I live in a county where over four hundred species of birds have been sighted, but except for a few robins, all I see — and hear — are doves. My days are filled with the incessant sound of these creatures calling “What to-do, what to-do.”
I understand this need to know. For so many years after Jeff died, that call was my frequent lament. What do I do with myself? Where do I go when I have no real reason to be anywhere? What do I do?
Not able to answer the big “what to do”s of my life, I concentrated on the small things. Typical of someone grieving the loss of an intrinsic part of their life, I surrendered to busyness. I walked. Took dance classes. Blogged. Took day trips and road trips.
Now that I have found a home and am building my nest, now that I’ve met people and am falling into a routine of sorts, I find it harder to step into unfamiliar territory by myself. It’s easy to go with others — they can help fuel the trip either literally by driving or figuratively by contributing their energy.
But to set out by myself? Even for a small thing? Harder.
The community center here is offering free porcelain painting classes, a six-week commitment, and although I was interested enough to take a photo of the flyer, I just did not feel up to taking that initial step. For a whole day, I wondered what to do.
Well I did it. I went.
The first class was about learning the basics of the art form, but next week, we will get our piece of porcelain (a plate for me) and will start tracing the design. Should be fun!
Odd how paint seems to figure so much into my life at the moment. I finished caulking the windows and painting the trim, finished painting the four doors on my enclosed porch (one goes outside, one to the basement, one to the kitchen, and one to the back bedroom) and now I’m working on priming the garage. The new foundation still isn’t poured, but we’d powerwashed the outside walls six weeks ago, and I worried that the weather — alternating rain and high heat — would rot the siding.
This has been another example of stepping into unfamiliar territory — I’d never owned a house before, so previously, all such work had been done by the landlord. I never even knew I could do this sort of house work, especially work that needs to be done on a ladder.
But I am careful. I use a step ladder rather than a leaning ladder. I don’t go up more than three steps, and most importantly, I make sure the ladder is solidly on the ground before I take the first step. I so do not need to be falling off ladders!
I can’t say these projects have been fun — it’s too hot and they are way too much work — but it certainly does give me a sense of accomplishment.
Speaking of unfamiliar territory — when I was back behind the garage, I discovered some hideous bug carcasses that made me extremely nervous. It turns out they are cicada exoskeletons. Never in all my life have I seen or heard a cicada. I didn’t even know they lived in Colorado.
I will refrain from posting a photo of the cicada shell. If you know what it is, you don’t need to see it. If you don’t know what it is, you definitely don’t need to see it.
There is, of course, no photo of the porcelain plate since I have yet to work on it.
So here’s a photo of the garage I am working on. The lower right hand side of the photo shows what a mess the building was in until I started painting. Already the primer makes it look better. (Eventually, it will match the house.)
As for the poor blind window — I’m thinking of painting it gray to look more like a window, but I’m not sure.
Oh, what to do. What to do.
Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.