Almost a month into this physical distancing and I crave a hug. Not virtual, not paper, but a real live physical human hug! Being the realist that I am, I suspect I will remain hugless for some time. 

Touch starvation is a real menace, producing anxiety and depression, lowering immune systems, potentially stunting bonding and development in small babies. Just ask any NICU or geriatric nurse. 

When I first entered nursing, I worked the night shift. Often, when a patient struggled with sleep, I offered a back or foot rub. Best medicine ever.

 During post Harvey, hugs were plentiful and life giving. I remember Jerry and William’s the most; they shouted, “It’s going to be alright.” We know that’s simply impossible with this virus, but I think for many of us, that is the missing link.

Recently, I ordered badly needed shower gel online and I discovered I could still request  a retired fragrance I used on my hospice clients. I would carry  individual samples and after seeing how most patients responded to its homey fragrance,  families were delighted to run out to purchase it for their loved ones. I spent hours gently massaging edematous feet and would witness a peace wash over my patients. Many would offer deep conversation, others would weep and the most sick would breathe a little easier.  

My bottles arrived today on my worst day so far. A friend had just shared a beautiful worship song so this touch starved captive of her own home, plopped down on the floor, poured out way too much creamy brown sugar and fig, and massaged her own neglected feet as she listened to a beautiful reminder of a good God. A big ol’ wonderful foot and soul hug.  No, not a 20 second hug like one of my friends always gives me, but a self hug, the best I can do right now. 

I’ve neglected self care; I’m not very good at it. 
(Probably the nurse in me.). But I am realizing how much we all need to carve out some time for “me care” during this upheaval.

The washing of feet is not lost on me today:  Mary pouring out her costly perfume on her Master, Jesus humbly washing his disciples’ weathered feet, His charge to love and serve one another.  One day we’ll open our homes again and do a lot of hugging, I hope. For now, our ways to care for ourselves and each other are a bit subdued, somewhat unorthodox, but that’s okay too. 

It’s a tricky one, this Valentine’s Day. It’s “couples day” and in reality, there’s just as many of us that can’t crawl into that description. 
And for us who grieve, this day can sting...a lot!
But, I don’t avoid this Hallmark day anymore; I’m totally sold on love. 
As I choose joy today, I choose to add love. Of course, they go hand in hand.  I’m putting my heart out there and joining my friend, Alexa, in choosing love that “is both the catalyst and the fruit of all the little choices we make during the day.“
I’ll patch my bruised heart with the sweetest of memories, slip into my big girl shoes and get busy spreading some grace and kindness. It’s a perfect day to sprinkle a landscape that’s been colored lately with just too much hate and anger. Join me? Let’s make it a beautiful day. 

Our old piano bench sits waiting for the Christmas tree to takes its place. It soon will be off to the upholsterer for a new plump cushion in an updated color. 
On this dreary Halloween, though, I linger a while at it, running my hand over the worn spots where we sat for hours. Sometimes, just Rob, practicing Chopin or enjoying contemporary favorites, other times with a child in his lap and another by his side, banging out Beauty and the Beast along with some great impersonations of Gaston!
This morning I had the strangest longing to slip in next to him, shoulder to shoulder, and listen to him play “O (Fly On).”  Rob would have channeled his best Chris Martin and I would have tried to join in harmony. 
Rob did not make it long enough to hear Coldplay’s haunted “Ghost Stories,” but I know he would have immediately sat down to play this song after hearing it for the very first time...by ear, of course...
And I would have fallen in love with him all over again!
Yes, Rob, maybe one day I’ll fly next to you. 

Fly on. 

Sunday night draws to a close. Even though I know I should call it a night, I fight sleep. Waking up means a new week of paperwork, endless calls and more work in a place I don't recognize as home anymore.
Another Sunday night,  finding myself in a battle to see the good in all of this...again, the joy!
I return to the counting of gifts.
I'm profoundly grateful for tenacious love! I'm girded by a small army that doesn't give up on me. They listen once again to my story, my sorting out of this ongoing chaos. They feed me with meal after meal, but even better, with helpings of hope and acceptance of my ever-changing moods. They anticipate my every need. They show up again and again. Tenacious love! They understand that love runs a marathon ; it's no easy sprint. Their talk is gentle, brimming with kindness and they push off my feeble attempts to pay them back; they want nothing from me.  Tenacious,  like our Father's unfailing love.
I'm learning to live open-handed, receiving grace instead of grasping for it. I tend to get grabby when my faith falters. How can I forget His faithfulness so easily, especially with this army of mine?
" Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Do you leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it?  And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home  Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, ' Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.' " Luke 15

Tenacious love...

