The Wisteria

May 12th, 2011

The wisteria branches in the garden speak to me as I walk by, providing a daily image of our relationship.  The SC and Nelson were lovingly entwined and remain so as the days float by, even though his physical presence no longer exists in my current life of confusion.  I don’t have the rhythm of this new life, but perhaps it’s improvisation.  I have been planning the memorial service and the celebration of Nelson’s life down to the minute detail and taking death certificates around the city, following the structured worksheet provided by Natural Transitions.  (Now that is NOT a rose delivery, but it does involve outfits). Co-beneficiary is a new frequently used term, with many tasks lining up for attention, calling for left brain action.  All of this robot like activity takes huge amounts of energy and by the time I am able to sit down and think I feel overwhelming sadness.  And I need to get a tripod so that I can take my own photos.  New learning is on the horizon in many different areas.  So I have been alternating between hyperactivity and immobilization.  However, if Nelson could climb on the rowing machine after chemo, I can blog today.

18 Responses to “The Wisteria”

  1. Mary

    I was really happy to see you blogging again today. It was brave of Nelson to climb on the rowing machine after chemo and it is brave of you to write a blog entry. It can be so hard to face all the bureaucratic stuff that seems to need to be done after a death – and it requires huge energy. Congratulations for the blog entry in the face of everything! Kia kaha. Mary

  2. Jean

    I have been enjoying the fragrance of jasmine growing in unexpected places, and like wisteria, it’s extremely tenacious as it wraps itself around whatever nature provides. So in that way the wisteria also makes me think of the extraordinary courage and tenacity that you and Nelson have shown as a part of who you are. As he inspires you, so you then inspire us.

    I know the service will be extraordinary. Hope you can rest when you need it.

    Much love, J.

  3. SizzleandZoom

    I was so glad and relieved to see you blogging even amidst sadness. As hard as it is for you, we love you here in blogland and have missed you. You are an inspiration to us, especially to me. I wish for you strength and courage as you move forward in your changing world. Love to you.

  4. puncturedbicycle

    All best wishes for finding peace in this new role. I think of you often.

  5. Tiffany

    Your strength and bravery is inspirational.

  6. WendyB

    So glad that you’ve stopped by here. Nelson certainly is an inspiration.

  7. Margaret

    So glad to see the blog today. Like all things in your strange new world, it will come in fits and starts, and will take enormous amounts of energy.
    It is truly, utterly exhausting to be sad. Give it time. Take each day as it comes. Remember the yoga mantra I live by: “However well you do it, that is your best pose for today,” and go on.
    Much love. Think of you each day.

  8. Judi

    I love your last comment. I’m going through some challenges now as well and you have reminded me that others have had worse and managed to keep going. Thank you, Nelson.


    Nelson would be very proud of you to continue living, even if it is painful without him.. .He helped you with your blogging, so it is a step foward that he would have loved you to do.
    Iam sure Nelso wont be very far from you giving you a hand while you take your own pics.
    Besos from Berlin.

  10. Rose

    Powerful image, and exactly right for the way you and Nelson were together. I’m sure your daily life has an “other worldliness” to it at the moment, nothing seems real, right, in place and you are running an endless marathon of tasks. Take each day as it comes, and just “be” however that is for you. We are all happy to see you back blogging, but we also know what effort everything takes.

    Much love to you from England.

  11. Debbi

    I have been thinking of you every day and wondering how you are doing. I am sure that every day is a challenge for you and Camille. I wish the very best for you both.

  12. carolyn

    I have a tripod for you. Come pick it up and take the two block walk Dr. Camille has prescribed for me. This is the “between time.” Just take it. Love, C

  13. Willa

    I too have suffered through the bureaucratic work of distributing death certificates and completing form after form after form. It is draining, stealing effort and time, but it also served as a distraction from overwhelming sadness and kept me moving through life when I had very little direction of my own. I suppose this left brain activity provides some balance that is hard to appreciate. — Like so many others, I miss seeing you and reading your thoughtful posts. Take care of yourself, and provide a blog entry now and then as your spirit allows. Many regards…

  14. Linda

    Judith, I am so moved and thankful that you have posted again. In this deep and quiet, confusing time, know we are all still “with” you as much as we can be. I think of you every day, throughout the day. May all of our hearts cradle yours. With love, Linda in Chicago.

  15. Judith Boyd


  16. janine

    Dear Judith – It seemed odd, but I wanted to share this. I have read so much of your blog and viewed your lovely photos and was so moved by the courage and joyous embrace of love & life you and Nelson shared. You were both, strangely (or maybe not), in my dreams last night!

    You and Nelson were in a little canoe and you were rowing, gently, with one arm, while the other was around him. He was weak in the dream so you were doing the work, albeit very easily, but he also looked as calm and radiant as he did in the lovely photo of him you posted in “Dropping the Robe.” I was there watching, and it was like we 3 were conversing easily during this. He was wearing a cap like that in the dream, then a turban, while your head was uncovered. He looked both childlike & sweet AND regal at the same time. Tall glasses of iced coffee, for no logical reason, were at the side of this pool of water, to be sipped by you 2 later.

    Then we lifted Nelson out of the boat – easily, like he was weightless, but not from weakness, it was like his spirit – and we were all standing at the water’s edge, dripping wet but unconcerned. You both looked radiant. He started singing that old hymn: “Amen, amen…Amen, amen, amen,” encouraging you & me and everyone around us (by then there were other people there, not a lot, but they joined in.

    The whole sense of it was one of ease, of peace, of love & connection, no effort whatsoever in what was taking place. And joy, that quiet kind.

    It was just really vivid. I don’t know why my mind did this, but I know dreams can sometimes be a comfort when you grapple with great grief. I just wanted to share it. I’m no one special – it’s not about that. I think, though, that you and Nelson had an extraordinary life and connection and that is so precious — and it is so lovely of you to have shared so much of it with us. I wish you much courage and peace in this transition. Be comforted by all who care for you. XOXO & Namaste –

  17. Vix

    I wish I could offer you some words of wisdom. I think you are tremendously brave and I’m sure Nelson would love that you are continuing with your blog as he was such a major factor in it. Much love to you, my friend. xxx

  18. linda linda linda

    my dear beautiful friend, welcome home. All of us carry a thread to mend your heart.

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