A new monster!

I am learning the differences between fear, pain and suffering and how to control them. Do you believe any of that BS?  I cannot control any of this right now…but maybe just recognizing the differences in the 3 and what if anything I can do about them might help.

Fear is the worst…it is unexpected, it sneaks up and bites me in the heart, soul, and ass at the same time, it knocks the breath out of me, it takes me down when least expected, and I am overwhelmed and incapacitated.  Negotiating the sale and purchase of vehicles, fixing small things around the house I am simply physically unable to do, or alone at night the target of bad people.  The list expands daily depending on the new situations that arrive.  The new talk in my head has to be “I need to figure out the difference between what is only new and different” and what is “real fear”.  New and different looks and feels like fear every time but it does not have to.  If I can just stop and think through it rather than panic, I think I can do it by myself maybe even learn to ask for help, as long as I do not let fear overwhelm me. I was never afraid of new and different before because he was always there to "catch" me if I screwed up really big...at the risk of sounding truly corny "he was the wind beneath my wings"

Pain is just pain.  There is no controlling it at all.  I love him, I miss him, the guilt of I should have been there for him, and why did I not see this coming and take care of it.  The cause of pain changes daily. But there are some things that are the same.  My pain is connected to grief…. and the grief is connected to love.  I would not take back or regret one minute of our imperfect love, it is the imperfections that made it ours, so the pain is just going to be here because I am unwilling to disavow one second of the love we had. I will cry at the most inopportune moments, need to be by myself, and in all likelihood will reach out to people or meds or whatever I have to ease the pain.  The pain is here, I cannot ignore it. I can only choose how to deal with it at the moment it arrives with the tools I have at the time, knowing that it will pass in a few minutes, several hours, in the morning or a couple of days, but it will pass.

Suffering is another beast, but I think I may have some control over this one!  I think suffering is the long agonizing quagmire of paralyzing pain and fear stirred together. Suffering is when I am overwhelmed and lost in a boiling untouchable stew of negative emotions and absolutely cannot do anything. And yes, there has been and I suspect there may be more suffering, but recognizing it and perhaps even figuring out, what part is pain and what part is fear is causing the immobility might help me survive it better next time suffering invades my life.

"Wind Beneath My Wings" Bette Midler

Land mines

I have had both vehicles cleaned and detailed to sell.  Then unpredicted emotional land mines exploded.  Pieces of forgotten evidence turned up in the van reminding me of all of the great years we spent on the art show circuit, then from your truck some of your tools and a rain jacket.  I realize that I am getting ready to get rid of parts of us, and my heart begins to feel the loss all over again, but my head knows this needs to happen.  I received a very reasonable offer on both vehicles much sooner than I had expected and went into an emotional tailspin of fear.  Letting go of these reminders of us, you and our times together is just much harder than I ever imagined.  I had never had to buy or sell a car by myself, you were always there, advising, asking all of the right questions, negotiating the price, interest, and warranty.  A cloud of terror wrapped around me with a million questions and an uncertainty of whether or not I am even capable of making such big decisions erupted. Again, there is doubt, fear, loss.  I do not know how I can do this alone and afraid of all of the other unsuspecting events that I will be facing that will unpredictably conjure up this overwhelming pain and grief.  And how do I get through them...

"Yesterday"  The Beatles

SHMILY

My silver bracelets have been constantly on my arm since I was in high school. Thinking back it all began with wearing a  Viet Nam POW (Prisoner of War) bracelet, but my POW never made it home.  Although I quit wearing that bracelet, when my first job at Disney would not allow them I began adding other silver bracelets that were “Disney approved” My first brush with, if you want this job, you will do it our way...I felt like such a sell out, but I also had to pay the rent.….Over the years more were added, always gifts from the people I love, most are still here, some are not. They are a constant reminder of how much I have been loved in my life.  The one that looks like a silver smile, Skip made for me. He would call me “Shmily” (pronounced smile with an sh beginning) when no one was around, it stood for  See-How-Much-I- Love-You.  So many little stories and memories and gifts of love….I do not want any of them to be forgotten.

"There are Places I Remember"  The Beatles

Because sometimes a poet's words are all of the explanation I need...

Querencia

I am right where I need to be.  I am not stuck or depressed in this house. This is my querencia.  This is the little house Skip and I bought in Sept 1977 and have lived, loved, raised our boys, laughed, fought, created art, mourned losses and celebrated births.  It is not a prison of walls that I need to escape from, I do not need to get back out into the world, I need to heal and find my strength.  It is my safe place and my studio.  It is where my authenticity thrives.  It is where I can truly accept, feel and experience this grief honestly without worrying if my tears, grief and/or sadness makes others uncomfortable or want to feel sorry for me.  I need time to figure out how to live again and this is where I draw my strength.  To all of you that want to help, please know how much  I love and appreciate you, but this is the part of my healing that I must do alone, here in a place of safety, authenticity, and strength. I am so blessed to have such a place.