Credit: Steve Schroeder

      I'm surrounded by growing paper piles this rainy Monday afternoon. New policies need to be compared, supplemental ones considered...my concentration wanes. All I can think about is life before cancer, the sweet, easy time when we compared restaurant options and travel destinations...together! 
I took care of my duties and Rob tackled his. Now that I'm responsible for both, I'm deeply grateful for all that he shouldered, especially the business decisions. Rob was a selfless provider who made life better for his family.  I added to our income, but without Rob we would have starved.  Because he fought the Katy Freeway traffic and accumulated frequent flyer miles most every day of his adult life, I was able to enjoy my children's lives without the added exhaustion of another full-time job. It's only now that I realize the length of his list. It was very long and he completed it without a word of complaint. (I can't say the same for myself.) I'm forever thankful for his devotion to his family's needs. Not one child left college with a debt burden, when the economy declined, he worked wherever there was opportunity, and he made sure we would live comfortably if "in the event."  Rob laid down his life for us.  On this rainy day, I'm reminded that his kind of love is rare; I shall not forget.  
Rob, I'm so proud of you!  I love that you are resting from the hard things of life. Thank you for caring so much about us.

   

Steve's original photo is stunning. My attempt to scan it does not do it justice. Thank you, friend, for this beautiful treasure. 

I have loved you 16644 days!
♥ 45 years 6 months 26 days ♥
Today we would have been married 40 years,
but our love story began 5 1/2 years earlier, sitting side by side
in a pie-shaped room, pounding on old typewriters.

          The most wonderful thing I decided to do was to share my life and heart with you!

We planned a celebration for today. 
Cake (one always needs cake)
family and friends
new vows       

Plans fold
and now faith, hope and love remain. 
The greatest of these are love.

  I listen to Beginnings, our song, with new ears. It was not until today that I realized how very painful it must have been for my husband to write these words.

 to 

Rob Moore to Robin Moore

August 20, 2013 ·

When I'm with you, it doesn't matter where we are, 

or what we're doing

I'm with you, that's all that matters.

Time passes much too quickly when we're together laughing,

I wish I could sing it to you.

It's only the beginning of what I want to feel forever...

Robin--I'm afraid this will have to serve as your card this year. Thank you for 37 lovely years we've had together. I love you always and forever, 

Rob

     

I look up and send love to others...

Always and forever...

"Sounds like you love him very, very much,"

Big Picture Education

Gary writes to a grieving wife six and half years after her husband's death.
Present tense...
Love!
It makes all the difference in the world.
Not loved...
Often older grief experts deem us stuck as we work out our affinity to remain attached to the one who has gone before us. They urge us to push through stages until we finally let go and get on with it. 
Love doesn't work like that. Paul was so right; three things will last forever-faith, hope and love-and the greatest of these is love.
I still love my parents, my in-laws, my Rob. Love remains!
Love allows me to oscillate between memories and new beginnings. Love lets me find my own way forward.. 

All I ever had to do is mention an author or book I was interested in and not long after, it would be sitting at my bedside. And I often would eventually have a collection from that author.  (Tuesdays with Morrie is resting cozy somewhere in this house!)

Sometimes, words just reach out and grab your heart. 

“Lost love is still love. It takes a different form, that's all. You can't see their smile or bring them food or tousle their hair or move them around a dance floor. But when those senses weaken another heightens. Memory. Memory becomes your partner. You nurture it. You hold it. You dance with it." 

Mitch Albom-the five people you meet in heaven

Hearts are hanging everywhere this week. Valentine love is in the air... tender thoughts of my man flood my heart.  My man who knew how to love hard and selflessly, a man starkly different than the men in a provocative "stuffed animal" commercial flooding the airwaves. You know, the one where the men are clearly seeking "something" in return for the enormous pile of fur.  Love does not seek its own interests, the Love Chapter reminds—my man to a tee.

My heart brims with gratitude this February week; I really did receive the deluxe "box of chocolates" the day I met Rob.  Rob treated women in a manner that mirrored Jesus. Never seeking anything for himself, he just regarded every female he encountered with great respect and kindness.  Rob cared deeply about each one of you women and I want you to know it!  I saw his love for you at the rear of a youth classroom and in the church halls where he asked about your week, your job, your family, always with genuine concern.  I saw it at camp when the emotional impact of the week brought you to tears. I saw it in the stories he told about his female co-workers; he held you in high esteem and worried about your families.  I adored seeing it in the way he treated his mother, his sisters, his daughters, his nieces, his granddaughters with sweet compassion and often, a sense of awe; Rob embraced you as his God-given gift and he wanted you to recognize your great worth to him and the world.

