Saturday, June 30, 2018

6/30/2018 Caring Bridge

Journal entry by Joanne Negstad — 11 minutes ago
      "How are you?" people ask. "OK"  "As well as I could hope."  So goes many of my conversations. However, today, honestly, I'm uneasy.  What is that about, you might ask.  Perhaps if I write I'll gain some clarity myself.
    Haven't you ever found yourself uneasy without knowing why?  I know it has to do with absence.  But, what do I fear?  My singular routines seem ever more normal, and, I think that relates to my unease. Do I really want a normal in the presence of absence?  Why must I leave her behind?  Does this mean that she is less important?  There, I think that's it.  There's fear that she will be forgotten, even by me.
THAT makes me uneasy.
     What is 'normal', healthy, helpful, now into the third month of absence?  I don't know. I've never been here before and this new place makes me uneasy.

Blessings,

Al

Friday, June 29, 2018

6/29/2018 Caring Bridge

Journal entry by Joanne Negstad — 19 hours ago
     In some posts awhile back I wrote about Joanne's career accomplishments.  She also shared her gifts as a member of a number of significant governing boards.  Her first major board service was on the Augustana College (now University) Board of Regents.  She began her service in the early '70's and it was a great learning experience for her.
     Her favorite story from that time related to a student body president who appeared before the board to make a request, I think about a change in the student meal plan.  The president of the board, who was an attorney, gave a condescending lecture, to the student at the board meeting.  Later, the student told Joanne that that was when he decided to become a lawyer.  His name is David Lillehaug, and he now is a member of the Minnesota Supreme Court.
      The governing board of Luther Theological Seminary was a significant time commitment for her.  She was secretary of the board, the late David Nasby, was president, when the seminary did a major change of the curriculum.  This was during the tenure of seminary president Dr. David Tiede.
       Succeeding Joan Christianson, she was the second person to hold the position of Vice President of the Minneapolis Area Synod, ELCA.  In the ELCA structure the bishop, always an ordained person, is functionally the president of the synod (the local judicatory).  While the bishop is ordained the vice president is a lay person.  In that role she would preside at the synod council meetings (the synod's board) and sometimes at synod assemblies (conventions).
     Yes, there is more to come.  Once known as The Board of Social Ministry, a housing ministry of the Lutheran Church, it assumed a new name as Ecumen.  Recruited to serve on their board she did so for at least one term.  Ecumen reports on its website...Annual Revenues and Operations
  • 2017 revenues were $161.9 million, based on our Consolidated Financial Statement.
  • Ecumen currently operates in more than 30 cities in Minnesota, Idaho, Michigan, Ohio, Indiana, North Dakota, Tennessee and Wisconsin.

      Last but not least was her service on the board of Lutheran Social Service of Minnesota.  She did one board term which she finished slightly over a year ago.  Invited to serve on that board her tenure began as the institution was defining the relationship between the governing board and the foundation board.  Her past board and institutional leadership experience gave her wisdom which was helpful to LSS as it defined that important relationship.  She enjoyed serving in this manner but with her health issues she relinquished her position without regret.
      I can safely say "she had a gift for leadership and she was always leading."


Blessings,

Al
    

6/27/2018

Journal entry by Joanne Negstad — Jun 27, 2018
    It doesn't take very much.  This morning I washed, dried and folded (OK I admit it, the fitted sheet was more stuffed than folded) three loads of clothes but there was no one here to appreciated it.  The presence of absence took much of the satisfaction from these mundane tasks.
    Joanne and I had season tickets to the Guthrie with C. & L.  Tonight I went with C. & L., to see West Side Story.  Procrastinating, I'd failed to deal with Joanne's ticket.  That empty seat beside me again brought the presence of absence.  Yes, of course, every where I go there will be the presence of absence but some times the absence is greater. 

