SOMEONE TO SPOIL

The highlight of my day has been my singing lesson.  The young woman I selected as a teacher is absolutely fantastic.  She's patient, encouraging and really knows a lot about singing.  Today we talked about breathing. There will be much incidental learning from these lessons. Breathe correctly, and it has the additional advantage of teaching me to relax.  

Today I also had this insight.  While I've been pondering what to do with myself, I've actually been doing it.  It's not my nature to just sit and do nothing; old as I am, I have to keep on growing. . .and I am.  So it's just singing and golf lessons now, but it's a start.  Today as I was driving to my lesson I felt excited,  and again I could sense Gwen's real presence. . .approvingly, she always was up for the next big adventure.  I also cried some as I remembered the singing at Gwen's funeral, particularly the song The Rose.  And, roses are once again making their presence know after the long, dark, cold winter. . .hmmmm.  Then, I remember, in two days it will be six months since my sweetheart left me.  It's a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, grief is very real.

 I swept the garage floor today, all the accumulated debris from winter is gone.  Gwen hated  dirty floors, she would have been so happy with what I did.  She wasn't there to enjoy it.  I wanted to tell her about my singing lesson.  She's not only being missed, she's also missing so much.  In due time all these things will be straightened out, until then, there's this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. . .

It's two days late, but this is a little poem I wrote about Mother's Day:

SOMEONE TO SPOIL

No one to spoil today,

no card, no cake,

no movie, no special menu,

just another quiet Sunday.

There must be something I can do.

Plant a rosebush next

to the Christmas tree.

Go on a picnic,

get outside, enjoy nature.

Ease the steady pain

celebrate the life

that was so special

to all who knew her.

Spoil her rotten.

John A. Bayerl, May 10, 2011

When I was leaving my singing lesson today over on North Campus, two deer came out of the woods behind the School of Music and gently stared at me.  It's not hummingbirds, but  I recalled how you always were so protective of deer.  It may have been deer, but they were more than that Dear--weren't they?