Month: February 2022

Dragons and Kittens

/ Julie Gentz / 2 Comments

It’s been a while since I posted. It feels like I’ve been fighting dragons and rescuing stray kittens from trees . . . You know, one of those times where it seems like life keeps throwing challenges your way. However, during all of that time, I did write things, but I just never got around to posting them. I know you get that, because I am sure you slog through those days/weeks, too sometimes. That said, here’s one of those dragons I had to work hard to keep from devouring me lately.

I never know how I am going to wake up in the morning, not so much physically wake up, but mentally. Some days I get up ready to face the day. Other days my first waking thought is how much I miss my husband. Last week I had one of those days. As I lay there, alone in my warm bed, listening to the wind raising a ruckus outside and sleet pinging against the window panes, a great emptiness rushed over me as I realized, yet again, that Brian was gone. Thankfully, it also reminded me of how blessed I was to have had him in my life at all, much less for the 29 years we were together. As the tears began to roll down my cheeks, I said this prayer aloud:

“Dear God, thank you for the blessing of a good night’s sleep. For waking up in a warm bed to a new day. Thank you for not just a roof over my head, but for a house that Brian and I were able to build together — one born of hopes and dreams and love. Even in the middle of my grief, I feel blessed in so many ways. One of those ways will always be for the 27 years Brian and I were married. I am so grateful for all the joy (and, yes, also the frustrations!) that this brought, and I would not trade that time for anything. If there were a way I could turn back time, I would find ways to be more present in my interactions with Brian, and wise enough to take the time to enjoy our life together even more; to not only speak the words “I love you” but to show love outwardly in many little ways that cannot be adequately expressed by words. I am a better person for having known and loved him. He showed me what real love looked like, and together we made it through those tough times when love extracted a high price. And, perhaps most importantly of all, he helped me grow in my faith, making it stronger . . . strong enough to now face life with him no longer physically in it. Neither of us were perfect, and, like every other married couple, we had our ups and downs. Yet, our marriage turned out to be one of the most beautiful and meaningful things of my life. Dear Lord, help me to honor Brian’s life by living each day as a reflection of that love, sharing it with those around me. Amen”

Not wanting to forget the prayer, the first thing I did when I got out of bed was to grab my journal and write it down. Sobbing the entire time I wrote, my pen dodged errant tear drops that found a place on the page, forming borders of emotion around my words. I sat there, alone in my house, with the cold wind outside reminding me that in life there are some days that are simply better than others.

A quick glance at the clock reminded me that I needed to get busy, and I instinctively threw myself headlong into the one thing that I always seem to do when my life feels like it is spiraling out of control: I clean my house. And I mean I really clean, nonstop. Cleaning can’t repair the hole in my heart that was left after Brian died 10 months ago, but I have come to realize that right next to that I have a special place, just for him, where I will always love him and hold him close. . . And of course, now I have a clean house.

I think the hardest part of losing someone isn’t having to say goodbye, but rather learning to live without them. Always trying to fill the void, the emptiness that’s left inside your heart when they go.

sd.

Photo by Luci on Pexels.com

Stuck

/ Julie Gentz / 1 Comment

It’s the end of winter in Iowa. Most days are still cold and gray. The wind never seems to stop blowing. My house is quiet. Too quiet. I am acutely aware of the fact that I am here alone. It’s not that I don’t have anything to do. On the contrary, I have a lot to do — perhaps too much. But, there are some days, like today, that I just can’t make myself do much at all. Every tick of the clock, every drip of the faucet, every second of silence reminds me that my husband is gone forever. That this is my new normal. And that thought freezes me in my tracks, just like Parkinson’s would do to my husband. While I try to write uplifting, positive things on this site most of the time, there are days when I need to let you see that I, too, struggle sometimes to get to that spot. . . and today is one of those days. So, I am going to borrow wisdom from someone else, hoping that reading it will mean as much to you as it did to me. It’s a tough journey we’re on, but I know we each walk with grief in our own way and in our own time. The important thing is that we keep walking.

Navigating Grief by Gary Sturgis

There isn’t a person on earth who hasn’t experienced some form of grief in their life. Everyone experiences loss and the grief that follows.

Here’s what I’ve learned. There’s no rule book when it comes to grief and mourning. Everyone goes through the grief process in their own way and in their own time. My spouse died and I was shocked and numb for a long time. Wrapped up in the immense responsibilities of my personal and professional life I still had to find a way to navigate my grief.

The permanence of a loss takes a long time to set in. That’s why we have to have patience with others and with ourselves during the grieving process. Acknowledging the permeance of a loss is a really complex process, and there’s no predictable time frame in which the acceptance of the loss will occur.

Grief fills you with sorrow . . .it won’t kill you . . .but it hurts.

Here’s the thing . . .you’ll get through your grief in the time you need to, but it depends on the situation and the person you lost. Suffering is a universal truth.

When it comes to grieving, the only way out is to navigate your way through, without self-judgement. Instead of looking at grief as a process that comes to some end, it’s worth acknowledging that grief in itself is a life force that’s as important to your existence as all of our other emotions. If you suffer no grief, then you’ve never been attached.