Blessings,

Al

6/26/2018 Caring Bridge



Journal entry by Joanne Negstad — Jun 26, 2018

   In Joanne's dying days the accolades poured in by email, Caring Bridge posts, cards, letters, phone calls and visits.  This prompted me to posit in the eulogy how her influence would continue to spread far and wide even after her death.  Today I have two exhibits in evidence of that claim.
   J., who lives in Decorah, IA., reports conversations with two different persons who, knowing she was Joanne's friend, volunteered positive reflections on Joanne's life.  Both of them "out of the blue".
   Then S. sent me this message via e-mail.
"This note is a bit late, but as you continue to celebrate Joanne's sphere of influence, here is another piece of the story.  I was shopping for some flowers to take to the cemetery on Father's Day, and found the perfect flowers - for Joanne.  They were beautiful roses, the peachy-yellow ones she liked so well.  I knew I had to buy them: I also knew I could not put them at the cemetery, as Mom hated roses.  So, I took them to my Fairview clients last week, and told them about Joanne.  Joanne's "gift that keeps on giving" made their day! "
    How sweet is that?  You see why I say "I'm blessed."
     The last bouquet I bought were those "peachy yellow roses"  She was still alert enough to enjoy them.  Usually roses droop quite quickly but these lasted a very long time.  It was as if they were saying "we'll be with you to the end." 

Blessings,      Her favorite rose and tractor.

Al
Her favorite flower and her favorite tractor.

6/25/2018 Caring Bridge

Journal entry by Joanne Negstad — Jun 25, 2018
   It wasn't new, far from it.  Repainted, it glistened in Farmall red.  It ran well and I liked driving it.  Joanne received it with grace, when I gave it to her as an anniversary present.  Her tractor, a 1941 Farmall M, was purchased at LaVern Quam's sale in Sinai.
   Joanne was bemused by my tendency to buy and sell tractors.  Somehow, she always managed to track the number in my collection at any given time.  When I was asked how many tractors I had, I'd turn to her and she'd give the correct number.
    Several years after giving her the tractor I attended Alton Quam's sale.  Alton and LaVern were brothers.  There were two Farmall M's on the sale.  With no intention of buying, I entered the bidding for one when it was going to sell too cheaply.  LaVern was a friend and I thought his tractor should bring him more than it seemed it would, as the bidding slowed.
    Perhaps you're not surprised that I had the winning bid.  It was a 1950 model with some special features, 9 speed and live hydrualics, so an upgrade from Joanne's M.  Not needing two M's I sold Joanne's.
    Opps!  She was more attached to her tractor than I knew.  Perhaps only in fun, she enjoyed telling other's how I'd sold her tractor and she didn't even get any money from it.  When I get back to my home computer I'll post a picture of her driving it.
    This reminiscene was promted by the juxtipositon of Joanne's grave and some of our land.  The cemetery, just west of Sinai, is along the road I drive on a tractor when I'm going to the field.  It strikes me that Joanne would be amused that I visit her grave via tractor.  She, was indeed, a good sport!

Blessings

Al

6/24/2018 Caring Bridge

Journal entry by Joanne Negstad — Jun 24, 2018
      It was slight change in the morning routine.  Normally Trygve and I are out the door by 6:00 a.m, for our bike/run.  He runs and I bike.  But, today, I was late getting out.  Weekdays our route takes us over the Stone Arch Bridge but to change it up weekends we travel Nicollet Mall.  The Mall is where we met Chad.
      In 2010, as we were moving into our condo building, Joanne and Chad recognized each other as they met in the lobby.  Chad had lived in the building for awhile and Joanne and worked with him at LSS.  Chad's condo was on the 15th floor as is ours.  Over the years I'd frequently meet Chad at the elevators and, as he was both people and dog friendly, we had many positive encounters.  Some months ago Chad married and moved to the east coast.  While I was happy for him, I was sad to see him go.
     This morning, meeting him on the Mall, was the first time I'd seen him since he moved away.  After he expressed his condolences he went on to talk about his relationship with Joanne at work.  He said her found her a wise, helpful presence who enhanced his time at LSS.  Always happy to talk about Joanne, we parted, and I'd been given another gift of hope. 
     Joanne always described these serendipitous encounters as divine intervention, she called them "the hand of God."   Yes, indeed, divine intervention, again bringing me a gift in my bereavement.  The joy was enhanced by Trygve, who remembered Chad, and greeted him as only a dog can greet.

