Righty tighty. Lefty loosey.

More lovely this year than ever. Nature knows.

"Righty tighty. Lefty loosey." 

I'm under the bathroom sink trying to remember how to loosen up the fixture so that I can fix the drain that is backing up. This is the type of something I stopped trying to fix once I married Jim 16 years ago. As a single mom I once tore apart and redid my entire bathroom—from plumbing to painting to new countertops because of a similar problem. Rather inefficient on my end but it was beautiful when done. But Jim was Mr. Fix It: since a child, after his first stage of breaking everything so he could figure out how they worked, Jim delighted in these kinds of problems. Our approaches make sense since he was an engineer and I am an artist.

Now which is left?

"Righty tighty, lefty loosey." That's what Jim taught Tegan and me. Funny thing is that I tend to be dyslexic when it comes to right and left (which he knew and would tease me about). I do have my tricks though such as placing my hands in front of me and seeing which thumb is outstretched to make an L for left or remembering which hand that I write with (my right). My paired confusion is expressed metaphorically in how I'm trying to find my new footing—do I move left or right or straight ahead, backwards or forward or keep circling? Each day has a different approach. I wrote the following last week and posted on Facebook. It expresses my emotional dyslexia well:

Unless one has been down this road, it’s hard to fully comprehend & incomprehensibly even for us who have, it’s even harder. I’m not the person I was nor sadly will ever be again. I’m both harder and softer. I’ve lost the one who defined me. And now for him, I’ll forever be searching. Yet I now know less and more than most. My desired will never be mine yet always will be. I live in a space of thresholds between what was, what is, and eternity. I wish to love and be loved once again yet fear losing in the same breath. Life is amazingly short and as I now count my days, I fervently wish that they count.

Since Jim died I can't even begin to list, nor do I wish to, ALL of the things I've had to repair, hire contractors for, hire lawyers for, or have simply said to myself like Scarlet O'Hara "I'll think about that tomorrow. Tomorrow is another day.". Patience, I have found, is sanity. My current list includes bury the dog fence that I just repaired, sell the leaking hot tub, fix the leaking pond, get help with doors that blow open, ditto the eight windows that are fogged and growing mold, then there's the driveway that is in very sorry shape, flooding foundation, porch still separated from the house, and oh yeah, not to be forgotten mending my broken heart, and acknowledging my inability to cure cancer or raise Jim from the dead.

On the positive side, I have fixed a lot of things, learned a lot in the doing, found new strength in friendships, and most importantly gotten past the all-out-crippling pain of where I was even 4 months ago. Yes, more often than not, when I go to bed at night I still struggle (resulting in uneven bed times and turbulent nights) trying to avoid the reality of the empty space where we once slept intertwined. Tears still come but they are no longer those all out hurricane style breakdowns, they are more akin to much needed, gentle rainfalls. I miss Jim, and like the Alan Arkin character in "The Kominsky Method", I talk to Jim sometimes even angry at him for dying which I know is ridiculous. It's at that point that I acknowledge to him that I know what he wants for me. Jim was explicit: he knew I would grieve but he also encouraged me not to give up on life—instead to embrace life again like we did, to keep my heart open to what my future can hold, to continue to love. So I pick myself up, along with the wrenches, wire cutters, etc. and keep going but now at a slower pace with more thought to my reasons and with gratitude to those who have come to my side even though it's not been pretty.

May 2020. Jim left explicit instructions.

"Righty tighty, lefty loosey." Yes, I'm figuring it out but not alone. Surrounded. 

With Tegan's persuasive proddings, I planted my gardens and they are stunning this year. Plants are coming into their own that have taken years to establish. And as a gardener, once again my focus is turning to tending to friendships with those who've tended to me. I am delighting in these relationships and ever so thankful for all of my "new" friends and my forever friends with whom I'm getting to spend more in-person time with since vaccinated Vermont has begun to open up post Covid. Together with Tegan, Cathy, Lisa, and Julie, we're planning for Jim's Vermont Celebration of Life and bike ride this July. I'm looking forward to spending that day with friends far and wide. I know it will be both joyful and memorable. 

New super powers with a lot of help from friends.

Resulting in contented dogs

Perhaps having had to confront these broken things has given me new super powers? My problem solving skills and those of being a futurist are returning. I've been working with Wendi Stein and Population Media Center on a new launch of BREAKAWAY that is super exciting and holds such promise to changing lives regarding gender-based violence! In the same breath, I'm really happy to be back at Champlain College strategizing with president Dave Finney and I'm especially looking forward to the Trustees approving the 2030 Strategic Plan that I have led this semester along with some other major concepts that we've been working towards. If they are, I can see a clear path to success for the College, its students and all those who work there.  I'm not quite to where I can see my own future yet, I'm going gentle on myself for this, but I've started to think about travel again, about learning new things such as using a real camera with actual choices in lens and riding a paddle board, and who knows maybe even puppies again.

"Righty tighty, lefty loosey." And then like that the plumbing is fixed.