Episode Eight: TO LOVE AGAIN

[Intro music Auld Lang Syne]

Carolynn: I found a card I had given Dave many years ago on his nightstand after he died. He obviously thought it special enough to save. In it I had written: “Loving me was the best gift you ever gave me.” It was then and now even though it is just a memory.

My two years of “magical thinking” had taken a toll on me as I noted in the last episode. Fifty pounds were lost along with my husband. I barely ate, slept, or stopped weeping. Two years of crying gripped by a grief I never thought possible to survive, I began to wake each morning with less grief. As I mentioned in the last episode, God had answered a prayer and I smiled more and found joy more often. This may have been the second best gift Dave gave me. He helped God provide me healing for the acute pain and lingering sadness.

I read a posting on Facebook from Jaime Anderson which read:

Grief, I’ve learned is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All of that unspent love gathers in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in the hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.”

Carolynn:  After Dave died I attended my granddaughter’s wedding at West Point. While the family units posed for photos my heart hurt because there was no one by my side. This was to be my life now. Every family event, including my grandson’s wedding which followed a few months later, I would not have him with me, sharing the moment.

From Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s sonnet 43: I love thee with a love I seemed to lose, with my lost saints, I love thee with the breath, smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

 I am still loving Dave.

I stumbled across this poem whose author was unknown and the last part touched me as the absolute truth. We may not realize what love really is until we lose it.

Insert: [put music from behind the reading of this which follows]

            Unless you can think, when the song is done, No other is soft in the rhythm;

Unless you can feel, when left by One, That all men else go with him;

Unless you can know, when unpraised by his breath, That your beauty itself wants proving;

Unless you can swear “For life, for death!  Oh, fear to call it loving!

Unless you can muse in a crowd all day On the absent face that fixed you;

With the breadth of heaven betwixt you; Unless you can dream that his faith is fast, Through behoving and unbehoving;

Unless you can die when the dream is past- Oh, never call it loving!

[Insert twinkle sound]

Carolynn:  I signed up for Match.com and finally started to think about building a new life. I had not dated in over 25 years. It was sketchy at first. I did meet a couple nice men and just as I started to plan a second date, I did an about face. My life expanded as I began to fill the void grief had left.

It started with a 51-day cruise to the South Pacific that Dave and I had booked previously. Canceling would have been costly, so “crying Carolynn” decided that crying on a cruise ship was preferable to crying at home alone, in a dark, winter, desolate Detroit condo full of memories. This was in February and March of 2019.  Dave and I had been cruising in the South Pacific many times and it excited me to revisit some of our favorite places. I met a couple at my table who became dear friends through weeks of tearful dinners. They were an immense support during my dark days at sea.  In my cabin, I worked every day on translating the many tapes that Dave and I had recorded during our courtship. It kept me busy but also brought many tears as I relived the first magical days in 1994 and 5. Since I had promised Dave, I would write our love story; it was a labor of love and it kept my mind and hands busy. I had a job to do, a reason to wake each morning to enjoy beautiful warm days at sea and see breathtaking sunsets every evening. The South Pacific worked its magic on my broken heart.

[Insert: I’ll Be Seeing You tag}

Carolynn:  At our two favorite beaches on the cruise, I left a letter in a bottle buried in the sand. It told of our love story and our love of the South Pacific.  I wonder sometimes if the bottles were ever found. Although I left contact information, I no longer own that home, so I don't know if anyone tried to contact me.

I decided to spend January 2020 in my sister’s house in Oxnard California. I had the beautiful place all to myself because she and her husband were in Cancun for three weeks. It was so quiet, sunny, and comfortable, my escape to an oasis with avocado trees and fresh herbs. I dated a man while I was there who had worked with my husband at KNX, Terry.  He had been a great support to me during some very dark days. While we ended up being just friends, his deck overlooking the ocean will always be a place I found peace. I told him it was my “happy place” and I will never forget his patience and kindness when I visited.

