Interesting, even though I am making a special attempt to document 'my September' I see I missed the bulk of 9-11. I remember thinking about writing a blog that day but there were no words and yet millions of words and they never came together.
     Today is another anniversary date. Today is the 43rd anniversary of the day I received the 'regret to inform you' speech.
     Yesterday I met with some of the GSW for our monthly luncheon in Boise. It is always a pleasure to see them but I didn't bring up my anniversary dates. My fortune cookie said something about 'tell your friends how you are feeling..."
     Today I am trying to think of ways to describe what I am feeling but having a hard time of it. There has been a lot of time between then and now and of course the feelings are changed. I know what I am not feeling at the present moment. I'm not feeling rage, anger or the twisting dagger in my heart. I feel quiet, simply just quiet, sort of flat lined in the emotional department. I've kept busy with taking care of the animals and some house chores for most of the day.
     I notice I lose track of time very easily during this time of year.  I still feel a little of that 'the world is standing still' effect. I feel things in their extreme as the there are no words yet there are millions that want to express themselves. These types of anniversary dates are difficult for the obvious reason but there is also the how do we acknowledge them question. They are a part of us, they are those days that have affected our lives so severely we never forget but there are just some that 'celebrating' just does not cover. How we acknowledge such times is up to each person. Spose I am acknowledging this date not to just myself but to the world by writing this blog. I wish I would have kept that fortune from the fortune cookie. I think now it made perfect sense even though at the time I thought it peculiar.
     The world stands still and the things we busy ourselves with in our normal everyday life has changed and even the interpretation of what is important in our lives has changed. Even after writing this out, I have no words to really tell you how it really feels. Even if I were to try and write it out in hundreds of words and phrases I would come up short. Maybe it is different for each of us but I know those of you whose world has stood still recognize what I am not saying.
     So, I guess now, I walk on...like the past 43 years. Learning as I go, taking each day, one step at a time. I love what one of my Boise GSW sisters said once, "You know, you just can't keep a good girl down." I saw her face sadden just yesterday when someone mentioned 1954. She caught my eye and she mouthed across the table, "That was the year I lost my husband."
     So what do I feel?

     September 10 began early with mixed thoughts and emotion. Twelve hours later I'm experiencing clarity of mind to something other than the physical world. It is my desire, this September, to stay awake, alert, and in the present moment to purposely experience this journey.
     I've asked myself pertinent questions about the feelings that come each September. What benefit can possible come from having to re-feel traumatic moments that drastically change the course of life.
     My pilgrimage is different this year. The pathway to my inner sanctuary has been made passable by prior attempts that required me to often crawl on my hands and knees because I could not see. Often I would grow weary and return to higher ground until the next time. But the call continues to beacon me.
     The automatic dread of the season rears it's ugly head. Yet, this year, by staying awake I put that dragon in it's place and I am seeing how much progress I've made. My pathway is more recognizable and the trail more passable; I am walking forward and I see more clearly the gems ready to harvest.
     We  travel part of our journey with others and it is important to do so. But each of us, at some point, will feel the call to go to the personal sanctuary of our being. Each of us must travel a part of this life journey, alone. We are fortunate because as we explore our personal mountains and caves we can join others who are exploring their own, and around a common campfire, share experiences and lessons.
     The traumatic loss of Bruce was my introduction to my inner sanctuary where thoughts begin, words are created and love lives. But I entered wounded, confused, to an unfamiliar place where I did not speak the language and there was no one to interpret it's meaning or teach me it's ways. I was lost and afraid.
     Each September I have made the pilgrimage back, not always understanding where I was going or why I had to return. Sadness was the guide that could take me there until I learned to purposely find my way to the core that is my beginning and end.
     It is where the gems of life are stored and the door to eternity stands. I was not dropped to the gutter, I was taken to my sanctuary. Through such a dramatic change of the direction of my life, loss of identity, lack of understanding and fear of the unknown, I struggled out from unfamiliar territory.
     It has taken a long while to find my way back to the trail-head and a lot of hard work to clear the overgrowth from the pathway.
     September? September is merely the trail-head marker Bruce put up so that I could always find my way to my inner sanctuary; to the doorway that leads to eternity...where he will be waiting.
    