Most often I learned to see the way God cherished me through the eyes and actions of my dear Rob, a gift that remains with me as I venture through this new season without him by my side. He cared more that I was confident in God's love for me than his.   Love does not seek its own interests. 
I Corinthians:13 

  

45 years ago this evening, Rob and I had our very first date. After weeks of flirting, breaking into his locker to decorate it with signs and goodies before each basketball game, he finally asked me out.  So what do seventeen year old kids do on their first date when they have no money?  Attend one of their best friend's church basketball games, of course! Not the best way to steal a girl's heart, but I think he had captured mine weeks before as we spent hours together, typing yearbook copy on manual typewriters in a claustrophobic pie-shaped room.  I already knew there was something different about this very intelligent athlete. I wanted to learn more.
For me, the night was perfect.  We spent half-time walking hand in hand around the country school building on a cold Kansas night and barely made it back inside for the final buzzer. Our conversation came easy and I didn't want the night to ever end. 
45 years later, I wish it never had to end. I loved that seventeen year old boy with all my heart.  

I don't recall ever writing a tribute to my mom, just an obituary full of facts and lineage. I deeply regret not thanking her for giving up so much of her life to make mine richer.
My mother was handed a full plate when I was born. A young mom, straddled with an infant born with multiple health issues, she devoted herself to my care. I can still remember waking from numerous surgeries, meeting her watchful gaze, clenching her hand while my surgeon removed hundreds of stitches, and feeling her gentle touch as she soothed my skin, irritated from one body cast after another. My soul still feels her encouraging words, her healing balm, always available after a string of bullying and ridicule. 
Life was hard for both of us, but she was determined to lighten difficult days with her creativity and humor. I learned to extend kindness from this beautiful woman.
Empty nesting brought deep sadness for my mom; she was never the same and neither was our relationship. Distance and difficult circumstances widened the chasm between us. I filled the void with my own nest; she poured herself into her closest grandchild.
Wisdom came too late for me to make anew our relationship. Oh, it wasn't bad, just incomplete.
I long today to hold her in my arms and care for her the same way she did for me.
Wisdom came too late.
I love you, Mom...

They slip in gently and hold my hand, my sisters with their huge hearts and beautiful embraces.  The pew can easily be the loneliest of dwelling places, but these women sense my heartache and faithfully fill the empty spot that once was Rob's. They come from different aisles on different Sundays with  common purpose: to love me through this season. Joyce Landorf Heatherley calls them Balcony People, cheerleaders even in the darkest of times.    I keep coming because they keep coming. 

Weddings... attendance since Rob died has been downright painful! It's not just the beautiful bride and handsome groom pledging their lives to each other that's so difficult, but watching the older couples dotted throughout the congregation.

That was supposed to be us.

But today, I attended a good friend's wedding and loved every minute of it.  I suppose that measures good progress in this grief journey.  Rob mentored this young man and they became good basketball buddies. Sonny has an old soul and Rob, a young one, evening out the age difference and making for a solid friendship.  Jamie, his sweet bride, compliments Sonny perfectly.
  
I think I see a lot of "us" in "them.

As in many ceremonies, 1 Corinthians 13 was read, but today a golden nugget of the Love Chapter touched me in a fresh and healthy way.

The first part of verse 8 in the ESV:

Love never ends.

Even death cannot end love.

I love Rob more today than when I shared life with him.  Love, this transcendent and powerful mystery that knows no time or physical barrier...

This afternoon I sat alone on a row of white wooden chairs feeling very much in love with my Rob and thankful that I get to witness others commit to a path that I already know to be eternal.
And the greatest of these is love...

My Perfect Valentine

I swaddled my heart tight, hoping it would keep from fracturing once again. That penetrable shell melted the moment my daughter placed her new one in my arms. We were meant to love, not hide; weren't we...and love swallowed me with one quick glance.

I happily took the night shift and we kissed away the stark surprises of life outside the womb. We mused about days and dreams to come and I whispered sweet prayers to Heaven for this little miracle.

Little One crept deep, deep into my heart still brimming with grief. 

My Perfect Valentine

I vowed, always a fragile gamble, that I would never again give my heart to another man.  I've failed miserably; there is a new male in my life...all eight pounds of baby boy. I've surrendered to love and tonight I feel the twinges of familiar pain as I long to wrap these empty arms around human flesh once again.