"Our House" Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young

Querencia is a metaphysical concept in the Spanish language. The term comes from the Spanish verb "querer," which means "to desire." In bullfighting, a bull may stake out his querencia, a certain part of the bull ring where he feels strong and safe. Ernest Hemingway's 1932 nonfiction book Death in the Afternoon [1] describes the querencia in this context:

A querencia is a place the bull naturally wants to go to in the ring, a preferred locality... It is a place which develops in the course of the fight where the bull makes his home. It does not usually show at once, but develops in his brain as the fight goes on. In this place he feels that he has his back against the wall and in his querencia he is inestimably more dangerous and almost impossible to kill.
— Ernest Hemingway, Death in the Afternoon

i got this...nope

…that is what I tell myself at least 14 times a day, and sometimes more.  I think it is a variation of the “fake it until you make it” scenario…and now that I really have to do it…it is feeling like a bunch of BULL shit…but there are some things that just have to be done.  Weekends are the worst, I guess that is the time that you would be here all day.  During the week I can fool myself that you are just at work and will call at 4:00 pm, like you always did.  I struggle through nights, weekends, and then I am met every Monday by the horrible memories of that last day.  I wonder if you know that I would give my own life just to have a few more moments with you. I still cry inconsolably several times a day, I still cannot believe this happened…I cannot accept that you are truly gone…and I still have to lie to myself 14 times a day…”I got this” and  I wonder, will this ever really stop?

"Here, There and Everywhere" The Beatles

if one more person tells me...

Spinach Artichoke Ravioli Bake

The last of your leftovers….I struggled with your goofy food preferences all of our lives…you would eat little meat except for fast food hamburgers (which only proved my suspicions about was that really meat in those burgers), ham sandwiches, an occasional steak, and NO leftovers. Leftovers was not a problem when the boys were home, but when it was just the 2 of us, recipes for just 2 people were difficult to find. I would make the full recipe serve half then freeze the rest, bringing it back to life weeks (or months) later.  For some reason, “leftovers” in your mind seemed to be a “time thing” if you saw the same food within a week it was officially a leftover…and a no go!  More than a couple of weeks and you were good with it.  I always thought I was tricking you, but you had to have known. 

Last night for dinner I had the last of your sneaky leftovers. It was somewhere between a funny memory and celebration of you but it quickly degraded into tears and mourning your loss all over again, just from a different perspective.  I keep asking myself will this pain ever stop, is this weird?  

And if one more person tells me that we all grieve differently and for individual amounts of time, I think I might hurt them….I just need to know what will normal look like and will I ever get through another day without the pain and the crying again?

"We May Never Pass this Way Again"  Seals & Croft

Friday the 13th....DONE & DONE

Is this the New normal….old people hampers, wheeled trash cans, security cameras, Friday the 13^th, attorneys, full moons and all without the love of my life?  The only thing I want desperately to change is the one thing I cannot.  Most of this other crap is just stuff that I have got to do and I truly hate it all…except for the full moon…Full moons have always been a source of strength for me, and perhaps that is how I ended up in the attorney's office signing wills, establishing life Deeds, and other dead and dying business, etc.…etc. of Friday the 13^th.  There was an unexpected ending…. At the end of the day a young man and dear friend of Skips stopped by.  This was an unlikely alliance that developed into one of the most unique friendships that I have ever seen. It was more than just friends/workmates and more like grandfather/mentor and young strong intelligent man…a perfect compliment, sincere respect for one another and they truly just liked and enjoyed each other.  But more than that he was the young man that literally held Skip in his arms as he died. Although I was “told” what happened, never by the one that was actually there and the story was quite different and so very touching.  It was a bit of a shock to hear things I had not heard before but in the end…much better to know that Skip did not die alone. I truly believe now he waited for Kevin to get there, and he was in the arms of someone that cared deeply about him and that had the strength and intelligence to do what needed to be done. Thank you again, Kevin!

"I Try"  Ben Taylor

Friday the 13th....

Friday the 13^th has never really been a big deal for me….until.  And I am still not sure.  In legal preparation for my own death that had been suggested by hospice, we had transferred all of our joint assets into Skip’s name with the intent of avoiding probate and all other legal transfers.  IT BACKFIRED!  Skip died without a will and everything in his name.  It has been a legal nightmare, but today it is finished and ready to be filed with the courts and for me to sign and execute my own will…and I am re-thinking this Friday the 13^th business.

"I'm a Mess" Ed Sheeran

Rings...

Rings...Mine were not perfect and sometimes lost  ... but always without a beginning and without an end.

Over the years, besides my wedding/engagement ring there were 2 more rings that I wear that are truly significant to Skip and I but that is another story.  I had misplaced ...lost my wedding /engagement ring several years ago.  When they implanted the SCID defibrillator in my chest I could not wear metal during the surgery or for several days afterward., and then again at some of the monthly recalibration sessions in the cardiologist's office.  I always left my other rings in Nana’s antique teacups in the china cabinet, but afraid to forget or lose my engagement/wedding rings I but them away in a “special” place that I would not lose.  It was such a good special place that I forgot where it was...and that seems to happen a lot more recently.  Over the years although I worried and wondered where they were, always afraid they had accidentally been really lost, but always reassured myself they would turn up.

