Turning Point

A "common wisdom" amongst widows is that it generally takes about two years to adjust to one's new life and circumstances and also to clear up the residual business of the departed. With me it is taking a bit longer because I have had to mainly concentrate on raising my sons (neither of whom is low maintenance!) while working full time.

However, I seem to have reached a bit of a turning point now. Oh sure - there is still stuff to do. I have barely scratched the surface on finishing with the clean up of Hubby's garage and barn (all his car stuff including items which as I stumble upon them I ship to a museum in California) and I seem to still be opening drawers that are full of surprises to clear out. At least the alcohol stashes have all been found near as I can tell! But estate things are finished, the house and yard have been repaired and restored post-alcoholic-neglect and destruction and I have redone my will and all that kind of stuff.

Symbolic of the end of the beginning as it were was a trip that I took with my sons this summer to London and Paris. I have been to London and England fairly often in connection with my music and research but I had not been to Paris in almost 25 years. I went when I was a young composer with a residency at the studios of West German Radio in Cologne, Germany. From Cologne you could take an overnight train to Paris and I did so almost every weekend of the three months I lived there. I really loved Paris and got to know it well. I also remember telling myself that if I ever had children that I would bring them to Paris to show them the magic of the city because it just seemed like something children should experience. This has always been a bit of an obsession with me - when both of my boys were babies I would hold them close and tell them all about our trip to Paris. And my oldest son was always asking me when we were going to go to Paris.

Like the picture in my earlier post, I held on to that dream during the really awful times. During those times, a trip to Paris seemed near impossible to even think about. However, I DID think of it as being a great vacation escape from "Drunk Daddy" and began planning as such. Then Hubby died and everything was on hold again.

In mid-June (before the heat wave there, thank goodness! It was a balmy 80 degrees the whole time we were there) my sons and I stepped into the Tuileries on our first early evening in the city. And I just lost it. Broke down and cried and cried and hugged my boys. Telling them about how finally my dream had come true. Needless to say - we had a wonderful, magical time.

Since then I have really felt at peace. Now I think I am truly moving on. Even meeting with a broker to plan my savings for my retirement. Wow!

And on July 4th, my brother-in-law came in from my garage fridge with a beer; one of the few I had saved from Hubby's stash because it was expensive British beer and is great for flavoring chili (I still have about 10 bottles in the fridge) and he said, "I found this awesome beer! May I have one?!" and I, of course, said "Sure!" and chuckled to myself.

I hope for peace of mind and heart for you all as well.

"We'll always have Paris...." -- Rick Blaine (Humphrey Bogart) Casablanca