Category: Moving forward

Posted in Family, Moving forward, Us

Chapters

Posted on by kokomeau

I like to think of my life in chapters. The first chapter would obviously be my childhood where I grew up in a large Irish-Catholic family with all the challenges and joys inherent therein. While the teen years are still part of childhood, for me, looking back, it was a new chapter filled with insecurities, bad choices, a bit of fun, and some life-changing events. My third chapter, filled with college independence, learning to fly, and being on my own, while scary and challenging, would have to be high on my list of happy times.

Chapter four brought a new life with a young husband, lots of moves around the country, having children and raising them mostly alone. It entailed learning a new career, a new hobby, and finally struggling to find a way to survive a dysfunctional relationship while bringing up healthy adults. 30 years is a long time in the institution when it’s a good marriage. When it’s not, it’s a jail sentence. In chapter five, after a contentious divorce, I moved from Michigan to Florida. With my grown kids starting their own lives, I left behind a shuttered business, a foreclosed home, and a broken family in an attempt to pick up the pieces of what was left of my life and start fresh in the sunshine state.

Moving on isn’t easy. Change can be scary. A second failed relationship had me questioning my choices. I eventually found work in the healthcare field of home health, then found my niche in hospice. In chapter six I finally purchased my own place. Being totally independent gave me the faith in myself that I needed to really start fresh. I put my past behind me and learned to depend on ME, slowly regaining a confidence I thought was lost forever. With a move so far from home and being alone, I consoled myself with the somewhat hopeful thought that people like to visit warm places in the winter, and maybe, with time, that would happen. It eventually did, and I found I could relax and enjoy sharing this little slice of heaven with others without feeling like I had to explain any longer why I was there.

In chapter seven. I believed I’d met my last love. I (mostly) retired, moved into a 55+ community, and brought my wonderful 93-year-old mom into our home to live out her days with us. I had kids and grandkids just a few miles away. The future seemed so promising. But after the wretched COVID year of 2020, life with him changed forcing me into yet another failed relationship. My mom had to go back to Michigan where she died a month later. My kids moved back north. I went into a tailspin.

Chapter eight was one of healing, moving, trying to find my place after a very long and broken road. I ultimately landed in a lovely condo in the trees of Palm Coast, just a mile from the peace of the ocean. I was completely independent, slowly learning how to trust myself by giving it all to God, the Universe, whatever you want to call it. I started manifesting my future as I’d wished it would be. And as I grew closer to some of my siblings, I learned to be happy and content with my life.

The next chapter is still hard for me to grasp. Chapter 9 has come with the fulfillment of all my dreams! In my gratitude to God, I was brought the most wonderful man who has shown me what real, grown-up, unselfish love is. I’ve moved to his home in The Villages. Daily I am grateful and thankful, and we both shake our heads at how lucky we are to have found each other.

I anticipate wonderful chapters ahead! I’m actually one of those people who will often read the end of a book first so I’m prepared for what’s coming. I can’t do that in this situation. I will simply have to expect the unexpected, make plans but not plan on them, and meet each new day with Irish optimism and the belief that in following God’s plan for me, I cannot go wrong. Would I go back and rewrite some chapters if I could? I don’t think so. They are what brought me to this place, and I, for one, wouldn’t change a thing.

Posted in Moving forward, Us

The Clubbing

Posted on by kokomeau

In the summer of 2023, after enduring the most tumultuous period of my life, I surrendered my future to God. I expressed to Him that while I would try to listen and pay attention, there was a chance I might miss a subtle sign—a feather or a bird sent my way. I suggested that perhaps a more direct approach, like a club over the head, would be necessary for me to truly understand His message. I committed to following His path for me instead of my own.

Bobby and I had been visiting each other back and forth for a few months. While sitting with him in church one evening waiting for Mass to begin, I was again repeating my prayer request, asking for some sign that would tell me if this was the right man for me, the right place for me. Bobby leaned over and whispered to me that the priest performing Mass was from Michigan; his name was ‘John.’ I nodded and smiled.

Mass began. As we were singing the entrance hymn, the processional came up the aisle. I glanced over and, with a double-take, I realized, “I KNOW this priest!”

My heart started beating so fast I thought I might faint. I grabbed Bobby’s hand and whispered, “I know this man! He was my pastor back home in Michigan! He baptized my son and buried my dad!” I KNOW him!” I felt like I was in shock. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, and when he started to speak, my head shook in disbelief. I almost wept. I’d been truly clubbed.

Posted in Moving forward

Love, Laughter, and Late Nights: Online Dating After 60.

