Sister-in-love’s visit brings hope for renewal and another big step in grieving process

To say I’m excited would be an understatement.

Zola Lykins, much-loved sister of my late husband, Richard, is flying in for a 10-day visit. I’m taking some days off during her stay, so we’ll have more time together to make up for lost time.

And to celebrate the life of a shared love who’s no longer with us.

She and Richard were super close in age, temperament and many other ways.

As soon as I met Zola about four decades ago, we were soul sisters. We shared a love of books, mysteries, adventures, trying new food, family, her brother’s terribly bad puns, silliness and, of course, a deep devotion to Richard.

Zola always makes me feel special, loving, funny and smart. And I hope I do the same for her, because she is all of those and so much more.

For a couple of decades, Richard and I traveled with her and her husband, Joe, many times, and having them with us always made the trips so much more enjoyable. The laughter never stopped.

After Joe’s death, Zola continued to join us on our treks to the Arizona gem-and-mineral shows during our lapidary-and-jewelry-making days, then to San Francisco, Yosemite and Cambria, among other places.

Such fun.

Now, once again, my skydiving senior sister-in-love will be flying in by herself. Amazing.

Zola’s only bow to advancing years is her grudging acceptance of an airline-provided wheelchair and someone to push it.

She accepts that service, not because she’d admit to really needing it between quick plane changes to get from her arrival gate to her departure gate, but because it’s the best and only way to make sure she’ll get to the latter on time.

Anticipation and joy help overcome grief

As soon as Zola called with the news about her trip, I could feel my mood begin to elevate. She sounded so excited, and it was contagious.

Her visit will be a so-welcome distraction and balm, as we all continue to grieve about Richard’s death Dec. 5.

I constantly try to assure myself that it’s getting easier to deal with his death and absence. The quietness of the house, the emptiness of our shared bed, the lack of our shared joy in doing silly or amazing things together. The loss of our long talks, his hugs, affirmations, acceptance and endless love.

But then, seemingly for no reason, an emotional wet blanket will drop out of the sky for a day or so.

Yeah, yeah, I know. Grieving isn’t a quick process, and we can no more evade it than we can predict it or hide from it.

But, as the clichéd gripe goes, I want patience (and healing), and I want it now.

I want to go back to carrying on friendly discussions lightly and upliftingly, giggling and following the bouncing conversational ball as it veers off like a stream meandering out of its banks into uncharted territory.

I want to make spur-of-the-moment decisions about fun things to do, and even more than that, I want to find something that sounds like it really would be great fun to do, not just be something I should do to distract myself.

I want to once again be the happy, silly, laughing self I was with Richard. I want things to be the way they were, and they never will be again.

I know I’m not alone in these feelings, especially with so many people in pain after losses related to the pandemic and disasters, such as the horrific Florida condo collapse.

But for me, enough already!

I’m so tired of self pity and depressing thoughts.

I’m so done with being a Debbie Downer, even if it’s just once in a while.

And I’m going to do something about it.

The next baby step toward healing

After a long night of little sleep and wrestling with a restless, depressed, worried mind that kept dwelling on what I’ve lost, I got up this morning suddenly determined to do better.

I’m going to focus instead on what I was exceptionally lucky to have for way more than half of my life.

It’s simple, really.

For somebody I loved so much, I was the most important person in the world. I was beautiful, I was smart, I was desirable, I was clever. I was so valued, so important, so needed. So adored and beloved.

And I knew it, and tried to give back as good as I got.

My young sons and my mom gave me similar devotion, but that was different.

Many people never, ever get to experience what Richard and I shared, and I reveled in it.

How incredibly wonderful to be so unconditionally cherished and, yes, so appreciated.

Such a strong, loving bond is way better than that first blush of a new romance. With Richard, it was “as long as we both shall live,” in the best sense of that phrase.

Yes, of course I miss it, but how unbelievably lucky I was! How blessed I am to have those memories.

Now, I have to recreate that feeling of value somehow for myself, adapting to change by honoring me as being now the most important person in my own life, loving myself unconditionally.

If I was worthy of his love, I must be worthy of my own.

That’s what Richard would want me to do.

If you have that kind of love in your life, please appreciate and reciprocate it. Immerse yourself in enjoying it.

I wish you love and self acceptance. And a sister-in-love like Zola.

Kathe Tanner

The Tribune

805-781-7904 (voicemails only)

Kathe Tanner has been writing about the people and places of SLO County’s North Coast since 1981, first as a columnist and then also as a reporter. Her career has included stints as a bakery owner, public relations director, radio host, trail guide and jewelry designer. She has been a resident of Cambria for more than four decades, and if it’s happening in town, Kathe knows about it.