Blessings,

Al

6/23/2018 Caring Bridge

Journal entry by Joanne Negstad — Jun 23, 2018
    It happened at lunch yesterday with Jon.  In the midst of a helpful conversation about Joanne, Jon said "Al, what gives you hope?"  I responded "That's easy to answer, hope comes though relationship, like us having lunch."
    The location of hope is a surprise to me.  Previous to this absence I'd never realized that hope would come to me through relationship. It is not the words so much as the connection.  I hunger for connection.  Joanne worried that I'd withdraw and perhaps isolate myself.  Now, I see so clearly what a terrible mistake that would be.  Never have I needed people the way I do now.  Isolated and alone would almost certainly precipitate a destructive downward cycle.
     Today I attended Sindy T's funeral.  The blessings for me came in the fellowship time after the service.  There was the experience of genuine connection with those who also the grieve the absence.  It's gift, pure gift, to be in the presence of others while I mourn the absence.  Yes, I'm truly blessed.

Blessings,

Al

Saturday, June 23, 2018

6/22/2018 Caring Bridge

Journal entry by Joanne Negstad — 11 hours ago
   In the current issue of Christian Century I came across this quote from 19th century Danish poet B. S, Ingemann in an epigraph.  "Often I am happy and yet I want to cry; For no heart fully shares my joy."  These days, some ten weeks after Joanne's death, I do experience joy but then the absence, the absence, the absence, wants to make me cry.
   Today was a first.  It was the first time I went to tell Joanne something I read in the paper.  It was only a fraction of a second until I recognized the absence.  There  have been countless things I've wanted to share, but this was a first...the first time I began and was brought up short.
    Meanwhile I'm surrounded by supportive relationships which give me hope much more effectively than religious talk. Yes, I'm profoundly grateful.

Blessings,

Al 

6/21/2018 Caring Bridge

Journal entry by Joanne Negstad — Jun 21, 2018
   My friend, Shelby, sent this poem.

          End of April

Under a cherry 
I found a robin's egg
broken, but not shattered.

I had been thinking of you,
and was kneeling in the grass
among fallen blossoms

when I saw it: a blue scrap
a delicate toy, as light
as confetti

it didn't seem real,
but nature will do such things
from time to time.

I looked inside:
it was glistening hollow,
a perfect shell

except for the missing crown,
which made it possible 
to look inside.

What had been there
is gone now
and lives in my heart

where, periodically,
it opens up its wings,
tearing me apart.

Phillis Levin

   Thanks Shelby, it describes me, "broken but not shattered" and my experience, "What had been there is gone now and lives in my heart where, periodically, it opens its wings, tearing me apart."  
I'm broken by the absence and my heart is torn by that absence.