Posted on by kokomeau

2022 was a difficult year for me. My mom died, I went through my second divorce, and my kids and grands moved back to Michigan from Florida. The following summer, I took the opportunity to go home to northern Michigan and to heal from that year.

After getting settled in for the summer, I gave myself over to God and started manifesting my future. I asked God to lead me down His path and to show me His way. Every day I thanked him for bringing me my ideal partner whom I could love and who would love me for who I am. I also reminded Him that I would not notice feathers or cardinals. No, he would have to club me over the head with my messages.

In the process of healing, I thought I’d give online dating another shot. I’d met a nice guy before I went north, but I realized early on that I was simply repeating old behaviors. I ended it. By the time I’d settled into my VRBO for my summer stay, I had only about five days left of my eHarmony membership.

eHarmony is a bit unlike the others. Match, Zoosk, Bumble, and most others have you write a profile, add photos, let you say what it is you’re looking for, etc. eHarmony actually has you complete an 80-question compatibility test designed to give deep insight into your character. It then scores your compatibility with another member. They say anything over 100 is worth pursuing.

Swiping left ad nauseum was the reason I was getting off online dating. eHarmony is not cheap, and I found they didn’t seem to have much to offer me. Until one evening when I heard the notification and checked my phone. It showed a compatibility score of 107 with Bobby, a gentleman in The Villages, a ‘mere’ 95 miles from my home. He had ‘liked’ just about all my information in my profile, which of course caused me to peruse his profile despite the distance. It would be just my luck to find a nice guy and have him live a two-hour drive away.

He was Irish Catholic. He was from a large family. He loved people and kids. He’d been divorced five years after a very long marriage. He was 5’8″ (my bare minimum height requirement). He had three daughters and four sisters. And in every photo of him, he was smiling! No photos of fish or dead animals, Harleys or Corvettes. Just a smiling man who had to know quite a lot about females who ‘liked’ everything on my profile. I ‘liked’ him back.

After several texts back and forth, he called. I explained I was in Michigan. He used to live there. I asked how he found me since my distance requirement was 30 miles. His was 100. We compared notes; lives, likes, and dislikes. Many times I thought he was kidding me just trying to match me. For instance, how many men love musicals? We talked nearly four hours that first time, then again the second, and the third…

When I finally returned to Florida, he drove over to meet for coffee in Flagler Beach. My first impression was, “He’s not 5’8”. But he was attractive. White-blonde hair with an athletic build, he had a great smile, and he was a terrific conversationalist. We spent several hours getting to know each other, and then he drove back home.

A couple more back-and-forth visits took place until ultimately, while visiting me in Palm Coast, he told me he didn’t see this working; the distance was just too great. I totally agreed with him. As much as we were drawn to each other and our amazing similarities, the two hours between us seemed pretty insurmountable. We reluctantly said our goodbyes.

Several weeks later, after a visit to Michigan for a wedding and my return home, I received a text from him saying, “Can you chat?”

“Sure.”

He told me he couldn’t stop thinking about me and that he believed he’d made a hasty mistake. He wanted to try and make it work. I was rather hesitant because of the two-hour drive, but he was adamant saying we have so much in common, we’re so comfortable together, we owed it to ourselves to see if we could make it work. And so I agreed.

He was right. We are two peas in a pod. We complete each other in every way, and we are so comfortable together. In April of 2024 he asked me to move in, and I did. I left my precious northeast coast and my darling little condo in the trees and moved to The Villages to be with him, and I haven’t regretted it one bit. He is everything I never believed I would find. I am blessed daily with someone I can talk to who listens with compassion, speaks with integrity and honesty, and makes me laugh daily. God answered my prayer and then proceeded to club me over the head to make sure I knew it.

Posted in Family & Friends, Lucky Eleven, Moving forward, Travel

Learning to listen

Posted on by kokomeau

I was fortunate enough to spend nearly two months of 2023 back home in Michigan escaping the brutal heat of the Florida summer. Through Air B&B I’d rented the downstairs of a beautiful home that just happened to be on Lake Two, directly across the street from Lake Three where I had lived prior to moving away. It seemed serendipitous, to say the least.

My little home away from home had a lovely large bedroom with a desk where I could continue to work remotely. There was a spacious living area, ample bathroom, and no real kitchen, save a microwave, toaster, coffee maker, and small fridge, certainly the only items I needed, as anyone who knows me knows my relationship with kitchens.

Looking out the French doors leading to the paver patio covered by the deck above, I often felt like I was in my own little gnome home. The view from those doors was beyond spectacular. Through the wild landscaping could be seen a bird bath and a curved path that led to Lake Two.

