Snow blowing, a most unexpected trigger
Another awesome 8 inches of the white death descended upon us last night. I think I have figured out why when I nearly have the task of removal completed my dear, that I suddenly have that lump in the throat and knife in my heart. No, it's not medically related, I'm still running and lifting regularly. it's the sadness knowing that I can no longer purposely steam up my glasses even more than they already were by blowing on them, leaving a little extra snow on the sleeve of my jacket, and then stumble around the living room, brushing the snow ever closer to you as you quickly turn your chair away to shield yourself, scream, laugh and say "you are soooo weird. I really miss the way you said that. I miss doing and saying things that made you laugh and let you know I loved you all at once. That , is how snow blowing has become yet another dagger to remove. When and where does it end? "You can never break the chain. There is never love without pain" I know, More Rush quotes, but who knows better than Neil Peart, after losing his wife and daughter. Be happy Dear, I'm laser focused on the task. Love you Sweetie!
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Sweet and bittersweet, it\'s such a fine line. John would do most of the the heavy shoveling where the snowblower was useless. But sometimes just to give me a good pile to sculpt. Then we giggled at the cars that slowed to see the creations. I made some pretty awesome stuff, but now the joy of playing like that seems impossible. I miss my playmate in the snow.
I marvel at talented people such as yourself. A pile of snow on the street transformed into art, that brightens the day for all who happen by. It is hard, I\'ve noticed, to enjoy activities that have such powerful emotional connections to our spouses.Though I have little artistic talent, Sharry and I loved to decorate the house(to the extreme) for every holiday and season. She had an eye for finding those treasures that talented people like you, provide.I would take vacation time, we would spend some of our happiest days preparing the house and yard for our next visit with our friends. I did a scaled down version this year,wanting my son to have a sense of continuity and security. As you said, the joy is absent. I hope that joy only lies dormant, especially for you, with so much to offer through your talent. I think perhaps, if we can include them in our thoughts as you create, and I display these treasures, the joy may slowly return. Thanks for sharing that memory of John and yourself.
As I read this, I could see the story play out. Hearing her voice. The giggle. I smiled when I thought of you and her. Hugs to you my friend.
Thank you for sharing a moment in time that even put a big smile on my face. I like the part where she called you weird in a loving way. Those memories we never lose.