Blessings,

Al

6/20/2018 Caring Bridge

Journal entry by Joanne Negstad — Jun 20, 2018
First married we occupied the Head Resident Apartment in Augustana's Bergsaker Hall, for the summer.  Moving from that we live in an apartment in St. Louis Park for four years, to be near the high school where Joanne was counselor.  Our next stop was Mohall, N.D., in 1968, where we were the first to occupy Zion Lutheran Church's new parsonage.  Pretty exciting to exit apartment living and land in a brand new house.
     Our next stop was Sioux Falls, SD., almost 600 miles from Mohall.  My mother was hospitalized in Brookings, SD., as were in the relocation process. After visiting mother in the hospital and assured that she was recuperating, I went house shopping in Sioux Falls.  Real estate agent, Ruby Hippe, took me on a whirlwind tour of houses for sale.  One on Roberts Drive spoke to me and we made and offer which was accepted.  This was in 1975.
      We made an offer? Notice the "we".  Only I had seen the house.  Joanne was back in Mohall with the children.  Then came the day that we went to the bank to sign the papers.  With the papers signed Joanne got to see the house for the first time.  Blind trust?  Perhaps, but fortunately she was satisfied with it.
        Our next move was to Davenport, IA. in 1980, which taught us something about home ownership.  Houses do not always sell when owners are ready to move.  Without the proceeds of the sale of the house we were in no position to buy another.  Fortunately Zion Lutheran, Davenport, owned a parsonage, on Kelling Ave., which was empty so we moved in.  A few months later when our Sioux Falls house sold we bought the parsonage from the church.  Was  it a house we'd have bought had we done a search?  Maybe not but it was adequate and it saved us making another move .
         When we moved from Davenport to Minneapolis in 1987-8, we learned another lesson of home ownership, houses do no always appreciate in value. Davenport and the Quad Cities were in a slump so we sold our house for less than we paid.  
       Joanne came to Minnesota first as Vice President of Lutheran Social Service.  When I followed a few months late I came without a job.  During those months we house sat two house, and rented an apartment at the seminary.  With my call to St. James beginning  July 1, 1998, we purchased on Quebec Ave., Golden Valley. 
      With her position at LSS, Joanne, was very busy and I had yet to start work so I, with the capable guidance of real estate agent, Judy Jensen, looked at many houses.  Having narrowed the choice down to three, Joanne was brought into the process.  Don't you suppose she wanted the one I like the least. 
      It was 1988 so my memory may be a bit questionable but it went something like this. Joanne asked "what don't you like about it?"  I rattled off a number of minor items and then pulled out the big deficit "it has a tuck-under garage."  That should clinch it I thought. "What's wrong with a tuck-under garage?" she asked.  "It takes up too much of the basement."   "How much basement is left?" "A good sized rec-room, a bedroom, a half bath and large laundry room?"  "And what more do you need?"
     She won the argument, thank goodness.  It was a lovely split foyer with three bedrooms and two baths upstairs, a wonderful second story deck off the kitchen, a separate library, two fire place, on a lovely street across from a nature preserve.  There we stayed until she tired of the steps and we found a one level condo downtown in 2010.
     Every place we resided in filled with memories.  Joanne transitioned from high school counselor, to full time home and then back into her career.  But at every stop she loved to entertain, to set a beautiful table, prepare a fine meal and engage in spirited conversation.
      Friday I will entertain alone for the first time.  Watching and helping Joanne I've learned much so I know I can do it.  The history book club members who are coming are gracious and always good guests.  However, it certainly will be different in the presence of absence.

Blessings,

Al

6/19/2018 Caring Bridge

Journal entry by Joanne Negstad — Jun 19, 2018
Joanne's car was a Honda CRV with one very annoying characteristic, though in the car's defense it only annoyed me.  The doors would lock automatically once the car was placed in drive.  After stopping, when the car was placed in park, only the driver's door would unlock automatically.  Countless times I would go to open a rear door or the hatch-back only to find it locked. Returning to the front to open press the unlock button while saying "+@#$@# doors" Joanne would give a long-suffering patient smile.  She'd refrain from saying "don't you ever learn?" 
    Before she died we agreed that the CRV would go to Lars.  With that accomplished I got a Hyundai to drive.  The best thing about this Hyundai is that all the doors unlock when the car is shifted to drive.  No more "+&%# doors."
     So what's the problem, you ask?  It is such a trival thing in the grand scheme of things.  However, for me it illustrates the significance of absence.  Those unlocking doors are one of those little things that we would celebrate with laughter and merriment.  Of course I'm glad that the doors work that way, but much of the statisfaction is lost because of absence.
    Such is life and death!

Blessings,

Al

6/18/2018 Caring Bridge

Journal entry by Joanne Negstad — Jun 18, 2018
  1. In Blackwater Woods
    by Mary Oliver
Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars

of light,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment,

the long tapers
of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blue shoulders

of the ponds,
and every pond,
no matter what its
name is, is

nameless now.
Every year
everything
I have ever learned

in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side

is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world

you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing

your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.

