me still emerging that I cannot always get a grasp on. I kind of look the same, although not as “bright” and have the same values, but my outlook on life is skewed by my loss of love. I keep moving forward and pushing that boulder up that hill but I, as of yet, cannot seem to clear passage to the top. I desire so very much to reach the top and see what is on the other side, but this powerful and unending loss holds me back.

Along with my desire to move upward, I seem to have lost some of my most personal and valuable assets. I struggle with confidence. I imagine this is because my foundation has been shaken to its core. Believe me, I work on it every day, trying to rediscover it and find my footing again. It’s a work in progress. I’m a work in progress. Aren’t we all?

As I review the past years of my life I know a few things for sure. Paul is the love of my life. I am stronger than I thought I could be. I love, love, love my family. I love my people. I want, no need to feel pure joy again. I need so much to be whole again, even if it means a different version of myself. I miss Paul’s love and everything that our love was made of.

So, on this, our 35th Anniversary, our love story continues in a different and more intimate way. Paul is in my heart, in my head and forever a part of who I am…and who I am yet to be. I am open to the universe and all it has to offer…in the way of happiness.

Magnificent Wings

Posted on by Lynne J

It has been 1,460 days or four years since Paul has passed. He left this world on November 12, 2019 in my very presence. We were alone together in our bedroom and I held his hand as he took his last breath my face nearest to his. I am his wife, best friend, lover, partner, person, companion, work partner, mother and step mother of his children, grandmother to their children and lastly I was his caregiver, until that last laboring breath and then…devastation. Left with a life time of dreams unfinished. I am still grieving, but four years later, I am…healing.

I can’t stop thinking of how the early days of his passing played out. Surrounded by myself and our children as we held vigil during hospice, we gave him the most loving care. He was alert until the very end. We spoke lovingly around 12:30am and then at around 4:30am I awoke to labored breathing never to hear him speak or sing again. Then, the loss so intense and profound that I walked around in a haze for a long, long time. As did our family. In fact, it is only recently that I am seeing more clearly. I had no choice in the matter at hand. That was my real struggle. I was helpless to save him. I really tried. I did everything in my power but realize now that I was powerless. It was futile. Four years have passed and I must continue to move forward. I am finally at the point where I see that this is how my own existence on this earth must play out. I see that I am a soloist now and let’s just say our duet is on hiatus until we sing together again. Unraveling the many years of love we shared will take my lifetime, but, I am gently moving on and find myself strengthening in spirit every day.

The reality never really sets in, does it, because how can it be true? How can the person I shared wonderful dreams with, our children, grandchildren, a career, extended family, meals, coffee on our porch, trips, friendships, and just about everything, music, be gone? How? It truly is unfathomable. It doesn’t make sense and it never will. I am left to carry on in a life without him and it was not part of our plan. Something we joked about and pushed off as if it was never ever going to happen. “You have to go first”, or “I’m not leaving without you” or “if you die, I’m coming with you.” The sad thing is that I really wanted to go with him in the beginning. Came dangerously close. I wanted to check out of this new life because my grief was so visceral I didn’t think I could bear another second in such unspeakable pain. I felt left alone and left out of this awkward, horrible, surreal, nonsensical existence without a life vest. Set adrift. It was a place so dark to visit that I physically couldn’t breathe upon arrival. Yet, visit the dark hole I did. Day after day after day. I had been blindly moving blissfully on through that amazing journey of ours thinking we were untouchable because our love was so, so vast that it couldn’t be penetrated by anything destroyable. But it has happened, hasn’t it? I am still here and Paul is gone.

Let’s face it. We are all in denial. We think that because we have carved out a particular path for ourselves that we have control of said path. I know now that having control of our existence is highly improbable. Impossible! We just don’t have that complete ability. Oh, we want to, but we can’t because life is fickle, awkward, beautiful, unpredictable, joyous, devastating and glorious. I could throw in a million adjectives to describe this thing we are all in together, and they would all apply. Life is all of it; all of the words we have installed in every language to try and make sense of what “this” all is.

