Michael suggested that I check in about weekly (if not weakly)and I said I would.
On wednesday my housekeeper told me about a big party that would be happening Saturday in Ramsey, and I'd be welcome to come. She said there'd be food, and people brought musical instruments and jammed. In keeping with my intent to keep trying new things and meeting new people as I try to redesign and reinvent my life, I went. That was a mistake. The place is rural, and quite expansive. There's a big house, and several large other buildings, one of which appears to be pretty much dedicated to entertaining. The owner reputedly makes his living doing metal fabrication and it is obviously a very good living indeed. I could have been very interested in that but I had no obvious way of being introduced and I didn't feel it was my place to press for an introduction. I wouldn't know the guy if he ran over me. He may not even have been there. In one building I saw two Miller MIG welders, a Millermatic 250 and a Millermatic 350, and something that looked like a formula racecar monocoque under construction. Beautiful work! It turns out that this was a church benefit of some sort, and they were selling food and drinks. I didn't buy any food because I'd just finished lunch but it did smell good. Pulled barbequed pork, I believe. There were some musicians on a stage jamming: 3 or 4 guitars and a drummer. I have no idea how they do that. It didn't sound like they were playing anything in particular, but they weren't getting in each other's way either. But it was kind of monotonous. There were people sitting around at tables, and others sort of walking around like I was. Perhaps 50 people in total. Not much conversation going on because the music was so loud. There were kids playing in some sort of water attraction outside, like a big slide with a pool at the bottom. I introduced myself to a couple of people. They seemed friendly and polite enough, but no apparent interest in who the hell was I and where did I come from. I was basically walking around smiling at a bunch of strangers. My housekeeper wasn't there so I didn't know a soul. I have never felt so wretchedly lonely in my life. I managed not to make a public spectacle of myself but when I got myself together I got the hell out of there. Once on the road I recovered my equilibrium fairly quickly.
Today I joined the Sunday Spirits walking group that walks somewhere every Sunday afternoon. It's a Catholic group of over-50 singles. I'm not Catholic, but they don't seem to mind. Mary was raised Catholic, maybe I get a pass that way. Today it was around the lake at Central Park in Roseville, about 3 miles. I knew that was safe because even if I felt alone in that crowd I'd still be walking in a pleasant place and I usually walk alone anyway -- so it was a nobrainer. I learned about this from Maryann, a woman in my grief support group at Mercy on Monday nights. I'd asked her if she'd be going. She said she would, and she was indeed there and greeted me with a smile. A SMILE, from Sad Sack Maryann! It was fun. I think I'm a good decade older than any one else who walked the long route, though I think women are better at concealing their age than I am at guessing it. There's one gent that is probably my age and possibly a bit older, ex-marine (if there is any such thing as an ex-marine),looks fit -- but he walked the short route. I had to hustle a bit to keep up with the group, but I was able to. I wasn't winded when we finished and was able to converse on the trail, but my legs felt a bit wobbly by the time we were done and I was ready for a rest. Not arrest. My cardiologist would be proud of me. Mary would say, "way to go, Foreman!" I was by far the new fish in that lot. Most had lost their spouses a couple of years ago or more. So people did talk about things like that, but they talked about a lot of other things too and when they spoke of their late spouses it was fondly and warmly but not painfully. It's not a grief group, it's a havin' fun activity group. I had a nice conversation with a Cheryl while on the trail. She was open, friendly, interesting and interested. It felt funny having her walk on my left. When I have a walking companion I usually walk on the left because my right ear is my least bad ear, but I'll be walking, standing and sitting on the right until I get a replacement for my lost right hearing aid. Not being able to hear is a nuisance. It was fun! Good workout, beautiful day, pleasant venue, friendly people. Afterwards we repaired to Panera in Rosedale for conversation and refreshment. Maryann sat across from me. I have never seen her so cheerful. N.B.: this is by no means a budding romance and I don't see it ever becoming one. That's not something I want or am ready for by quite a ways. But it could be the beginning of a nice friendship. I'd like that and I'd bet large that she would enjoy it too. I'd like to expand my list of friends I can call or email to invite to some event or activity, or maybe just hang out and visit for a little while, or help with small stuff like needed transport or a broken lawnmower. We both have kids in town so we're not destitute, but kids have jobs and lives and it can't hurt a bit to have a wider mutual support network available. She had a friend for a short time before, from the same grief support group ... but he died. Today I asked if it was hazardous to be her friend. She said "oh, no, how could that be?" "Well, the last one died, right?" Ding, she got it. She actually laughed out loud, a good belly laugh. I'll bet that felt wonderful. "No, he knew he was dying when we became friends." "Well, OK then. Would you be comfortable letting me know your email addy?" "Sure!" She wrote it on my cash register receipt. I don't know how much longer I'm going to keep doing that grief support group, and I quite likely will skip it tomorrow because I had enough trouble hearing the gloomy proceedings with two working hearing aids, so I wanted a way to contact her to see if she'd be walking again next Sunday, and/or maybe trying something else safe if something comes to mind. I'll definitely be there next Sunday. I enjoyed today. Earlier they were talking about a pot luck dinner at St. Joseph's in New Hope. Maryann said she'd be reluctant to do something like that in hot weather because she'd be afraid that someone might get sick from the food she brought. I said, "Maryann, are you really that terrible a cook?" Others laughed immediately, and then she joined in heartily. Another belly laugh. I don't think Maryann has been laughing much in the last couple of years. She was definitely having a good day today!