 I then flew to Arizona in February and stayed with my brother.  He and my sister-in-law were so kind to allow me to take over their spare room for a month while I audited 2 classes at Phoenix College to keep busy. Keeping busy was paramount during my recovery. My professor of the two English classes I audited, Don Richardson, was a longtime friend of my husbands from his barbershop days and we became close. The classes were daunting, made worse because he kept calling on me and telling the class, “Carolynn will know this.” No, Carolynn hadn’t been in an English class for over thirty years, she didn’t always know the answer. Don and I are still friends, and he kindly edited my husband’s book, Some Final Thoughts for me. We continue to have lunch whenever I am in town.

[Insert music Sunny Bunnies]

Carolynn:  While I was still in Phoenix at my brother’s house, my friends, Sheila, and George from the South Pacific cruise suggested I cruise again with them before I returned to Detroit. I figured, why not, I had nothing keeping me from seeking any diversion I needed at that point. So, I flew to San Diego and cruised to Hawaii with them. We had a fun time, and I didn’t cry through dinner every night this time.

Then Covid hit just as the ship was returning from Hawaii. Many passengers were afraid they wouldn’t make their flights home as the airlines were being overwhelmed with changes and people wanting to get home before they got sick and were locked down. I was lucky that my flight hadn’t been canceled or changed. So, on the morning of March 19th I took the shuttle from the hotel I had to overnight in, to the airport and plunked myself into a chair in the gate area with a Starbucks coffee in one hand and my book in the other, I awaited the boarding call.  I noticed a couple guys standing across the room, one of them leaning against the wall. I think he was looking at me too as I sat in my hound’s tooth patterned tights and yellow shirt, with yellow painted toenails peeking out of my yellow sandals. The gentleman holding up the wall, with his black, warn, backpack, looked like a weary business traveler returning home on a typical Friday night in his business casual attire. I’ll admit that I was closely checking him out.  I guessed from where they stood, they were first class passengers waiting to board first. So, when our invitation to board came I moved to the line with my boarding pass in hand. I figured I could ask one of them to help me put my carryon in the overhead rack. As we shuffled from foot to foot in the line, I felt them behind me and heard them talking about work.  Without even knowing what I was going to say, this shy widow, turned around and said, “Are either one of you single?” What had come over me? It was like when I kissed Dave under the mistletoe in 1964 when I had never spoken a word to him prior to that. Where had this uncharacteristic boldness come from? The backpack man immediately said, yes, and moved closer. He never gave the other guy a chance to speak. I then asked if he would help me put my bag in the overhead rack. That was what I meant to ask, when some part of my brain blurted out the unconscious invitation instead.  As we boarded, he asked if he could change seats and sit next to me. I don’t know what he did to arrange that because the woman sitting next to me in the first row didn’t want to change seats but eventually did. Maybe he paid her off.

We were drawn to each other like the ocean to the beach. I can’t explain it. He wasn’t supposed to be on that flight because his original flight had been canceled due to the Covid outbreak, but fate put him in my path.  I wasn't supposed to be on that flight either. I would have already returned to Detroit two weeks earlier if I hadn't gone on the unplanned Hawaiian cruise.

 The next four hours passed too quickly while we chatted nonstop and, in hindsight, had one too many screwdrivers. As we went over our personal and work history’s we melted into a close companionship. OK, my heart was pounding. He helped me disembark the jet way and as we walked to the luggage area, he stopped by the Delta lounge to await his connecting flight. I stopped, looked at him and he leaned down and gave me a small, gentle, whisper of a kiss. As I looked into his eyes something happened. Trite to say the earth stood still, but there could have been a minor tilting of the earth. Was he the one who Dave promised to send to me? As I reluctantly turned to walk away, he promised to call me. I didn’t look back for fear I wouldn’t be able to leave.

[Insert tinkle sound]

Carolynn:   I arrived home in a state of wonder. I was still wearing my husband's wedding ring nestled inside of my wedding ring on a chain around my neck, but I felt my life was shifting again. I returned from the clouds of flight to have my head still in the clouds. I was so immersed in the preceding moments that I even told my cab driver the whole story on the way home from the airport.  When I arrived at my condo, I immediately called my friend in California to tell her about my magical adventure—oh, and that I had gotten home.