   My friend Paul, fowarded this poem to me.  Mary Oliver writes "you must be able  to do three things"  the third of which is "to let it go."  That's what I don't want to do, no, I do not want to let her go even as I know she's gone.  There is that within me that says "how can she be gone forever?"   There are times when life seems almost normal and then the reality of absence crashes in again.  Being seperated for awhile?  OK, but forever?

Blessings,

al

6/17/2018 Caring Bridge

Journal entry by Joanne Negstad — Jun 17, 2018
Sindy T., died this morning.  Wayne and Sindy have become friends from proximity at church.  Though, that's not the whole story.  Someone has a picture of Wayne and Joanne playing together as five year olds in Watertown, S.D.  Their parents were friends. We connected, or re-connected, after they joined Grace University Lutheran not long after we did and we often shared a pew.
     The announcement of Sindy's death made me cry.  For whom were the tears?  Wayne? Sindy? their family? Joanne?  me? The answer is 'yes'...all of the above.
       After two months of the presence of absence the periods between tears is longer.  Is this as it should be?  A friend asked me this week how Joanne would comfort me in my grief.  My response?  "She'd tell me to get over it."   That sounds much more like Al than Joanne.  However, in her 23 days of hospice she was very un-sentimenal about her death. She was able to celebrate what she had accomplished, her gratitude abounded, there was some concern about my future, but, about her future she readily relinquished anxiety.  
   The reality for me remains, and I think well described, by the one who said "you have a hole in your heart."  Blessings abound and life continues to have meaning. but the hole is there and at any moment it makes its presence known.  The presence of absence continues to lurk.

Blessings,

Al

6/16/2018 Caring Bridge

Journal entry by Joanne Negstad — Jun 16, 2018
Joanne grew up in St. Paul, MN., a city known for curvy streets.  They lived in St. Anthony Park and neighborhood that particularly curvaceous.  When she arrived in Canton, S.D., a small town, to teach at Augustana Academy her geographical orientation was right or left.  She went to the local Ben Franklin Store for a specific purchase.  Upon entering the store she asked the clerk where her item could be found.  The clerk replied "It's on the south shelf toward the west end."  Joanne's response was some version of "Huh?"
      Being a fast learner it was not long before she became an excellent navigator on our car trips.  Several of these were international.  Five times we drove Norway in a friend's car or a rental van.  Her knowledge of Norwegian came in very handy although signs are also posted in English.  She also drove a tour of Noway with her sister.
       Much more difficult navigating was when we drove through Romania.  We began our visit with several nights in a boutique hotel in downtown Bucharest we then rented a car to visit Transylvania. There were signs in English but not clearly displayed so navigating was a challenge.  And, yes, we visited Dracula's Castle.  
       Yes, this is just one more way I will miss her as I miss her repetitive stories about the places I pass going to and coming from S.D. It is just not the same when I tell her stories to myself.

Blessings,

Al

Friday, June 15, 2018

6/15/18 Caring Bridge

Journal entry by Joanne Negstad — 26 minutes ago
     Two Gerardt Frost poems were included in the letter I referenced yesterday.  The second poem was written after a conversation with my friend's father, whose wife died when he was 46, after only 16 years of marriage.  So different than Joanne and Al.
  
                                            All Over Again
      
       "It was a quiet lane,
        one of many in that Wisconsin wood
        at the spacious retreat ground
        where we were staying,
        my friend and I.
        We walked and we talked,
        for our friendship went back to school days,
        and here we were,
        past middle age.
        The swift years had brought gifts,
        as they always do,
        of memorable joys, 
        and chastening sorrows.

        We had married about the same time,
        but after a few years
        his wife had died.
        We spoke of that, and I said,
        'You've been places
        where I haven't been;
        you've learned things
        that I can't really know.'
        'Yes,' he said, 'But one has to learn them
        all over again!'

        His words checked me then
        and have disturbed me since.
        Perhaps this is the significance of sorrow,
        that it underscores and rehearses
        great meanings, so that,
        in the round of daily experiences,
        we do not lose them."