      9-9-11- On days like today I would rather sleep through it. In fact, earlier I contemplated sleeping for the next 3 days. But, here I am...awake. Being aware of my thoughts and moods as they swing back and forth and hit their head against the wall and fight off toxic waste at the river bank is part of the problem.
     One second I'm on the verge of happiness the next resisting the knocks at my door from traveling life suckers of anger, sadness, resentment. Though I may be a little tired and irritated from having to answer the door to those thoughts that would like to take up residence in my being, I am able to confidently say, "No thank you, I don't need you."
     I know this is not just about the first knock on the door when I was told Bruce had been killed. This is about all the years after; part of the result of wounded thinking that took up residence, that paved roads to destruction in my brain paths. This is about restructuring over 3 decades of the loss of self and the thoughts that serve to create health, love and prosperity.
    There are times I may be battle weary from skirmishes on the inside-- but I know who will win.
    Here's the deal; the bottom line. On September 11, Bruce and Glenda died. There is nothing I can do to bring Bruce back to this earth or change the years I lived among the walking dead. However, today is all there is. Today I see his accepting smile in my hearts eye and I know Glenda has the courage to walk on one step, one day at a time.

       For the first 7 days of September I've managed to have a very good outlook on life, stay busy and not fall into any traps of sadness.
This morning I gave a lot of thought to why anniversary dates keep stirring things up.
     We are taught to celebrate birthdays and wedding anniversaries because they mark a significant time in our lives that we start down a new road on our journey of life. But, today I asked myself, "how do we remember death-day?"
     Bruce's death changed my life...forever. Society, do you really expect me not to mention it again?
      As I allowed myself to revisit the feelings; the same one's I felt 43 years ago I realized something I've probably known all along. There are no hundred dollar words or famous quotes that express those feelings. They just are and the only way you will know them is if you have had a similar loss. We may try to describe but the description comes up short every time. That is because there are no words in the first place that can give an accurate account.
     When we are the very young who experience loss, we have our own set of circumstances to be dealt with. In my day and still much too often, some older people say things like, "you're young, you'll move on". To that I say poppycock. Our loss abruptly changes the direction of our life...forever. It is as real, devastating, as any other, yet not more than. We each own our loss and should be allowed to grieve it out until our heart can come home. Every time we compare we minimize the experience of someone, either ourselves or the other person. I used to minimize my own loss before I learned that I OWN IT, it is as real and devastating as any other. I don't have to minimize myself to recognize your loss and pain.
     I continue to remind people, there is no comparison in loss. There is no easier or harder way of losing the person that is so much a part of ourselves.
     Just as you may never know what it would be like to lose your love in war when you were 19, I will never know what it is like to have lived with my husband for 20 years with day to day interaction. 

     Each day in September brings it's own remembered experiences. September is my bitter/sweet month. Forty-three years ago, 1968, Bruce was killed on September 11. But on September 1, 1968, I still had the love, hopes and dreams of a young girl building my life with Bruce. He was 18, I was 19, we were in that stage of romantic love that people often wonder and ask me about.
     Our subconscious remembers even when we are not consciously thinking about an event. Today, it kinda took me by surprise when I realized that I was feeling full of hope, love and enthusiastic about life itself. Surprised because my conscious thinking usually brings up the fact that this is the month Bruce died. Today, it is still the anniversary month of his death, but on this date, forty-three years ago Bruce was in Vietnam... alive. We had our whole lives to look forward to...together. As my thoughts unfolded I realized this must be one of those sweet parts of bitter/sweet. For so many years, I dreaded the anniversary date of Bruce's death because it brings up the horrible feelings all over again and they are compiled every year after until I find a way to make peace within myself.
     It has been my experience that Anniversary dates seem to have a mind of their own. There have been times in the past I'd be living along and all of a sudden I felt life fall out from under me. I learned to ask myself, "What day is this?" Most always it was a significant anniversary date of some event of my life. So I pay attention to those dates now. Not so much with expectations of how it will or should be or how well I'll handle it but just an awareness that anything goes and I will handle what comes knowing I'll live through it. I'm even learning to acknowledge dates as having been an important part of my being. Acknowledgment goes a long way. It is much different than having had over three decades of avoidance and all the damage that did to my sanity.
    Today, I was pleasantly surprised by this anniversary date because I can still feel what it felt like, before he died. I can celebrate this anniversary too, when forty-three years ago Bruce and I were young, alive, loving each other and the hopes and dreams of our future together.
     September 1: I celebrate the anniversary of the life of Bruce and Glenda, love, hope and future. Today, I celebrate the who I am now part which includes those memories and feelings of love and hope. The forever romantic idealized period Bruce contributed to my life, of being young and in love, I cherish.
      Eternal love surpasses my humble understanding.