Many mornings I would wake just as dawn was breaking and look through the doors to see mist rising from the water obscuring the reflection of the trees across the lake. I would hear the loons already fishing, their calls blending with the sandhill cranes. Wild Kingdom had nothing on this place! If it was warm enough or I was bundled enough I would take my coffee and sit on the glider outside my door and soak up the sunrise, the view, and the peace.

It’s funny, in hindsight, how we are given what we need to heal. I’d had a tumultuous year filled with heartache, heartbreak, endings, and new beginnings. Maybe I wasn’t fully aware that I hadn’t given myself time to grieve, to heal, always simply pushing forward, filling my days with work, trying to stay positive, praying, praying . . .

But this place.

By myself in this place I was allowed the space and the serenity to recover not only who I was, but where I was going and what I wanted. Being surrounded by my family and friends in a place I called home, feeling their love, listening to their own stories, filling myself with my kids and my grandkids . . . that’s what I needed.

And God knew. Of course He did.

I just needed to listen.

Posted in Moving forward

Where You lead, I will follow

Posted on by kokomeau

Seems like life changes if not daily, then certainly week by week, with the unexpected coming unexpectedly just when you think you have things finally figured out.

I like change. I do. No one could say that I haven’t had a few changes this past year, though certainly not all good. And while sometimes change is hard (sometimes!?), once you get on the other side of it, you find your new normal and settle in. Until it changes again.

In 2018 I retired from a job I really loved for a man I thought I loved. We had fun during early retirement, traveling around the country visiting friends and family and enjoying the newness of no routine. Then in 2020 during COVID my former boss asked if I was interested in coming back to hospice to help a fellow worker, and I could do it remotely. I’ve always loved working from home; I did it for 15 years as a court reporter while raising my family. I’m disciplined enough – or maybe I just love what I do enough – to sit myself down and do the work that needs to be done. I told her yes, absolutely. That was almost two years ago.

Since then, the office management changed, and I was told my position was actually not a position at all. I could no longer work from home. They said I could come back and work 40 hours a week, but because of the distance, I had to decline. Then, because I knew the position so well, I was asked if I would be willing to train the people in the office. In a nutshell, I was asked to train myself out of a job.

Fast-forward, and I have spent the past two weeks driving 35 miles to the office and back every day doing the training that was asked of me. They brought someone from the Orlando office that needed training. I’ve trained the two workers from my office. And then upper management came in and started showing me all kinds of new things until I finally asked her, “Why?” Her response? “I’m training you to train.”

This past week they let one of the office staff go, and I am now faced with a choice. I can have my old job back, and they will allow me to work part-time at the office making the drive three days a week instead of five. Or I can accept a position as a type of regional trainer traveling to other offices throughout the state helping organize and train in the role I know so well, working only as needed. And while that sounds ideal, what happens when I’m no longer needed?

On the one hand, I like the idea of being in a familiar place doing familiar things with people I know and enjoy. I’m good at it. It’s the drive I don’t like. On the other hand, I rather like the idea of going to different places, being challenged in new ways, and having my expenses paid for however long that takes. I suppose I can simply try one of these and see how I like it.

It’s yet another change looming in the not-too-distant future. But this time I’m open to it. I’ve been talking to God, telling Him I’ll go wherever I’m led without worry or angst because I know the path is already laid out for me. And while I don’t know what His plan IS for me, this time I’m trusting my Spirit and will follow where it leads.

Posted in Moving forward, Thoughts

A life that I love

Posted on by kokomeau
I saw this humungous white feather recently while spending some time with my daughter at the beach. I knew Mom and Dad and all our loved ones were smiling down and watching over us.

Several years ago, after meeting David, I was updating passwords. I used the words ‘newme…’ in many.

But that was the old me; I know that now. That was the me that settled, that overthought, that didn’t listen to my gut, my Holy Spirit, the me that lived with ‘shoulds’ and ‘what-ifs’. And look where it got me.

It got me to believe in myself. It got me from the thick of the forest and the depth of the rabbit hole to the clearing on the other side where I’ve learned I don’t ‘need’ anyone else to be happy with myself. I’ve packed and moved twice in as many months. I’ve assembled all types of furniture, fixed my e-bike and my car, put up home hardware I never had before, all the time relying on ME. And the feeling of accomplishment I got is so much more satisfying than I could have imagined.

Believe me, I’m still a work in progress. I still have to learn to accept God’s love for me even when I don’t understand it. Would I like someone to share my life with? Sure. But I now know that I won’t settle for the same ol’, same ol’. I may never have that ‘love of my life’ feeling, and I can accept that gladly. But I will have a life that I love.