So I am sitting here today, four years later, reflecting on the past and realizing that I’ve come a long way from those early days of my grief. Time…yes, time…does heal, but not all wounds. This wound I harbor in my heart is too vast and cannot be mended completely. I think what has happened now is that my heart has been wrapped in a cocoon of wonderful experiences which include love, family, friendship, humor, fur babies, travel, theatrical endeavors, music, a few cosmos here and there and lovely sumptuous feasts. Slowly these new experiences in my life without Paul being physically here to share somehow have cushioned the blow over time. Soft and gentle experiences which remind me that I am still alive and vivid boisterous adventures that remind me that I am a bit wild and fun fill my life now. At first, I didn’t think any of this was possible for me anymore, but I have experienced all of the emotions I house within my soul at one time or another since his passing. I thought grief was the only emotion that I would ever feel again, but it is just not true. I am able to see more clearly beyond my grief and that makes me think that I will be able to thrive without Paul. I will thrive because of Paul. I will thrive because I have love in my heart and all around me keeping me alive. Paul is right here next to me. I know he is. His love is inside me and is untouchable. His warmth, good humor, gentleness and love carries me every day. His lessons in life…which I call his “Paulisms” still make me smile. I long for his touch and want so much to look in his eyes again, but I know now that I will have to wait. I am under the careful watch of his direction now. He is conducting a wonderful choral piece, with all of the light and dark tempos, amazing dynamics both stunning and difficult from where ever he is. His arms are waving wildly as only he can do and he is signaling to each of us to bring us into his concert when our time is ready. He is watching over all of us, his family, his friends, and his former students, in ways we can’t see, but just know. I have always respected his wisdom, his gentleness, his beauty and I will always. I believe there are very definitive signs I have experienced which tell me he is here. My heart is protected now and it is also opening and blossoming in this new life. As I’ve been told recently, there is no opposite or “other side” to grief. It stands alone and it is something that one has to learn to live with and carry for all of their days. I believe this is true. We are all resilient and as our cells divide inside our bodies continuously, we change with every single day. I believe we can carry the weight of our loss and are still able to thrive because we had that love as part of our individual experience. It is because of that love…we are who we are. We must take it with us but not dwell on the last.

To those of you who may read this and may be experiencing the pain of great loss, please do not let grief destroy your heart. Find the wonderful and positive people and things in your life that will soothe and enhance your journey. Shed those things that chain you down in the depths. You deserve to live on in the best way possible. Live your life! Find your people! Love them! Be loved! Enjoy the things you always have enjoyed and find new ways to fill your passions. Dream! You are a living breathing beautiful being all by yourself. Discover who you are now! Let your past be the foundation that you hold dear and take it along as a spring board into your future. Go ahead and fly! Do not be afraid to go it alone. You have your own set of magnificent wings. Spread them out in all their glory and leap! YOU ARE ENOUGH!

Could We Start Again Please?

Posted on by Lynne J

When I was in the first grade, I had to have my seat moved across the classroom from a boy because I was busy playing “footsie” with him and distracted from my work. “Footsie” a term used for flirting back then, I guess. First grade and I was flirting. Jesus! For as long as I can remember, I always had my sites on someone. Heck, in the sixth grade, my friends and I staged an all out mock wedding on the bus so I could “marry” my elementary school sweetheart, complete with a cigar band ring. When I think of it now, I shake my head. Sixth grade…married. We had a “priest”, bridesmaids and everything. And all under the time constraints of the short bus ride home. My point? I must have known at an early age that I was never meant to be alone. I have always wanted to be part of a couple. Why? Maybe it was because my parents partnered and loved each other so well that I was raised to believe that being part of a pair was what true happiness was. You know what? It was…for me. Meeting Paul, after many failed attempts at love, was where I found my home. It was where I felt most complete. My heart was truly happy.

I’ve been thinking about this for several days now. I was never meant to be alone in my life and I’m not meant to be alone now. I don’t do it very well. In fact, I hate it. I found my home with Paul and I wanted to remain there “until death do us part”. I think I thought that meant my death. How wrong I was! Never did I truly understand what life would be like without Paul in it. It is devastating. Lonely. Unhappy. Unnerving. Empty.

We were absolutely meant to meet. Both of us, after many trials and failed attempts at love, found each other in just the right moment…the rest as they say was “history”. We complimented each other in just the right way. We loved, respected and cared for each other, always having each others’ backs, no matter what the situation. We worked together both professionally and personally, carving out a life that was full of love, creativity and happiness. We shared a family which we loved with all of our hearts, always moving towards the sun.

Now…I stand alone and I have never felt so all alone. My heart was buried with Paul and I can’t seem to move on. I have tried…truly…but I am not as strong as I pretend to be. Even with my family and friends around me, I feel alone. I don’t want to, but I do. I feel like I am in a isolated capsule with everyone revolving around me, but I can’t seem to grab on to where they are going. I’m on the outside looking in. This new lens is cloudy and I don’t seem to be a part of it. I can’t get a clear picture anymore.

Here we are in another season and as much as I have always looked to spring for new hope and all the beauty it brings, I find myself broken again. I don’t want the birds to begin singing without Paul and I sitting on the porch together to hear their song. I don’t want the daffodils to come up without Paul and I sharing in their gorgeous color I don’t want the new buds to arrive on the rose bushes because they will blossom and Paul won’t be here to see them with me, or pick them for me, or I for him.

I used to love the change of seasons…but now the seasons only serve as a reminder that time is still moving and I am alone for it, waiting for the day when I will finally join him. I would give nothing more than to have that feeling go away. This feeling that I am existing, walking through my days a mere shadow of my former self is morbid. Once in awhile, I’ve seen a glimpse or two of myself peeking through, but lately “she” seems to be gone again. It feels a bit like groundhog day. Get up…do all the things…go back to bed and it happens all over again the next day. I can’t seem to feel any joy. I can’t seem to find it in anything I do. I keep reaching and tugging at it, but it escapes me.

