I have some of the nicest readers in J-Land. They read my last entry and left me messages of condolence and sympathy. They misunderstood my intention. They thought that I was speaking of my loneliness. That is totally my fault. I expressed my feelings in a convoluted manner.
The loneliness I was speaking about was the temporary loneliness of rejection. It was just a little moment in my life that left an empty feeling. It is so easy to misunderstand the words. I’ve done it several times myself. Please accept my apology.
Let me tell you why I am not lonely and WHY I SOMETIMES WISH I WERE!
I was living all alone in a large house. Life was wonderful. I had my sewing, my crafts, my books, my dog, my cat, and my life all spread out all over the house. My grandchildren often spent a day or two with me. That was wonderful too. They went home at the end of a nice stay. I had several men friends. That was wonderful too. They went home after a date. I had a nice spattering of friends who also went to their own homes after a visit. Life was nice.
My man friend lost his eyesight. I had him move in with me for a spell. I have told you that story.
My son and his wife separated. There was a large living space upstairs and my son asked if he could move in there for a bit until the business with his wife was settled. My grandchildren wanted to come with him. His wife was more then happy to let them.
My brother wanted to move to the beach area. He asked if he could stay with me while he looked for a job.
My nice quiet life was becoming more and more filled with noise. I love all of them. They needed help and love and I volunteered to be the one that was there to give it to them. That is what love is about. They would have done the same for me.
My friend eventually recovered his eyesight and moved back to his own place. My brother eventually found a job, an apartment, and a new wife. My son tried to find a place for him and the kids, BUT ...................... the kids wouldn’t move!
So my son, my two grandchildren and I settled into an old fashioned kind of living arrangement. Three generations living in one house. Everyone was happy. My son started dating. The kids started school. I started getting some of my quiet back.
My sweet mother died.
My father had the start of dementia. He never really understood that his wife, our mother had died. He thought she had gone to visit friends and was late getting back. He could not live alone. It was decided that he should live with me.
Now there were four generations living in one house. Life wasn?t very quiet. My father?s dementia often caused some very serious hurt feelings. He was terrified of young boys. He had been car jacked by a group of teenage boys and he often thought my grandson, his great grandson, was one of those boys. Confusion and tears became part of our mixed household. Not to say that there weren?t funny times.
Like the time my father asked me to let him help me in the kitchen. I thought that feeding the dog was an easy task so I handed him the dog?s bowl. About 30 minutes later my granddaughter came into the kitchen and started gagging. I groaned, she is the one that always brings the latest illness into the house. But it wasn?t the flu that was making her gag. It was watching my father with the dog?s dish and a spoon. He was eating the dog food. When I took the bowl away and explained that the food was for the dog he smiled and said, ?Well, the dog should enjoy it. That is a good stew.?
There is John, Bosoxblue
I had been writing to an AOL pen pal for a year. The man could write! We had great fun sharing our lives. He knew all about my four generation house. He was a widower and he was lonely. When I went through a breast cancer scare he was a beacon of hope. It was decided that he would come for a visit. It was scary as hell waiting for him to get off the plane. I had never done anything like that before. Before we left the airport I suggested that we sit for a bit and chat. As he went to sit down he dropped his hat. Because I was closer to the floor then he was I bent over and picked it up for him. ?You have great cleavage,? was the thank you that I received. From that moment all we did is laugh, talk, and laugh some more. The man has a great sense of humor and he is also very brave. A year later he joined our four generation household.
When my father died I nearly fell apart. He had become very child like but I was still his little blond girl that needed to be taken care of. He died thinking that I was a patient in the hospital with him.
We were a three generation house again. The quiet almost appeared again.
The grandchildren turned into teenagers. Do you have teenagers in the family? The quiet in this house has once again disappeared. My grandchildren are very popular kids. This house is always full to the brim with giggling girls, young men testing the waters of approaching manhood, drama, tears, joy, excitement, homework, and music that I don?t always understand.
I know that you can be lonely in a room full of people. I experienced that when I first became divorced. But that?s not the case in this life that I live. From somewhere among the group of teens that hang around it was decided that I was wise, or maybe just old! They have started calling me the YODA. I take it as a compliment.
One night last week John and I were all alone in the house. Not another human was seen, heard from, or in need of the Yoda. It was a feeling so rare, and so unique that the two of us just sat there and relished the quiet. I love my life. Life has been very good to me. Lonely, I?m not. I would like to try it for a day or two though.
Thank you all you sweet people that showed your caring. I have the nicest readers in Journal Land.