Getting Use to the New Normal
The first year my husband died, I spent a lot of time thinking about the new normal and what it meant to me. For nearly two decades, my life had an expectancy about it. I knew I would see or talk to my husband each day. I knew that we would go out a oouple of times a week. I knew we would, love, argue, and spend our lives together in some way.
Ours was an interesting story. We officially met in March of 1980, when I started working my first "real" job. It was a wonderful time in my life. I'd recently graduated and this job marked the beginning of what I thought would be a promising career. My future husband worked in the same department, but for a different manager. He had slightlly different responsibilities than me and at six years older, he had a better job.
Strange thing about the place we worked for. Thirty people sat in one large room. It was the days before cubicles, so the room was free of dividers. Everyone could see each other, but if you didn't work for the same manager, you didn't speak to each other. My future husband and I sat right next to each other, but never in the five years we worked together did we speak. I used to comment on this lack of communications between workers, and everyone said it's just the way it is. I used to laugh when I would see people from different groups nearly walk into each other and never say a word. So, was the first five years of our lives together. And then both of us quit and moved on. I never knew he played guitar, never knew he wanted to start his own business, never knew he'd been married, never knew he had the future second love of my life living in his home--his beautiful baby girl. All that I would discover later.
And later came eleven years in the future. It was July and I was a slightly older woman, now divorced from my first husband. I was also a woman with a fear of flying, so when my boss asked me to take a computer software class, I'd balked at flying anywhere. I'd turned down Florida, California, Texas by the time this class became available in my hometown, Chicago. I'd also turned down at least 15 classes in the Chicagoland area. That I would pick this one, on this day--a day that would change the course of my life--was astronamical. Add in the fact that my boss decided to go with me and the plot thickens.
So, here it is, a sunny day and I walk into the classroom and see a man walking ahead of me. And for some reason, I knew who it was. That's right, I a woman who didn't recognize my fellow school mates a few months after we graduated, recognized this man walking ahead of me. And I was right. He turned around and it was my old co-worker. So I spoke to him, really for the first time. Surprise of all, he had no idea who I was.
Anyhow, cutting to the chase, my boss arrived later, the class started, and we took our seats. Later, I would, of course, have lunch with my boss. But it was not to be. A problem at work drew my boss back to our homebase and I found myself among 25 people I didn't know and one person who didn't remember me. Then he came up to me and said, I see your boss had to leave. Let's have lunch and talk over old times. And I said yes, wondering what old times we could talk over since he obviously didn't remember me and we'd never really had any interactions at work.
But talk we did. We sat in this greasy-spoon restaurant and talked about our greatest passion--Star Trek. And we discovered something else: We both hated going to conventions and movies with non-trekkies. Maybe we could go to a convention or movie together, he said. And so began one of the best friendships of my life. Pretty soon we were going to movies, plays, musems, all as friends. There was no romance, no talk of romance. We we went out, I didn't even bother to wear makeup. We were both happy with the way things were. That all changed the night we went to a nightclub and he showed me pictures of his daughter. Blond and blue eyed, with a tiny mouth and a smile that would light Chicago, he beamed when he showed me her picture. He was divorced, but had retained custody. He was her mother and father. And I thought, any man who loved his daughter so much was a special man. That's the day it all changed. We sat in that club, talking about his daughter, the band playing, people talking, yet we felt like we were the only two people in the room. I call it the day I looked into his eyes and saw into his soul.
Two weeks later he admitted he had feelings for me. And less than a year later, we were married.
And so began my life with the most wonderful man in the world. It was a fairy tale, but it didn't end happily ever after. Four years later we were divorced and I found myself back at home with my parents. Still, a remarkable thing happened. I was no longer his wife, he no longer my husband, but we were still best friends. and so the next saga of our lives began. We phoned each other daily, talked about our lives. I started dating a wonderful man. And then my mother got sick and my best-friend, my ex-husband, was there to help me, picking my mother up from the hospital, coming by our house regularly, listening to me cry. And we he got sick, I was there for him, taking his daughter home while he was in hospital, visiting him regularly. I was the one given his power of attorney for medical eventualities. His surgery was serious, life threatening and life altering. He did not want to continue if he wasn't whole. I was the one he trusted to make the ultimate decision should he not come back the way he wanted to be. It went without saying that his daughter would stay with me if he didn't wake up. At 18 she was an adult, but not ready to go out on her own. Her mother was not an option.
But my best-friend did wake up and he did recover, and two years later, one year after my mother passed, we became husband and wife. And so the best part of my life started anew. Everyday our love grew stronger.
The years have passed. An anuerysm took him home to be with God. Now I face a new normal, one that I don't want, but I'm getting by. I'm doing fine, taking each day as it comes. I know our lives have not ended. We will meet again. I know this because God is the Great Director. He has directed our paths in ways that are astounding.
Back to the beginning: So, when did I meet my husband? Earlier I said we met in 1980 on my first job, but one day my husband and I were sitting around the fireplace talking and he said he remembered going to a computer center back in 1975. There he saw this young girl with two other students in the computer room. Back then only 5 or 6 people would be there to test their programs(forgot to say that we were both in IT). He described the way I looked back then, then I stared in amazement. It was me. No doubt about it.
So, how many times did we meet? How many times can two people, in the large state of Illinois meet? Here are the years: 1975, 1980, 1991, and did I tell you we used to love going to the same amusement park back in the 1960s? And that we always went on the weekends? 1965, 1966, 1967, 1975, 1980, 1991--The Future.