I made a couple of new male friends last week. Omitting the back story, I accompanied a grief counsellor's daugther's father-in-law and his son on a range date. They're newbies. We had a hell of a good time. Jack is the FIL, Steve is his son.
I'd brought lots of guns, ammo and targets, and Jack had his two as well so there were plenty of things to try. Jack wasn't real happy with his shooting at first (frown), but he got considerably happier as his shooting improved. (smile). Steve did pretty well from the git-go but he's shot before more than Jack has. He was having a great time comparing the various pistols, how they felt in his hand and how well he could shoot them. They are enthusiastic guys with quick grins and I enjoy being around people like that. Who doesn't? I'd saved my grande finale for last. It almost always gets wide-eyed laughs of delight and today was no exception. I got out my big .357 Magnum "Dirty Harry" revolver. Dirty Harry really packed a .44 Magnum but there isn't all that much difference. Steve went first. The range had the usual pop pop poppitypop racket of the usual calibers, then Steve's hammer dropped on a full mag load. BOOM! Steve's face looked like a kid on Christmas morning. Heads turned, as in "what was THAT?" I was laughing out loud and I think he was too. The other guys three lanes down were grinning and there were several guys watching us through the big plate glass window that separates the range area from the store and waiting area. Steve proceeded to shoot the remaining five in the cylinder. A dozen is usually enough for most people but it definitely is a kick. (Pun intended) Jack tried it too and was also grinning. I fired six and that was enough for today. Next time I'll bring the bigger .357 (S&W 686 with 6" barrel) that is really, really accurate -- and it has a laser sight. Steve really likes laser sights!
I have a wedding to attend next weekend, very lovely daughter of some good friends. I purely hate ties and sport coats, but I feel like I should at least have them with me and perhaps even wear them at least for a little while as a matter of respect. I don't remember the last time I wore either a tie or a sportcoat, but it has certainly been most of a decade and maybe more. I wore slacks and a sweater to Mary's funeral, as did she. That attire (those very garments) was what we wore when I married her at Gretna Green in Scotland, so I figured it was right for when I buried her. She certainly would have agreed. I thought I'd better look in my closet today. No sportcoats, no ties. Uh oh! Looked in second br closet. Ditto. Third br closet. Empty. Swell! Did generous Mary give away my sport coats and ties to the VA or Lupus or whatever? Wouldn't blame her if she did, I wasn't using them. Check rack in basement. No luck. Finally I remembered a cedar closet in the basement I never think of because there's nothing in there I need to access except a couple of rifle cases on the floor, and who notices what's on the rod when focussed on what's on the floor? Bingo. Nothing on my calendar for tomorrow. Not good. Ah! Jungle steam heat has broken, nice day tomorrow, wind NNW at 6, I'm going to the rifle range! I've pretty much always done that alone. Mary enjoyed handguns but didn't enjoy shooting rifles. She was right-handed but left-eye dominant. That's not a problem with handguns but it is with scoped rifles.
Four months after Mary's death I still cry some or more at some point of every day. That's not a plan, it just happens when it happens. I let it happen, don't fight it. I'm alone, nobody would know if I didn't tell but I'm not ashamed of it. There's no shortcut around grief about the loss of a treasured spouse like Mary and the wonderful life I enjoyed with her. Grief hurts and time doesn't heal without painful effort. But I'm doing my damndest to keep on keepin' on and I do think I'm making progress. Too little too slow, but that's how she goes. Crunch crunch, one boot in front of the other. Today I was able to give joy to a stuck-in-grief miserable fellow traveller, and that brought me conserable joy.
Recommended reading for fellow travellers: "A Grief Observed" by C.S. Lewis, author of "Alice In Wonderland". It's nonfiction. He lost a wife he treasured and wrote eloquently about his experience.
Is that more check-in than you wanted, Michael?