Then the reality of the Covid epidemic set in and everyone in Michigan was locked down. It was hard to date or even get out of the house during the extreme and unrelenting crackdown by the governor of Michigan who denied us any fresh air—any outdoor escape--any family gatherings.

 I waited for the phone call from my secret admirer, but it never came. I thought of him every day. I wondered and wondered until my wondering about the encounter became obsessive. Disappointed, and sad, after three months, I figured it was just a grabbed opportunity for companionship during a boring flight and that my strange, secret seducer might never call. I was only entertainment at 30 thousand feet, albeit tame entertainment. I was a story he had probably already related to his best friends over a beer in a bar somewhere.

Life went on and I gave my Ford van, with 100 thousand miles on it, to the grandkids and bought a new car. My new red, Ford EcoSport was just my size and I fell in love with it. My daughter called it a "red roller skate." Never having owned a red car, I felt so bold and daring. I was lucky enough to be able to walk into the dealership, point to it, and hand them a check thanks to the proceeds from life insurance that passed to me. Unlike many widows, worrying about money was something I didn’t have to deal with. I wasn’t rich, but I was comfortable.

I had lost so much weight from my grief and lack of appetite that I decided to join a gym. The weight loss brought wrinkles and in addition to that, I didn’t fit any of my clothes or shoes. Who knew your feet would shrink! Shortly after Dave died, I bought many new dresses for the two grandchildren’s' weddings but even those no longer fit. I actually could fit my 1995 wedding dress again. I hired a trainer to show me how to use the equipment so I wouldn’t hurt myself or someone else. This was the first time I had ever been in a gym. I loved it. I no longer wondered why those crazy people would scrape the ice off their cars and drive to the gym to work out, sweat, and then freeze as they drove home. I was now one of them. I went early in the morning and again about 4 every afternoon. When gym time approached, I nearly had the willies if I wasn’t in my workout clothes and heading off. I became a gym rat. I used the punching bag with my new red gloves, curled 20 lbs. and did an hour on the treadmill with each visit.  I loved it and as anyone will tell you, it increased my “happiness” hormones. I was feeling better about life and myself. However, I was sometimes still morose because a phone call from the handsome stranger on the plane hadn’t transpired.  

Then, as I drove home from my daughters on Memorial Day weekend, I remembered with a jolt, that my old flip phone, which I rarely used anymore,  was lying in the cup holder, uncharged.  Oh, my gosh, that was the phone I used on the plane, with the number I had given my mile-high mate. I felt such a strong urge to turn it on, right that moment that I stopped in a parking lot and plugged it into the power adapter. Almost immediately, it rang. I was just turning into my parking space at home and couldn’t answer it in time, so it went to voice mail. As soon as I got inside, I listened to the message. It said, “once upon a time there was a girl sitting next to me on a plane” and the message continued with his name and phone number. I was in shock. For three months, wondering almost every day why he didn’t call, the moment I longed for was here. I immediately returned the call and said, “Yes, I know who you are, I’ve been waiting, why you didn’t call?” It was similar to what I said to Dave after I waited thirty years for him to call me.  With a voice I remembered immediately, he said he lost my card and was actually stranded overseas on business during Covid right after our flight; thus, the delay in calling me. We then began talking, every day. We laughed, we found comfort in the phone and email time we spent together. Eventually we made plans to meet again. For a usually shy girl, I was embarrassed by my forwardness with him, and the thought of seeing him again filled me with excitement as well as terror. Without a few screwdrivers for courage, what would I say when I looked into his blue eyes again?

[Insert music Hicksville]

Carolynn:  With a heavy heart, I decided to de-clutter my condo, another shocker.  I emptied my house of much of the thirty years of accumulation, having given a lot of stuff to my kids and grandkids--- like scrapbooking supplies, photo albums, Dave's keepsakes, awards, and clothes. It was hard at first to break up a home that held so many memories, but it had to be done at some point and it had been almost three years.