Thank you Jesus.
Ours was an interesting story. We officially met in March of 1980, when I started working my first "real" job. It was a wonderful time in my life. I'd recently graduated and this job marked the beginning of what I thought would be a promising career. My future husband worked in the same department, but for a different manager. He had slightlly different responsibilities than me and at six years older, he had a better job.
Strange thing about the place we worked for. Thirty people sat in one large room. It was the days before cubicles, so the room was free of dividers. Everyone could see each other, but if you didn't work for the same manager, you didn't speak to each other. My future husband and I sat right next to each other, but never in the five years we worked together did we speak. I used to comment on this lack of communications between workers, and everyone said it's just the way it is. I used to laugh when I would see people from different groups nearly walk into each other and never say a word. So, was the first five years of our lives together. And then both of us quit and moved on. I never knew he played guitar, never knew he wanted to start his own business, never knew he'd been married, never knew he had the future second love of my life living in his home--his beautiful baby girl. All that I would discover later.
And later came eleven years in the future. It was July and I was a slightly older woman, now divorced from my first husband. I was also a woman with a fear of flying, so when my boss asked me to take a computer software class, I'd balked at flying anywhere. I'd turned down Florida, California, Texas by the time this class became available in my hometown, Chicago. I'd also turned down at least 15 classes in the Chicagoland area. That I would pick this one, on this day--a day that would change the course of my life--was astronamical. Add in the fact that my boss decided to go with me and the plot thickens.
So, here it is, a sunny day and I walk into the classroom and see a man walking ahead of me. And for some reason, I knew who it was. That's right, I a woman who didn't recognize my fellow school mates a few months after we graduated, recognized this man walking ahead of me. And I was right. He turned around and it was my old co-worker. So I spoke to him, really for the first time. Surprise of all, he had no idea who I was.
Anyhow, cutting to the chase, my boss arrived later, the class started, and we took our seats. Later, I would, of course, have lunch with my boss. But it was not to be. A problem at work drew my boss back to our homebase and I found myself among 25 people I didn't know and one person who didn't remember me. Then he came up to me and said, I see your boss had to leave. Let's have lunch and talk over old times. And I said yes, wondering what old times we could talk over since he obviously didn't remember me and we'd never really had any interactions at work.
But talk we did. We sat in this greasy-spoon restaurant and talked about our greatest passion--Star Trek. And we discovered something else: We both hated going to conventions and movies with non-trekkies. Maybe we could go to a convention or movie together, he said. And so began one of the best friendships of my life. Pretty soon we were going to movies, plays, musems, all as friends. There was no romance, no talk of romance. We we went out, I didn't even bother to wear makeup. We were both happy with the way things were. That all changed the night we went to a nightclub and he showed me pictures of his daughter. Blond and blue eyed, with a tiny mouth and a smile that would light Chicago, he beamed when he showed me her picture. He was divorced, but had retained custody. He was her mother and father. And I thought, any man who loved his daughter so much was a special man. That's the day it all changed. We sat in that club, talking about his daughter, the band playing, people talking, yet we felt like we were the only two people in the room. I call it the day I looked into his eyes and saw into his soul.
Two weeks later he admitted he had feelings for me. And less than a year later, we were married.
And so began my life with the most wonderful man in the world. It was a fairy tale, but it didn't end happily ever after. Four years later we were divorced and I found myself back at home with my parents. Still, a remarkable thing happened. I was no longer his wife, he no longer my husband, but we were still best friends. and so the next saga of our lives began. We phoned each other daily, talked about our lives. I started dating a wonderful man. And then my mother got sick and my best-friend, my ex-husband, was there to help me, picking my mother up from the hospital, coming by our house regularly, listening to me cry. And we he got sick, I was there for him, taking his daughter home while he was in hospital, visiting him regularly. I was the one given his power of attorney for medical eventualities. His surgery was serious, life threatening and life altering. He did not want to continue if he wasn't whole. I was the one he trusted to make the ultimate decision should he not come back the way he wanted to be. It went without saying that his daughter would stay with me if he didn't wake up. At 18 she was an adult, but not ready to go out on her own. Her mother was not an option.
But my best-friend did wake up and he did recover, and two years later, one year after my mother passed, we became husband and wife. And so the best part of my life started anew. Everyday our love grew stronger.
The years have passed. An anuerysm took him home to be with God. Now I face a new normal, one that I don't want, but I'm getting by. I'm doing fine, taking each day as it comes. I know our lives have not ended. We will meet again. I know this because God is the Great Director. He has directed our paths in ways that are astounding.
Back to the beginning: So, when did I meet my husband? Earlier I said we met in 1980 on my first job, but one day my husband and I were sitting around the fireplace talking and he said he remembered going to a computer center back in 1975. There he saw this young girl with two other students in the computer room. Back then only 5 or 6 people would be there to test their programs(forgot to say that we were both in IT). He described the way I looked back then, then I stared in amazement. It was me. No doubt about it.
So, how many times did we meet? How many times can two people, in the large state of Illinois meet? Here are the years: 1975, 1980, 1991, and did I tell you we used to love going to the same amusement park back in the 1960s? And that we always went on the weekends? 1965, 1966, 1967, 1975, 1980, 1991--The Future.
Thank you Jesus.
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