Bea V. Larsen . . . .Commentaries

Bea V. Larsen is a Senior Mediator at the Center for Resolution of Disputes in
Cincinnati, Ohio 
Bea V. Larsen

For a number of years Bea V. Larsen, senior mediator at the Center for Resolution of Disputes in Cincinnati, Ohio [www.cfrdmediation.com], presented weekly commentaries on WVXU radio, both on her professional work as a mediator and on more personal or general experiences. These broadcasts reached thousands of listeners in a number of midwestern states and elicited many comments. This new series of online commentaries will continue that tradition, now broadcast to the world via the internet. Comments, which can be posted directly to this blog, are warmly encouraged. More personal background information can be read in the "Introductions" category below.
 

An Anniversary

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This entry was posted on 8/27/2011 7:27 AM and is filed under Personally Speaking.


              Should I write of this? Of uninvited, unwelcome images that intrude, as I lose my hold on purposeful thought.

          The anniversary of Len's death is here.

          Nine years ago, as summer was ending, the man who was my love, my companion for more than fifty years, left me. Sometimes that is exactly how it feels.

          Our marriage was perfect.

          Our marriage was imperfect.

          Exquisite times of closeness.

          Brooding times of silence.

          Always respect.

          Always caring.

          We were bound, but free.

          During that last year, even as his health steadily declined, we shared an incomparable intimacy. Caring for the body so well known and loved. Touching him, being touched by him, knowing, but pretending we had many years to go.

          Sadness and joy so entwined.

          At the end of that August, I returned to my world of work, and at home welcomed solitude. Relaxed times with close friends, long postponed, began again.

          Then, as the first anniversary of his death approached, my steps slowed, my throat tightened, and my quiet times were somber.

          Disbelieving, I silently wailed: why should this foreboding of the calendar cast me down? But it did, and it has each August since. Can it be that I'm not the wise and strong person I insist I am?  Unable to rise above this annual malaise?

          I consult with a wise counselor and she says: The very angle of the sun, as the same date approaches, casts shadows reminiscent of the days you choose to forget. The leafiness of the trees, the heat, the hour of first morning light, all of these images appear unbidden, and take you back to the heart beat of that time.

          This I can understand and accept.

          I now mark the anniversary each year in a significant way. I do not let it pass unnoticed as once I hoped it would.

          A picnic with friends in a park we used to go to as a young family

          Revisiting art galleries we wandered together

          A special dinner with an intimate

          Breakfast at the home of dear friends with some old pictures in hand

          Len and I seldom gave each other gifts, but often urged the other to buy something yearned for, but which would not be purchased without a push. A painting. An airplane!

          So each year, as the day approaches, I buy myself an anniversary gift, a thing of beauty:

          A small sculpture of a horse's head

          A Marino glass sphere         

          Beautiful Italian soup bowls

          A tiny Netsuke cat

          It's a new home this year, which I'm molding to please my aesthetic eye.

          He would have insisted.         


 

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    • 8/27/2011 8:12 AM regine ransohoff wrote:
      Beautiful piece. Its interesting that you have developed your own rituals to mark nniversaries of death. we Jews have them in stone. moorning rituals to fall back on and sustain us. I love the ones you have invented.
      Reply to this
    • 8/27/2011 10:48 AM Marie wrote:
      U make my heart smile and remind me to cherish each moment with loved ones. Thank you for sharing.
      Reply to this
    • 8/27/2011 1:13 PM Curt wrote:
      Hi: I'm glad you wrote this. Think of how sad it would be if you didn't remembert this each year. Sometimes pain and perhaps loneliness are reminders of what is and was most significant in our lives. Love, Curt
      Reply to this
    • 8/29/2011 12:18 AM Bruce wrote:
      We just spent some time with my father last week and he spoke of how much he missed Len...told and re-told stories of fishing adventures and bits of wisdom passed on to him from my dear uncle. He will live on in my heart for the rest of my days.
      Reply to this
    • 8/29/2011 4:39 PM Larry wrote:
      thanks for sharing such an intimate detail of your life and emotional makeup. After reading I realized how I have so missed those how meant so much to me but no longer physically here.
      Reply to this
    • 8/30/2011 4:38 PM Sandi wrote:
      Bea,
      Thank you so much for your tender and heartfelt words. It's hard to believe that Len has been gone for nine years. What wonderful memories I have of him -- and the two of you. Remember when he subbed as Tommy's "grandfather" at the Doherty Thanksgiving Day gathering? I'm sure your memories are endless, and you must miss him very much. But what lovely and loving ways to remember him each year. I would have expected nothing less from you -- and the love you two shared.
      Sandi
      Reply to this
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