      What do you think the friend meant when he said "...you have to learn them all over again."  Joanne's dying and death have certainly been a learning experience for me.  But I wrestle with the thought of "learning them all over again."       It is my experience that the sorrow of the absence of presence intensifies the significance of memories.  It is painful to realize that there will be no more memory making with Joanne, that is done and past.  Fifty plus years of memories is all I'm going to get and I don't like it one bit. 

Blessings,

Al
    

6/14/18 Caring Bridge

Journal entry by Joanne Negstad — 19 hours ago
Tonight we have Joanne through a friend's eyes.  She sent a copy of Gerhardt Frost's poem Takk For Alt  from his book Bless My Growing.
     "She was not quite ninety-seven 
       when she died.
       One who waited by her side
        heard her say it:
        "Takk for alt'  'Thank you for everything.'
        It was her going home word to God.

        Like a good guest
        she addressed her Host.
        She spoke as one well-taught,
        well taught by life,
        by  memory and expectation!

        To be gift-conscious is to be wise;
        to know whom to thank is grace indeed.
        To know the gift and love the Giver,
        to have learned the dearest lesson,
        to be rich toward God."

       
Our friend wrote "' Takk For Alt' is the last poem in the collection.  The last stanza, for me, is Joanne.  She was so totally gift-conscious--so filled with thanksgiving and thankfulness.  How I treasure the many visits we had over lunch--the laughs, the shared frustrations and concerns when talking politics, the ways she opened my eyes to new ideas, the joys of her granddaughters, her willingness to listen when I was troubled.  To Joanne I say, takk for alt!" 
      Yes, that too, was my experience of Joanne, and then, I find irony, or serendipity, or more likely the hand of God in Joanne's choice for her tombstone.  Her only request was that on the stone it would say Tak For Alt. 
Blessings,

Al

6/13/18 Caring Bridge

Journal entry by Joanne Negstad — Jun 13, 2018
    Many years ago Joanne and I went to the same barber, Tammy Cook, at Fantasia, in Golden Valley. We both enjoyed conversations with Tammy as she cut our hair.  Over several years we learned much about each other and listened to her grief when her father died.
     Shortly after her father's death she told me that her mother was having a very rough time.  Then she asked me "How long do you think it will take for her to recover?" I replied, "Give her a year, and then see how she's doing."  Tammy stopped cutting stepped in front of me, looked me in the eye and said "A year!  I thought you'd say 'two weeks.'"  
     Before Joanne died I knew much more about grief than I do today.  Was I correct, "give her a year?"  WOW.  It's been two months now, do I really have ten more to go before I'll know how I'm doing?   My answer to the question "How are you doing?" has changed.  I now say "day by day."  I don't know what it means but it seems to satisfy the inquisitor.
     Some ask "how are you doing" and others don't.  Answering properly is a challenge, but not being asked doesn't always feel good either.  People are talking less about her to me now and that makes me sad.   Perhaps I'm just hard to please.
     There is more to the story of Tammy Cook.  She was diagnosed with breast cancer and, in spite of all the treatments, she died in a period of months.  At death she was about thirty and had a husband and a five year old son.  She belonged to a Russian Orthodox Church and her funeral was there.  At her request I did the eulogy.   It was a beautiful service with the traditional acapella music. The priest had two instructions for me.  1. My eulogy would be after the conclusion of the service, and, 2. I was not to say anything theological.   Unfortunately, not even Joanne, loyal people connector she, was not able to maintain contact with Tammy's family.  Her son would be about 30 years old now. 

Blessings,

Al

6/12/18 Caring Bridge

Journal entry by Joanne Negstad — Jun 12, 2018
     The neighborhood book club is reading Americanah by Chimanda Ngozi Adichie.  One of the characters says after his mother dies '"I never thought she would die until she died.  Does that make any sense?'  He had discovered that grief did not dim with time; it was instead a volatile state of being.  Sometimes the pain was as abrupt as the day the house help called him sobbing to say she was lying unbreathing on her bed; other times he forgot she had died and would make cursory plans about flying east to see her." p.458
      It feels like I occupy two spheres of reality. In one sphere life seems to go on quite normally.  Doing the things I normally do it seems as if nothing has really changed.  In the other sphere, where the presence of absence is profound it feels like nothing is the same.  The great emptiness overwhelms.  Grief really is a volatile state of being.
      Thank you, readers, for sticking with me on this journey.  You'll never know just how much that means.