If you’ve never been attached . . .you haven’t been alive.

When grief strikes, allow yourself to experience whatever you need to for as long as you need to. Feel the pain. . .but know you’ll eventually find yourself in less agony . . . and have faith that you’ll one day come to a place where you’ll be better able to tolerate your feelings.

Unfortunately, there’s no compass for grief, so have faith in yourself and your own ability to survive.

When you’re navigating grief, that’s the time to have faith . . . when you need it the most.

I Love You

/ Julie Gentz / Leave a comment

” . . . and now, I’m glad I didn’t know the way it all would end, the way it all would go. Our lives are better left to chance. I could have missed the pain, but I’d have had to miss The Dance.” The Dance by Garth Brooks.

My favorite Valentine didn’t come from a store. It came straight from the heart. When we were dating, I told my late husband that he would never have to worry about disappointing me on Valentine’s Day, because I didn’t want just one day a year to be the day we showed our love for each other, I wanted that to be every day. One Valentine’s Day many years ago, he gave me the best Valentine’s gift I have ever had. He made a card. Every part of it, from the inspiration to the delivery, was filled with love. On the front was a carefully crafted pink heart with small, delicate slits cut into it, through which he had woven an arrow. Inside was this message; “Julie, you are my Fair Lady. Love, Sir Brian.” I have kept it tucked away safely for all these years, in the same box where I saved all of the letters he wrote to me. Finding it now after his death last April, was like having him hand deliver it with a kiss all over again. So, as I spend my first “calendar Valentine’s Day” without him I feel extremely blessed. I know that even though we can no longer physically be together, we had the chance to share “the dance” together every day for 27 wonderful years –not just on Valentine’s Day.

LOVE

Love. Do you feel it?

Sometimes it’s as easy and simple as a hug,

Other times as difficult and complicated as a long good-bye.

More times than not it’s hard to put your finger on —

Elusive, ethereal, unquantifiable, mysterious.

Who do you love?

Your best friend? Your spouse? Your Partner? Yourself?

The unborn baby you have yet to meet?

Perhaps it’s no one. Or maybe it’s everyone.

LOVE can be given and sadly, not returned.

Worse yet, it can be rejected, returned to the sender, damaged and degraded.

If you are lucky enough to find it, hold it close. Nurture it. Bask in it.

Cherish it, for it can be snatched away from you in an instant by Death.

It’s such a small word, yet it carries with it so much power.

LOVE

So all consuming. So divine.

So precious. Such a gift.

LOVE

Julieanne Gentz, Feb. 14 2022

Signs

/ Julie Gentz / 1 Comment

         

“Sign, sign, everywhere a sign. Blockin’ out the scenery, breakin’ my mind.” Five Man Electric Band

I believe in signs. I see them all the time: In clouds in the sky; a cardinal sitting on the power lines outside my house, singing to me; shiny pennies that appear in strange places; and yes, even heart-shaped rubber bands on my bathroom counter. And, while I don’t often dream, or perhaps just don’t remember them, I seem to be more aware of them lately. In fact, recently I awoke in the night and distinctly heard my husband calling my name. . . or at least I dreamed that I did. Another time, just several weeks after he died last April 1st, he visited me in a dream, to “check in on me” he said, because he saw that I was having a particularly difficult time trying to accept the fact that he had, indeed, died. But the most unusual one by far happened one morning when I put my night mouth guard into its cleaning container, filled it with water, and plopped in the fizzy little cleaning tablet. A few seconds later, when I went to shut the cover, I looked down, and there was a smiling face looking up at me. I am not kidding! Two bubbles were in just the right place for eyes, and the thin film that forms on top of the water after the fizzing had stopped had parted just enough, and again, in just the right spot, to make a perfect smile. I had to look twice to really believe what I was seeing. I looked Heavenward, smiled back, and said, “Thank you, Brian! I love you, too.”

Eight years ago my 92 year old father died. For as long as I can remember he had loved vanilla ice cream. So, it was only fitting that at his funeral lunch we serve vanilla ice cream. There were multiple cartons of it, but one of them turned out to hold something more valuable than just Dad’s favorite treat. When we opened the plastic lid and laid it upside down on the table, there it was: A perfect smiley face made from ice cream on the inside of the lid! We rushed that lid into a Ziploc bag and put it in the church freezer. When the lunch was over, my mother took the lid home and gave it a place of honor in her freezer. She told me more than once that when she was feeling low and missing my dad, she would go to the freezer and get out that smiling ice cream lid, and it wasn’t long before she would be feeling better. My mother only lived for two more years after Dad died, and when I cleared out her freezer, the lid was still there, smiling away at me like a long, lost friend. Only, this time, instead of just sending me a message from my dad, seeing it felt like a message from both, saying; “Thanks. We love you, too, Sweetie.”

So, when you find yourself feeling particularly down, and missing your spouse, leave your heart and mind open for the signs they are sending you. They are there. You only have to look . . . and believe.

“Life is short and it’s up to you to make is sweet.”

Sarah Louise Delany