Posted in Moving forward, Thoughts

You Learn

Posted on by kokomeau 
"After a while you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul.
And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning,
And company doesn’t mean security.
And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts,
And presents aren’t promises.
And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes open
With the grace of a woman,
Not the grief of a child.
And you learn to build all your roads on today,
Because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans,
and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.
After a while you learn that even sunshine
Burns if you get too much.
So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul,
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure…
that you really are strong,
and you really do have worth,
and you learn and learn…
With every goodbye you learn."

By Jorge Luis Borges
Posted in Moving forward, Thoughts

The Other Side

Posted on by kokomeau

My last few posts have been, well, depressing is one word that comes to mind; a little disturbing since now, looking back, I see the progression towards the rabbit hole I’d tried so hard to resist and avoid. But there it was, lurking just beyond the forest as I made my way through. Or at least I thought I had.

I’m not going to repeat the past months here, only to say that I had hoped I could stay at White Feather for at least a year. Turns out I could not. Turns out I had six months, which would have had me looking for another place to rent in the midst of snowbird arrivals and holidays. I couldn’t face that, so I started looking for a rental. Again. Everything was overpriced, overly small, or just a room in a house. The fact that I looked at Facebook Marketplace at all still surprises me. But again, Mom is up there guiding me in ways I’m not aware of until afterward. On there I found a 2/2 condo on the third floor of a 55+ complex on the outskirts of Ormond Beach – yes, I now have a Daytona Beach address – but it overlooks the pool and the Intracoastal and I have it for a year, at least. I again started packing. I arranged for movers this time, and in mid July, I got the keys to my current place. I’ve had to start completely over again. Oh, I had some kitchen stuff, a lamp or two, my office. But no furniture to speak of. No bed, no dresser, no living room, dining room; nothing that makes a home livable. Thankfully the place had some very old, very dated things in it that got me by until the house sale when I was finally able to hit some used furniture places and start filling it in.

I think it’s so interesting how we perceive ourselves. I’ve gotten through some pretty difficult times going back to my teens, and usually, at the time, I’d wonder how I was going to do it. This past year is almost a repeat of the period my dad died, though I won’t go into that. Suffice it to say, this wasn’t my first rodeo. And while my head was going in a million different directions still waiting on the house sale, still waiting on the divorce, planning a move again, juggling all that, my days consisted of going through the motions of putting one foot in front of the other, falling into a fitful sleep, and repeating that the next day.

My friend Anita and I share a common experience with what we call ‘the rabbit hole.’ It’s a dark place that gets more comfortable the longer you’re in it. Comfortable to the point where you don’t want to climb out, you don’t want to interact with anyone; not your friends, not your kids; you just want to lay down and be miserable in your misery. That’s where my good friend Chris found me the last time. After sharing her experience and how she finally came out of it, I decided the next day to contact my doctor who suggested we try an antidepressant. He said it could take two to three weeks to see results. Silently I wondered if I could make it that long. He called it in. It was a low dose, so I wasn’t expecting a miracle. I know about depression and chemical imbalances in the brain. Again, the rodeo thing. I was loathe to go back down this road, but I knew I had to do something.

Morning came, and it was as if a fog had lifted and pulled me out of the hole. Just like that. I woke no longer feeling the heavy weight of sadness and despair that had plagued me. It wasn’t as if I were high or giddy. No. It was an evening of my mood, a balance that wasn’t there before. My tolerance and patience came back. I wasn’t crying or tearing up suddenly. I was … relieved. If it hadn’t happened to me, I wouldn’t have believed it could happen that quickly. What it suggests to me is that the stress of the past six months had taken its toll on my body, both externally with the eczema, and internally in my brain, knocking out whatever that pill replaced so that I could function again, live again, enjoy the sunrises and sunsets again.

I think I’m on the other side now, or at least pretty darned close to it. It’s been less than a month that I left Flagler Beach, but it seems like a lifetime ago. If you’ve never experienced a deep depression, first be grateful, but second, don’t underestimate the seriousness and scariness of it. I don’t ever want to go there again. If I have to stay on these, I will, but we’ll see. I will be forever grateful to Chris who most likely saved me from either being Baker Acted or not being here at all. I think there’s only so much one body can take. When this happened long ago, I had family around, lots of friends, my kids were younger and more dependent, and my mom came to my rescue. It was different, but it was still scary. This time it was just me. I’ve always believed that I’m strong, that I have what my dad used to call MOXY. And maybe I do. I’m still here; right?

Now I need to look forward and stop dwelling on what was, on what happened. It’s in the past. Everyone has problems. Everyone goes through hard times. Some have people around them, but some do not. I’ve learned to be more compassionate, more patient. I don’t judge. If you have been lucky enough to avoid the rabbit hole, be very grateful. Too many people don’t make it to the other side.