Grateful? Thankful? Depressed

This weekend celebrates the transformation of Casa de Hultman into a "faux fall" spectacular. As a native SoCal girl it’s my way of anointing every room with the symbols of my favorite season - while the A/C combats the hot Santa Ana winds, and backyard citrus trees bear the ripening bounty of oranges, avocados, and tangerines on their perpetually green boughs. Throughout the house, orange, gold and auburn replace the cool summer hues. Pumpkins abound, and happy jack-o’-lanterns await their October addition to the rites of autumn. By November, bountiful cornucopias will take their place on the mantle.

NYC 2016. Central Park in Fall. Nothing like it!

Our 2016 NYC trip, and "real" fall color. Breathtaking!

Do I want to decorate this year? I have asked myself that question over the past few weeks - my heart still aching as I wander through our home - alone. Am I ready to put up the reminders of the season we both loved, in my Kahuna-less house? I wavered between avoiding every reminder of what I lost, and going into "full-on" fall decorating mode as a reminder of what used to be.

Friendsgiving 2017. Grateful. Two weeks before The News

After some joy-focused meditation, and the realization I had to accept my new normal (I have come to hate that phrase), I made the decision to pull out the fall décor. Every dried/preserved/imported leaf, pumpkin and seed pod! I marked the Labor Day weekend by festooning the house with its usual autumn splendor.

There was one difference…

I struggled with the words used on decorative signage that had previously expressed my gratitude for this season of thankfulness. Grateful? Thankful? Blessed? In my current raw state, these words tugged at my heart. Don’t get me wrong - I am grateful for my village who is watching out for me and giving me space to grieve; thankful to my children and grandchildren for reminding me that George and I created a beautiful family; and blessed to have had so many years with the love of my life. But the predominate sentiment of this season of “firsts” isn’t found on any Pinterest page or home store shelf. Instead of Grateful, Thankful, Blessed, my sign would read Heartbroken, Lonesome, Depressed.

Stores abound with signage of the season. 

 As Daughter and I shopped for even more fall decor yesterday, I felt a tinge of resentment as the signage of the season bombarded my fragile senses and pierced my already broken heart. I turned my attention away from the words that imbued their sentiment, in favor of scented candles, metal baskets and dried flowers. Then I turned a corner to find this framed message...

This. Is/Was. Us.

"It was one of those love stories that people will talk about for years to come."

My Kahuna was suddenly with me. Reminding of me of all that I had been given in my lifetime. How grateful I was for walking into English class 50 years ago and meeting my best friend. How thankful I am to have found my perfect love. How blessed was the life we had together. And I realized he is always with me. He had led me to the Most Perfect Sign. Daughter saw me stop in my tracks and immediately offered consolation as I melted in her arms. I had the love story of a lifetime - and as I learned so suddenly - none of us know when our “lifetime” will end. The George and Paula love story is timeless. And life goes on, as do the seasons. This year of firsts will bring anguished tears of sadness, but I will surround myself with the decorations and symbols of the season my Kahuna and I cherished. And I will smile between the tears.

Keep Calm and Decorate, Decorate, Decorate!

I’m reinventing the meaning of Grateful, Thankful, Blessed this year. I’m not sure I can bear to see the words blatantly displayed in the house yet, but I know George is watching. He is GRATEFUL I am going to celebrate this season we both loved, THANKFUL I won't be alone, and BLESSED he made the most of his simple, yet meaningful life.

Here's to our favorite season, honey. Feel free to visit any time. I'll leave a candle burning for you.