 Around the same time, I decided to sell my condo because the housing prices were climbing.  The condo sold in a bidding war, and I had two weeks to vacate. My grandson, my son, and John Copley, my funeral director friend, who was now my unofficial adopted son, helped me clean out and clear out debris.  My birth son, John, came up from Illinois to help me and took away much of my husband’s mementos from his radio days.

Where was I going now you ask?

The moving van came, and I was on my way to a student apartment which I rented sight unseen, in a small southern town that was as unfamiliar to me as my new life was. I had decided to go back to college as I mentioned in the last episode. Needless to say, my kids were flabbergasted at the many changes my life was taking but relieved to see me moving forward. None of us could stay in grief forever, and although we all missed Dave, we also realized we would never forget him or stop telling stories about him and the life we enjoyed with him. The book, Some Final Thoughts, which I edited and finally published as he wanted--the huge project that had consumed my first couple years of mourning-- was his forever legacy.

[Insert phone message greeting with Dave]

Carolynn:  Going back to college, another scary proposition, but then these days, everything was new, and everything was a bit scary, surprised my kids.   I heard about a small quaint college in Alabama, a state where it would be warm, and applied to the Master of Arts in Writing program there. So, in July I moved, and in August I started school. The family was shocked again by my bold initiative. I was re-inviting myself again. I fell in love with the town and the university and the schoolwork. I settled into my apartment where I didn't have to worry about anything breaking down, any yard work, frozen garage doors, or spring clean-up. I went to the gym, studied, went to the gym, studied, and went to bed. Sometimes I ate. I lost another ten pounds.  My life was packed. The classwork was mostly online so I had a lot of stuff to learn. My grandson had to help me late one night to figure out how to post my first essay. I learned to do Zoom, do PowerPoint presentations, and made all "A's" earning my acceptance into the Sigma Tau Delta and Phi Kappa Phi honor societies. I had my photo taken for a banner which hung on the side of the English building on campus--along with other women-- to celebrate “Year of the Woman." It was still hanging there when my family came for my graduation in May of 2022. I was 77 years old. Everyone asked me what I was going to do when I graduated, and I said I didn't know. After all, I didn't want to work!

During my two years of study, I stayed in touch with my flying friend. We became close but both of us skirted serious commitment. He was there for me when I had trouble with my homework, he made me laugh, and he comforted me when I was sad. In exchange, I listened to his angst over work and family. We had each other to talk to. We sometimes had lunch together, and played checkers if he was in the area.  Even though we saw each other only occasionally, we liked what we saw. The attraction was still there, but I was only a few years into widowhood and not sure about my future.

After graduation, bored without school, I joined the Catholic Church and took the adult confirmation class, RCIA. I was confirmed on August 7th. I dove into the Sunday worship schedule to supplement my otherwise boring, academically void days. I started reading fiction again and laying around the apartment pool. Covid restriction had been lifted just in time for me to start living again. I signed up to take a class to learn to be an advocate for Catholics seeking annulments.

In addition, I made presentations to my writer’s guild on memoir writing. I had served as an intern with them during my last semester of school and was now a member. I joined the Marine Corps League in town as a way to stay close to the Marines Dave had loved so much and, in an effort, to make friends.

I submitted abstracts and was invited to participate at two rhetoric conferences. That is something I will continue to peruse.

I worked with NASA on two programs they coordinated through the colleges across the United States and Puerto Rico to expose college students to their programs and teach them how NASA worked. For the younger students, it was a way to fatten their resumes and obtain internships. For me, it was just interesting and fun. I developed a power system for a rover for the dark side of the moon in one class. Even though it was all hypothetical it had timelines, set goals, and oversight activities, that were sometimes daunting. We all participated in these programs for no credit, no money, and on top of our other educational demands. NASA wanted to teach us how to work in remote teams across many time zones, with deadlines.