Blessings,

Al

6/1//18 Caring Bridge

The Cemetery.
Journal entry by Joanne Negstad — Jun 11, 2018

      The cemetery is filled with dead people.  Quite the amazing insight, that.  With Joanne there, I visit frequently, though cemeteries have always fascinated me.  First, I stop to visit Joanne.  Then I wander among the graves, many of persons I have known.  Children's graves are especially poignant as I contemplete the grief of the bereaved.  Chiseled in stone are the details of married couples, as I consider how long one lived after the other died...some as long as 40 years.
      What does it mean for me to go on with my life when Joanne's has ended?  Some aspects of life seem fairly normal.  There are things I enjoy, little moments of joy, meaningful conversations and worthwhile things to do. Then there are the lonely moments, the times when the presence of absence is powerful. 
       The compassion of those around me continues to fill my cup of gratitude.  Knowing that I am not forgotten is more important than I can express.  Even when absence is powerfully present it is a blessing not to be forgotten.

Blessings,

al

6/10/18 Caring Bridge

Journal entry by Joanne Negstad — Jun 10, 2018
       Joanne's recliner and the front door to our condo are as far apart as is possible in our space. There is no sight line between them either, with the kitchen walls between.  Be that as it may, when she was in her recliner and I'd enter the front door she's start talking.  My hearing is quite compromised so I wouldn't have a clue what she was saying.  I would put down what ever I was carrying and take a seat in front of her and say "I thought I heard voices."  She would then repeat all she's said.  Sometimes it annoyed me, for which I'm now sorry.
       Years ago we both read Deborah Tannen's book You Just Don't Understand: Women and Men in Conversation.  Tanner argues that there are basic differences between women and men and how they converse.  She claims that men speak to share information while women's speech is to connect.  Her illustration is what happens when a man begins to read a newspaper.  Suddenly the woman who had been sitting their quietly starts talking. Because she feels disconnected.  If she were writing today the example would probably be about a smart phone.
      This rang true enough for Joanne and me that I learned to ask "Are we connected?" before hoisting the paper.  She'd laugh and agree.  Joanne's immediate speech when I entered the condo makes sense under this rubric.  She, the female and ultimate extrovert, was so hungry for connection she couldn't wait for me to get withing hearing distance. 
   On one level I knew this, yet it sometimes annoyed me. Of course I wish it had been different, but there is no "do over".  There is no doubt of her forgiveness but that doesn't assuage my guilt.
    At the risk of stating the obvious "let he/she who has ears to hear, hear..."

Blessings,

6/9/118 caring Bridge

Journal entry by Joanne Negstad — Jun 9, 2018
Joanne loved her recliner and it was good to her.  In it she found comfort from her back discomfort and it helped ameliorate her chronic cough.  Purchased when she was in a back brace, after one of her seven back surgeries, it became a place of comfort and refuge for her.  Placed in front of a large screen TV she could follow Rachel and other favorite shows.  It was matched by a twin recliner in the Little House On The Prairie, where she love to read. It stands unused since her death, with the African scarf from Aaron and Lisa draped over it and the Teddy Bear from Carol on the seat.
     Recently I've begun reading again, a practice that was suspended during the hectic days of her illness and funeral events.  For days after her burial I did not pick up a book.  Something in me has shifted,so now I read again.  Tonight I sat in my rocker, next to her recliner, reading, with the baseball game on and sound turned low.  This is occupying "her" part of the house and the absence in that recliner was overwhelming. 
     The intensity of the presence of the absence varies by where I am in the house.  It also varies with the messages I'd like to deliver.  With good friends today, sharing  moments and memories, it was hard to come home and not tell her.  I know the exact parts of my story that would be of most interest to her...the awful presence of absence.

