How's The New Place?

 Sunday, August 4, 2024

"How's the new place?" they ask. 

Some might wonder how I could not love the "new place".   After all it's cute, right?  Reminiscent of a little New England style cottage. 

Everyone who visits always comments on how cozy the "new place" feels. 

"It's low maintenance, gated security, plenty of activities available and clubs to join," they say. 

I am trying to love the "new place".  I've dressed it up with curtains and carpets.  I'm in the process of giving the kitchen a face lift with shiny new cabinets. 

I've hung Ross' prized artwork and displayed his precious thrift store finds.  

All of the furniture here in the "new place" is the furniture I brought with me from our old place.  I've re-arranged the living room a hundred times.

I placed the "Big Toe" flower pot, the one that always made us smile, under the front yard tree and had the landscaping redone.

But as much as I try, for now, it's just a place to hang my hat and rest my weariness. 

And so, when they ask "hows the new place?"  

I answer, "Ross isn't here."

My Joy My Ross

 My love, my Ross, passed away on February 12, 2024, exactly twenty-seven years and one day from the first time we met. 

And each and every one of those days of  knowing him, being with him and loving him brought me joy.

Joy, a seemingly simple little three letter word, embodied all that was Ross. 

 I believe it was just his nature to generously give of himself.  

One foggy and rainy winter night we were on the way to a holiday gathering at a friend's house.

As we headed down the dark highway, only several yards away, we witnessed a car swerve and crash into another car. When we got close enough, Ross immediately pulled over to the side of the road, jumped out of the car to see what help he could give. 

Yes, he was that person. 

I think what I loved most about him was his respect for my individual self.  

We were opposites as far as personality goes.  He a confident social extrovert, I a shy introvert uncomfortable in a group.

But, whenever we were in a gathering he made sure to encourage and include me in the conversation.

"Did you know that Lynda writes a blog?" he would say.   Or, "Lynda is a beautiful knitter." 

He was a kind soul.  His soft brown eyes gave that away.

Even if someone may not have been kind to him he would say, "But she's a good person." 

He was great with customer service people.  Never expressed irritability but somehow always got what he set out to achieve.  

With a twinkle in his eye and a sly smile, he would say, "I just used the force." 

Did you know he had a dancing name.  "Boogaloo Swimp".  Don't ask :)

He had a catalog of jokes, sometimes complete with accents when necessary.  And although he probably told me the same joke more than once, I'd still giggle. 

He was my yarn shopping buddy.  My podcast co-host.  He knew the knitting lingo.  "Do you have any FO's to show me?" he'd ask. 

He loved being Pop-pop.  

Although I miss so much already, am achingly heartbroken and wonder what I'm going to do without him, 

I feel so blessed to have had those 27 joy filled years with my love, my Ross.