[Insert tinkle]

Carolynn:  My days filled up. I went on another cruise with my friends. I visited my daughter at her condo in Destin, FL on several occasions. It was only a six-hour drive. I had driven enough now, to be comfortable on the freeways.  I made trips back to Michigan for holidays and to see all my doctors. On one of these trips flying home, Delta launched a new sales campaign with Coke by introduction of a cocktail napkin which said on one side, “because you’re on a plane full of interesting people and hey . . .you never know.” And then on the other side of the napkin was “name” and a line to write on and “Number” and a line to write on. It cracked me up. I wish they had had this napkin on the flight where I met my secret stranger, because then I would have had his phone number! When I mentioned my story to the flight attendant she laughed and said they had had a lot of complaints about the napkin. Some didn’t think it was funny, but thought it was suggesting that passengers solicit a relationship. That’s not always bad, is it? Seems better than Match.com to me.

Now, as I sit here with the five-year anniversary of my husband's death recently past, I feel ready to start another chapter of my life. I am planning the next, best, ten years of my life and I want to make them happy and meaningful. I want to leave a legacy behind. I am finishing this Podcast and may do another one. I am working on a biography of Dave's life in radio, a book about my grandmother, and I'm applying to another small college for entrance into a Master's program for Theology. But---and this is a big unknown---

. . . . . .will my widowhood end, will I live happily ever after with my knight from the flight?     Let me get back to you on that.

[Insert music, Bush Baby fade in and out]

Carolynn:  Because this is the final episode, like any author, I can take as much space as I want to say thank you to the many people who helped me in the making of this podcast and who were part of my life with Dave and with me through my grief journey.

Thank you to the Barbershop Harmony Society for all the tags I used throughout this Podcast. If you love four-part harmony, you should seek out some barbershop music. It wouldn’t have lasted this long if it wasn’t great! It’s kind of like country music—lots of emotional words—but sung a cappella.

Thank you to my loving friend from that Delta flight for his voice work and patient support. Ricky, I hope your dream of retirement on a beach comes true and brings you much happiness even if I am not around to see it.

Thank you to my favorite professors, Dr. Mauriello and Dr. Winner from UNA in Florence, AL for their excellent guidance and advise as I worked and completed my Master’s Degree. I also thank Dr. Mauriello for his understanding and friendship during an emotional time in my life.

Thank you to John Copley my funeral director and unofficial adopted son, who has provided so much comfort to me in the past five years and never missed my birthday or Mother’s Day.

Thank you to Jonathon, my webmaster, who I met in one of the NASA Proposal Workshops, for all the work he has done to write descriptions, and post new episodes as well as help me navigate through the whole Podcast process.  He uploaded and created a new website for Dave and built a new one for me.

On my journey through widowhood, I would also like to thank Terry Saidel and my friend Jerry who helped me to accept the hand I was dealt with their friendship, built over late-night calls and texts.

And thank you to my family for their patience dealing with me these past five years and listening to my crying as well as my unending telling of DAVE stories.

Thank you to the people at KNX Radio in Los Angeles and other radio friends of Dave’s who have posted such encouraging words to me and delightful remembrances of Dave on Facebook these past few years.

Thank you to all my listeners. I know it has not always been easy because of the scratchy cassette tapes and the occasional lumps in the throat, but I hope my story has moved you to give your loved one an extra hug.

Death is not a destination but a doorway I read in a book recently. As we get older, and see our family and friends die, it is a comforting thought. I am remembering my nephew, Patrick Bauer, who was killed this year. I pray that when he opened the door above, he was greeted by Dave.

I would like to thank Shannon Zorn, my sister-in-law, for allowing me to use her husband Pete’s song in my podcast and for her heartfelt call from London when Dave passed away. Sadly, I understand from my stepson David, that she died recently.  I hope she is watching her husband, Pete, who died in 2016, play his instruments and sing, where maybe he has allowed Dave to join in. In memory of Pete, I am playing his song, Carnival, now.

 [Insert song Carnival]