Tomorrow is the second wedding anniversary without Hubby, and there is still so much I miss about being married to him. So much.
Author: Marlys Lawry Page 35 of 55
Generally speaking, it’s a good thing we can’t see into the future. But if I were required to know in advance what the wilderness years would hold for Hubby and me—that season of unspeakable loss—then here’s what I’d say to a younger version of myself:
Younger version of us, l to r: Summer, Gary, Marlys, Jeremy
I’m interviewing for a new position as foreman of an Idaho ranch. Driving the all-terrain utility Gator was part of the interview process. Riding the range. This is what I was born to do.
Apparently the ranch foreman position also involves produce. Which means that part of the interviewing process was helping pick plums, marionberries, zucchini, potatoes, tomatoes, green peppers, jalapeños, cucumbers, melons, strawberries, rhubarb, corn.
The second annual Porch Fairy Challenge—Sept 22—is fast approaching. (A Porch Fairy is someone who leaves gifts on front porches so as not to disturb the residents in the house, one of whom might be in a hospital bed in the living room.)
Our Porch Fairy was an overachiever, gifting us with jars of homemade soup, chocolate, pumpkin scones, banana nut bread, mismatched socks, bouquets of flowers, bouquets of colorful fall leaves. And Chai tea. Every morning at 7:30 for several weeks, Chai tea was left on our front porch.
2014 Porch Fairy hit
Hubby made a good choice when he was offered a third chemo. He declined. “The other two didn’t do much good,” he reasoned. That’s when the oncologist asked if we wanted a referral to hospice care.
We were hesitant. Isn’t it too soon for hospice care? I mean, after all, Hubby was planning to walk out of this appointment on his own two feet. No wheelchairs involved. Don’t you call in the hospice troops when your loved one has only a few days left?
Photo credit: Pixabay
Chloe, one of my grand-dogs, is a Brussels Griffon. She doesn’t know what it means to be a fifth wheel because she assumes everyone wants to play with her.
Chloe, on left, teaching her lumbering friend, Noah, how to be a little more playful
I met this amazing young woman, Sarah Thebarge, at a writers’ conference in Portland this past week. Because of Sarah, I’m rewriting my memoir, and grateful for her input.
Photo credit: Unsplash
One of the things cancer did was motivate Hubby and me to establish a standing Friday night date. I’ve blogged about this in the past, and how — pathetically — I’ve maintained date night alone most Fridays since Hubby died.
This week’s date seemed more important to me. Perhaps because I’ve been out of town the last couple of Fridays, and I’m headed out again on Monday for a couple weeks.
Deschutes River trail
And so I laced up my trekking shoes and headed to the Deschutes River trail. I can’t tell you how many times Hubby and I hiked along this river. Close to half a million times. Roughly. Give or take a few.
My Grandpa Mallory was one of eight children who grew up on a dairy farm in Marengo, Wisconsin. I remember my dad’s stories of sneaking away to go skinny dipping in the river as a brief escape from all the work that came with being a boy on that same farm.
The Mallory clan – my grandfather is standing back row, middle
Not too long ago, my brother sent a photo of an out-dated Mallory family reunion flyer. I recognized the name on the flyer – Lee Westlund. Westlunds were first cousins to the Mallorys. And so I did a little online sleuthing and found myself talking with my cousin. A cousin I hadn’t seen since I was in junior high. Pretty incredible thing, right there.
“I’m going to try and attend the family reunion this year,” I told him.
After Hubby was diagnosed with late stage prostate cancer, we recruited a full team to help us face down this disease. Gary was the coach; I signed on as assistant coach.
From their best-selling book on leadership, Extreme Ownership: How U.S. Navy Seals Lead and Win, this from former Seals Jocko Willink and Leif Babin:
Leadership is the most important thing on any battlefield … there are no bad teams, only bad leaders.