Paul used to say this phrase and it’s exactly how I feel right now. “I don’t want to do anything and I don’t want to do nothing”. Between a rock and a hard place, I guess. I’m not motivated in any way. I really have to push to do anything. I’m going through the paces of living but I don’t really feel… anything. What do I do now?

Spring Flowers

Just When You Think You Are Doing Okay…

Posted on by Lynne J

Winter blues are in place again. The hubbub of the holidays make for a great distraction and can leave one with little time to stop and reflect. I mean, you can stop if you want to, but the pain rides in on a black stallion and brings you to your knees. Most people wax nostalgia during the holidays, if they have good memories of days gone by. Personally, I think back on fond memories of my own childhood and all of the magical parts of Christmas. I then think of having my own children and the many Christmas mornings I watched them light up with wonder, with their high pitched squeals of excitement as they came downstairs to see what Santa had left them under the tree. The moments when we finally got to see Eryn and Jesse and the six of us were together at last to celebrate our Christmas as a family. Later on we added our daughter-in-law and son-in-law and years of baby and toddler Christmases with four grandchildren as the next generation added to the pleasure and excitement of the holidays. I could go on and on about the happy times of Christmas in my life. I could tell you about the sad Christmases too, like after my father died and how difficult it was for my mother and our family for so many years. But, with it all, I have been blessed. This I know and am eternally grateful for. The holidays are a mixed bag of emotions and there has always been a bit of sadness during the season. Sadness for those we love and have lost along the way and also for the realization that as we age, the holidays can also present confusion, stress, disappointment and hopeful anticipation of something magical we want to hold onto but can no longer grasp. It keeps pulling away from us. Waxing nostalgia makes for a wistful lens from which to view the past. Not having your partner makes it feel lonely, even when all you love surround you.

During my adulthood, the best Christmases I experienced were always with Paul by my side. He was part of every bit of that happiness. In fact, the first time I said “I love you” to him was on a late night Christmas Eve in 1985. We were leaving a party at a mutual friends house and were in the middle of their quiet street. The air was cold and snow was falling under a nearby streetlight. The colored lights from the surrounding houses set the perfect romantic scene. After professing my love to him I cried with both relief and happiness, wrapping up in his guiding embrace knowing I was finally home. This year, that scene plays over and over and over in my head as part of the holiday slideshow that is Christmas for me now. Snapshots of Christmases with Paul and our family spin through my mind leaving me happy while breaking my heart.

Our family had a wonderful Christmas this year, enhanced by three new furry, wiggly, adorable puppies to add to the fray. We spent a week together playing, cooking, eating, laughing, singing, dancing and spending time together. Paul was there… but he wasn’t. There was a full moon one of the days and on the next morning, our yard was filled with birds of all kinds, including six or eight bluebirds, mourning doves, three male brilliantly red cardinals, sparrows, chicadees and more. It was unbelievable…a huge bird party was taking place in our yard. Being the family “bird nerd” I found myself so excited that I nearly called out to Paul to come look, actually turning my head as if he was in the room…then realizing he wasn’t there. It stopped me in my tracks. These small yet exciting moments I can no longer share with my person. He would have loved seeing the array of winged creatures we so loved to sit on the porch and watch together. A simple thing, but it gave us both such pleasure.

As Christmas and New Years’ celebrating came to a close, the quiet came back with its early morning stillness, giving me a lot of time to think. Then, as if losing Paul again, it hit me hard…and brought me to my knees yet again. The tears I’ve shed in the past few weeks had been still for awhile. I thought I had a grasp on it. In the last few days, I have been derailed yet again. I so much want to heal and be whole. I don’t like this Lynne. She is not happy and doesn’t want to be here anymore. I fight her off every day.

It doesn’t help that there have been more losses. I have found that someone I loved and have “known” for a long time is not the person I thought they were. This is a big hurt. It bothers me every day and I am truly grieving this loss, yet I feel used and am not sure I want to pursue the relationship any longer. I see both sides to the story and have apologized for my side, but I believe the other person does not. I am grieving for this loss and it adds to my depression. I think about it every day but need to let it go for my survival.

Another person I care about has lost someone they love this week and I know that what this person is going through I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Grief is mind bending and visceral. I want to go to her and hug her to let her know she is not alone, even knowing that my gesture will not cure her devastation. Still, I want her to know she has an ally. I want to lift her up, knowing it may be futile. It breaks my heart.

I am working through all of this on my own and trying to remain as positive as I can. I write, I paint, I walk the dogs, I cook, I go through the day trying to build a staircase up to the sun. I’m truly tired and I am feeling real pain, but still I continue the climb. Like Sisyphus, I will push that damn rock up the hill and someday maybe, maybe…I will make it to the top. If I do, I will take all of those that I love with me to see the view. It must be spectacular if it takes this much work to get there.