There has been a new and rising need to find them since Skip died.  I wanted desperately to have that feeling of a new love and the ignorant excitement about beginning a life together at 21 and 23 years old.  I cannot explain right now exactly how or why, but Skip is still in the home that we spent together for 41+ years together.   He does not talk to me with words, nor do I see him. With my eyes, but I “feel” him.  He is everywhere.  The house is full of him, in the furniture we built together, the tiles we laid, walls we painted, doors installed and on and on and on….it is as strong and as close to tangible as I have ever known.

Yesterday, after working all day, cleaning the clothes out of his closet and chest of drawers for the charity truck to pick up, my fingers swelled (per normal) and I moved my rings to smaller fingers before they got stuck.  As soon as my empty ring finger was “naked” he showed me where our wedding/engagement rings were. ...and that is exactly where they were. This part of us is back on my hand….and although there was a definite beginning and lots of stutters and screw-ups, we will have no end.  And that sparkle that catches my eye reminds me of your smile.

"Ghost" Indigo Girls

My Heart Just Knows..

You might think I am nuts, and there may be 42 other explanations, but my heart knows what this is.

This silly mobile hangs over my bed. The mechanics of the mobile is a Guggenheim Museum souvenir gift shop goodie my Mother bought when we were in NY 10+ years ago.  She added some of her homemade artsy chachkies and gave it to me as a gift.  Later, I added the whimsical irreverent angels that she would tie to my Christmas gifts. It hangs over my bed and it felt my mother watches over me as I sleep.  

All of this hang from the ceiling fan pull (the fan part turns on at the wall, but if I want the light on, I have to pull the short-chain). I could no longer reach over the bed to pull that chain.

I found this old bell partially buried in the yard.  It had been a part of an old wind chime that had broken in a storm years ago. I just knew if I cleaned it up it would make a great "light pull" chain extender. It was a rusty mess after being outside in the ground and even after I cleaned it up  I could not break loose the rust inside enough to loosen the ringer. I finally gave up and felt that it really was not important, I just needed something that I could grasp to pull and turn on the light…ringing was not necessary.  So the whimsical mobile and the silent bell have hung there for several years, protecting me as I slept and making it a bit easier to turn the overhead fan ceiling light on and off. 

Two days after Skip died, that rusted bell just began to ring.  Sometimes it barely tinkles other days it rings loud and hard.  But Skip talks to me, on and off, all day, every day. I do not understand the language, but I know the intent just by the intensity or softness of the ringing.  He is still here with me, in a way I do not truly understand, but it does not matter, I know it is him and it is the most loving, cherished, comforting feeling.  I wish I could explain it better.  My heart just knows.

Skip's bell

 

"One Less Bell to Answer"  5th Dimension

Yesterday was a quiet day alone, in his room going through his drawers and closet, sorting and having my own quiet tears and memories of when he wore it last, what he/we were doing, bittersweet remembrances.  I could hear his bell in the next room, not certain if he was sad I was having to do this or telling me it was ok and wondering if and when this pain will ever end.  

Not in his shoes…On his shoes

The most amazing things about Skip were not the things he did in public for others to see but all of the little moments. Yesterday, as I begin again, to sift through his things to give away, or donate, or keep, or…I just do not know...I ran across his old top-siders.  They were worn out; the stitching was coming loose and the soles were reduced to cardboard!  He got new ones some time ago, and I thought this pair had been pitched. But there they were in the bottom of this closet behind tons of “stuff” and I do not think he ever intended anyone to find them! There were the shoes that he and Harper (the first and only granddaughter, after 4 grandsons)  drew on Thanksgiving 2017. While the 2 of them were chalk drawing on the porch waiting for turkey dinner to be done, Harper reached over and began drawing on this shoe.  Rather than telling her “no, we do not draw on our shoes” He took his chalk and drew on his other shoe. These are the gifts and the memories, he continues to give me. I do not ever want to forget and I want everyone to know, he was so much more than most people ever really knew.

"Daughters" John Mayer

...with time

This storm is adding to the challenges of being alone for the first time in 46 years.  I feel like I am being “tested” and it sucks! The fact that the storm is just dragging and we are in a state of limbo just ads insult to injury.  Although I take some solace in the fact that the storm track is better than it was, however being 40 miles away from the coast (as the crow flies) any little change in track can make a big difference…I just want it to be over!  I did get a thumbs up to “stay in place” and not have to spend the storm at a Hospice House, they have much sicker people than me.  I have a safe room, a wonderful new big generator and a portable AC, and my big window is boarded up. I will get through this, but I need Skip here with me…I know this is going to take time, but it just does not seem to get any better. I keep trying to believe that with time…

"All Alone With Something to Say"  Bonnie Rait