Blessings,

Al

6/8/18 Caring Bridge

Journal entry by Joanne Negstad — Jun 8, 2018
    This quote spoke to me today "My life was suddenly divided into BEFORE and AFTER, and there was no gong back to BEFORE. But then I realized I had a choice to live the AFTER.  I had to decide." Brenda Neal.
    Of course there was life before Joanne. A life in which I struggled to achieve a degree of maturity.  Many memories of those early years stay with me.  Gratefully, I'd achieved enough maturity that Joanne wasn't frightened away when we met.
    But, now I'm living the AFTER, in which I'm always aware that I'm now experiencing the sadness of not being able to share as I did BEFORE.  It's the presence of absence again, joined to the reality that this is the new norm.  The continued absence remains surreal.  How could fifty plus years of marriage be over?
     Deciding to live the AFTER has been made easier by the community of the bereaved, all who mourn her death.   Family, friends, acquaintances envelope me in an embrace that assumes that the choice is to live AFTER.  Yet, I grieve the loss of BEFORE. 

Blessings,

al

6/7/18 Caring Bridge

Journal entry by Joanne Negstad — Jun 7, 2018
Yes, I'm still replacing the toaster cover and each time I do, it is a small offering to Joanne.  Everyday I make my bed because that was important to her, so another offering.  Having claimed her birthday book, I'm reaching out to those she remembered with cards, because she would like me to do that.  When my daughter calls I answer "How are you my dear?" because that was Joanne's response.  The table is kept presentable as an offering to her values.  Keeping the condo neat is another offering she'd appreciate.
    In ways large and small she continues to make me a better person. And, yes, I miss her as much as always.  There is so much to tell her, and much of it is about how good people are to me.

Blessings,

Al

Wednesday, June 6, 2018

6/6/2018 Caring Bridge

Journal entry by Joanne Negstad — 39 minutes ago
  Long, long ago and far, far away...or was it?  On Sunday, May 31, 1964, I graduated from Augustana College (now University).  Six days later, on Saturday, June 6, Joanne and I were married at First Lutheran Church, Sioux Falls, S.D.  Pastor Marcus Gravdal presided and Joanne's father, the Rev. Oscar C. Hanson did the homily and the vows.
   Joanne had resigned her position with Augustana College to accept a position as counselor with St. Louis Park High School, St. Louis Park, MN.  That position was contingent on her completing a counseling practicum needed for licensing by the state of Minnesota.  To fulfill this requirement she enrolled at the University of S.D., Vermillion, in a six week course which began Monday, June 8.  
    With so little time between wedding and the beginning or her practicum we had a very brief honeymoon.  What little time we had was spent at Holiday Inn, Sioux City.  How romantic was that? So, maybe the next fifty-three years plus was all honeymoon.  Because she's not here to correct me, I will let that assumption stand.
     Joanne planned the wedding service.  Love Divine all Loves Excelling was our processional music.  The Augustana Choir sang.  The reception was in the church basement, where else would it be?  The Norwegian krunsakaka provided bit of variety.
     My job during my senior year at Augustana was working for First Lutheran.  The church provided me with an apartment in the building and I was a janitorial assistant, locked the doors at night and served as night watchman.  Joanne's mother, with some trepidation, entrusted me with keeping the krunsakaka the night before the wedding,with strict instructions to allow no ants on it.  I had never seen an ant in my apartment but in the middle of the night I realized I hadn't put out the ant poison.  With visions of a potentially irate mother-in-law, I leaped from my bed and deployed the ant traps.  Yes, the krunsakaka was delivered with no ants.
      So, fiftyfour years later, I find myself alone.  No, that's not accurate, the embrace of family, friends, congregation and even acquaintances is proof that I am not alone.  Far from being alone, I'm enveloped in sea of caring. It gives me hope, it is life giving and I am profoundly grateful even as I live with the presence of absence.

Blessings,

al