how did i get here?

my husband, my beautiful Dragon, died suddenly at 12:03 AM on 9 February 2009. there was a cold, lovely full moon and 3 feet of snow on the ground. i "slept" for the following 10 months and "woke" to the physical and emotional pain and torments of deep grief. i "woke" to find i had moved the day of his funeral and that i am lost. i am looking for me while i figure out the abstract, unanswerable questions that follow behind any death. my art has evolved. his death changed that as well because i am forever changed and will forever bear the mark of losing the only man i can ever love.
there is alive and there is dead and there is a place in between. i am here wholly in my heart for my children, but i feel empty inside at this time. i miss him. i have not gotten very far in my grief journey. i make no apologies for this.
this is my place, my blog, where i write to tell the universe that i am still here.

Friday, July 22, 2011

fuzzy little Clown of God

the Bun did not cry today. yea! she had the day off; first day off in 11 days. whew! she slept late, for her, 6:45. she did all her errands before 11 AM, renewed a prescription, bought a book on sale, went to the dollar store for batteries for her flashlight {in case of a storm and lights out time} and toilet paper, and then to the grocery store. that's right. the Bun has some food again. yea!

and then she worked all day. embroidering on a quilt for a widow. lots of embroidering on this quilt, lots and lots. Bunny does what she can day in and day out. but then she took an hour and a half right after supper and did a little something for herself.

she painted a little pair of shoes for fuzzy little feet.
the finished products.....

and here she is in her little patchworked jacket and waders and hat. she is "fishing for compliments." see? see? Bunny is a fun girl. she can be very funny. she makes people at work laugh all the time.

Bunny has a wonderful sense of humor, but she is also a sensitive soul. not really a paradox. just a quirk. Bunny gets her feelings hurt but she thinks it is all part of who she has become, the product of what life and people have done to her. but Bunny will never quit, or ever give up. she will keep praying and quietly living her tiny little life. she will continue being the fuzzy little Bun that she is.

she has written that she is damaged and some have told her she can heal. at this point, Bunny thinks some scars never fade no matter how much Vitamin E you rub on them, or cod liver oil. she has been told that there is the woman she can become with work. but what if this is the woman she was to become?

Bunny worries and wonders why she cannot find lots of friends. she does have friends online, and there is someone close. she does have a friend who is sort of local. she and Bun meet when they can, but Bun's job and this widow's responsibilities prevent that from happening too often. but Bun has friends. just not ones like she's always read about, or seen in movies and on television. but then she read a book by Madeleine L'Engle that SSSF sent her. in this book L'Engle writes, "who are you to think you are better than our Lord? after all He was singularly unsuccessful with a great many people." and it's true. He had his followers but did he have true friends?

Bunny has also read the blogs of other widows who have written that those they felt were their closest friends did not understand their grief, or said harsh and critical things to them that astounded them. words well meant, but with a tinge of betrayal in the empathy department. so Bunny feels she is in good company.

who is Bunny to think she was to become someone other than who she is? life happened to Bun just like it happens to all of us. maybe this isn't what God had truly hoped would happen, but it is what happened and Bunny has tried to handle it with grace, dignity, and faith in something better. that something better would be Heaven.

writing expels the poison that collects in Bunny's furry little soul. writing is like an exhale for her. she exhales all the bad stuff but yes, with the inhale sometimes some of the bad slips back in. but most of it is out and gone. bad things happened to Bunny, terrible things she can never make public. you would look at her differently. you, dear reader, might look into her soft little eyes and see the living pain of what she has endured and she would not be able to bear that. if you write, "bad things happened," it is so generic, and few will use their imagination to color that sketch. but if Bunny were to paint the whole picture, well, Bunny is not doing a public service announcement here. but do not pity her or tell her it is better to talk about it. {Bunny did try once last August but the widow looked at her so horrified that Bunny had to make a quick joke, then be on her hurried Bunny way. Bunny learned, oh, yes, Bunny learned not to talk.}

but Bunny has her fantasies. Bunny has the night and her dreams. she has her art, her children, and her Dragon. {and to the mean person who said Dragon wasn't a Dragon, Bunny pities you.} but she knows that "those who move through life in step with their peers, who are bright and beautiful, seldom become artists." ~ M. L'Engle. Bunny is an artist.

some days Bunny can almost breath. a lot of days she clenches her teeth and keeps going one step at a time. she has gotten rid of the problem with Voldemort. between her daughter's and her strategy, they ran the con and got done what needed to be done; motivating him to do something they needed him to do, something that only he could do for them. Bunny and her daughter smiled. now, true, their smiles were rueful, but they were smiles nonetheless. another chapter is about to close distancing him from her even more.

Bunny had an epiphany the other night. she realizes that she is starting to feel nothing for the people who hurt her, including the recent ones. she feels nothing. no anger. no need to tell them off. the hurt is fading like that exact moment when a firefly's glow fades. wink and it's out. telling the mean people off would never work for Bun. she knows that they are either truly evil or they are stupid and will never understand. it would be a pointless conversation.

Bunny is going to cling to the things that she has saved from the wreckage of her life. she has her creativity. she has her empathy. she has her children. she has her memories. she is going to float along here facing whatever wave life tosses over her. she is going to float along here until she goes to where she is called, needed, and/or wanted.

she has survived a lot and will continue to.

Bunny has taken this photo of herself to remind everyone of her resiliency. during the Salem Witch Trials, Giles Corey was accused of being a witch. they placed a board on him and put rocks on it to crush him, to force him to admit to his sins. he was innocent and refused. he said to his accusers, "more weight." Bunny doesn't want more weight, but she will take it and withstand it until her body, not her soul mind you, but just her homely, fuzzy, little body quits. know that as her soul leaves her broken body, she will be laughing. ah, blessed freedom.
{Bunny thought it was funny that Carmen Sophia laid down beside her
to take part in her little dramatization.}

Bunny has not gotten to live the life she had dreamed of as a young girl, but she wonders how many really get to, exactly as they dreamed of. Bunny has her art. she has her memories of her beloved Dragon. she has her children. yes, she's writing it again in case you've forgotten the amazing wealth that Bunny has to her name. she has her dogs. she may get my feelings hurt, a lot, but her mind is her own and her thoughts are wild and free. she is a silly little Bun. she is a Clown of God. like Giovanni from the book, Bunny performs for others to make her way. but she has faith. she believes. she tries to live her life in such a way that it would not make sense if her Dragon was not waiting for her, or if God did not exist.

she is trying to live with quiet honor and integrity, and some semblance of grace.

peace.

5 comments:

judemiller1 said...

The waders are too cute!!! Wish I knew what you did to Voldemort--I'll bet it would make me smile. I am so amazed that you know so much through the books and poetry you read--I did hear the story about the guy they put rocks on when I visited Salem--my daughter lived there for a couple of years. BUT every time I read your blog, I get educated! You are amazing and so knowledgeable!!! Thanks.

Anonymous said...

Deep peace to you.

Widow in Oz said...

Absolutely love this post. Resilience, yes. I knew it all along x

megan said...

Love this, my dear. And also very much love the GW quotation up there.

Anonymous said...

I can hear you and God working it out.

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