Missing you, little one...sleep tight.

On our anniversary

To have and to hold...until death do us part.  I recited those words, but never in my wildest dreams did I think there would be an end.
I still don't. 
When I promised to cherish, it was for eternity, no matter what the future might unfold.
Thirty-eight years ago today, to be exact...Today, I pause to keep that forever love alive.  I miss you, Rob, beyond measure. You made the journey, even with all of its bumps and bruises, worth living. Oh, how I planned to grow old with you, to walk together through life's autumn and winter, holding your strong hand. 
I hope you who read this will cling a little tighter to your spouse today, pause from the busyness of the day and speak life into your mate, and simply fall head over heels in love once again...while you have the chance, my friends. Celebrate your marriage...TODAY!
My dearest Rob, I remember our amazing love and carry you deep within my heart. Until I slip my hand in yours once again, Love always, Robin.

Oh, they loved dearly, their souls kissed, they kissed with their eyes, they were both but one single kiss!

Heinrich Heine

August of '71, my seventeenth birthday...
Rob showed up in coat and tie, waving two tickets for a Starlight Theatre performance of Cabaret, starring Joel Grey. I don't think either one of us knew what a cabaret was or for that matter, really cared. Romance was in the air and Rob had planned a special celebration.
But that wasn't the only surprise! He reached back in his blue Pontiac Tempest and pulled out a big, brightly wrapped box.

"Go ahead; open it," he urges, quite pleased with his gift. 
As I gently unfold the tissue paper, I can't believe my eyes. This precious seventeen year old boy has bought me a bright orange, ruffled maxi dress to wear on our special date.

Now, how many teenage boys do you know who would do such a thoughtful (and risky) thing?

To this day, I have no idea if he just guessed my size or had some serious help from his sister, but it was a perfect fit and it was beautiful!

I felt so pretty and very loved that sultry summer evening, something very foreign for me. A magical night... We were dipping our toes into adulthood and grabbing on to our "happily ever after." This girl in orange knew she had found someone very special.  

I would receive many more August tickets as the years passed: surprise plane rides and summer concerts, but forty-three years later, I cling on to ruffles and memories of a sweet adolescence. Memories of a darling blonde boy soothe my heart and time stands still, if only for a few moments.

Yes, the orange dress hangs in my closet 43 years later and I can almost wear it!

   

I'm grinning from ear to ear tonight. Maybe that's what they mean by good grief. August anniversaries are tough, so I search for all of the joy I can find. Digging through photos...unearthing beautiful memories that span over four decades...laughing at the plaids, the stripes, the hair!  
Oh, what a love story.
Counting it all joy...

Sometimes the hidden leads to unexpected treasure.  A note to a daughter away at college reveals the true heart of a daddy and causes a wife to fall in love all over again.  Joy words, they are and two women remember and hold on tight.

To My Valentine

My dearest Rob, 
Today my sweet husband, you stand in the presence of LOVE! It must be magnificent to be completely healed, forever at peace in the arms of Jesus. I can't wait to stand beside you and worship the One and Only together.
Valentine's Day without you, another first... I must be honest, it kind of stinks being left behind.  I miss that heart-shaped candy box with the plastic red rose and frilly white lace and I miss that ridiculously expensive Hallmark card signed "Love always, Rob."  But mostly I miss your touch, my head buried in your chest, that beautiful smile of yours.  We made a great pair, didn't we?  You always devoured all of the milk's while I savored the dark's, all the while aware you were leaving the best chocolates for me. But wasn't that just like you? On this day, I celebrate the selfless love you poured over me and our kids throughout your short life, knowing you never gave one thought to your own desires. 

Today I will visit your resting place; I'll lay a single rose and savor a love story beautifully lived. I'll smile from ear to ear as I grasp every one of those February memories and hide them deep within my heart. I'll offer up a quiet prayer for our children and their mates, asking that they be graced with even a portion of the love we shared. 

When I depart, I'll leave behind another piece of me, but in exchange, I'll carry you along in my brimming heart as I explore what lies ahead.
I love you, Rob, always and forever...

From your August 1, 2010 facebook... And I know I'll never lose affection for the people and things that went before. I know I'll often stop and think about them; in my life I loved you more.   Beatles 

Sweetheart Dance 1971

Who are those kids?

forty-three years ago...our first dance

high school sweethearts

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

Still my favorite 

VALENTINE !!!

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